Bryson’s lips sputtered against the
unpleasant taste of dirt. He tried to lift himself from the ground, but
Ashryn’s boot stepping down upon his back was a not so subtle reminder of his
predicament. This was, of course, in addition to the cold, sharp tip of
Ashryn’s rapier pressed against the nape of his neck.
“It seems we are in a bit of a
pickle, my good Sir Bryson,” Ashryn mused. She leaned further over him,
increasing the amount of pressure from the foot she had planted on his lower
back. “You’re unwilling to forgive me for stealing your coin, and I’m unwilling
to let you go. You said yourself that you planned on bringing me in to the
proper authorities.”
Bryson lifted his head, his chin
hovering just above the dirt. “I meant what I said,” Bryson panted out the
words with a bit of difficulty, pausing occasionally to catch his breath. “A
Knight of my station stands by his words, and by his code.”
“I understand, Sir Bryson. You are
a man of many virtues. It is because I know you to be a good man, that I think
you will want to hear what I have to say next,” Ashryn replied. She took a
breath, slowly moving her blade away from his neck. “Give me your word that if
I let you sit up, you will at least hear me out before you try to take me in
again.”
Bryson grunted, nodding his head in
reluctant acceptance. “Fine. You have my word, Reymaris. But keep it quick, and
stay away from my pockets.”
Ashryn snorted, rolling her eyes as
she finished sheathing her sword. She stepped down off of his back, and allowed
him to turn over and face her. “If I wanted to steal your coin purse I would
have cut it from your belt while you were defenseless. Can we please stop with
these childish accusations?”
Bryson only narrowed his eyes,
making sure all of his equipment was still visible. He even took the time to
check his coin purse, weighing it in his open palm. “Continue,” he said curtly.
“I had to make sure.”
“Of course you did,” Ashryn sighed.
“Now that we have that out of the way, I am prepared to state my piece. You
believe me to be a criminal-“
“You are,” Bryson cut her off.
Ashryn slapped her hand against her
leg, agitated. “Do you mind? Please let me finish. Surely your simpleton brain
can still handle the concept of basic manners. I didn’t hit you that hard.”
Bryson didn’t say anything, but he
still had a very sour look upon his face. He began to tug at his helmet,
pulling it off of his head. His dark hair was cut short, and well kept. Even
his beard was evenly trimmed and combed in spite of the silver flecks that
tried to hide within it. Only two things were out of place: one, the dirt
streaks on his cheeks and mouth, and two, the heavy lines of doubt that were
etched deeply into his forehead. He had danced this dance with Ashryn before,
and clearly had no interest in trusting her now.
When he didn’t continue speaking,
Ashryn stepped in once again. “You believe me to be a criminal. A reputation I
surely deserve on some accounts, but not on others. That is an argument for
another day. What I want to talk about now, is the possibility of a truce
betwixt the two of us so that we might have the pleasure of catching an even
bigger criminal.”
“An even bigger criminal?” One of
Bryson’s eyebrows shot right up in an inquisitive arch. “Let’s say I believe
you on this, and I’m not saying I do, who are we talking about? I need names
before I go along with any crazy schemes.”
Ashryn grinned from ear to ear. Now
she knew she had his attention. “Irvin Ruggles. You’ve heard of him, yes?”
Bryson’s facial expression slowly
shifted from earnest curiosity, to trepidation. “Of course I’ve heard of him.
He’s one of Lord Bateson’s prized advisors. Duke of Perlshaw, if I’m not
mistaken. Don’t tell me that he’s-“
“Worse than me? Very.” Ashryn shook
her head from side to side, removing her hat and holding it over her heart.
“The Duke of Perlshaw is a villain and a fiend.”
“That is quite the accusation. Do
you have proof of your claim or shall I add slander to the long list of your
misdeeds?” Bryson snapped at her.
Ashryn twirled her hat in her hand,
gingerly placing it back on her head. “Some. At least enough to peak your
curiosity.” She placed one hand on her hip, and the other still lingered within
drawing distance of her rapier. “But if you’re going to give me nothing but
sass, I expect I won’t want to help you expel corruption from your own
ridiculous system of nobility.”
Bryson took a few heavy breaths,
trying to steady himself against her relentless jabs. “Very well, Reymaris,” he
said through clenched teeth. “Would you be so kind as to share this proof with
me?”
“That’s much better,” Ashryn
grinned, “why didn’t you just ask that way to begin with?”
Bryson clenched his fist, opened it
as he pointed at her, and then closed his fist again. “I…” he began abruptly,
but cut himself off this time. “Forgive me. My manners must have slipped my
mind.”
“At least you admit it.” Ashryn
laughed, studying the frustration on Bryson’s face with great amusement. She took her hand off her hip and began to
rifle through one of the pouches on her belt. She pulled free a few pieces of
parchment and held them out towards the Knight. “I warn you, Sir Bryson, you
will not enjoy what you are about to witness.”
Bryson took the papers without
hesitation, rolling them open as his eyes traced lines across the scripted
surface. A few times he had to go back to the beginning to make sure he was
processing the words correctly. A few minutes in, and he stared up at Ashryn
dumbfounded. “Do you have any idea what you have in your possession, Reymaris?
This is proof that Duke Ruggles of Perlshaw is involved
in illegal trade with an enemy of the crown. This is evidence of treason.”
Ashryn offered an innocent shrug,
and a typical smile.