Iron Blooded

Twenty Seven: A Reckoning

"The stream flows this way," said Hade, gesturing down the bank toward the large creek.

The sky was lighter with the promise of a morning soon to come. I had followed the uneven tracks that York's boots left In the damp earth. Beside the trail, a silver flask had been cast to the side of his trail carelessly.

I picked it up and scented cheap spirits.

"He's drunk," I said. "But he's also alone. Now's our chance to corner him."

Jorgen hesitated.

"Ser William," he said. "York is a bastard, but isn't he under the protection of Ser Connel? Lord Blackthorne wouldn't take kindly to us roughing him up. There could be repercussions."

I scrubbed a hand over my face, blinking away the fatigue. I was tired from the night's watch, but I couldn't deny that Jorgen had a point. Blindly rushing in wasn't an option here - I needed a plan.

There were laws against certain behaviors in times of war. Simply giving York a beatdown or turning him in wouldn't be enough to discourage his behavior. Men like him knew only one universal language, and it was not one of words.

As it was I could see two paths unfolding before me. One led to the 3rd being penalized for my actions tonight. And the other….

"Hade," I said. "Circle wide and come in from the left when you see him. Jorgen, you're with me. Don't harm a hair on his head. Just, help me restrain him. Understood?"

Hade nodded and headed off into the trees to loop around. The sound of the stream over rocks was louder now. I could see the water in the early morning glow.

I locked eyes with Jorgen, whose face grew hard with determination.

I nodded once and together we stepped out of the trees and onto the bank of the stream.

The creek itself was small but clean water flowed from downhill and over moss-covered rocks toward the still water of the bog. It was one of the few places that the Army had found to safely refill canteens and water skins, as clean water was scarce in the bog.

Near the bottom, the stream widened. I heard the sound of a shout followed by a splash and that's when I spotted two figures.

They were wrestling in the shallows. York had his trousers unbuckled and was shouting something. He raised a hand as if to strike Vera but before he could she drew back her fist and with surprising percision, punched him in the eye.

York's head snapped sideways and Vera shoved herself to her feet.

She was still fully clothed but her dress was soaked through, and her eyes burned with hate and anger. York had recovered and he spat in the water.

"You stupid bitch," he growled. "I'll make you regret that."

He stumbled towards her, water sloshing around his boots. Vera flinched back balling her hands into fists. Then over his shoulder, she caught sight of me. Her eyes went wide.

"Will?" she only had a moment to breath the question before I slammed into York with all the force I could muster.

Cold water doused my boots, flowing through my chain mail and soaking the clothing beneath. The rocks scrapped and clinked on my armor as York struggled.

He was the bigger man, but I had the advantage of surprise. York wasn't wearing armor and his unbelted trousers clung to his legs. He swung at me, fist bouncing off my helmet hard enough to make it ring like a gong.

I gripped him by the back of the tunic and shoved him down in the water. He spluttered and kicked.

Jorgen was beside me in moments, helping me pin him as I reached into my inventory for rope.

Hade came charging out of the woods to the left, coming up short when he realized he was late.

"Shit, Sorry Ser." He said.

"Help me hold him," I grunted as York struggled beneath me. Twice he managed to slip a meaty hand free of my hold and swing at me. My armor protected me from the blows, so I ignored them and focused on binding his feet and wrists.

York shook his head, flipping wet hair from his eyes.

"You'll regret this Blackbriar," he said, smiling with bloody teeth. "Ser Connel won't stand for this. I'm a man at arms in service to a Lord. The likes of you can't touch me."

"Gag him," I said to Jorgen, ignoring Yorks's snarl of rage as he tried to jerk his head away from Hade.

I turned to Vera.

"Are you alright?" I asked her. Vera was standing nearby, wet hair tossed over a shoulder. Her face was calm, but I could see the tension in her clenched fists.

"I'm fine," she said. "He was too drunk to do any real harm. Where is Gills?" she looked around and I hesitated.

"He's not here," I confessed. "I didn't tell him where I was going, or anyone else for that matter."

Vera frowned.

"Why?"

I met her gaze.

"Because if Gills was here he would have killed him, and then he'd be swinging from a tree for murder by sun up."

Vera swallowed and nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I know him well enough to know the truth of that. He's a gentleman, but he has no tolerance for weak men that prey on others." She spat at York.

"What do we do now? Surely we can't just let him go?"

"I don't intend to."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I watched as Hade managed to wrestle a strip of dirty cloth into York's mouth. The soldier had murder in his eyes, and I knew this cycle had to end today. I couldn't break the man, not in these circumstances. So I would have to break his spirit.

"He tried to bite me," said Hade, jerking his hand back. He and Jorgen wrestled the soldier to his knees and turned towards me.

"What do we do with him?" asked Jorgen. I swiped wet hair from my eyes.

"We take him back," I said. Hade looked doubtful but he followed my orders, he and Jorgen began dragging York back towards the camp. Vera fell into lockstep beside us.

She kept cutting glances at me and York, her eyes worried.

"Thank you," she said after a while. "For coming for me. But I must ask - what is it you plan to do?"

I stared straight ahead.

"You'll see."

When we came in sight of the blockades, those on watch hailed us. The remainder of my squad stepped forward to help restrain York. The Sentry jogged over to me, eyes sweeping across my sodden clothes, then Vera.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"No time," I said. "Will you go and fetch the Lord's messenger? Lord Blackthorne usually wakes early to train, and have the messenger tell him that Will of Blackbriar needs his council."

The Sentry hesitated for a moment and I saw the doubt in him. I straightened my spine and met his gaze.

"That is an order, soldier."

"Yes Ser William."

The Sentry said something to one of his men before turning and jogging in the direction of Lord Blackthorne's banners. The sun was peaking out from behind the trees now. We had drawn the attention of more than a few soldiers milling about during morning activities. Heads turned towards us and several men pointed at York.

"What's going on here?." The familiar voice made me grit my teeth. It was the last person I'd wanted to encounter.

Ser Connel emerged from his tent, his sheathed sword in one hand. He was wearing a loose-fitting linen shirt and his hair was still mussed from sleep.

At the sight of me, his lip curled.

"Blackbriar," he said the name like a curse. "I should have known you were somehow involved. Can't say I'm surprised."

I said nothing, internally willing the Sentry to move faster.

Ser Connel's eyes fell on York, tied, gagged, and soaking wet and his brows drew together. He gripped the hilt of his sword, knuckles white.

"What is this?" he said. "Return my man to me at once, Blackbriar, or suffer the consequences."

"It's York who will suffer the consequences," I said. "He attempted to dishonor a member of our company. For that, he'll answer to Lord Blackthorne."

Ser Connel stormed forward half drawing his blade from its sheath. I stepped back, hand going to where Iron Fang hung at my belt. Before I could react the female Knight of Lord Dacon's company stepped forward. She was tall, taller even than Ser Connel. She held him in her steely gaze and shook her head.

"Ser William is a Knight," she said. "For a Knight to draw on another is an act of aggression. Once blades are drawn it cannot be undone. You know this, Ser Connel."

A muscle spasmed in Ser Connel's jaw as he glared at me. Slowly he slid his blade back into its sheath and stepped aside.

"I will not countenance this," he said to the female Knight. "You and I both know that peasants' blood is as thin as water. He is no Knight, and neither I or mine will recognize him as such."

"And what of my Word, Ser Connel?" rang a deep voice. "If I say that Will of Blackbriar is a Knight of the realm, would you dare to contradict me?"

Lord Hadrian Blackthorne strolled through the crowd, flanked by two of his household guards. He was stripped to the waist, chest still glistening with the sweat of a hard morning's work.

Dawnbringer was strapped to his back, it's hilt poking out over one shoulder.

Ser Connel had the grace to look abashed.

"No my Lord," he said, bowing. "Your will is not for me to question."

"No," agreed Blackthorne, coming to a stop several feet away. "It is not."

He glanced between me and York, still held fast by my men. His face darkened.

"What is the meaning of this, Ser William?" he asked. I heard the note of danger in his voice and bowed.

"I must apologize for the early hour, Lord," I said. "But it was brought to my attention that this man intended to commit assault against one of noble blood. I am, by Kadian law, bound to uphold the oath I swore to Lord Dacon. I cannot permit such a thing."

Ser Connel waved a dismissive hand.

"He wastes your time my Lord. This woman is not of noble blood, she is a common cook. This matter is an internal affair and can be settled with due haste. Allow me to investigate this claim and if discipline is necessary I will carry out the sentence myself."

"Forgive me Ser Connel," I said. "But it is you who is mistaken. Vera is the daughter of a Baron, and to lay a hand on her could be considered treason."

"Treason?" Ser Connel looked incredulous but I saw his stance shift with uncertainty.

"This cannot be true," he blustered. "You falsify these claims."

"I do not. The men under your command do not conduct themselves as soldiers should. I rather expect that is a reflection of your company's leadership."

Ser Connel's ears turned scarlet.

"You insolent-"

"Peace Ser Connel," said Lord Blackthorne, exasperated. He turned to me.

"You had better explain yourself, Blackbriar, and without delay."

I bowed my head.

"Yes, my Lord."

I launched into a quick explanation of the events at the stream. Blackthorne listened intently, his face never showing any sign of emotion. When I was done he called for York to be brought forward and his gag to be removed.

The angry soldier told a much different story, claiming that I and my men had targeted him at Vera's behest. I clenched my jaw as he pointed in accusation.

"He is nothing more than a brawler my Lord," said York. "A common tavern brawler without a lick of respect. He jumped me, he did. He and his minions there. I wasn't even armed and they threatened me, Lord. I was afraid for my life."

Blackthorne stepped forward and examined York more closely. The man seemed nervous under the gaze of his Lord, averting his eyes to the ground. After a Blackthorne drew back.

"You seem relatively unharmed," he said. "Aside from the shiner dealt to you by the 3rd's cook."

At his glance Vera flushed.

"And your breath stinks of spirit. Have you been drinking?"

York flicked a nervous tongue over his lips.

"I… the night before my Lord, but I assure you-"

Blackthorne held up a hand.

"I've heard enough. I'm afraid Ser William is correct, Ser Connel. Vera is of noble blood, even if she is unlanded and untitled. If your man did indeed attempt to commit this crime, then he must answer for it."

Ser Connel hid his surprise well. The only thing that gave him away were his eyes, which darted to York and narrowed.

Lord Blackthorne blew out a breath.

"Ser Connel, as one of two aggrieved parties it is within your right to suggest action. What do you propose?"

Ser Connel smiled triumphantly, stepping forward.

"My Lord I ask that York be returned to my company. I am fully prepared to investigate this matter and dole out whatever disciplinary action my company sees fit. It is, after all, an internal affair. I ask for your leave to handle this as gentlemen."

Blackthorne turned to me.

"Ser William," he said. "You are the other party, and thus it is within your right to suggest action as well. What do you propose."

I bowed and stepped forward. For the second time in 24 hours, I felt the heavy gazes of those around me. I wasn't entirely sure of my choice, but I couldn't afford to hesitate now.

"My Lord," I said. "I seek request, no, I demand satisfaction on behalf of the Lady Vera and the 3rd. Laws may change in times of war, but the need for discipline does not. I trust my Lord wholeheartedly, and ask that he allow me to challenge Sergeant York in a duel."

There was a silence. Even Blackthorne looked partially taken aback.

Ser Connel recovered first, clearing his throat.

"Ser William is a Knight, My Lord. A Knight facing off against a common soldier? It is simply unprecedented."

Blackthorne looked amused.

"Did you not just claim that Ser William was not in fact a Knight and that you and yours would never recognize him as such?"

Ser Connel spluttered.

"I.. My Lord I spoke badly."

"I would say so."

Blackthorne straightened.

"And Vera, what is your will in this? You too are an aggrieved party."

Vera glanced at me and held my gaze. After a moment she nodded.

"I agree with Ser William, my Lord," she said.

"Very well, Blackbriar. I accept your request as the best course of action. York will be held by my men and given the chance to rest, eat, and sleep off his intoxication. At sun down tonight you will have your duel. How do you wish to settle things?"

I leveled a gaze at York, who was glaring at me, a cruel smile playing across his face. He was level 24, and had the advantage of size and experience over me. He believed he had all but won.

"I request a duel of fists my Lord," I said. "Since I am, after all, a common brawler."