On the Ashen Road, the tax man and the bandit wear the same armband.
You have a sword, a straw hat, and no master left to serve. Three silver coins bought your blade for five
days: see a sharp-tongued medicine seller safely up the Ashen Road to the mountain pass.
Simple work, except that on this road the tax collectors and the bandits wear the same armbands, and nobody asks which
one robbed you. Every checkpoint is a question. Every draw of steel is an answer you will have to live with.
