It was the gods-blasted horse that finally did it.
Mikam had been saving his allowance, and meager salary for over a year, much to the derision of his cousins, to buy the horse the moment he had the golds together. He needed that horse. Every officer needed to provide his own, so the only way to become an officer of the Skywatch, and open a path to advancement, was to buy the horse.
In the morning as he had left the attic of the dingy Orlovski trading house where he was living. He remembered later that the sky was a sort of leaden, soggy gray, like the filthy ice that choked Winterbreak Bay in the dead of winter. It should have been an omen. He should have recognized it.
The stall was empty when he had gotten there. The paper slip that had the name “Long Runner” on it, and the hefty sum of gold that he had scrounged and scrimped for so very long, was gone, the stall cleaned. If someone had slipped a knife between his ribs at that moment and dug into his heart, he would not have even noticed the pain. He stumbled his way to the front of the stables. Barren, the owner, held the ledger in his hands as Mikam stumbled up and snatched it from his hands. The name of the last entry swum off the page:”Orlovski, T…paid on credit”
A year of groveling and scraping by for him and Tuvic Orlovski merely walks in and takes the horse…his horse…on credit! Rage built in him like a furnace as he stood there, the ledger dropped from his shaking hands.
And then…the rage left…the emotions left. It was as if a portion of his mind suddenly went to sleep. There was nothing to be gained…he would fight, and he would lose. This was not a fairy tale with a happy ending and a pot of gold. He was not a war hero, he knew some tricks with magic…little else. Nor was he a manipulator or master trader with a wealth of income at his disposal, like his cousins. Tuvic must have learned that he was interested in the horse somehow and as was usual, done what he could to ruin it for Mikam.
He was going to have to leave. It wasn’t running away, it wasn’t cowardice, it was merely enlightened preservation. He was going to be stopped at every opportunity by the high and mighty members of his extended family. He would never get a chance to make something of himself. Taking the gold and leaving his home, and possessions behind was the only answer. He had to find his own way, carve out his own place in the world, and learn to make his own rules. Perhaps south would be a good place to start.
