Thenimbor, the Ranger captain, rode with Geoffrey to the north side of the Trestlepan Bridge. They bid each other farewell and parted ways. The horse that had borne Geoffrey around the North Downs went with Thenimbor, as the Ranger explained that it would not go where its Ranger masters were absent. Geoffrey found his men in the village, who were relieved at his return. He did not wish to remain in Trestlebridge any longer and as soon as he had arrived, his company prepared to depart southwards again.
‘We will go to the farms in the northern fields.’ Geoffrey announced as they mounted their steeds. Often his company visited the scattered farms throughout Bree-land. The Watch rarely ventured far from the central villages around Bree, so the farmers found it reassuring to know that Geoffrey and his men still kept a watch over them. Now they rode steadily south away from Trestlebridge.
After an hour or so of riding, a single horseman could be seen riding at the company. Geoffrey called his men to a halt. The horse was white and brown in colour, and upon it sat a young man. He was quite fat to be riding, and his dark brown hair was rather greasy and untamed. The man bowed his head at Geoffrey.
‘Pardon me, sir.’ He said with a slight fault in his voice. Obviously he was slightly intimidated at the sight of these armed riders. ‘The Mayor has bid that you go to him at once in Bree.’
Geoffrey looked around at his men, before turning back to the portly young man with a furrowed brow. ‘And what does the Mayor want with me, my friend?’
The man shook his head. ‘I do not know, sir. My only orders were to find you and bring you to him. What business he has is between you and him.’
Geoffrey reluctantly agreed, and he ordered his men to continue their ride to the farms. With the young messenger he rode now, south on the Greenway. Neither of them spoke as they travelled. Soon enough they reached Bree and entered by the North Gate. The messenger departed from Geoffrey now as he had “other business” to attend to. So Geoffrey rode alone through the streets of Bree, towards the Town Hall. He had little care for the politics of Bree. In his mind, the politicians there were rather bureaucratic and enjoyed the privileges that came with their positions, but had little care for the people. But he appreciated the democracy of Bree – the Mayor was not a hereditary position, but an elected one. This is what set them apart from the brigands that scatter the lands, whose leaders are determined by how deadly they are. He arrived at the Town Hall, a large building that was the tallest in Bree and could be seen from miles away. He dismounted his horse in the courtyard of the hall and entered through the wooden door.
He was inside the hall now, which had a high ceiling. But it was quite cramped up, Geoffrey thought. Seats were placed about and clerks sat at desks around the room. He walked over to the desk that was built into the far wall, which had bars placed in front of it. An old and hunchbacked clerk sat behind it, and he was writing on some parchment at a painfully slow pace. Geoffrey cleared his throat as to attract to attention of pale-looking elder. He looked up at Geoffrey. The clerk was completely bald, but had two bushy sideburns that were as white as snow. His eyes were wrinkled, but were a light brown in colour. Little spectacles were perched on his crooked nose. A long robe he wore, which was a dull grey in colour.
‘How may I help you today?’ the clerk asked in a polite, yet frail voice.
‘I was asked to visit the Mayor here by a messenger on the road. My name is Geoffrey Redstem.’ He replied.
The clerk mumbled something. ‘Geoffrey who? Redstalk?’
‘No. Geoffrey Redstem.’ Geoffrey said, raising his voice slightly.
The clerk now rummaged through some scrolls under the desk before opening one up and reading it slowly. ‘Ah yes. Geoffrey Redstem. Do follow me.’
The clerk got to his feet (again, slowly) and left his cubicle. A few moments later he came out of another door and asked Geoffrey to follow him up the stairs. Now the clerk climbed up the creaky flight of stairs, taking one step at a time. After what seemed like minutes, they reached a landing that ran across the front of the building. Now the two walked across it and came to a door at the end. The clerk knocked twice on it.
‘What is it?’ a deep voice bellowed in a tone that was not unlike a thespian.
‘It is… Geoffrey Redstalk here to see you, sir.’ The clerk murmured through the keyhole.
‘Geoffrey Redstem.’ Geoffrey corrected.
‘Send him in, Barnaby.’ the voice replied.
The clerk turned the door handle and pointed Geoffrey inside. He now found himself inside a long room. On the walls were large bookcases, filled with books and scrolls. Some paintings were also hung on the walls next to the shelves. At the far side was a large red table, with a bear rug beneath it. At this desk sat an incredibly fat man. He wore a dark purple coat and a burgundy waistcoat beneath it. The gold buttons on this waistcoat looked as though they might fly off at any moment, under the pressure of his waistline. The man had a rounded face, and three chins. Above these three chins with a thin mouth and a hooked nose. His green eyes were almost narrowed by his rubicund cheeks. His hair was a light brown, almost ginger, and was neatly trimmed. He beckoned Geoffrey to sit at the large desk in front of him.
‘Glad you could make it, friend!’ said the Mayor in a friendly voice. Almost too friendly. Geoffrey could not even remember the name of this Mayor, as he was often away when they were elected.
‘May I ask why I am here, sir?’ Geoffrey asked politely. He did not much like the look of the Mayor. He knew how politicians worked: they appeared friendly to get you on their side, such as at elections. He almost resented the look of him, this fat Mayor who has more wealth than he needs and indulges himself in the finest food and clothes, whilst the people living in the Beggar’s Alley are forced to steal for a loaf of bread.
‘Soon, soon!’ he yelled with a chuckled. Now he reached over to the side, not leaving his chair and grabbed a bottle and two goblets. He poured the red liquid into both goblets and slid one over to Geoffrey. Geoffrey did not immediately pick it up.
‘Well, go on then, drink up!’ bellowed the Mayor. ‘It is Dorwinion Wine, the finest in all the lands.’
Geoffrey almost refused to drink, but it certainly smelled fantastic. His preference of drinks was, of course, wine. So he drank up, and honestly did not regret it. It was the finest wine he had ever tasted.
‘Now to business! Your name is that with… favourable connotations, Geoffrey Redstem. A man of absolute honour – yet fierce as a bear when in battle. For certain, word of your exploits travels the streets like a plague. A hero you have become, for certain! Which is why I ask for your help.’
‘Go on.’ Geoffrey said with some caution.
‘The people are growing in discontent. They complain that we are not doing enough to help them. Nonsense!’ he bellowed before gulping on his expensive wine. ‘What the people need is a hero. You! We need you to get these people to stop complaining, by taking their minds off their miserable lives.’
The Mayor now stood up, with some difficulty, and waddled over to his bookshelf. From it he pulled a scroll and took it back to his desk and set it down. ‘Your grandfather, Thomas, was once a lord. You might have been one too, if your father hadn’t relinquished it away.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Geoffrey plainly replied. He didn’t much like talking about this matter.
‘What I offer you…’ the Mayor continued. ‘Is your grandfather’s title back, and a captaincy in the Town Watch. I need somebody like you to give the Watch a good name, and a lordship - your grandfather's lordship - will be my thanks to you.’
Geoffrey raised his eyebrow slightly. The Mayor took another gulp from his wine. ‘And you believe that this will solve the discontent of your people?’ Geoffrey asked with a harsh tongue.
‘Why, yes. You are a hero, after all. If you were to become a captain of the Watch, then they would start respecting the Watchers once again. Only yesterday three beggars assaulted a Watcher!’
Geoffrey was quite insulted now. This man, the Mayor, wished to use him to solve his own problems by inducting him into the Watch, and throwing in his family’s former title to sweeten the deal. Geoffrey was no fan of the Watch. He thought of its men as lazy and constantly drunk, with no care for duty, only the gold in their pocket. Even the captains were drunkards, and were slow to respond to any emergencies
‘No, sir. I decline your offer with sincere gratitude. You offer me the title of my ancestors, which you have no right to give away. You offer me captaincy of your Town Watch, in the hope that the people will begin to respect them once again. What will make them respect you and your administration is if you make their lives better.’
‘And how might I do that?’ the Mayor snapped.
‘Firstly, you might want to stop importing the finest wine to your office and instead use that money to improve Beggar’s Alley.’
‘How dare you!’ roared the Mayor. ‘I work hard, have I no right to enjoy some luxuries as I slave away up here?’
‘The people also work hard, and yet some of them do not even have a home to go to at the end of the day. Some of them rely on bread and soup to keep them alive, whilst you have your fill of the finest food, and plenty of it, as you sit warmly in your office.’ Geoffrey retorted, getting to his feet.
‘You insult me, Redstem! And I thought you were a man I could rely on.’ The Mayor barked, getting to his feet too.
‘And you insult me with your offers. You can rely on me, yes. More so than the people can rely on you, it seems. You can rely on me to keep unfriendly men from entering your town – that is what I do, and shall continue to do. I will not be used as your figurehead whilst you hide away in here. Perhaps you should captain the Watch yourself. Good day, sir. I shall find my own way out.’
With that, Geoffrey departed from the office, closing the door behind the Mayor who was roaring and cursing. He walked along the landing and down the stairs. Now he passed the clerk’s cubicle, finding the old man snoozing loudly behind the desk with a quill in his hand. Then he was away from the Town Hall, to pay a visit to his family who he had not seen for many weeks now.
