I thought I’d share a short extract from The Emperor’s Shadow today.

This scene comes from early in the story, as Kyrin the Grey and his companions are travelling through the Greenwood and run into a band of outlaws with very different ideas about justice, loyalty, and the Empire. It’s a quiet moment on the road that turns into something more political — and more revealing — than any of them expect.

This is a longer excerpt than I’ll usually post, so best enjoyed with a cup of tea. I hope you enjoy it.

…

It was a long but relatively uneventful morning. The spring weather continued, with white fluffy clouds in a bright azure sky, and just a hint of chill to the wind. They made good speed along the road, the three of them still crowded onto the outside bench. This time they had thick hooded cloaks to wear, recently purchased.

It was about noon that they came to an obstacle in the road ahead. Two trees had fallen across the road and were tangled in a crash of branches. They slowed instinctively as they approached the scene, as there was clearly no way round the mess due to the trees on both sides of the road. Talking it over, they decided to stop and try and move the trees out of the way. Beren led the way, rolling up his sleeves and transforming into his hybrid bear-man form, his shaggy fur sprouting from the skin. Kyrin was fetching some rope, and Cricket was standing off to one side contemplating how best to help, when the first man stepped out from behind a tree over on the left.

A stocky man in green leathers with a mask across his face. He had a drawn bow in hand and was pointing it in their direction. Then a second person appeared from behind him, this time a half-elven woman with a crossbow, also pointed at them. She wore a cloth veil that only showed her eyes. Three more figures rose up from bushes on the other side of the road, also with ranged weapons drawn, also masked in some way. Another in the trees above, whistling with two fingers in his mouth, a loud shriek in the silent woods. Quickly they were surrounded and they hadn’t even had a chance to say a word or make a move. There were about twenty individuals surrounding them, all dressed in rangy forest greens and light leathers, all armed. And all looking like they meant business.

After a moment of tense silence, their leader stepped forward. He was a tall man of athletic build with long black hair, a small moustache and bright blue eyes, dressed simply in dark green and brown leathers. Unlike the others, he wore no mask. With a charming smile, he tilted his head at Beren and spoke.

“Sorry for the subterfuge. I thought it might be easier to have this conversation if you were stopped instead of pelting down the road in that thing. I assure you, I mean you no harm. I just want to relieve you of all your valuables.”

The half-bear, half-man stared back at him. A low growl was his only reply.

“My, you’re a hairy one.”

Beren looked to Kyrin for a signal to attack, but Kyrin instead raised one hand in a sign to wait.

“I’m sorry myself. We don’t have much. Hardly worth the trouble of robbing.”

The bandit leader snorted. “You’re not Imperials, are you? You don’t have the attitude. What are you doing in that thing? They’re usually fully loaded with clerks and guards, going from village to village collecting taxes.” There was a tone of bitterness in his words which Kyrin picked up on.

“If you’re not a fan of the Imperial guard, I assure you, we’re going to get along great. If you must know, we stole it. It’s a long story. I won’t bore you with the details. But the Imperials are after us too. Perhaps we can come to some kind of arrangement?”

“One moment please, I’ll have some of my folk search the wagon now, if you don’t mind.”

“Please be my guest. Like I said, it’s not ours. All we have is this small bag of supplies.” He hefted the sack, and then dropped it to the ground. “Which you’re welcome to look through of course.”

The bandit smiled. “May I commend you on your manners? For someone who’s being held up, you’re being very reasonable. My name is Erin Fellowes but they call me the Greenwood Prince.”

“It’s not my first time,” Kyrin replied with a wry smile. “I am Kyrin the Grey and these are my companions. I must say, for a bandit, you seem remarkably affable. Has something put you in a good mood?”

Fellowes laughed. “You could say that. I’m feeling mighty cheerful. I heard that there was an Imperial tax wagon coming through the area and that it wasn’t heavily guarded. In my line of work, this counts as a good day.” He gestured and several of his people went and climbed into the battlewagon to start searching it. “Let’s hope the day continues well, hmm?”

After a moment, loud exclamations of joy emanated from within the wagon. The half-elven woman stuck her head out a side window and called out to Fellowes, “Here! The strongbox is still there and nobody’s opened it, boss.”

“Oh wonderful day. Get it open!” He inclined his head to Kyrin again. “I take it you never searched the interior? They keep the strongboxes under the back seat, for future reference. You just lift the whole thing off and voila there it is.”

Cricket cursed mildly in her own language, which only Kyrin understood. But he was busy blanching at the news that they’d been (nearly) literally sitting on a treasure box, while complaining of their lack of funds to boot. His complexion worsened when they got the strongbox open and it emerged from the wagon to a round of cheers. There was a small stack of gold and platinum bars and a healthy amount of coin, as well as a pouch of gemstones. Fellowes took possession of it and smiled down fondly at the chest as if he were staring at a beloved babe in arms.

“I cannot thank you enough. I can assure you, these funds will be put to good use. For in truth, we have no need of the money itself. We live off the land, and the forest provides for all of our needs. No, this money is going straight back to the villages to pay off some dire Imperial debts. Gods bless the taxman who left the strongbox in this wagon, and gods bless you lot for stealing it.”

Kyrin frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re bandits, but you don’t want the money?”

Fellowes sighed and shook his head, a sudden sadness seeming to settle upon him. “Let’s break for lunch, shall we? Pass out the venison, Lynette. And the wine as well, why the hells not. Come, sit with us and I’ll tell you my tale.”

They all sat, awkwardly, on the boughs of the fallen trees while Lynette the half-elf passed out dried venison, and cheese sandwiches. Nibbling on some strips of venison, but declining to partake of the wine (“It’s against my religion, I’m afraid”) Fellowes began to talk.

“I was a farmer once. Cows mostly, but we had some fields as well, nothing big to speak of. It was a hard living, but we did well enough by it. Enough to provide for me and my family - my wife, and our two children. It was a good life. Until the taxes started to rise. At first, it was merely painful. Then, with the beginning of the war, the taxes suddenly soared usuriously. In one season, we went from paying five gold shields a month to owing fifty a month. I couldn’t afford it, obviously. Started selling off some of the livestock, and trying to find other means of raising funds. I took up hunting again, which I hadn’t indulged in since my youth, but we needed the extra supplies suddenly to feed ourselves. Everything we grew and every animal we raised was suddenly precious, and had to be sold at a profit.”

“Well, inevitably, came the day when I wasn’t able to afford that month’s taxes. I’m not ashamed to say it either. I was expecting a telling off, some stern warning, perhaps a fine. Instead they took me into chains and dragged me off the farm to a debtor’s prison. They put me to work helping to build roads along with a work crew of fellow debtors. It was hard, backbreaking work and all I could think of was getting back to my family. So after a couple of weeks, I used a hammer on my chains and ran off. And kept running until I got back home to my family. I sold the farm to a neighbour. The Imperials were going to seize it anyway, I learned that when I was in prison. And I took my family and our few belongings and took off for the deep woods.”

“There we entered a new phase of our lives. It was a good time; we were happier living off the land. From the Greenwood forest came everything that we needed to get by. From hunting and growing our own vegetables, we had enough food. From the wood we built our shelters. But still something was wrong within me. I felt a disquiet, an unnerving sense of wrongness, that all of this,” he gestured at the trees around them “was not enough somehow.”

“Eventually, others came and joined us. They’d heard about us, living wild off the land and for similar reasons to us, needed to escape their pasts. I taught them how to hunt, how to build shelters, and how to live free. But eventually I realised what needed to be done. The stories were all the same. Land seizures, arrests, beatings. One man was killed by the tax collectors and their thugs, his family joined us the next day. I ask you, if someone is made a criminal by the state when they can’t pay their taxes, is it any surprise when they turn to crime to survive? So that’s what we did. The money we take from the Imperials we use to pay off the Imperials. Preventing homes from going into debt, farms from being seized by the state. We encourage others to leave their villages and come and join us where the taxman dares not tread. And yes, I encourage people not to pay their taxes at all. Why kiss the hand that beats you?”

“I had no idea things were so bad,” Kyrin replied thoughtfully, sipping back more wine. “I’m amazed that nobody’s doing anything… the local lords, the Council of Lords, the churches. We have our own problems in the city. We’re from Holdfast. The demihumans are being taken advantage of, treated like second class citizens and squeezed out. Elves have been disappearing, taken away.”

“Demihumans can no longer own businesses, apparently, not without a human partner fronting them. They’re being driven into the slums,” Cricket added.

“I saw many elves on the chain gang while I was in prison. Mayhaps that’s where they’ve been disappeared to. As for the lords, don’t make me laugh. They know better than to upturn the apple cart. They’re all part of the same system.”

Beren spoke up. “I don’t know about that. Some lords might care about their farmers being dragged off in chains if they only knew about it. Not all of them I grant you but some would. And my church wouldn’t stand for any of this, I can assure you. We’re not fond of shackles. But Kyrin’s right. This news has not reached the city.”

“I have no faith in lords. Only the rule of the forest. In the harshest winters, the pack grows larger and stays close together to survive,” spoke the Greenwood Prince. “But I wouldn’t expect you city folk to understand.” There was a slight sneer in his voice as he said it, but it was without much bite, almost a habit.

Kyrin started to speak awkwardly. “I don’t know how to put this, but we’re no friends of the empire. I told you that before. For better or worse, I think we might be outlaws now too. As one outlaw to another, I have a rather large favour to ask. Is there any chance you can spare some of that strongbox treasure? Not a huge amount, I’m not proposing we go halfses or anything like that. But we find ourselves in a bit of a bind and we could use a little spending money.”

Fellowes laughed. “The brass balls on this one! I admire your cheek. In the spirit of fellowship, I’ll happily spare you some.” He pulled out one of the platinum bars, hefted it in his hand and then tossed it to Kyrin who caught it out of the air. It was worth two hundred and fifty gold shields, that is if you could find someone willing to make change.

Kyrin whistled appreciatively. “I thank you, sir. You’ve no idea how helpful that is to me. If there’s ever anything I can do in return, please let me know.”

“Can I keep the wagon?” Fellowes asked with a small smirk.

“Could we, ah, swap it for some horses?” Kyrin countered.

“You’re lucky I’m in a magnanimous mood. And you’re really proving the old adage that if you don’t ask, you don’t get! Very well. I can spare you some horses I suppose, if I’m relieving you of your means of transportation. Seems only fair.”

“You are a scholar and a gentleman.”

Fellowes pulled a sour face. “Gods I hope not.” He gave a complicated whistle, and a small pack of hounds burst out of the adjoining forest towards him, as his fellow bandits took the signal and began packing up. Five dogs… no, three dogs of varying sizes and two actual dire wolves… joined him and panted happily at his side. He threw them the remains of his lunch.

“My pack,” he said fondly.

…