1722, Month of Aet, Gaban
Flies buzzed around Tez' Mu as he crouched beneath a low shed built against the broken down fence of a local pub, half- hidden by discarded items. The shed stank heavily of dung, and it seemed to have been a dog-house.
Two imperial constables were the source of Tez' Mu's major discomfort. They stood a few feet from the shed, sharing a small gourd of wine. The first took a sip and grunted, tutting in appreciation.
"Cold night," the other said.
"Hmm. Hardly one to be on duty," the first replied, and took another swig, a gulp this time. He handed the gourd to his fellow.
"Duty? What kind?" the second smacked his lips after taking a swig.
"Delivering royal order."
"Hmm?" his comrade chuckled. "And you're not pleased with that? It'll shoot you right up the ranks."
The first constable grunted. "Yes, but I must have shared felon notices from Nuhai to Arvir before the sun rises next tomorrow."
His comrade chuckled, and took another gulp of wine, then handed it over. "You won't be complaining when you get a house in Upper District," he sniggered. "But who's the felon?"
The first constable had turned to leave, and Tez' Mu saw him roll his eyes. "Some noble from the House of Mu. Court politics. He's to be executed on sight whenever he's found, according to the decree."
Tez' Mu's mouth had been dry before, but it had now completely lost all moisture. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against what looked to be one of the legs of a spindly table, the rough wood scratching his hair. He had expected the Dowager to be ruthless, but he still expected to see a way out.
If the notice had already reached Gaban, then it would be already circulating in Mirin. Bounty hunters would jump at the idea of killing a noble, even if there was no reward. Escaping to Darin was near impossible now.
He exhaled, heart pounding. His home fief, Teazin, was too far away, and if the notices reached Arvir before he did—and they would—then he would be killed even before he made it across Arigu Valley.
He lowered his face into his hands, stomach growling from hunger. He sucked it in, still thinking hard. A way out—
His head suddenly snapped up as the second constable started whistling a merry folk tune, jiggling this way and that with the gourd in hand. He broke into song as a full moon emerged from behind a cluster of dark clouds.
"All who fear avoid Eichan, that rugged heartland of the Irmath—where blades outnumber full corn fields, and the river runs deep with old blood—" his voice was carried away by the wind as he staggered out of sight.
Was he drunk already? Tez' Mu did not care. Blood rushed to his face as he slowly shifted further into the shed, making sure he was well concealed. He couldn't afford to be found now.
Not when he now had a means of escape.
Eichan, the no-man's land still plagued by clan conflicts. They were the only people who did not sign the unification treaty that made Ochelon a whole. Imperial troops did not there venture into that valley.
He smiled. Even though his thoughts had been a chaotic storm of anger and guilt since he left his men fighting at the Tower, he smiled.
The entire kingdom would soon bear his name on bounty warrants. He could already picture them, plastered across every town and village, his face inked in stark black, labeled traitor.
No problem. If Ochelon didn't want him, Eichan would take him.
He adjusted his cloak, pulling the hood lower over his face. The Dowager would tighten her grip, and the streets would run red before the riots were truly stamped out.
But Tez' Mu would not be there to see it.