This is a story set in TEatRC. Hope you like it
Don't shoot the Messenger.
April 13 1496
Early Morning, just after sunrise
Ataman Tsabin Rusovi, of the Shapeste Cossacks sits atop his horse on a ridge overlooking a scene of total chaos. Dust and bloody mud are churned up all over the field below as the last of the Laurian caravan guards are cut down trying to make for the cover of the forest at the northern end of the field. Riding down the ridge to where his men were cheering their newest victory against the queens effemenite bastards, he called out, "Artimenner, you and Borcha make a tally of the casualites, and have Lezalit organize the men to gather the loot. I know he's against it, but I feel the men deserve the best wine or ale these pricks were stowing" Normally, the cash and jewelry were split equally among the men, but gear and goods belonged to the Ataman, and his captains. This time though, Tsabin was in a good mood. Since receiving his orders to disrupt trade between Lauria and their Lion Throne allies, with full salvage rights of course, the Shapeste Cossacks had become a very wealthy company. This was the element they were born for, lightning quick raids, and strategic retreats, leading their foes into allied ambushes. The company had never had footmen, and never would. A cossack dehorsed was a cossack shamed, and would be ridiculed mercilessly until he captured a horse, or was awarded one by the company.
Tsabin smiled, and thought "It's good to be a Cossack".
After organizing the burning of the enemy corpses, and the honorable internment of their own dead, Artimenner presented his tally of the casualties to Tsabin. Of the thirty four Laurians and caravan guards, none had survived. Of the twenty five cossacks, two had been killed and three had been wounded, but would live to raid again. They would heal up on the journey to Ulm to dispose of their stolen goods, and the men would drink to their health and good luck. The journey to Ulm took the better part of a day, and the landscape was devoid of troops, only a few farmers and the bandits that preyed upon them. Tsabin ignored both, because something was bothering him, but he wasn't sure what it was. But he had a bad feeling, and was unable to shake it until they reached the gates of Ulm. Giving his men their orders, he allowed small parties to visit the brothels and taverns, and invited his captains to a meal at his favorite tavern.
Once inside the tavern, after a few rounds of wine, he started to relax. Noticing a few of his men at the bar, he sauntered over to say hello. Just as he reached the men, one of them pulled out a pouch to pay for his drinks. As he did so, a sealed roll of parchment fell out of the pouch, and Tsabin felt his face go grey with foreboding. Laying on the ground amidst the spilled ale and wine was a parchment bearing the seal of Boyar Constantine, the old marshall of the Vaegir Tsardom, the man who had given Tsabin his first mercenary contract, and Tsabin's greatest friend. Grabbing the parchment off the floor, he spun the cossack around with a hand on his shoulder. "Ataman!, join us for drinks please, I will pay, yes?" His face paled as he saw the glare Tsabin was giving him. "Where did you get this!?!," Tsabin demanded, "Where did it come from?"
"I got it from one of the Laurian scum we killed yesterday ago Ataman, I needed a new pouch, so I took his. It was almost empty, so I filled it with my coins and forgot about the parchment." Tsabin suddenly realized what had been nagging at him, and spun around to his captains. "Borcha! That last caravan we raided, you tracked and found them, how many men did they have?"
"Thirty three, Ataman" replied Borcha. "Artimenner, how many of their dead did you count?" "Thirty four, Ataman," replied Artimenner. They both looked at each other and at Tsabin. "What's going on Ataman," Artimenner said, "What has happened?" With shaking hands, Tsabin opened and unrollled the parchment.
"To Tsabin Rusovi, Ataman of the Shapeste Cossacks
April 12, 1496
Written near Knudarr Castle, on the Laurian side of the bridge across the Knudarr river.
Dear friend, I hope this message finds you, as I only knew the general area you were operating in. Therefore I give this message to my fastest rider, with hopes he will be able to track your whereabouts.
As I write this, I am beseiged in an armed camp after surviving an attack by no less than the queen of Lauria herself. The battle went well until this evening. I had suceeded in driving the Queen away, and me and my handfull of men I had left made a break for our own lands when we were set upon by the thrice damned Caliginous Knights. We are preparing for one more break for freedom as I write, but with myself, and just a few troops, I doubt we will be successful. If you receive this message, please come to me with all haste, I need your assistance my friend"
Cursing, Tsabin threw the parchment to the table. He had only been a half a days ride away when he had stopped the caravan north of Nibelheim, and had no idea his friend had needed him. He knew he should have trusted his instincts that something had gone terribly wrong after the battle. Now he knew what it was. The messenger Boyar Constantine had sent had been mistaken for a Laurian caravan guard and slaughtered with the rest of them. Only luck had even let the pouch find it's way to him after a disaster like this, and Tsabin decided to see just how far his famous luck would take him. After having unpleasant dealings with Nichart and his Caliginous Knights himself, knew that if Constantine had lost the battle, he would now be a very unhappy captive, and needed rescuing.
"Borcha, get Lezalit and gather the men. Artimenner, wake up the shop keeps and reprovision us. We ride within two hours." He quickly outlined his plan to his captains, and left to help organize the hasty departure.
PART 2
April 13, 1496
Before Sunset
It was near sunset when Nichart called his knights to a halt. Calling his lieutenants over, he gave his orders for disposition of the camp, and oversaw the raising of his personal tent. "You, soldier, bring the prisoner to my tent, and have food and drink brought as soon as the cooks have something hot and ready. Bring service for two."
Boyar Constantine sat with his head bowed. Yesterday, he and his men had almost fought free, when a lance had literaly taken his horse out from under him. His loyal men, though few in number had quickly surrounded his fallen form, but each had fallen to the circling knights, and the last thing he had seen was a mailed fist descending as he struggled to rise from his fallen horse. He wondered if any of his men had survived the fight, but was sure they had not. He felt a moment of sadness, and shame at not being able to preserve the lives of his men, and then anger at these so called "knights". While unsure if his messenger had reached his friend Tsabin, he knew that this Nichart would be incapable of failing to brag about his recent good fortune. Someone from his homeland would be sure to hear of it, and he would be ransomed or rescued in due time.
He looked up as Nichart entered the tent, and set his helm and guantlets on a table inside.
"I have sent a rider to the Tsar's court to offer you for ransom yesterday. But in the meantime Marshall, you and I have things to discuss. You fought bravely, and because of it, I will give you a chance to tell me the disposition of the Vaegir host, and their battle plans. Believe me, Marshall, I have ways of getting the information from you should you choose to stay silent." Constantine just looked at the knight for a moment, and let his breath out in a sigh.
"Believe this you arrogant prick, even if I did have information you could use, I wouldn't give it to you." Constantine replied, "But I have been on patrol by myself with my men for a week now, and stepped down as Marshall before I left. When I left, the Tsar himself had taken over duties as marshall until an election could be held. I was tired of the whispers and the backstabbing, and had decided to just be a spear carrier again. So honestly, I have no idea what the Host's plans are."
"A likely story, Marshall," said Nichart, "but you will have to do better than that. But we will see if you are willing to talk to me later." So saying, he proceeded to eat both plates of food, and drink both cups of wine. Constantine watched in anger as he called to a soldier outside the tent, and was escorted back to the mud patch and was staked down.
The next evening, a dispatch arrived for Nichart, and he strolled over to where Constantine was laying.
"I guess you were telling the truth Boyar. It seems Boyar Yuri has been elected Marshall of the Vaegirs, and has replied to my ransom demand." Constantine felt a shiver of dread. He and Yuri had long been enemies, and Yuri's backstabbing and rumor mongering had been one of the reasons he had stepped down as Marshall. "Marshall Yuri replies that he feels no need to waste good silver on a captured spy, and suggests that you be hanged as befits your new status" "I will transport you to my Queen in Tihr, and then, you will most likely be hung for crimes against the Laurian nation. It could be worse though. I was fully prepared to torture you in the worst ways you can imagine for your information. You will be spared that, as I want you fully fit to stand in trial before my Queen." He gave orders that Constantine be fed and given water, and left. Constantine felt a weariness settle over him, and despaired.
PART 3
April 15, 1496
Before sunrise
Borcha had done a wonderful job of tracking the Caliginous Knights, and was able to confirm that they were indeed carrying a prisoner with them."Are there any signs that they are torturing him, Borcha?" Tsabin asked, remembering his own unpleasant visit with these Knights nearly a year ago. He had been captured while raiding a Laurian villiage, back when all he had with him were a few Imperial dragoon deserters, before he had joined the Vaegirs as a mercenary. He had spent two miserable days in their company before stealing a horse and escaping, and had no intention of ever being captured by them again.
"Okay let's go over the plan one more time. Artimenner, you and Lezalit are to take half the men and hide beyond this ridge here. You will have your horses and the horses of the men going with me. As soon as the sun tops the ridge behind you, you and your troops will begin circling the camp, each man leading a spare horse on his outside flank. Stay at the very edge of their sight and try to kick up as much dust as you can. I want you to look like a full cossack troop, and if the wind stays steady, the dust you bring should blanket the entire camp making it easier for me and Borcha to get Boyar Constantine out. Fire a few shots, but remember to conserve your ammo, and only take clear targets approaching you, none away from you, got it?" Artimennner and Lezalit nodded. "Borcha, as soon as the sun tops the ridge, you and I will sneak in when Lezalit and Artimenner are on the far side of the camp. If we don't make it in one go, we hide until they are back on the far side and move in again. Same on the way out if we aren't pursued. The remaining men will hide here and cover us from these rocks. We make it here, and wait for the riders to circle back to our side, remount and run like hell. I hate to say it, but any man who falls will most likely be left behind for now, but try to make it to the river and we will join you there, I have faith in all my Cossacks, otherwise, you would never be permitted to ride with us. Borcha, you are the fastest and lightest horseman, so Constantine will be placed on your horse behind you, are we clear?" Again everyone nodded, and quietly took up their positions.
As soon as the sun touched the top of the ridge, and the Knight's camp below started coming to life, Tsabin heard Lezalit kick the riders into motion. He smiled as heard the bloodcurdling sound of 12 cossacks trying to sound like almost 30. It was pretty believable, and he knew the Knights below would be starting to panic. He poked his head up from the rocks, and sure enough, dust clouds were already rising from the riders. He watched as the men approached the far side of the camp, touched Borcha on the shoulder, and staying low to the ground, ran like hell for the camp.
It was complete chaos inside the camp, men running, and yelling, and hopping like enraged rabbits as they tried to put their armor on as fast as they could. Borcha located the prisoner area, and led Tsabin at a quick pace, going from post to post and tent to tent. They had just reached Constantine, and gotten his attention, when Tsabin muttered, "Oh hell," under his breath. The wind was shifting, and in no time at all, clear patches were appearing all around them.
With only moments before they were seen, he knew there was no time to find a key to unlock Constantine's chains, and took the only option he had, though he knew it was a mistake. Pulling his pistol, and ignoring Borchas look of horror, he took careful aim at the lock on Constanine's chains, and blew it apart. The camp instantly fell silent. No Caliginous Knight would demean himself by carrying a firearm. As Tsabin and Borcha each took an arm and hauled Constantine to his feet, shouts broke out around the camp. Tsabin and Borcha gritted their teeth and ran like hell to where their men were hiding. Dodging sword swinging knights half armored, and crawling under half collapsed tents, they broke free of the camp just as four knights who had found their mounts and lances thundered towards them. Tsabin, heaving with all his might, threw both Constantine and Borcha to the ground and drew his saber. Deflecting a lance, he took a hard hit to the head from a booted foot, and turned to see Nichart himself grinning at him. "You again!," said Nichart, back for more fun eh?" Tsabin was gathering himself for a reply, when shots rang out from the rocks. Three of the Knights went down, and Nichart took a bullet in the shoulder. Cursing, he kicked his horse into a gallop intending to run Tsabin down, but Tsabin rolled to the side, and Nichart never slowed down, instead riding to the camp shouting orders. Borcha was up and and running, shouting at a dazed Tsabin "Ataman, help me, I cant' get this guy out of here by myself!" Tsabin shook his head clear and ran to help Borcha get Constantine out of there. Just as they reached their men, Artimenner and Lezalits riders came back around and they were able to mount up. A few parting shots were fired as the Cossacks fled.
A few hours later, they stopped and Tsabin helped Constantine out of his bonds. Constantine grinned at Tsabin, "Still acting like the crazy mercenary I took a chance on last year I see." He put a hand on Tsabin's shoulder, "Thank you my friend, I owe you my life." He quickly recounted the events and the news that Nichart had given him. "That's bad news, but what do we do now?" Tsabin asked. "I'm not sure," replied Constantine, "but I need to get a message to Tsar Grozny, and find out what is going on now. But I don't know if I will be welcomed at court after these events." "Stay with my Cossacks, Boyar, and I will be your messenger," replied Tsabin, "I will leave them in your capable hands for now." Constantine smiled, "I accept your offer Tsabin, but beware Boyar Yuri, he is a snake, and will not hesitate to slay any bearers of what he considers bad news." "By the way, where is the messenger I sent to find you?"
To Be Continued
Don't shoot the Messenger.
April 13 1496
Early Morning, just after sunrise
Ataman Tsabin Rusovi, of the Shapeste Cossacks sits atop his horse on a ridge overlooking a scene of total chaos. Dust and bloody mud are churned up all over the field below as the last of the Laurian caravan guards are cut down trying to make for the cover of the forest at the northern end of the field. Riding down the ridge to where his men were cheering their newest victory against the queens effemenite bastards, he called out, "Artimenner, you and Borcha make a tally of the casualites, and have Lezalit organize the men to gather the loot. I know he's against it, but I feel the men deserve the best wine or ale these pricks were stowing" Normally, the cash and jewelry were split equally among the men, but gear and goods belonged to the Ataman, and his captains. This time though, Tsabin was in a good mood. Since receiving his orders to disrupt trade between Lauria and their Lion Throne allies, with full salvage rights of course, the Shapeste Cossacks had become a very wealthy company. This was the element they were born for, lightning quick raids, and strategic retreats, leading their foes into allied ambushes. The company had never had footmen, and never would. A cossack dehorsed was a cossack shamed, and would be ridiculed mercilessly until he captured a horse, or was awarded one by the company.
Tsabin smiled, and thought "It's good to be a Cossack".
After organizing the burning of the enemy corpses, and the honorable internment of their own dead, Artimenner presented his tally of the casualties to Tsabin. Of the thirty four Laurians and caravan guards, none had survived. Of the twenty five cossacks, two had been killed and three had been wounded, but would live to raid again. They would heal up on the journey to Ulm to dispose of their stolen goods, and the men would drink to their health and good luck. The journey to Ulm took the better part of a day, and the landscape was devoid of troops, only a few farmers and the bandits that preyed upon them. Tsabin ignored both, because something was bothering him, but he wasn't sure what it was. But he had a bad feeling, and was unable to shake it until they reached the gates of Ulm. Giving his men their orders, he allowed small parties to visit the brothels and taverns, and invited his captains to a meal at his favorite tavern.
Once inside the tavern, after a few rounds of wine, he started to relax. Noticing a few of his men at the bar, he sauntered over to say hello. Just as he reached the men, one of them pulled out a pouch to pay for his drinks. As he did so, a sealed roll of parchment fell out of the pouch, and Tsabin felt his face go grey with foreboding. Laying on the ground amidst the spilled ale and wine was a parchment bearing the seal of Boyar Constantine, the old marshall of the Vaegir Tsardom, the man who had given Tsabin his first mercenary contract, and Tsabin's greatest friend. Grabbing the parchment off the floor, he spun the cossack around with a hand on his shoulder. "Ataman!, join us for drinks please, I will pay, yes?" His face paled as he saw the glare Tsabin was giving him. "Where did you get this!?!," Tsabin demanded, "Where did it come from?"
"I got it from one of the Laurian scum we killed yesterday ago Ataman, I needed a new pouch, so I took his. It was almost empty, so I filled it with my coins and forgot about the parchment." Tsabin suddenly realized what had been nagging at him, and spun around to his captains. "Borcha! That last caravan we raided, you tracked and found them, how many men did they have?"
"Thirty three, Ataman" replied Borcha. "Artimenner, how many of their dead did you count?" "Thirty four, Ataman," replied Artimenner. They both looked at each other and at Tsabin. "What's going on Ataman," Artimenner said, "What has happened?" With shaking hands, Tsabin opened and unrollled the parchment.
"To Tsabin Rusovi, Ataman of the Shapeste Cossacks
April 12, 1496
Written near Knudarr Castle, on the Laurian side of the bridge across the Knudarr river.
Dear friend, I hope this message finds you, as I only knew the general area you were operating in. Therefore I give this message to my fastest rider, with hopes he will be able to track your whereabouts.
As I write this, I am beseiged in an armed camp after surviving an attack by no less than the queen of Lauria herself. The battle went well until this evening. I had suceeded in driving the Queen away, and me and my handfull of men I had left made a break for our own lands when we were set upon by the thrice damned Caliginous Knights. We are preparing for one more break for freedom as I write, but with myself, and just a few troops, I doubt we will be successful. If you receive this message, please come to me with all haste, I need your assistance my friend"
Cursing, Tsabin threw the parchment to the table. He had only been a half a days ride away when he had stopped the caravan north of Nibelheim, and had no idea his friend had needed him. He knew he should have trusted his instincts that something had gone terribly wrong after the battle. Now he knew what it was. The messenger Boyar Constantine had sent had been mistaken for a Laurian caravan guard and slaughtered with the rest of them. Only luck had even let the pouch find it's way to him after a disaster like this, and Tsabin decided to see just how far his famous luck would take him. After having unpleasant dealings with Nichart and his Caliginous Knights himself, knew that if Constantine had lost the battle, he would now be a very unhappy captive, and needed rescuing.
"Borcha, get Lezalit and gather the men. Artimenner, wake up the shop keeps and reprovision us. We ride within two hours." He quickly outlined his plan to his captains, and left to help organize the hasty departure.
PART 2
April 13, 1496
Before Sunset
It was near sunset when Nichart called his knights to a halt. Calling his lieutenants over, he gave his orders for disposition of the camp, and oversaw the raising of his personal tent. "You, soldier, bring the prisoner to my tent, and have food and drink brought as soon as the cooks have something hot and ready. Bring service for two."
Boyar Constantine sat with his head bowed. Yesterday, he and his men had almost fought free, when a lance had literaly taken his horse out from under him. His loyal men, though few in number had quickly surrounded his fallen form, but each had fallen to the circling knights, and the last thing he had seen was a mailed fist descending as he struggled to rise from his fallen horse. He wondered if any of his men had survived the fight, but was sure they had not. He felt a moment of sadness, and shame at not being able to preserve the lives of his men, and then anger at these so called "knights". While unsure if his messenger had reached his friend Tsabin, he knew that this Nichart would be incapable of failing to brag about his recent good fortune. Someone from his homeland would be sure to hear of it, and he would be ransomed or rescued in due time.
He looked up as Nichart entered the tent, and set his helm and guantlets on a table inside.
"I have sent a rider to the Tsar's court to offer you for ransom yesterday. But in the meantime Marshall, you and I have things to discuss. You fought bravely, and because of it, I will give you a chance to tell me the disposition of the Vaegir host, and their battle plans. Believe me, Marshall, I have ways of getting the information from you should you choose to stay silent." Constantine just looked at the knight for a moment, and let his breath out in a sigh.
"Believe this you arrogant prick, even if I did have information you could use, I wouldn't give it to you." Constantine replied, "But I have been on patrol by myself with my men for a week now, and stepped down as Marshall before I left. When I left, the Tsar himself had taken over duties as marshall until an election could be held. I was tired of the whispers and the backstabbing, and had decided to just be a spear carrier again. So honestly, I have no idea what the Host's plans are."
"A likely story, Marshall," said Nichart, "but you will have to do better than that. But we will see if you are willing to talk to me later." So saying, he proceeded to eat both plates of food, and drink both cups of wine. Constantine watched in anger as he called to a soldier outside the tent, and was escorted back to the mud patch and was staked down.
The next evening, a dispatch arrived for Nichart, and he strolled over to where Constantine was laying.
"I guess you were telling the truth Boyar. It seems Boyar Yuri has been elected Marshall of the Vaegirs, and has replied to my ransom demand." Constantine felt a shiver of dread. He and Yuri had long been enemies, and Yuri's backstabbing and rumor mongering had been one of the reasons he had stepped down as Marshall. "Marshall Yuri replies that he feels no need to waste good silver on a captured spy, and suggests that you be hanged as befits your new status" "I will transport you to my Queen in Tihr, and then, you will most likely be hung for crimes against the Laurian nation. It could be worse though. I was fully prepared to torture you in the worst ways you can imagine for your information. You will be spared that, as I want you fully fit to stand in trial before my Queen." He gave orders that Constantine be fed and given water, and left. Constantine felt a weariness settle over him, and despaired.
PART 3
April 15, 1496
Before sunrise
Borcha had done a wonderful job of tracking the Caliginous Knights, and was able to confirm that they were indeed carrying a prisoner with them."Are there any signs that they are torturing him, Borcha?" Tsabin asked, remembering his own unpleasant visit with these Knights nearly a year ago. He had been captured while raiding a Laurian villiage, back when all he had with him were a few Imperial dragoon deserters, before he had joined the Vaegirs as a mercenary. He had spent two miserable days in their company before stealing a horse and escaping, and had no intention of ever being captured by them again.
"Okay let's go over the plan one more time. Artimenner, you and Lezalit are to take half the men and hide beyond this ridge here. You will have your horses and the horses of the men going with me. As soon as the sun tops the ridge behind you, you and your troops will begin circling the camp, each man leading a spare horse on his outside flank. Stay at the very edge of their sight and try to kick up as much dust as you can. I want you to look like a full cossack troop, and if the wind stays steady, the dust you bring should blanket the entire camp making it easier for me and Borcha to get Boyar Constantine out. Fire a few shots, but remember to conserve your ammo, and only take clear targets approaching you, none away from you, got it?" Artimennner and Lezalit nodded. "Borcha, as soon as the sun tops the ridge, you and I will sneak in when Lezalit and Artimenner are on the far side of the camp. If we don't make it in one go, we hide until they are back on the far side and move in again. Same on the way out if we aren't pursued. The remaining men will hide here and cover us from these rocks. We make it here, and wait for the riders to circle back to our side, remount and run like hell. I hate to say it, but any man who falls will most likely be left behind for now, but try to make it to the river and we will join you there, I have faith in all my Cossacks, otherwise, you would never be permitted to ride with us. Borcha, you are the fastest and lightest horseman, so Constantine will be placed on your horse behind you, are we clear?" Again everyone nodded, and quietly took up their positions.
As soon as the sun touched the top of the ridge, and the Knight's camp below started coming to life, Tsabin heard Lezalit kick the riders into motion. He smiled as heard the bloodcurdling sound of 12 cossacks trying to sound like almost 30. It was pretty believable, and he knew the Knights below would be starting to panic. He poked his head up from the rocks, and sure enough, dust clouds were already rising from the riders. He watched as the men approached the far side of the camp, touched Borcha on the shoulder, and staying low to the ground, ran like hell for the camp.
It was complete chaos inside the camp, men running, and yelling, and hopping like enraged rabbits as they tried to put their armor on as fast as they could. Borcha located the prisoner area, and led Tsabin at a quick pace, going from post to post and tent to tent. They had just reached Constantine, and gotten his attention, when Tsabin muttered, "Oh hell," under his breath. The wind was shifting, and in no time at all, clear patches were appearing all around them.
With only moments before they were seen, he knew there was no time to find a key to unlock Constantine's chains, and took the only option he had, though he knew it was a mistake. Pulling his pistol, and ignoring Borchas look of horror, he took careful aim at the lock on Constanine's chains, and blew it apart. The camp instantly fell silent. No Caliginous Knight would demean himself by carrying a firearm. As Tsabin and Borcha each took an arm and hauled Constantine to his feet, shouts broke out around the camp. Tsabin and Borcha gritted their teeth and ran like hell to where their men were hiding. Dodging sword swinging knights half armored, and crawling under half collapsed tents, they broke free of the camp just as four knights who had found their mounts and lances thundered towards them. Tsabin, heaving with all his might, threw both Constantine and Borcha to the ground and drew his saber. Deflecting a lance, he took a hard hit to the head from a booted foot, and turned to see Nichart himself grinning at him. "You again!," said Nichart, back for more fun eh?" Tsabin was gathering himself for a reply, when shots rang out from the rocks. Three of the Knights went down, and Nichart took a bullet in the shoulder. Cursing, he kicked his horse into a gallop intending to run Tsabin down, but Tsabin rolled to the side, and Nichart never slowed down, instead riding to the camp shouting orders. Borcha was up and and running, shouting at a dazed Tsabin "Ataman, help me, I cant' get this guy out of here by myself!" Tsabin shook his head clear and ran to help Borcha get Constantine out of there. Just as they reached their men, Artimenner and Lezalits riders came back around and they were able to mount up. A few parting shots were fired as the Cossacks fled.
A few hours later, they stopped and Tsabin helped Constantine out of his bonds. Constantine grinned at Tsabin, "Still acting like the crazy mercenary I took a chance on last year I see." He put a hand on Tsabin's shoulder, "Thank you my friend, I owe you my life." He quickly recounted the events and the news that Nichart had given him. "That's bad news, but what do we do now?" Tsabin asked. "I'm not sure," replied Constantine, "but I need to get a message to Tsar Grozny, and find out what is going on now. But I don't know if I will be welcomed at court after these events." "Stay with my Cossacks, Boyar, and I will be your messenger," replied Tsabin, "I will leave them in your capable hands for now." Constantine smiled, "I accept your offer Tsabin, but beware Boyar Yuri, he is a snake, and will not hesitate to slay any bearers of what he considers bad news." "By the way, where is the messenger I sent to find you?"
To Be Continued
Write more soon!
