Constable Tanglerush sat with her morning coffee in the gazebo, looking out onto Little Staddlemere rather than at Watcher Millaray Boggs, standing at attention before her. “At ease, Millie”, the Constable sighed, setting her cup on the railing. “I’m not the one angry at you. This is coming from Grimbriar, through Heathstraw, then to me.”
Millie relaxed her stance, but looked at the Constable with suspicious eyes and crossed arms. “Extended patrol?”, she asked the Constable. “What exactly are the orders, ma’am?”
Tanglerush shook her head before answering. “Grimbriar has been getting reports of unusual traffic between the ruins east of Chetwood and the Wildwood. Wagons in the middle of the night. He has spoken to the Mayor, informing him that he intends to up the patrols. He says we in Staddle need to be part of it, so word has come down that the Chief wants you, specifically, to ride out and look around. Why you? I think he is having a crossed hair about you, and especially Greenlake, not reporting in immediately after delivering the report from the Shire.”
Millie searched the Constable’s face with a mixture of disbelief and ire. Tanglerush raised her hand before Millie could form a response. “The situation between Grimbriar and Greenlake are for them to resolve. I don’t really know what’s at the root of it. It could be something petty, but Grimbriar has never shown any signs of such before. So, you tend to your duties here, Millie. I do have a suggestion for you, though. It looks shady when a couple of Watchers get drunk and spend the night together in the Pony, of all places. Rumors there flow freer than Barli’s ale.”
Watcher Boggs cleared her throat and with tucked chin and stiffened spine said, “There were no hank-panky between Watcher Greenlake and meself, ma’am, and any who says so is a stink-belly slug. Is that what the Chief thinks? Maybe I should go see him...”
“No, Watcher Boggs, you should not and I’m telling you not to.” The Constable’s face softened after resuming control of the conversation. “I will pass up and over the chain of command my assurance that any rumors contrary to your honor, and Greenlake’s, are flat wrong. Your word is good enough for me on that.”
With pursed lips, Millie nodded at the Constable’s direction. “What are the particulars on this.... patrol?” Tanglerush gathered up her coffee cup and gestured for Millie to follow.
“I’ll have to show you on a map”, the Constable replied as she led them on foot back to Bree through the Staddle Gate. As they turned right just inside the gate and up the porch stairs of the Watcher station, guardsmen training outside stopped and watched them, whispering. “You lot done? Need to go get something to do from Heathstraw?”, Tanglerush asked. They returned to their training without comment, and the Constable led Millie inside.
The main room of the station was sparse and functional, with weapons and shields racked against the walls, and a desk against the back wall formed a ‘T’ with a long table extending into the room. On the table, a map was spread out with stones laid on its corners to keep it from rolling up. Millie recognized the depicted features as Bree and the surrounding lands.
Tanglerush pointed to a spot near the eastern edge of the map. “Here is a camp of hunters and prospectors. They’ve sent word back about campfires being spotted from the ruins to their north. We need you to ride out there and use the camp to base reconnoiters. Grimbriar thinks this activity could be related to the movement of wagons to and from the Wildwood and needs you to check it out. You are not to engage with anyone you observe there. Just gather what information you can and return to camp. Every few days, someone from the Watch will ride out and get your reports.”
“Odd place for such a camp, isn’t it?”, Millie asked.
The Constable smirked. “Isn’t it? Probably Rangers involved...still, it’s handy for our purposes. We need you to get supplied, equipped, and out as soon as you can. It will be full day’s ride, so get ready today and ride out first light tomorrow.”
Millie nodded, and as they turned to leave the station, she asked, “How much trouble is Watcher Greenlake in?”
Constable Tanglerush snorted through a grin. “Shoeing horses, mucking stables, combat training. Rumor has it Grimbriar will keep him doing that for quite a while.”
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“Nice of you to pay us a visit, Master Greenlake!”, Chief Watcher Grimbriar growled as Torrance stepped through the open front door of the Watcher station near Bree's West Gate. The Chief did not look up from where he sat, at the end of a long table and facing the doorway, throwing the remark across parchments spread before him on a large map. “I dearly hope reporting in has not interrupted your … excursions?” Grimbriar slowly lifted a squinting glare at Greenlake.
Sensing there was no correct answer for the question, and that an apology would likely be simply scoffed at, Torry stepped to his end of the table and stood to his best approximation of At Attention. “Watcher Greenlake reporting, sir.”
Grimbriar leaned back in his chair and smirked at Torry. “Aye, that you are boyo, after a night of debauchery at the Pony, eh?” He blinked with surprise at the sudden fierceness in Greenlake’s eyes as they bore into his. The surprise was replaced by an expression of victory, as if he had finally gotten from Torry what he was hoping for, a heated reaction. Torry turned without a word and moved toward the open door.
“You’re not dismissed, boyo!”, the Chief shouted.
Torry closed the front door and turned again to the table. As Grimbriar tried to rise, Torry rushed to the table and slammed its end against the Chief Watcher, pinning him at the waist between the table and the chair suddenly jammed against the wall. Everything on the table was scattered by the suddenness of the move, and Grimbriar cursed and tried to lift the table away. “I’ll strip your HIDE for this!”
Greenlake knew that Grimbriar was an expertly trained warrior, and if he ever reached him with weapon and shield, the confrontation would be over immediately. But he also calculated that he had one advantage over the Chief.
Strength.
He was half a head taller, broader, and years of toil at the forge had muscled him well. To illustrate this, he allowed Grimbriar just enough leverage to lift the table away from his waist before easily overpowering it forcibly against the Chief’s chest, pinning him again and knocking him windless. The Chief slumped back into this chair, gasping for breath, face purple with rage and lack of air. Torry flipped the table aside and stepped forward just out of Grimbriar’s reach.
“I don’t give an orc's fart what you want to say to or about me … boyo … but if you intend to speak that way about Watcher Boggs again, then suck in your wind and GET THE HELL UP!!” Torry towered over Grimbriar with fists clenched and muscles bulging in his neck, shoulders, and arms.
Grimbriar sneered at Torry for the minutes it took for his breath to return. Eventually, he nodded at Torry, and, with rasping breath, said, “Defending a fellow Watcher, boyo. That’s good. Attacking your superior officer, that’s bad.” The Chief looked Torry up and down, realizing for the first time that Greenlake was attired in a Watcher’s crimson farrier uniform. Grimbriar stood unsteadily, stiffly assuming his full height. Thrusting out his chin, he taunted, “So, you want to patrol your precious family farms, eh? Well, if you ever want to do that in MY Watch… boyo …. you have some chores to do first. Until I say otherwise, you will clean stables, feed and water horses, shoe them, and at the end of each day, when you’ve pissed out all your vinegar, you’ll spar with me, shield and weapon. Let’s see if you can learn how to use your brutishness for more than breaking the law.”
