Drogo rushed back to his house which he found was shrouded in darkness. The usual smell of burning logs and that of cooked food was missing. He gritted his teeth as he walked inside. He picked up the lamp from the side and burned the wick. His wife was on the bed, her face pressed into the pillow. She was still crying. He scoffed and then went to take a bath in cold water.
He didn't disturb her even though he knew that she was hoping that he would come and say sorry to her. But she didn't deserve any apology. She deserved more beating though. She had made him the clown of the village with one foolish step of hers and not only that — their son was also away from them. Nothing could be worse.
He changed into a tunic and dark trousers and pulled a thick fur over him. The meeting chamber of the potter was after a bend and round a corner. When he reached there, he was astonished to see that only three more people were gathered. "Where are the rest?" he growled.
"We don't know," the potter shrugged. "But they don't want to come. Two have clearly stated that they are not interested in the rebellion anymore and others are not available."
Drogo blinked at the potter as if what he heard wasn't right, but he collected himself quickly. Letting out a rough exhale, he went to sit at the head of the table, shocked that the rebellion was dying a quick death. However, he realized that he shouldn't be shocked. Lazarus had done so much harm that he had to do a lot to revive the rebellion. And suddenly, he understood that the king wanted the rebellion to carry on because he wasn't in favor of his eldest son to take over as the king of Wilyra.
Drogo chuckled when that reasoning sank in his mind. This was getting more and more interesting. Now with the king's backing, he was going to add fuel to the fire. He slapped the table with enthusiasm and said, "So, where are we? What is going on?"
The three at the table filled him with the information they had received. It was all the same as he had heard before but while they were speaking, he was making plans in his mind. Once they finished talking, he said, "We have to reach there in less than two days. Gather your best horses and we will start at midnight."
"What are you going to do there?" Lester, the village merchant asked.
"I am going to gather the villagers and lead them to stand up against the atrocities of the king," Drogo replied. Basically, he was going to gather the villagers and give the rebellion a fresh start. They would be like new recruits. "We can't accept the king's ridiculous norms of tax collection. Let us go and voice our concerns, and if need be—" he looked at the three of them. "We will go in arms against Jade and Jasper."
"They have gone there with a few vampire soldiers. You just can't go against them. They can kill us easily!" Lester protested.
"I won't just go against them," Drogo said, crossing his arms. "I am going to first talk to them and in the meanwhile you people are going to check out their weaknesses. Once we are able to pinpoint their weaknesses, we will take them down!"
Lester canted his head as if thinking about what Drogo just said. Moments later, he said, "That sounds like a plan. We have to save those villagers. I will be carrying two sacks of grains with me to help those villagers."
"I will carry vegetables, dry meat!" Gastuj, the potter added.
"Great!" Drogo was happy. "Get the best horses. We shall meet at midnight."
When he reached home, Avice tried to talk to him, but he avoided her. He packed his bags for the trip and strapped it across his shoulders. He reached the Gastuj's house where the horses were waiting for them. He saw that Lester and Gastuj had already straddled rations for the villagers while Corg was just like him with only a few clothes in their bags. At midnight, the four of them galloped their horses towards the north.
They took a few breaks in their journey only to rest the horses and eat food. None of them was much into talking to each other. They reached the first village in the morning and saw that the place was like a ghost town. There were a few vampire soldiers dragging a man across the street who was shouting and crying.
"Let us go and meet the princes!" Lester growled.
Drogo lifted his hand and stopped him. "Let us go and meet the Head of the village first."
They asked for directions and reached the Head of the village. He was an old man and very tired. He shook his head. "I don't know what is wrong with the king? Why has he sent his sons to collect taxes from us? We are so poor…"
"Don't worry," Drogo assured him. "We have brought rations for your people. However, in exchange for the rations all I ask is that your people stand up against the princes. They can't just collect taxes and torture people."
The Head was surprised, but when he looked at the sacks of grain, he gave a smile. "I think I can do that. It is high time that we go up against them." Then his eyes went to Drogo. "But who are you all?"
Drogo introduced himself.
"Oh, I have heard about you," said the Head, impressed by him. "I will send a message to all the villagers about you.
Little did the old man realize that Drogo was only bribing him with all the rations and getting into his good books only to rebel against Lazarus. He was using all of them. He had his plans in place. All he needed was this break.
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