K & L: terrible; I blame this on Franco

note: terrible snippet from a badly conceived fantasy/romance

I don't relish this journey. It's long and I cannot ride away from the other men, and they do not know where they are going as I must lead them through the mud, pine needles and the ruins along the river. However far we go it seems like we have not moved.

We are bound for the village of Roman which is at the far edge of the Keep, which my brother Bodric will tell you is a two week's ride from end to end, but can be made in a week or so through the Alhmora passes. Bodric does not know how to read a map, so how can he brag about the dimensions of his Keep? He gave us our itinerary and it was so incorrect that I had to plot it myself using the maps that the cartographer charted for us a few years ago. These were some of the few records that escaped the wrath of the great fire which almost devastated the Keep, but they still had scotch-marks and it was difficult to see through them. I could not hold them up to the light or else they would become brittle, so I copied it by hand onto another piece of parchment and let the ink set so that it did not ruin my pockets. I consult the map again and tell the men that we are to camp. It is a good place to camp anyway. Two days left, I tell myself, and then we shall be at Roman.

The other men make camp. They are all recent recruits to the Guard, but they know how to set up their canvas tents, to get a fire rolling, to take out bags of vegetables and chop them with daggers. Between themselves, they designate who is to search for game. Mervin, the sergeant-at-arms, asks me how much longer we are to go.

"If you believe Bodric," I say, "then another week or so."

Mervin sits next to me on a stone, his mail hitting the rock. We face the horses and away from the encampment. "And if I'm to believe you?"

I laugh. "No more than days, I think." I take the map from my back pocket and show him the route that we will take to cut through the Alhmora pass. It is a tricky one, and the paths are sharp and steep but I tell Mervin that we should have no problem.

"Not so sure about the men," he says, "but you should have no problem. You're good with horses."

This comes from a man I have known only for the week. I allow myself to look flattered.