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Marvin trudged carefully through the bitter, biting cold, his steps ponderous on his precarious snow shoes, absently leading a skittish horse. In the brief respite the blizzard had given him he stopped to take stock and puzzle out his surroundings. He squinted into the glare of reflected snow, and muttered under his breath. He was perfectly lost; the snow stretched out seemingly forever in all directions, and the setting sun reflected off it, blinding him. The horse stamped its hoof accusingly, and Marvin eyed the snow underfoot. Young men were known to go out and never return in the Vale in winter. He was no young man; he was, however, quite lost.

He walked unsteady circles around the horse, and squinted into the glare of sun on snow. The horse began chewing on imaginary grass; it did have an annoying habit of belaboring a point. He turned to give it a good kick and promptly lost his balance on his too small snow shoes. The horse looked innocently down on him, still chewing. It was from this vantage point that he noticed a shadowy silhouette somewhere in the distance. It was impossible to make the distinction even between person or building; but it was something and that was good enough for Marvin. Yanking the horse’s reigns he headed straight for where he hoped the mysterious object was.

They crunched on through the snow, Marvin finally coming close enough to recognize a small cottage directly in their path just as the sun disappeared on the horizon. It was quite idyllic, sitting snuggly in its blanket of snow, the chimney puffing away happily in the rapidly fading twilight.

Marvin approached the cottage and settled the horse into the small stable next to two others. As he approached the door he heard raised voices. He hesitated but the blizzard looked to be picking up again so he knocked firmly and waited. There was instant silence within. After Marvin had been waiting almost twenty seconds he heard cautious footsteps move towards the door, and it opened slowly.

A powerful old man stood glaring in the dim fire light of his cottage. He took in Marvin at a glance and his eyes moved searchingly past him. Marvin smiled charmingly and was about to speak when he noticed a flicker of movement at his peripheral. He turned and found himself facing a man of about his own years, clothed all in black. The man seemed to be keeping a sharp eye on Marvin, yet he squinted into the semi-darkness and the rushing snow, his gaze also searching.

“I have circled the perimeter Lucius, he is alone,” said the dark clad stranger. Marvin stared openly at his eyes. There was some texture or element that was different about this mans eyes.
“Please, do come inside,” said Lucius from the doorway, startling him from his reflection.
“Ah, thank you good sir, I apologise for dropping in unannounced,” Marvin replied.
Lucius chuckled, “It is in the nature of living in such an isolated place that one receives unexpected visitors, when one receives them at all.” Marvin laughed appreciatively, darting a nervous glance at the dark clad man, who entered slamming the door behind him.

“Please don’t mind my ill tempered friend, his observation is a matter of pride with him and he is loath that he did not hear you approach,” Lucius said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“For a man of your profession, you are remarkably free with your opinions old man,” Lucius winced.
“Ah but we have not even been properly introduced,” said Lucius, smoothly changing the subject, “You know I am Lucius, and this is Tyrenus,” the dark clad man bowed, “and you are…?”

“Marvin; Marvin Waterpike.”
“Please do have a seat Marvin, warm yourself by the fire.” Marvin sat down in a great rocking chair next to the fireplace, and Lucius sat in a smaller chair opposite. Tyrenus stood near the door behind Marvin. “And where is it you’re from?” asked Lucius.
“The Hollow Oaks Farm near the town of Bridgewater, good sir, and a mighty fine farm it is too,” said Marvin, beaming with hard earned pride, “I’ve built that farm from the ground up, and up into one of the finest farms around these parts too!”
“Why yes, I believe I have heard of it! That is the town of Bridgewater near Breckenridge?” asked Lucius.
Marvin frowned, “Oh no, Breckenridge is an abandoned village; no where near Bridgewater in fact,” it was the type of mistake an outlander would make.

“Of course it is! How silly of me. Would you like something to drink Marvin?”
“Why I think I would at that!”
“And what is it that brings you all the way out here Marvin?” Lucius asked casually while pouring drinks.
Throughout this discourse Tyrenus kept a close eye on Marvin, and an ear on the outside. He admired the subtly with which the old man had carried out this interrogation.

“Well, it is rather an embarrassing story I’m afraid…” Marvin laughed uncomfortably, "You see i had a slight... disagreement with my wife, and so i was going to spend the night in town, as a compromise you understand, when this blizzard caught me... and the rest you know!" he smiled wryly.
Lucius nodded seriously, "I see," he darted a glance at Tyrenus, "That is unfortunate."

Tyrenus regarded the farmer from his vantage point by the door. He was middle aged, graying, but not yet bald. He was obviously a working man and despite his age he was reasonably well muscled. Could he be some sort of agent, a scout perhaps? It seemed highly unlikely, but this only served to heighten his suspicions.

"I wonder if I could use your washroom?" Marvin was asking Lucius.
"But of course! Through that door and on the right," Lucius pointed to the back wall of the small cottages front room.
"Well, what do you think?" Lucius asked once he had gone, his voice pitched low.
"I'm not the one that needs convincing," Tyrenus replied.
"For goodness sakes Tyrenus!" Lucius whispered fiercely, "That man is as much a dangerous liar as I am a good farmer!" Tyrenus nodded grudgingly, "I left my enemies behind me a long time ago."
"If you truly believe that Lucius, then I shall leave- this instant. We have no need for soft, deluded old men," Tyrenus hissed back, "Where you came from a man either buried his enemies, or was buried himself; and you left plenty standing! If you have forgotten even that simple fact, then you would be much more a hindrance than a help!"

A boot crunched in the snow outside. Lucius looked quickly over at Tyrenus; he was crouched by the door, a sword drawn from somewhere in his black clothing. Two surprise visitors in the same night...? Lucius drew a dagger from his belt. He turned to see Marvin standing goggle eyed at this spectacle; he must have thought they were about to do battle there in Lucius's front room, or perhaps that they were waiting for him to return so they might rob him. Lucius motioned for Marvin to remain quiet, and to take cover behind an armchair.

Lucius moved over next to Tyrenus and put his mouth to his ear, "What do you hear?" he asked in a barely audible whisper.

Tyrenus listened intently; he held up seven fingers. With four fingers he pointed to the front door, then with three fingers to the rear of the cottage. Lucius nodded; seven men, four from the front, the other three from the back. Lucius moved silently to the door which Marvin had just entered from, and smiled reassuringly at the farmer cowering behind the big chair by the fireplace.

They waited.

The attacks came simultaneously. Four men burst into the main room, and Tyrenus danced to meet them, the lead man falling dead within seconds. Lucius could hear the other three, bumbling around in his second room; they obviously had not believed such a small cottage would have more than one room.
Lucius watched the door open slowly into the room, he jumped up but the lead man saw Lucius's attack coming. He jerked back and immediately followed up with a wild jab which Lucius easily sidestepped, smashing the intruders face with his elbow. The man again fell back wearily, and Lucius occupied the doorway. His only chance was to fight these men one at a time; he was at a huge disadvantage as it was.

"Korim you moron! It’s a doddering old man with a dagger! Kill him!" someone yelled.

Doddering was he!

Egged on by his companions Korim charged forward. At the last possible moment Lucius switched his dagger to his left hand, back stepped and, grabbing the door he smashed it into the charging Korim. Instantly he opened it again, ready to finish of the stunned man... but there was no need; the violently slamming door had reversed the angle of Korims sword to such an extent that his momentum had carried him onto it. Poor Korim, thought Lucius; killed by a foolish old man and his door.

Korims two companions had no such thoughts. They rushed the stunned old man, and Lucius was forced to retreat double quick. Desperately he threw his dagger at the first, who screamed when it made contact with his forehead, but it had been the hilt end and Lucius cursed his luck.

Coldly, he considered the situation; five men against three, two of those unable or unwilling to fight. The only option was escape.

He grabbed the great chair Marvin was cowering behind, and with all his strength hurled it across the floor at his two attackers. Both faltered again. Using these precious few seconds, Lucius then shoved Marvin towards his second and larger chair. They both struggled to lift it, but once they had they threw it as best they could, scattering the men around Tyrenus.

Wordlessly and exhausted all three staggered into the fierce blizzard and towards Lucius's small stable. They had literally seconds to mount up and ride off. Marvin seemed to be in shock, and could not mount his horse; even though he had not taken the time to un-saddle it when he arrived. Both Lucius and Tyrenus would ride bare back. After what seemed like an age, and they were all saddled they set out at a canter.

Lucius was wearing only a thin shirt, and he could feel his entire body slowly going numb already. In the poor visibility he thought he could see Tyrenus robes ripped and damp with blood in several places. In response to these thoughts the blizzard seemed to pick up, gusting snow with renewed vigor on the three figures. Just like the good old days, Lucius thought, shivering violently.