Unspoken Threats

The early morning air was cool which did nothing to lessen the sweat that ran down Theodore’s face and chest as he rhythmically shoveled mounds of coal into his cart. Such was the lot of a jouneyman glass blower.

The clop of hooves, creak of plate armor and jingle of chainmail made Theodore aware of the knight before the mounted figure broke the quietude with a bellowed “Good morning!”

Theodore deliberately deposited one last shovelful of coal and leaned against the cart, thankful for the respite, but wary. Bending head to knuckle, the young glass blower bowed low. “If you say so, Sir Knight.”

The knight grinned broadly. “I suppose I do. I was on my way to pay a visit to the Duke but my horse had other ideas, the rascal! Do you know how far off course I am?”

Knights were never lost Theodore reminded himself wryly, rubbing his shoulder. “Your horse did you better than you knew, for the Duke’s built a new home in the mountains. There’s a shortcut nearby. You’ll pass his old residence on the way to the new.”

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