[dplax]

Filth was twelve and had acquired his name from the conditions he had lived in most of his short life. He had been born the son of a whore. His father could have been anyone. He had been more a nuisance to his mother than joy, after all which hooker wanted to have a burden that reduced their rates

The horse riders had disappeared on the other side of the pass thousands of heartbeats ago, yet Filth still lay under the overhang, not yet daring to move. He was still shaking with fear. Had the lead rider come but a dozen paces closer, he would have been silhouetted against the setting sun. But Lady Luck had smiled on him.
He waited until night stole across the skies, bringing with it a veil of stars. Out here, far from the great cities along the Gerry river thousands upon thousands of starts could be seen on a cloudless night. Luckily for Filth, this particular night was cloudy and he was able to leave his hiding spot at a crawl, then a low run.
He had found paying work about a year ago, enlisting with the Satal Trade Guild. Initially hailing from the harbour of Satal and then moving their headquarters to Gerridale after the sack of Satal forty years ago, the guild had started out as nothing more than a band of mercenaries. Over the decades they had expanded and were nowadays considered as a guild which dabbled in nearly everything. Whatever desire you have, we can get it for you - so went their slogan.
And everyone desired something. The guild could get it, if the price was right. Civil war had seen prices of everything skyrocket. If the smugglers and the black markets could not deliver certain goods, people went to see the Satal Trade Guild. The only reason the authorities still tolerated the growing power of the guild was that without its services they would have already been hard pressed during this war.
Of course the guild did not choose sides in this civil war, they did not choose the crown or one of the many warlords. They did business with everyone. No deal was too small, no deal was too big. If they were unable to fulfill a request they would just set a price that no sane man would be willing to pay.

Filth was a messenger for the Satal Trade Guild. A rich merchant had wanted a message to be taken to a town far across the mountains and had paid handsomely. Now the guild knew why. If the hordes were gathering, it would impact much more than this simple message. Filth knew he had to return the way he had come and deliver the news about the horsemen to his masters. It would make them lose money on the current contract, but the long term gains were desireable indeed.
His pouch was still heavy with coin in preparation for the long journey. He would have to buy a horse and make all haste back east. Three Hills was probably closer than Gerridale, he would make his way there. The local guildmaster would then know what to do.