Chapter Text
Clouds rolled in upon the dusk-painted skies. From amber to azure the horizon painted a beautiful evening just beyond the tree lined mountains to the west. As the night approached, the spring air grew brisk, putting a spring in her step. Soon she would have to find a place to sleep for the night, but for now, the cool dirt beneath her paw pads drove her onward.
There was something familiar about these grassy hills, the small figure mused as she kept her brisk pace down the packed dirt road. It hadn’t been the first time she had this thought. Amanda Holstern was her given name, but most of the time she went just by Ami, plain and simple which was well and good. It was exactly the way she lived; plain and simple.
There was too much trouble in a family name. There was darkness in a heritage, a sadness in the – by the gods, the swath of trees over yonder looked so familiar. Ami had been on these roads for almost a fortnight now, things were bound to look the same.
A bird of prey in the distance called, Ami could hear it with her large, keen ears. She was a Foxor who hailed from the Emerald Evergreens, far west of where she was now. Not that she knew much about it at all. Just barely twelve springs old now, she’d never seen her homeland or any kinsmen from there. She bore the amber fur of her people. The long, thick tail, tipped with lighter fur, matching the rest of her markings. A short narrow muzzle to match her short narrow stature. She wore ratty leather armor and a rattier looking sash around her neck. Looking rather plain by western Foxor standards, she bore blonde hair with a hint of strawberry tints unique only to her family. It was a gift from her mother and turned more than a few heads on her journey, as did the large sword strapped to her back.
As she reached the bottom of the shallow-sloping hill, she reached the outer corner of an old wooden fence. A sense of deja vu settled in around her once again. There was something familiar about this place. As it should, she had helped her mother and father build this fence in another life.
Once upon a time, this had been her home.
Ami slowed her pace, coming to a stop at a double wide gate. It was locked by a thick, rusty chain. A faded parchment hung from the topmost board. She snatched it up and read the faded ink’s proclamation; ‘Repossessed for non-payment of taxes to the crown’. The words churned in her mind and then again in her stomach.
Finally finding the courage, she looked past the parchment and beyond the gate to the wide walkway that nature had made a good effort to take back. There in the dim early-evening light was the burned out skeleton of a farmhouse lying among the tall grass. With the realization settling in on her, Ami was forced to admit that she had been here before, almost five years ago.
It was the firm knock at the door that drew the young Foxor, from her quiet reading, to the inside the kitchen’s wooden archway. It had always been a good spying spot, Ami could see the whole of the living room and the front door from there. Though the spot grew more cramped when her little brother, Miles, who was almost four years younger than her, piled in behind her. Annoying as he was, she loved him dearly.
“Stay back children,” Alyssa, their mother said as she passed them, on her way to join their father at the door.
“Who is it, sissy?” Miles asked, worrying his bottom lip with his thumb.
“I don’t know,” she whispered and gave him an admonishing shushing.
It was the truth too. Ami had never seen the tall, rake-thin Doglin at the front door. Though, she recognized the insignia on the stranger’s tunic. It was the same insignias on the tabards of the two fully armored guards, flanking either side of him. The Alabaster ivy entwining the pair or royal hounds was unmistakable. They were the king’s men, but why were they here?
“Meister Gauts,” her father said, as he stepped back from the door, “This is an unexpected surprise.”
“Is it?” the narrow muzzled Doglin said, putting his head on its side, “Is it not the first of the month?”
Renauld Holstern, her father, squared his shoulders, but kept a calm demeanor, “I merely meant the hour, ser.”
“Ah yes, well situations like this require a more timely visit,” Gauts said, keeping his tone even, almost hollow and unfeeling.
“I see,” Renauld nodded slowly, “As I said before, times are tough and I have no money-”
“Oh Renauld,” Gauts spoke with an unearned familiarity, “It’s not that I don’t understand that times are tough; no. It’s that time and time again we extend these deadlines and time and time again you fail to meet them. Why? Why are your neighbors able to pay their taxes and yet you are not?”
Ami’s father, who was smaller than the tax collector, folded his arms across his chest. It was a subtle gesture, but Gauts got the gist as he leaned away from the Foxor.
“It was the skirmish, Gauts-”
“Ser,” Gauts interrupted.
“Yes, sorry. It was the skirmish from the year before last, ser. Remember? It happened right before harvest time,” Renauld explained.
The Doglin wore a disinterested veneer as he looked from one of his guards to the other, “I do recall, yes.’
“Yes, well the Ulman’s burned our entire southern field. Hundreds of pounds of grain were lost and the land still hasn’t recovered. I pleaded to the court for leniency while we rebuilt.” Renauld said, keeping his voice calm.
“And?”
“And we didn’t ask for the Ulman’s to come. We didn’t ask the King’s troops to use fire to suppress the invaders. That’s how we got to where we are now,” her father said, his voice growing with intensity. “You asked how my neighbors can pay their taxes on time. Well simple, Maynard’s fields remain untouched by the Ulmans and Sulan’s fields are all still very much viable. It was only my fields that were burned.”
The Doglin continued to listen, unmoved by Renauld plight. Though the tone of the farmer’s voice was starting to take its toll. Gauts’ eyebrows slowly pinched in the center and his long mouth grew even longer.
Renauld went on, “Is it not the King’s job to protect his people? Yet my crops burned and I’ve yet to recover. To make matters worse, here you stand, threatening me for things that are well beyond my families-”
That’s when the strike came. A surprising backhand that snapped Renauld’s muzzle hard to the left. Blood spattered the floor, a cut drawn by Gauts’ ring. Alyssa screamed and Miles cried out, burying his face beneath Ami’s arm. Instinctively, she wrapped him up, protecting him from the attack on her father.
“You speak above your station, serf. One more word and I’ll have you jailed and your land taken for non-payment,” Gauts threatened.
Renauld settled his footing, his arms sagged by his side. Ami watched as her father’s face twisted into a visage that frightened her. His gnarled, work-ridden hands balled into fists.
“Then do it,” the Foxor snapped. “Forever faithful has my family been to the crown and this is the repayment for mine, my father, and his father’s hard work and sacrifices. I spit on the idea of the leader of men who values gold more than the well being of his people.”
Gauts stared wide eyed. For all his bravado, he shrunk when facing a man of the land. It didn’t stop his irrational behavior as rage seethed through the Doglin at the scrutiny of the farmer and his family. He retreated and ordered the guards forward.
“Seize him, seize them all,” he yelled, activating the guards.
Beyond that point, everything happened so fast. The sounds of chains rattled and shackles cracked, soon their mother and father were in irons, kneeling on the front walkway. Gauts paced before them as he rattled off things Ami couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.
As she and Miles inched closer to the door, things began to draw into a focus. They were arresting her mother and father. What would happen to her and Miles?
“Renauld and Alyssa Holstern; you’re hereby under arrest for failure to pay taxes and suspicion of committing treason to the crown and King Lockmore. Your land and possession are hereby confiscated will henceforth be the property of the kingdom, until such time as your name and debts are cleared. Take them away.” The Doglin bellowed, red shimmered beneath the fine fur on his face.
“No,” Ami screamed as she broke free of the front door.
She didn’t get far before one of the guards caught her by the wrist, pulling her down into the grass. This prompted Miles to bolt from his hiding place inside the house to help her.
“Sissy,” he cried, but the other guard caught him.
Now, Ami’s mother and father were screaming as they watched Miles, who was in tears, being pulled away. Try as she might, Ami couldn’t get away, she couldn’t reach him. All she could do was call out to him.
“No.” Ami said aloud, breaking free from the horrible memory.
There she stood on the dirt road, staring blankly at the crumpled piece of parchment clutched in her hand. The sky had grown darker around her, though she had no memory as to how.
“Miles,” she whispered softly.
“Excuse me?” A voice came from behind her.
Ami jolted and twirled around on the balls of her paws, staring at the figure behind her. It was a Doglin, a little taller and barely older than her. At a quick glance, Ami took in her young, pretty features. Dark auburn hair, creamy orange fur with some very unusual markings, and soft green eyes. That’s not what caught her interest though. This Doglin was wearing the chain armor of an errant squire, complete with sword and dagger. The alabaster ivy and hounds on her cape all but confirmed her employment under the crown.
A long moment passed as the smile on the Doglin’s muzzle faded, she asked, “What’s eating you?”
Ami opened her mouth to speak, but something forced her to sniffle hard. Only then did she realize the cold breeze on her cheeks and the tingle in her nose. Had she been crying? A quick wipe of her eyes told her, yes.
“I-” Ami tried again, remembering the crumpled proclamation in her hand.
Destroying the property of the crown was a severe offense and here she stood, face to face with a king’s officiate with the very evidence in her hands.
Before she could attempt to dispose of it, the squire plucked the paper from her hands and looked it over.
Finally, Ami found her voice, though she feared it was too late to explain, “This land used to belong to my family.”
The Doglin looked from the parchment to the Foxor and then over her shoulder at the burned out shell of the farmhouse, barely visible now that it lay fully in the evening’s shadow.
“Huh, so what happened?”
Ami couldn’t be sure if it was from fear or her emotional vulnerability, but she rattled out the truth, “After extenuating circumstances, leading my family to fall behind on taxes. The King’s lackeys stole my father’s land, condemned him and my mother to die, and doled my brother and I out to the highest bidders for indentured servitude.”
The squire’s large and impossibly beautiful eyes blinked slowly, her mouth hanging slightly slacked, “Wow, that’s – that’s a lot to swallow.”
“Sorry about that,” Ami whispered, a blush coming to her cheeks.
Smoothly, she plucked the parchment from the squire’s hand and tossed it over the fence, adding refuse littering to her list of ever growing offenses. Yet, the squire remained stoic. She made no move to arrest Ami, in fact she made no move at all beyond staring curiously.
Ami, who oftentimes since her family had been taken away from her, struggled with quiet moments, urged. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the insignia embossed on your cape. I know who you serve. So will you be arresting me as well? Maybe have me hanged by nightfall for treason like the king did my parents?”
Again, the squire just stared at her with her wide doe eyes before offering an indifferent shrug, “Well, just your luck that I’m a bit busy right now, so I won’t be condemning you to death today. Catch me again tomorrow and perhaps we’ll schedule something.”
“Wait…what?” Ami’s words failed her again.
“I said; I have a campsite to set up before it gets much darker, so I bid you good evening miss. Have a nice life.” the squire said, easing herself down the road.
Ami considered the young squire for a long moment as she headed off in the same direction she’d been going. Before she could stop herself, she hurried on after her.
“Wait up. Don’t you serve the crown?” Ami asked.
“Do I?” she said, not bothering to look back at the pursuing Foxor.
“The King’s crest says you do.”
“Simply because I haven’t had time to update my employment status or my outfit,” the squire said, digging through her pouch.
“Oh, so – I’m sorry, I don’t think-”
“Kassander St. DeAmont,” she said.
Ami narrowed her eyes and said, “As in Count Gauts DeAmont?”
“The same, though no need for formalities; I’m merely the ‘stand over there’,” the squire chortled as she pulled out her pipe and a tobacco pouch.
“The ‘stand over there’? I’m afraid I don’t understand, Kassander.” Ami said.
“Please, just Kass and I’m the youngest of three children. So my oldest sister is the heir, my brother’s the spare, and that makes me-”
Ami giggled, “The stand over there, very clever.”
“Now you’re catching on,” Kass said, snapping a match to light her pipe.
“A little bit young to be smoking, aren’t you?” Ami assumed.
“I suspect you may be younger than I am,” Kass smirked, giving the Foxor the side-eye.
“Twelve.”
“Fourteen,” Kass said, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth and away from Ami, “I win, farm girl.”
“Ami, actually,” she offered her hand.
Kass gave it a firm shake, but not so firm to cause harm, “Just Ami?”
“Just Ami, nothing else matters.”
“Well, just Ami, well met,” Kass offered her pipe.
Ami held up a hand in refusal, “Where are you heading?”
Kass bit down on the stem of her pipe and pulled a flier from her pouch, offering it to Ami, “If you must know, I’m on my way to the castle for the bicentennial shindig that the king’s throwing.”
Ami took the parchment and gave it a read, “Huh, small realm, that’s where I’m heading too.”
“Small realm indeed,” Kass said, taking the parchment back, “You heading there to assassinate the king?”
“Gods no,” Ami gasped.
It was a dark joke that caught Ami by surprise, but she could tell by Kass’s cheerful laughter that it was just that; a joke.
“I was hoping to find my brother there,” Ami explained.
“Oh right, you two were separated. Well, it’s a good place to find folks that we lost along the way.” Kass mused.
“Is that why you’re going?”
“Very perceptive,” Kass said, she veered off the road and headed towards a shallow patch of trees. “This spot looks good.”
“You don’t mind me-”
“As embarrassing as it sounds, I lost my knight and I don’t know where to find her,” Kass said, dropping her satchel in the grass.
“You lost your knight?” Ami cackled.
Kass joined in the laugh, unclipping her tent roll from her satchel, “Yeah, I honestly did. I lost my knight and I don’t know where to find her.”
“So what happened?” Ami asked.
“It’s a long story, is what it is,” Kass said, tapping out her pipe and tucking it away so she could focus on laying out her tent components.
“It’s a day and half walk to Trynia, I think we have the time,” Ami said, feeling more at ease around the Doglin squire.
“Oh, fixing to stick with me?” Kass asked.
“If you want me to, that is,” Ami said.
“That depends. Are you any good at cooking?” Kass mused.
Ami nodded, “I’m not bad.”
“Alright, well let’s get camp set up and food cooking, and I’ll tell you over dinner,” Kass said, getting to it.
“Sounds like a deal,” Ami nodded as she stooped down to help Kass with her tent.
“Excellent, this feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Kass said.
It was nothing more than a cloth lean-to suspended by some sturdy sticks with metal fitting that allowed them to be screwed together. All in all it took less than five minutes to assemble, allowing Kass to gather the makings of a fire pit.
Once the fire was going, the pair settled down and Ami got to work on her rustic vegetable stew while warming some biscuits in a tin atop the embers.
Kass made up another pipe while waiting for food and began her story, “In regards to my knight, you see it all started when…”
