Zayden's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Zayden rode through the overcast valley to reclaim land the crown stole from his family three generations ago. He had the old deed sewn into his coat. He had a horse, a sword, and no idea who held the estate now. A hostile lord might wait behind its walls with armed guards. Ride in blind, and he could die on the first doorstep. So he came to the one man who might know. The old cottage sat at the valley's edge, its wood weathered, its green door faded. Zayden tied his horse and knocked. The door opened. Harold stood there, white hair wild, round glasses sliding down his nose. He stared at Zayden for a long moment. Then his face cracked into a grin. "You have his eyes," Harold said. "Your grandfather's. I served him forty years. Groom, gardener, keeper of every secret that house ever held." He stepped back. "Come in before the rain finds us." Inside, a small blue bird hopped along a perch near the window. Its feathers shone even in the gray light. Harold nodded at it. "Still keep one. Your family bred them on the estate. The lords who took it never learned how." Zayden sat and spoke plainly. "I mean to take it back. But I don't know who holds it. I won't ride into a stranger's guards." Harold's grin faded. He lowered himself into a chair with a grunt. "No. You wouldn't last the morning." He cleaned his glasses on his sweater, thinking. "The crown granted it to a lord two winters past. A cruel man. He keeps twelve guards and dogs at the gate. He fears someone will come for it." Harold looked up. "He's right to." "Twelve guards," Zayden said. His stomach tightened. "But he doesn't know the house like I do." Harold leaned forward. "There's a servant's passage below the old kitchen. It runs from the orchard wall to the cellar. I helped dig it. The crown's maps never showed it. That lord doesn't know it exists." Zayden's pulse quickened. "You could show me where it opens." "I could draw it." Harold reached for a scrap of paper and a stub of pencil. His hand shook, but the lines came clear. He marked the orchard wall, the hidden door, the path to the cellar. He slid it across the table. "Now you know who holds it. And now you know a way past his guards." Zayden folded the map and tucked it beside the deed. For the first time, the walls of the estate did not feel like a death sentence. He had a name for his enemy and a crack in the enemy's armor. Harold caught his sleeve as he rose. His grin was gone. "But hear me. The lord bought the orchard field a month ago. Men work there now, clearing stumps. If they're still digging, your passage opens right under their feet."