|Of Straw and Gold|
Date of Occurence:
Her father was buried. That much, at least, was certain.
Brehen sat on an old log, looking over the small plot of land that she and her father had tended. It was truly a pathetic thing- only an acre and a half, with but a couple of sheep grazing in a minute pen.
One would have thought that borrowed gold would serve you better. Syrtur was undoubtedly laughing himself to Hades over this.
She threw her head back and sighed. Bitterness came too readily since her father died. But a week ago they'd wheeled his corpse back into town- apparently he'd been killed by bandits on his way into town. Brehen didn't believe that for a moment. Syrtur was far too smug about the whole thing for that to be true.
She struggled back tears. Master Syrtur was the town's resident moneylender- and unofficial king. It seemed that he knew everything, that nothing he desired could evade his grasp. With a dark sense of foreboding, she waited for him to arrive.
She waited until twilight. It was only when the sun was mostly down that he appeared, striding over to her from the treeline. He was a very tall man, and was in some ways rather handsome. If only he didn't look at people as if they were bits of meat he wanted to taste. If it wasn't for that, maybe she could fool herself into thinking she wasn't about to deal with the devil.
Syrtur walked up to her confidently.
"Good day, miss Brehen."
THIS STORY IS A WORK IN PROGRESS