Chapter 652: The Smelly Stable
Panic surged through the tavern as Alexios bellowed, "It’s time for us to leave! Go! Go! Go! Leave here at once!" His voice was a thunderclap, jolting Nikolaos upright as Alexios hauled him from his seat. Coins clattered onto the table in a hurried offering as the team of professionals, initially frozen in confusion, began to stir with a sense of impending doom. The guards, ever vigilant, were the first to grasp the gravity of their lord’s command.
Just then, a guard perched in the rafters shouted down, his voice piercing through the air, "A fleet of riders approaching this tavern! The leader unknown! Bearing the flag of the local government!" The words hung in the air like a dire prophecy.
Alexios’ heart raced, his mind racing with possibilities. Ordinary countrymen couldn’t afford such a display of horses, especially with the ongoing war efforts draining resources. It couldn’t be state troops either. The only logical, yet alarming, conclusion was that Governor Elassona had somehow learned of their location and was now closing in on them.
In a flash of strategic thinking, Alexios barked orders to his guard. "Bring three men, take those chariots out instantly and ride east, create a diversion!" His voice was urgent but controlled. "The rest of you, with me! We shall hide in the stables!" The guard commander nodded, understanding the plan, and swiftly mobilised his men.
As the guards escorted the team members downstairs, Alexios, with quick thinking, pressed a heavy purse of coins into the tavern owner’s hands. "Clean up after us, leave no trace," he urged, his eyes conveying the severity of their plight. The tavern owner, eyes wide with realisation, nodded rapidly, assuring, "You can trust me, my lord."
The stables were a far cry from the safety and comfort of the tavern. The pungent odour of horse urine and waste assaulted their senses as they huddled in the cramped space. Alexios pinched his nose, trying to acclimate to the stench. "For the Romans, the emperor, and the empire!" he murmured, a rallying cry to bolster his own courage as much as his team’s. He then sank into the pile of hay, concealing himself as best as he could.
The rest of the team followed suit, each member fighting back their disgust. They were an odd sight to the stable’s usual occupants, with horses turning their heads in curiosity, sniffing at these unexpected intruders, perhaps wondering if these humans had come to share their grain. In the dim light of the stable, amidst the sounds of restless animals and the distant approach of riders, Alexios and his team braced themselves for what was to come.
As the pack of riders approached the quaint tavern, their haste was evident, yet the scene before them was oddly serene. The once proud chariots bearing the flags and insignias of the double-headed eagles were conspicuously absent. In their stead, a collection of horses munched contentedly on the piles of dried hays, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. At the tavern, a lone figure busied himself with the mundane task of cleaning tables. This man, the tavern owner moved with a deliberate slowness that belied the urgency of the moment.
Adrianos, his face a mask of feigned ignorance, paused his work and eyed the rider. His voice was nonchalant, his gesture casual as he pointed towards a distant direction across the country road. "Oh, three chariots? Perhaps, they might have passed this way. But, you see, my attention was wholly occupied with these stubborn stains. Can’t say I noticed any insignias, though."
The riders took a look at one another, this is the one and only main road that can get anyone straight to Athenia. With a mix of frustration and urgency, they hastened in the direction indicated, their departure as swift as their arrival.
In the meantime, Alexios and his men, concealed among the grass, exhaled silent breaths of relief. The stench of their hiding place was a small price to pay for evading detection.
The owner of the tavern came to them. "Lords! My lords! They are gone!"
Alexios, cautious and vigilant, peered outside, ensuring the riders’ departure. Once satisfied, he emerged from the haystacks, his expression grave. "We need to go," he urged in a tone laced with urgency. "Those men will realise soon enough that the chariots are decoys. We must vacate this tavern at once!"
The group nodded in agreement; the gravity of their situation palpable. Yet, as they prepared to depart, the tavern owner stepped forward, his stance shifting from the sly tavern keeper to a man driven by desperation. He extended the pouch of coins back to Alexios. "Please, my lord! I implore you, take me with you! Appoint me to a position in your service. I ask for no other reward!"
Alexios stared at the head of this man, and asked. "Why though kind sir, you have your property here, you have money, you have your own business, and why do you still want to come to a distant land with us?"
"I am not local, my lord." The owner replied. "I’m not of this land, my lord. My true home lies under the iron fist of the Ottomans in Smyrna. This tavern has been nothing but a hollow shell, devoid of profit, for years. The risk I took today in aiding you has sealed my fate here. They will return, and my livelihood will be the first casualty. I’ve nothing left to lose."
Upon hearing this Alexios nodded solemnly. He placed a reassuring hand on the tavern owner’s shoulder. "Your courage today has not gone unnoticed. Consider these coins a personal token of my gratitude. Welcome to the empire’s service."
The man rose his head in appreciation and met with the warmful glee of the lord treasurer.
To Alexios, even a random roadside tavern owner is more trustworthy than his fellow team members.
"We must hurry, my lord." Said the owner of the tavern, as he unleashed all the mounts in the stable hastily. "You can call me Adrianos. Adiranos Minakis, my lord, let us flee from this area with these horses."
"Alexios Asanes." Alexios replied. "Are you sure that all of these horses do belong to you? Don’t some of them belong to the guests inside?"
"Oh they can have my tavern, my stuff inside, and these hay stacks, if they wish." Adrianos said without stopping the chores on his hand.
Alexios kept silent and observed Adrianos’s resolve, recognising a kindred spirit in the former tavern owner’s willingness to forsake his past for a chance at a new beginning. It was a bold, almost reckless decision, but one that resonated with the gravity of their situation.
As they prepared to mount the horses, the air was thick with the unspoken understanding of the risks ahead. Adrianos, once a mere keeper of a wayside inn, had now cast his lot with men of destiny, embarking on a journey fraught with uncertainty but driven by a shared purpose.
Their departure was swift, the clatter of hooves against the cobblestones echoing in the quiet of the countryside. The tavern, once a haven for travellers, now stood empty, a silent witness to the changing tides of fortune and the unexpected alliances forged in times of strife.
...
In the distance, several miles away, the relentless hounds of Elassona finally closed in on their quarry. The three carriages, once part of a clever ruse, now found themselves pursued by a fleet of riders. These men, known for their arrogance and dominion over these lands, bellowed commands at the chariot riders to halt.
Yet, the loyal guard commander of Alexios, unwavering in his duty, bellowed back with equal ferocity. "I am the personal royal guard of Lord Treasurer Alexios, appointed by His Majesty himself! On this land, under these skies, no soul bears the right to halt my charge or command my actions!"
The tension escalated as the riders, incensed by the defiance, spurred their horses into a furious gallop, their curses slicing through the air like arrows. The guards, undeterred, matched their pace, the hooves of their horses thundering against the earth, stirring up clouds of dust in a desperate race against fate.
As the chase intensified, the riders unsheathed their blades with practiced ease. In one fluid motion, they sliced through the curtains of the carriages, revealing the startling truth - the chariots were empty, devoid of any passengers. The realisation dawned on them with crushing clarity as each rider repeated the action, confirming their worst fears.
The riders are pissed, fuelled by frustration and betrayal, one of the riders, his face contorted with rage, drew his crossbow. The bolt, released with lethal precision, found its mark in the lead horse. The animal’s agonized scream tore through the silence, its body collapsing under the force of the impact. The momentum of the fall caused the chariot to be violently flung off the road, soaring briefly before crashing down in a cacophony of splintering wood and metal.
They have no idea on the consequences of this action.
