Working title: none

The merchant led Parex into the shabby room.
Sir Borel sat on a stool, at a low table. His leather boots rested next to the bones of his meal, the drippings of which adorned the front of his course shirt. At his side was a remarkably clean 3-foot blade, sharpened to a brilliance that reflected the firelight like it was sunshine.
Parex wore rags and chains.
"Here is how it will work, slave. I am going to ask you questions, you are going to give me answers. Lie to me even once, and I will cut your throat and pay for your corpse. Answer me honestly with answers I do not like, and I will buy you and sell you tomorrow to the Tavisch monks as a laborer, where they will feed you, clothe you, and give you ample opportunity to escape. Work well for five years and they will even free you. Answer me with answers I like, and I will buy you, and free you tonight, and hire you at a better wage than you have ever earned. Understand? Lie and die. Tell me the truth, and you will survive, and your position will be better tomorrow than it is today."
"Yes, my lord."
"I am not your lord. Adress me as Sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Where are you from?"
"Qell, sir."
"Qell? How in the Inferno did you come here?"
Parex allowed himself a wry smile. He had little to lose, he did not believe he would live much longer, anyway. "Just lucky, sir" he replied, holding up his chained wrists.
The merchant bent his arm back to deliver a viscious slap to Parex. The small man ducked under the blow, slid easily behind the fat merchant and had his wrist chains around the merchant's neck.
"Shall I save you some coin, Sir?" He asked, smiling. THe merchant said nothing.
Borel laughed, from his gut, for a long moment. "Perhaps I should take this moment to negotiate a better price? Let him go. He has already been paid. Remove his chains, slaver."

"My story? Allright, Parax, to pass the time. Fate, fortune or God, call it what you like, made me the son of a duke, who owned a duchy through which flowed a river, down which could be floated logs, which would make perfect masts for the navy Duke Kreel was building. Kreel decided it would be cheaper to own the river and the logs than to buy them. Kreel's army first made me an orphan, then a refugee. Duke Charrod, most likely to spite Kreel, took me in, trained me and knighted me. I was given a village in the north, from which to collect taxes, build a manor, start a family and raise a militia. But Fate, fortune or god had placed another river in Charrod's Duchy, down which could be sent the logs that made perfect planks for the sides of the vessels that would build the ships of Kreel's navy. For the same reasons, Kreel again made me a refugee. But by then I was a knight, and that could not be removed. I was still a noble, of course, but my titular home was occupied by another's army, and unless I agreed to relinquish the title, Kreel would be forced to hunt me down and kill me. I formally relinquished title. Now I am a knight, with no master and no home."
"And now you seek vengeance on Kreel?"
Borel laughed. It was both rueful and derisive.
"As strange as it may sound, Parax, Kreel is the only hero in my story. Three times I was in his hands, and three times he released me. He could have, in all good concience, killed me each time, but he did not. First, after the fall of Rechmet, my home, he actually gave me ten days rations and two horses before he let me go. He told me then that he had never seen a boy who could fight like me, and he would sooner burn a cathedral than destroy the potential he saw in me. The second time, when his cavalry overran Charrod's duchy, instead of sending another three companies against me, or besieging me and leaving me and my people to starvation, he gave me these terms: The entire village would be employed as axemen and rivermen at wages the poor farmers had never before even dreamed of, they would be allowed to choose their own mayor, and would be left alone as long as his river was well kept. He did not even require my head, he required only my absence. I met with him the evening before I left, and he gave me a suit of chainmail and this sword, the finest i have ever seen, and asked me to work for him as a commander of footmen. Even tho I expected death, I told him I could not work for the man who had killed my father. He let me go, with the gifts. The third time, there was an uprising in Rechmet. They were refusing to pay taxes to Kreel's overlord, claiming that the rightful duke still lived. Me. Kreel hunted me down. I was in Tavees, more than 40 days from here, but his bounty hunters found me. Bound and gagged, in the back of a wagon, I was brought to him. Can you guess what happened?"
"You story has been very strange, sir. No, I cannot."
"He asked me to return to Rechmet and take up the entire duchy and rule it, pledged to him. He offered me back everything he had taken from me. He would make me wealthy, noble, and the premiere Duke in his growing Kingdom. But by then, I had discovered my love, my place in the world, so I declined. I formally set aside my title in his favor. In return, he gave me three hundred Golden Chances, a lance, a shield, and the promise to decrease the tax burden in Rechmet by a third for ten years. He kedpt his promises, too."
Parex was silent for a long time. Then, almost too quiet to be heard, he asked "And your father? Should you not avenge him?"
Borel smiled.
"I hated my father. He was a drunkard. He beat me every day. My step-mother raised me, and he had her beheaded. My younger brother Alor, whom I loved, was born strange. He could not speak. By his eighth birthday, he could ride, compose sonnets, play the pipes, and dance. But he could not speak my father's title. So my father had him beaten to death with sticks, and his body allowed to rot outside the gates of Rechmet until the bones showed, to show everybody what he thought of disrespect"
Borel's voice cracked, ever so slightly, with emotion.
"The day Rechmet fell was perhaps the happiest day of my life. They caught my father disguised as a baker carrying bread to the troops, and he was turned over by his own bodyguard, whom he had abandoned as the wall was breached. Kreel had him baked to death. No, Parex, my father requires no vengeance."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"You said you had found your love, your place in the world. What did you mean?"
"Look down, and tell me what you see?"
"The green grass and wagon ruts of the road, sir"
"In a way, Parex, it is mine. Everything within the reach of my blade is mine. I carry my castle, my title and my profession with me. My love is fighting and killing. My place in the world is this road, and every road connected to it, by land or sea, across mountain, river or bog."
"And your story, Parex?"
"Are you rdering me to tell you, sir? Or asking me?"
Borel looked at him, at the abrasions on his arms where his manacles had been.
"Asking"
"Sir, my story is very long, and very very stupid. It can be told in a single word: luck. Good and bad. Seen from different distances, a bit of each. I would rather not say more."