A sudden jolt made the carriage sway. Dust and gravel flew around.
A shadow detached itself from the roadside, cloaked in tattered leather, eyes glinting with hunger. One hand held a Pickfork.
Two more figures emerged from the shadows, moving to intercept the carriage. Nuel's hand slipped beneath his coat and produced an old pistol, worn from years of use. Calm and precise, he fired once, aiming at the first figure he saw.
The shot rang out sharply through the air and the body fell to the ground. He had hit his leg.
The other 2 paused, fear rippling across their movements, ignoring the cries of their companion the fled.
Nuel quickly cocked the gun aiming at the moving figures, he missed.
Quickly he took out a short dagger and aimed. It hit one on the back. While the other one successfully escaped.
He didn'tpursue, these were farmers, not bandits, too unskilled, too amateur, too foolish to pose a threat.
The carriagecontinued, remnants of ruined walls and villages littered the landscape, soon he chose a small clearing flanked by thick trees to make camp.
No fire was lit; such things attracted bandits. A single lantern hung from the carriage's edge, casting just enough light to see the three children on the ground. Hunger had carved hollows into their faces.
Nuel moved silently, setting down the small provisions he had brought. He fed them slowly, deliberately, pouring water down their throats in measured sips, each action controlled and deliberate. The children ate with no restraint.
Once done, he returned to his seat, exhaling sharply, a faint sound of weariness breaking through his otherwise composed exterior.
He turned to them, " what are your names?"
The largest boy's eyes flicked to the lantern, then back at Nuel. "My name is Malik...Shadeek, I am from a small nomad tribe. My mother was southern, my father a northern Barbarian"
Nuel turned to the girl. "You."
"Liyana Shadeek."She said, voice quiet but confident.
Finally, his gaze settled on the boy who had almost lost but had struck in cunning retaliation. The boy spoke without hesitation. "I am Azrael shadeek"
Nuel's eyes swept over them, "I am Nuel Fuller, butler to the western noble house of Deverill, one of the 8 Dukes of the West.
"Any questions?" Nuel asked, his tone leaving no room for frivolity.
Malik spoke, "My lord, please tell me about the North. My father died early, and I would like to know my roots."
The butler replied, "That is basic information you will encounter soon. I shall tell you about the world we live in. Listen well, I shall not repeat myself"