“So there I was, one boot on my foot and the other in my mouth as I tried jumping from the balcony to the hedgerow. I tell you I'm lucky her husband never saw me, and that I didn't break my neck, but she’s worth all the scratches,” grinned the guardsmen as he shared another story of his exploits among the women of Hama Valon.
Olin wasn't sure how much to believe, the man managed to paint himself as a blade master of wooing, but it helped to break up the routine of guard duty at the gates. He had once more volunteered to help with the inspections as it gave him a chance to work with the guards, and more familiarity with interacting with fighting men.
“You’ll end up hanging by your small clothes if a husband catches you,” teased another as he waved the wagon through, hopping down heavily off the wagon’s bed after inspecting the load. The wagon rattled through the gates noisily, and as Olin turned to greet the next approaching traveller, he spied a rider slumped over their horse further down the road. Concerned at the appearance of both rider and animal, Olin walked forward, calming the people he walked through as he approached the animal.
Grabbing the reins, he shook the rider gently, and was shocked to see it was a young man who appeared exhausted and filthy. The horse was lathered and it’s mouth had sores from the bridle after what appeared to be a long journey. “Is this Hama Valon, did I make it,” the boy croaked weakly as Olin led the horse gently into the Grey Tower.
“Yes my child, you are at the Grey Tower now, let's get you off the horse and get the animal stabled before you tell me more,” Olin said gently, pulling one of the guardsman aside, sending the man to fetch a groom for the weary horse. He had been around animals often in his life before becoming a Dedicated; and this animal had been ridden within an inch of it’s life.
While Olin waited for the grooms, he walked the horse slowly and allowed the young man to sip from a canteen and wash his face and hands off in the basin nearby. After washing the worst of the road off of himself, and with some water and food the boy began to liven. As Olin took him through the grounds of the Grey Tower, he often had to pause as the boy stared at one wondrous thing after another.
Once they had arrived at the stables, and the young man could see his horse was taken care of, Olin grabbed a bench, “So tell me, what is your name? What brings you to the Grey Tower? And with a horse on the verge of death?”
The boy looked startled by the questions, but as his wide eyes took in the Dedicated uniform and the sword pin he seemed to decide it was alright to defer to Olin. “Well sir, my mother and father sent me. We’re from a little village near Garen’s wall. We all just called it Garen’s Spring on account of the wild springs that helped feed into the river. Mostly farmers and some mining, but we’re being overrun.”
“You're name boy, and overrun by who?” asked Olin as he tried to place the description. He knew a little of the area surrounding Garen’s wall, having lived in southern Ghealdan, but he had never heard of Garen’s Springs. Still he knew that the mountains could easily hide many little hamlets, and he wondered what trouble could have found this boys home.
“I'm called Nevin sir, and it's the Seanchan. I don't know a lot, but I did hear my father say they were making a push up the great north road. Bad men came along with a group of people fleeing their homes, but my father and the others were able to fight them off. Our Lord died, so my father sent me here,” Nevin said in a rush as he clearly delivered a message he was worried he would forget.
“Stay in Hama Valon and get some rest, I must go speak with someone. But I will make sure you have a room. Ask the guard to show you to Olin’s inn and tell them I sent you,” Olin said as stood, his mind already dissecting the news. The men had most likely been displaced refugees and criminals, a wave of chaos fleeing the orderly Seanchan advance.
Soon his steps had carried him to a familiar office door, where he knocked and awaited a call to enter. Once the door was open, Olin walked in and shut the door behind him. “Pardon Miahala Sedai, but I was serving on the gate when I met with a messenger. A young boy, riding hard to make it here in time has provided information. It appears the Seanchan maybe solidifying their hold on Altara. Is there anyone you could send to provide aide,” Olin asked as he finished his report on the facts he had learned.
Olin wasn't sure how much to believe, the man managed to paint himself as a blade master of wooing, but it helped to break up the routine of guard duty at the gates. He had once more volunteered to help with the inspections as it gave him a chance to work with the guards, and more familiarity with interacting with fighting men.
“You’ll end up hanging by your small clothes if a husband catches you,” teased another as he waved the wagon through, hopping down heavily off the wagon’s bed after inspecting the load. The wagon rattled through the gates noisily, and as Olin turned to greet the next approaching traveller, he spied a rider slumped over their horse further down the road. Concerned at the appearance of both rider and animal, Olin walked forward, calming the people he walked through as he approached the animal.
Grabbing the reins, he shook the rider gently, and was shocked to see it was a young man who appeared exhausted and filthy. The horse was lathered and it’s mouth had sores from the bridle after what appeared to be a long journey. “Is this Hama Valon, did I make it,” the boy croaked weakly as Olin led the horse gently into the Grey Tower.
“Yes my child, you are at the Grey Tower now, let's get you off the horse and get the animal stabled before you tell me more,” Olin said gently, pulling one of the guardsman aside, sending the man to fetch a groom for the weary horse. He had been around animals often in his life before becoming a Dedicated; and this animal had been ridden within an inch of it’s life.
While Olin waited for the grooms, he walked the horse slowly and allowed the young man to sip from a canteen and wash his face and hands off in the basin nearby. After washing the worst of the road off of himself, and with some water and food the boy began to liven. As Olin took him through the grounds of the Grey Tower, he often had to pause as the boy stared at one wondrous thing after another.
Once they had arrived at the stables, and the young man could see his horse was taken care of, Olin grabbed a bench, “So tell me, what is your name? What brings you to the Grey Tower? And with a horse on the verge of death?”
The boy looked startled by the questions, but as his wide eyes took in the Dedicated uniform and the sword pin he seemed to decide it was alright to defer to Olin. “Well sir, my mother and father sent me. We’re from a little village near Garen’s wall. We all just called it Garen’s Spring on account of the wild springs that helped feed into the river. Mostly farmers and some mining, but we’re being overrun.”
“You're name boy, and overrun by who?” asked Olin as he tried to place the description. He knew a little of the area surrounding Garen’s wall, having lived in southern Ghealdan, but he had never heard of Garen’s Springs. Still he knew that the mountains could easily hide many little hamlets, and he wondered what trouble could have found this boys home.
“I'm called Nevin sir, and it's the Seanchan. I don't know a lot, but I did hear my father say they were making a push up the great north road. Bad men came along with a group of people fleeing their homes, but my father and the others were able to fight them off. Our Lord died, so my father sent me here,” Nevin said in a rush as he clearly delivered a message he was worried he would forget.
“Stay in Hama Valon and get some rest, I must go speak with someone. But I will make sure you have a room. Ask the guard to show you to Olin’s inn and tell them I sent you,” Olin said as stood, his mind already dissecting the news. The men had most likely been displaced refugees and criminals, a wave of chaos fleeing the orderly Seanchan advance.
Soon his steps had carried him to a familiar office door, where he knocked and awaited a call to enter. Once the door was open, Olin walked in and shut the door behind him. “Pardon Miahala Sedai, but I was serving on the gate when I met with a messenger. A young boy, riding hard to make it here in time has provided information. It appears the Seanchan maybe solidifying their hold on Altara. Is there anyone you could send to provide aide,” Olin asked as he finished his report on the facts he had learned.