Osric Vayne's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Osric Vayne counted eleven men who called him lord, and not one who had eaten that day. They crouched in the ruined mill by the river, waiting for him to make good on his promise. He had sworn to take back his family's castle from the noble house that murdered his father and stole his name. But a rebellion runs on bread and steel, and Osric had neither. He turned his father's gold signet ring in his fingers. It was the last thing he owned worth selling, and it would buy them a single week. One of the men spat. "Pretty words, Vayne. My belly wants coin." The others watched. Osric knew the look. Loyalty was thinning like broth stretched too far. "You'll have coin," he said. "Tonight." He led them along the river road to a stone building set apart, squat and heavy with iron shutters. A guard leaned by its studded door. Above the door, carved letters named it a counting house. Inside sat the taxes the noble family had wrung from every farmer in the valley. Osric had watched it for three days. Two guards by night. A river at its back. A woman dropped from the roof of the shed beside him. She landed light, bow already in hand, blonde hair loose around a face he half remembered from his father's hall. Alleria Lightborne. She was born to the same rank he'd lost, and she had every reason to hate what he'd become. "You'll get them all killed," she said. She nocked an arrow anyway. "Two guards inside. I counted four." "You've been watching me watch it." "I've been watching you starve." Her green eyes moved over his ragged men. "My family wants that house robbed as much as you do. So I'm here. Don't mistake it for trust." Osric did not argue. He needed her arrows. "The back window," he said. "You put down the two by the strongroom. My men take the door." She went first, over the shed and gone. Osric gave her a slow count of thirty. Then he kicked the leaning guard in the knee and drove him against the wall. His men poured through the door. Inside, a lantern crashed. He heard the snap of a bowstring twice, and two men fell before they cleared their swords. The last guard ran for the river. Osric let him go. He wanted no bodies floating downstream to warn the noble house too soon. The strongroom held four chests of silver. His men wept over them like children. Osric filled his hands and felt the weight of a real army for the first time. Alleria watched from the doorway, an arrow still on her string. "You have your coin," she said. "But that runner reached the road. By morning the whole valley knows the outlaw Vayne robbed their lords." She lowered the bow. "They won't send guards now. They'll send soldiers."