Adventure of Dagg Nabbitt

The wagon reaches a rough camp beside the north road. Three armed adult men sort grain sacks beneath Arden Pike’s marked banner, their patched coats dark with road dust and their weapons close at hand.

Rusk and Merrin remain hidden beneath the canvas among the empty sacks. Through a narrow gap, Dagg sees one lean collector, a young adult man with a narrow, weathered face and short brown hair gripping half a notched tally while another kneels beside an open ledger, a stocky middle-aged man with a broad, stubbled face and thinning gray hair.

The tally bearer slaps his half against the ledger’s matching edge. The notches align, but a missing corner leaves one farm’s payment uncertain. The third collector, a wiry adult man with a sun-darkened face, shaved jaw, and crooked nose watches the road instead of the argument.

All three men turn toward Dagg’s wagon. The ledger remains open beside the sacks, and the two halves of the tally lie within easy reach as the horses slow before the camp.

Dagg gently sets his bow beside him, close enough to seize without haste. The old elven weapon rests ready, its strange craftsmanship hidden beneath dust and ranch wear.

The road watcher studies Dagg’s hands, but Dagg meets his gaze with the steady patience of a man accustomed to being observed. The offer sounds humble, though his attention never leaves the camp.

The relaxed warmth of the road and unfinished ranch work lingers in Dagg’s posture, making the pose seem natural rather than practiced. The collectors accept the harmless persona.

The three men turn their attention to Dagg as though he belongs among the ordinary farmers they have pressed for payment. The ledger and joined tally remain exposed beside the grain sacks.

Dagg rummages through the wagon’s bundled records at an unhurried rancher’s pace, the unfinished farmwork tugging at him. His watchful eyes never leave the collectors’ hands, and he finds a worn journal beneath the reins.

He opens the journal across his knee. Page after page records grain, seed, and deliveries, with figures larger than every other farm’s combined trade. The bluff lands before he offers a single number.

The ledger keeper’s certainty confirms the name, while the tally bearer’s fingers tighten around the broken marker. Their lawful language has thinned into an admission that Pike’s demand rests on expectation, not an agreed town levy.

Dagg jumps down from the wagon and walks around to the rear at an unhurried rancher’s pace, lingering just long enough to make the detour look casual. He lifts the canvas flap and checks inside.

The watcher beyond the hedgerow sits silent among the empty sacks, one finger raised in warning while the young drover keeps still beside him. Both are alert, unharmed, and quiet. Dagg lets the canvas fall and returns toward the collectors.

The ledger keeper opens a leather satchel beside the grain sacks and draws out a folded writ. A red wax seal hangs from its cord, stamped with a reeve’s hooked staff.

The writ is held out within easy reach. Its seal is intact, and the neat lines beneath it identify Arden Pike as collector for the north road, though they say nothing about taxing Nabbitt Farms itself.

Dagg nocks an arrow and draws until the bowstring bites hard into his fingers. His long bow’s elven limbs hold steady, though the effort strains his shoulder; the arrowhead fixes on the road watcher.

The wagon’s canvas bursts open behind him. Merrin rises with a drawn weapon, and Rusk steps down beside him, crossbow ready, placing the three collectors between armed opposition and the exposed writ.

The road watcher lifts both hands away from his weapon. The ledger keeper closes the satchel, while the tally bearer backs from the grain sacks and lets his broken marker fall.

Dagg’s bow remains drawn, the elven limbs humming faintly around its magic-imbued arrow. His love of animals turns the drover’s report from routine testimony into a hard demand, while Steady Under Watch keeps his aim calm beneath three frightened stares.

The confession empties the camp of bravado. The tally bearer looks away, and the ledger keeper’s hands rise from the satchel as all three collectors understand that the arrow will not waver.

The watcher beyond the hedgerow keeps his crossbow trained while the three men stand exposed and compliant. The writ, ledger, and broken tally are now surrendered evidence, and the collectors’ confession belongs to the road.