“By the order of His Grace the Lord of Dindra, raise the gate.” A pale, skinny captain whined. He was sitting on his horse in full plate, the tree of Dindra rendered on his breastplate. Alera looked down on him from the battlements. She smiled to herself. This is going to be fun.

“Why?” She yelled down.

The captain started. Clearly he had expected a different response. Alera could see him and his men by the moon. There were rows upon rows of them, lined up like a child's toy army. A large cart surrounded by civilians, craftsmen by the look of them, was nestled among the mounted guard. “Who goes there!” He yelled.

“Me!”

“Who?”

“I just told you!”

“Where is the guar-”

“If you want to pass, you'll have to pay.” Alera looked down on the captain. His face was starting to turn red. “By order of Her Majesty, Alera of the Black Cloaks!”

The rest of Alera's men sprung up and revealed themselves. “HOO RAH!” They shouted in unison, aiming their crossbows down at the captain. His face went from red to pale as he stared up at the tips of thirty steel bolts. At this range his plate wouldn't protect him.

“Now captain, if you have any value for your life, you will listen to me very carefully and answer my questions. You better not lie… I'll know.” She held up her hand. Her men would know what to do if she let it drop.

“What is in the cart?”

“B- building supplies.” 

No balls on this one, Alera thought to herself. In truth she had expected more resistance, but it appeared this captain was either too surprised or too frightened to put up a fight. His second in command rolled his eyes. At least she thought it was the second. Upon closer inspection she revised her opinion. The man was wearing no plate, just a plain black gambeson. Tall but not broad, he was perched in the saddle looking bored, despite the fact he was in the line of fire. Alera inspected his horse and barely made out the shape of a headsman's ax strapped to the side of the saddle. 

Now why would The High Justice be traveling with a company from Dindra?

“Where are you going?”

“To the Castle of… of the Lord of Tormunn.” The captain seemed to find his courage. “There was an incident there and he requested supplies to rebuild his main gate.”

“And did he request a full company as well?” She cast her eye over the soldiers again. They were well equipped, not run of the mill conscripts. They stood erect, motionless, not giving the slightest indication that they cared about the obstacle in their way. 

They'll follow any order these. Ask them to kill their own mothers and they wouldn't bat an eye.

“His Grace the Lord of Tormunn expressed a desire for additional security until such time as the repairs to his gate are completed.” The captain spoke the line like a bad mummer. Alera hated bad mummers.

“Funny, just came from Tormunn and the gate seemed in fine shape.”

“It was a very recent event.”

Oh I'm sure it was, she replied in her head.

The captain shifted in his saddle as if trying to make a decision. “We will pay you handsomely, no need for bloodshed. His Grace the Lord of Dindra has no need to start a quarrel with the Black Cloaks. Though he will tolerate no crime on his lands.”

Alera laughed. “And what would His Grace consider this little episode Sir…?”

“Douriff. I am sure that His Grace would appreciate the cooperation of the Black Cloaks in exchange for a toll.” He paused, his eyes darting back and forth across the battlements. “And the return of the bodies of the bridge guard for a decent burial.”

Bravo, Sir Douriff. Didn't think you had it in you. 

Alera smiled. “You think too low of me sir. The valiant defenders of the Tarn bridge are alive and well- er, they're alive. The Black Cloaks are not common bandits.”

“His grace the Lord of Dindra agrees.” They regarded each other. Moonbeams reflected off the helmets of Sir Douriff's men waiting like statues. The headsman spit over the side of the bridge.

Alera spoke. “There are two gates here, as you know. We will raise the first one and you will leave the coin by the tower door, no less than seven hundred pieces. Once you leave, we will count it and if you are true to your word we will raise both gates. Try anything while passing through and we'll drop the gates on your army and remind the men trapped between why murder holes are named so. Clear Sir Douriff?”

“Aye, we will even make it eight hundred to prove His Grace's good intentions. What of the guard?”

“We will release them once you and your men are safely across.” At this the executioner smiled and looked straight into her eyes. She grimaced and focused on the captain.

“Very well.” Sir Douriff puffed out his chest. He seemed proud of himself.

The transaction was smooth. Sir Douriff delivered the coin and retreated. She and her men counted the coin, and the soldiers passed through without incident. True to her word Alera released the prisoners, minus their clothes, and her men went and got good and drunk after watching the company of Dindran soldiers disappear into the night. While she celebrated the score with her Black Cloaks, Alera thought about the headsman, as well as the relative ease with which the captain had parted with the coin.

“Somethin' off Capn'?” Trill, her second in command, asked.

Alera was brooding in the corner of the tavern. “Nah Trill. Just enjoying this wine.” She held up the flask and smiled. It was not a very genuine one, but Trill was drunk and not very empathetic to begin with. He returned to celebrating with the others.

Alera took a long swig. Douriff was lying about Tormunn, she knew because she had seen the intact gate not more than three moons previous. Then there was the headsman… She took another swig, bigger than the first. The High Justice was supposed to travel alone. He was supposed to be independent, not to mention his damn grin. She gulped down more wine. 

No sane man smiled like that.