Chapter OneAn Old Man and His Manor

The drops of rain fell like stones from the sky. Ty hated the rain, but there was no getting out of this meeting tonight. The water streamed down his face as he looked up the hill toward his destination. Garrot Manor stood looming at the top, like a vulture, waiting to snatch up anyone unfortunate enough to wander into her path.

The road was steep but manageable, and Ty’s long stride was making short work of it. Each step kicked the back of his boots against his long, black leather trench coat. He wasn’t a fan of the long-coat look, but he always felt it was important to look and dress to fit the local style. His hair was the exception. He knew it was common for men in this area to have long hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He tried it once on another mission and ended up being addressed as “ma’am” from someone behind him. His short black hair was staying, and the locals would have to get over it.

His two companions were not having as much luck with the hill and were falling behind. He could hear them back there, panting and complaining about the rain, debating whether tonight’s errand would work and whether it was even worth trying. Ty had been in similar situations before, and he was confident he and his team would succeed; they had to.

The Manor was a beautiful work of Elizabethan architecture in its day. Thanks to some very irresponsible money handling, the latest generation of Garrots couldn’t even afford to maintain their home. When they finally caved and decided to sell it, the manor was in such bad shape that they ended up practically giving it away. It was snatched up by a small, elderly fellow named Edgar and his wife, Charlotte. He turned the broken down mansion into a slightly less broken down inn; an inn that rarely had any guests at all. Tonight was no exception.

“This place,” Hatch said, catching his breath as they finally reached the top of the hill, “is a dump!” Ty wholeheartedly agreed but kept that to himself.

Hatch Jonson was Ty’s best friend. He was barely taller than Ty’s shoulders and was a little heavy, but he carried the weight well. Ty enjoyed tormenting him about his height now and then, calling him “little man.” They had known each other for about seven years but knew enough about each other that it might as well have been their entire lives. Hatch enjoyed tagging along on Ty’s missions, but mostly as an observer. He didn’t believe what Ty believed, and Ty never pushed him on it. Hatch came mostly to experience the adventure but sometimes it was just to let out his pent-up “klepto-urges” as he liked to call them. At home, there were too many moral boundaries, but here it was different. Here, he believed he could do anything without consequences. Ty did what he could to keep his best friend’s pickpocketing to a minimum, but having a thief around had proven useful in the past. Hatch also had a unique perspective on things that Ty often found helpful on a mission like this.

The path they were on passed directly in front of the main doors to the manor. A few birds frantically scurried across the road from behind the main building. They reminded the group of chickens from back home, but with one notable difference: While these birds had bodies almost identical to chickens, they each had a tall, furry tail like a squirrel. The birds quickly settled next to a tiny building that was barely standing on its own. It connected with the manor by a makeshift awning that stretched back across the road. A thick column of smoke rose out of what Ty hoped was a chimney. Hanging on the side of the building was a sign that said “Office. Please knock”. The only visible door had no doorknob. The team huddled under the only spot in the awning that wasn’t leaking.

Hatch looked at the door with a puzzled look on his face. “How does anyone get in there?” he asked. “Maybe there’s a tunnel ’r something?” He shook his hand through his light brown hair, causing a spray to pelt the others, triggering a unified groan. “Wouldn’t a doorknob have been easier?”

Ty approached and knocked. From inside the shack came a deep sigh, followed by an intermittent scraping sound inching toward the door. Ty realized that the person in this shack wasn’t willing to get out of their chair, and shuffled that chair across the room to answer the door.

A grizzly, old voice emerged from inside, “What is it?”

Ty felt his heart jump. He had rehearsed this conversation over and over all day. He was ready.

“We are three travelers looking for a place to stay for the night.”

“Well,” replied the voice, “by law, I have to make sure you have a place to stay.” The man paused to think, clearly reluctant to deal with the visitors. He spoke with an audible smirk, “There’s an orphanage two clicks south of here. Kind folk. They’ll take care of you.”

Without skipping a beat, there was a dramatic change in the old man’s tone. “Unless you tell me your story, you being travelers and all,” he said eagerly. “If I find it satisfactory, then I might be able to find room for you here.”

Ty smiled. This unusual request was precisely what he expected.

“Edgar, I do have a story for you, but it’s going to be a lot to take in. Know that you have nothing to fear from us. You can accept my story, or dismiss it as an amusing lie. No matter how you feel about it, this much is true: Our tale is a tale of adventure if it is anything at all.”

The door of the shack slowly creaked open, just enough to allow Edgar to see the strangers outside.

“…How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I know more about you than your name, and it is crucial that I share those things with you. My name is Ty Parker, and I am from N’in Galloon.”