"And then he said, that's not my mule! That's my wife!" The bartender and the other patrons laughed and some clapped for the man telling the story. His hair was going a little gray, his face was scarred, and his clothes thin with hard use where they were not patched but his spirits seemed undiminished. He drank and joked and smiled even when he lost at dice. The crowd here, usually wary of strangers had warmed to him quickly. The tavern's front door banged open and two toughs entered. The formerly jovial crowd grew sullenly silent.
"Goran, I offer you protection so that bad things don't happen to your tavern but I expect payment," one told the bartender. "Yesterday, I didn't receive the payment I expected. I..."
You won't be getting paid tonight either, Shork," the stranger told him.
Shork turned around slowly and advanced on the other man's table. "I don't know you and you clearly don't know me..."
"On the contrary," the man interrupted. "Shork no last name, born to Talia (a prostitute) and one of her johns. She never knew which one. You like extortion and beating your son. Yes, I was at your house today. I healed the boy, of course. But if you thought I was taking a dim view of the extortion, you should take a wild guess how angry I am now."
Shork grunted in pain and looked down at his thigh, at the arrow the stranger had driven deep into the muscle. "And I'm Aleksander Paine." Paine ripped the arrow from Shork's leg, the wicked barbs tearing out a hunk of meat and releasing a gout of blood. Shork's lackey stepped towards Paine but Paine fixed him with a stern glare. "Stay."
Paine reached into his belt pouch and pulled forth a scarlet stole which he lay over his shoulders. On one side, a foaming mug of ale and on the other, shattered manacles. "Now, Shork, you know me." The room was so silent Shorks shallow breaths could easily be heard slowing as he bled to death. Finally, he was silent.
Paine turned to the other man. "Give me your purse." He caught the tossed purse neatly. "You and Shork, you work for someone, yes?"
"I...I'm...I'm not telling you anything."
"I didn't ask you anything. I want you to tell him something. The person you work for. Tell him Cayden Cailean has come to Redwall. Tell him things are going to change around here. Now go."
Paine leaned down and pulled Shorks coin purse from his belt and tossed it to the bartender. "That's to see to the body." He tossed him the other pouch. "That's for ale. Bring as many as that buys to my table." Swiftly, Shork's corpse was removed and Paine's table was crowded with tankards of ale.
"Gather round everyone and help yourself to a mug. These are times to try men's souls. But it doesn't have to be this way. Not in Redwall, not anywhere. Cayden Cailean was once just a man. A man of win and wit, of mead and morals. He passed the test of the Starstone was remade as a god and he empowers me and he empowers you to fight and yes to sacrifice for the freedom and liberty that is your due. Tonight we drink! Tomorrow, despite our screaming hangovers, we will hold our heads high for we are free men. And someday soon with your help Redwall will be free from the oppression of thugs who believe their strong arm makes them right. Free from the tyranny of a repressive, corrupt regime. TO A FREE REDWALL!"
