I understand why the act was forbidden by Aegimar. Samara’s severed fury was that of an Armament, of Calamity, and that severing nearly brought about the end of the world. Forget those defiant lovers who Thread themselves before they’re old enough to know what it is they’re doing. What if two Armaments bonded once again, just as Wintertide and Calamity did? I will have to find out once I ascend.
Temerius sides with Aegimar, oddly enough, considering my bastard brother just overthrew one of their affiliated kingdoms. He believes there are some things men ought to not know. Secrets better left unexplored.
I believe this to be a folly. We may have been given our bodies by the Mother, our mortality by the Matron, but Sol provided us with cognition. The gift was not given to be stifled by arbitrary constructs. While my half-brother plays the games of men, I play those of the Armaments- the gods we have, however pathetic they may be.
----------------------------------------
The wooden door creaked loudly as Yoric opened it. Voices of patrons and the clinking of drinks upon stone tables exploded from the humble tavern. Like most buildings in the Sad Ward, the Roost was built from old gray stone which did little to keep the cold out. Whilst a hearth was running, there was no wood to be found in the fire. They were burning trash, as there was plenty to find in the Ward. Wood was expensive, which meant there was little to be found in this area of the city. Luckily for the patrons the scents of ale and men overtook those of burnt trash, if only barely.
Yoric entered hand in hand with Lily. It was hard to explain the comfort she provided, the effect of grounding him to reality that she had upon him. The fact that they had met just a few hours prior compounded his confusion regarding this phenomenon. He would miss her when this all was over, but there were a dozen problems to deal with before he could begin to ruminate on her absence.
He looked around to find Abe or the Blue Bard. The Roost looked much the same as it always did. Rough, uneven stone tables rose from the ground. Mismatched chairs of many different makes were scattered around the room. Some sat at a comfortable, even level with the tables where they were placed. Some did not, and patrons had to either reach up or bend over to grab their drinks from their resting places. The stone floors were stained to the Void and back. Much like Dory’s, the stains seemed to match the selection of drinks one could find behind the bar, which was also like Dory’s in that it was a rectangular slab of stone which extended upward from the ground. One usually did not get too creative with the taverns in the Ward.
The Roost did, however, as shown by the gargantuan skeleton of a harpy that was pinned to the ceiling. The arms were both no less than five feet long each. The skull torso and legs were thin, human-like, but also much lengthier than those of even a supremely tall person. The only difference between the skull on display and that of a human was the slightly pointed, jutting mouth. More proof that the arcanists of old had attempted to add beaks to their monstrous creations.
This harpy, lovingly referred to as Tina by the owners and patrons, was larger than any Yoric had ever seen. Very little in the way of experience had shown him of any signs of harpies that were this much bigger than the average. Bianca, his old mentor, believed the harpies of old had been enormous creatures, size magically enhanced by the arcanists who had created them. She said it was likely that as they mated with the humans they kidnapped, they returned to their normal sizes over time. Since this trait had been phased out over time while others had not, there was a chance that the trait had not been modified in a manner which adhered to biological naturalism. Yoric had thought her idea silly, as he could not comprehend any bits of that process being natural in any sense of the word.
“Yoric!” a familiar voice shouted from the back of the common room. Abe, tall as a colossus, had turned around in his stool and begun waving to Yoric and Lily. Without missing a beat, the two of them made their way toward a small, round table with no more available chairs.
As they neared the two, Yoric noticed Abe was sitting rather close to the Blue Bard. The woman was very, very careful when it came to keeping her distance from others. Yoric couldn’t remember a time when they were at arms length from one another save for a bar fight or two. Abe truly was a sorcerer of sorts. Leave him with a woman for just a moment, and he could make some magic happen. Yoric looked to Lily, raising his eyebrow in response to the observation. Her mouth was wide open, though she quickly corrected it.
I’m not crazy then. She notices it too.
Just another problem to add to their unending list. Abe didn’t stay with women for long, and the Blue Bard had the temper of an empress.
There was little time to catostrophize, as Percy O’Mare was sitting across their companions, posture perfect, donning the golds and whites of House Heret. If he had been on duty, he would have worn his plate of the same colors. Here though, he wore a fine, thick doublet which bore the colors of the house he represented. His wool cloak was dyed Heret gold, as though he would rather not be mistaken for a Pearlcoat and wanted the world to know it. The feud between those men knew few bounds. Yoric prayed that would serve them well in their endeavors.
The blonde haired, brown eyed man was nearly as tall as Abraham. His face held no beard, though there were a few marks which showed he had been in a fight or two. The man had once led a small militia made up from townsfolk to flush out some mountain bandits who had been harassing travelers going to and from the city. This man, at the least, had some credibility behind him.
Pierson had seemed young, if a bit hard to place an age for Yoric. Percy was of a middling age, lithe where Pierson had been muscular, and possessed a much more commanding presence than the Master of Laws. Despite his few wrinkles, there was no white sprinkled into his hair, none of that dangling skin older folks earned as they aged. He also appeared to be much kinder, a bit less self-important than the previous man.
“Huntsman!” Percy yelled, raising a glass of ale. “It’s good to see you, lad. We both frequent so many of these taverns. It’s a shame we never cross paths.”
Yoric smiled at the jovial man.
Of course we never cross paths, he thought to himself. What kind of thief spends his time with the captain of the lord’s guard?
“It’s good to see you, sir. We’ve not spoken since you last checked up on my mother, I think.” The Lord Heret often sent folks to make sure his mother was well taken care of, that she didn’t regret her choice to remain separated from it all.
“Ah, yes. It has been a while. Too long, I must say. Is she good? Is she happy?”
“She is always good. Too good, I think, for the world we live in. Happy, though? Who knows. I sure hope so.”
“Her son is a Huntsman who serves the people around him well. I’m sure she’s proud. A proud mother is usually a happy one.”
“Who told you that?”
“My mother, on the day I got this promotion.” Yoric found himself smiling at the jape . Percy continued on. “Ah! All reports said you’ve been a sad grim fuck of late! Glad to see you can still smile, lad. You should have a drink in your hands. Wench! I-“
Yoric put his hands up a bit, gesturing for the man to slow down. “There’s no need, sir. I don’t think I’ll be here too long, and I definitely don’t need a drink right now. I’ve just a few things to ask.”
“Ah,” the man said, all joviality leaving his face. Yoric almost felt bad, though such a quick change in emotion was indicative of the transition from one mask to another. Forging public officials. “Your friends here said as such. Pierson’s folks too, though they filled me in a bit more.” The Blue Bard raised her eyebrow. She had not known this.
“The Master of Laws already sent word?” she asked.
“Aye. You lot told him you would come to me. With a matter this sensitive, even a dumb shite like him would think to let me in on the conversation.”
“And?” Yoric asked. Getting a read on the man was not easy. He once again felt envy towards those few who could draw upon Indigo Hues, those who could understand the intent of others with only a touch. “What do you think, sir? Those changelings need help. Maris N’leary supposedly has volunteers ready to harm them if need be. They won’t move. Ilya and her husband are stubborn like that, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be hurt.”
Percy sat there, still impossible to figure out. These damn public officials were incredible at masking their inner thoughts. Who had taught them how to be so proficient at this?
“There are children among the changelings, yes?” the captain asked.
“Aye,” Yoric replied, hope building in his heart. “Good kids who’ve had very little say in the way their lives had ended up. They need our help.”
Another bout of silence. The captain was deliberating thoroughly, or at least he seemed to be.
“I agree,” Percy said.
Yoric stood up, hand out and ready to be shake the captain’s.
“Hold yourself, huntsman. I agree that those kids need our help. I’ll send word to Maris that she is to hold off for half a day. You will travel north, convince Ilya to let you take the kids, and bring them here to be watched over. Many townsfolk will be apprehensive about changelings in the city, but if an accomplished huntsman is watching over them with the support of the guard’s captain…yes. We’ll be able to make that work.”
What?
Yoric once again found himself dumbfounded.
Lily spoke up. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think that’s what Yoric is really looking to do. What of the adults?”
“The town would reluctantly accept half beast children who are watched over by the huntsman,” Percy replied firmly. “They would not accept grown changelings among them. They will have to move or they will be crushed. There’s very little I can do when Pierson has made his decision.”
Lily stood up, red anger plain on her face. “The law-“
“The law, ma’am,” Percy said, an air of finality sneaking into his firm tone, “does not protect those beasts. It does not even extend to the children. This is a compromise. One that works for all of us.”
A compromise? How is this a compromise? I will not compromise on their lives!
Yoric sat there for a moment, fists clenched. One thing Percy said had stuck out like a sore thumb.
The law does not protect those beasts.
…anyone who protects the changelings would be breaking laws regarding assault or murder.
Those beasts aren’t protected by the laws of the kingdom. To harm those who’d displace them would be illegal.
Clarity struck his mind like a hammer on a bell.
“You’re all in on it,” Yoric whispered to himself, Aegis Kova covering his hands in bright blue Spirit. The guards, who were placed around the perimeter of the room, unsheathed their swords. The cacophony of voices screeched to a halt. All heads in the tavern turned toward their table.
“What did you say, lad?” asked Percy, venom encroaching on his tone. Abe, the Bard, and Lily all stood with Yoric with their hands on their weapons, eyes surveying the room.
“You’re all in on it! Your justifications, you’re so quick to bring them up! All three of you cited the law without a thought, because it’s all rehearsed! You’re corrupt, you’re-“
“Boy,” Percy said quietly, standing from his stool. “Calm yourself. You would not get away with hurting me. Most of the witnesses here are my men. The other patrons here saw me greet you happily, ask about your mother, and offer you a drink. It’s not a good look, and you’re not within your rights to charge me for these alleged crimes. Not unless you decide to exercise the authority gifted to you by your birth, the authority you and your mother have tried so hard to avoid. Use it, use it and lose your world of relative anonymity that you both love so much. Ruin everything for yourself and your mother. Do it, boy, and you’ll regret you did.”
Remember them.
While the Aegis Kova wasn’t as explosive as before, it still shrouded Yoric’s fists. Anger bled through him like a plague. They were all in on it. All three of them. As soon as the Lord Heret left, they had bounced on their opportunity. They would move the changelings. Anyone who helped them would be charged as a criminal. Anyone, including Lord Heret, would believe these two men over anyone who came to the aid of changelings. They likely had their stories concocted and ready to go while Maris proceeded with her plans to move, or kill, the colony. They would all earn a large payday, the love of their city, and they would get away with it.
No. They will not.
Yoric’s Kova dissipated, the energy quickly diffusing back into the air around them. He met the captain’s severe gaze.
“Thank you for your time, captain. I’ve much to think about.”
“Aye, that you do lad,” he said, returning to a more conversational tone. “That you do.”
Yoric walked away to the sound of weapons being sheathed and sighs of relief.
- - - -
“I can’t believe it!” Lily shouted. “How can they so grossly abuse their authority? They’re treating changeling lives like hurdles! There are children in that colony, and they’d compromise by only killing their parents? As if that’s much better?”
“Aye!” the Blue Bard shouted. “And they don’t intend to let Yoric watch them! They’d be under the scrutiny of every guard, Aegimari, and public official in the town! This is a farce of the utmost severity!” She stomped the ground as she spoke, her boots making dull thuds as they slammed into the stone. Both of the women were piping mad. Yoric was livid. Of that there was no doubt. Like his friend, he sat silently on the side of a stone shack. Abe had pulled out his wand and created a few orbs of Orange in order to fend off the cold and the dark. The southern side of the Ward was more dangerous than the others. The group had been tailed until they’d diverted into this section of town. Non-posted guards and paid followers were not dumb enough to wander down into this part the Ward where they were least welcome.
Abe had kept his thoughts to himself as he usually did. If he felt he had some sort of necessary contribution, he would tell Yoric immediately. Knowing his friend, Abe was likely just as mad as the rest of them. He was stoic, though, like the public officials they had met with tonight. To read him was impossible, so Yoric pondered on his own thoughts. Those he could work with.
The entire situation ran much deeper than anyone could have initially figured. He might be a sort of a public official with his status as a huntsman, but the men in charge had a great deal of leverage over him. Not only did the law prevent him from protecting the changelings with the use of force, but Pierson also seemed privy to the fact that he was a lawbreaker. Though Yoric knew not the extent of their knowledge, the man was likely aware that he was a thief. If Pierson knew about Yoric, then he also knew about Abe. Even more leverage. Abe, understandably, did not want much of a part in this. He had not known Ilya. She had not helped save him like she had Yoric.
None of them would go after his mother. That would be political suicide on the grandest of scales. To do so would bring the eye of the High Lord Ursahn upon them. The Lord of the Massif, the province in which they lived, was one man they could not outmaneuver in their best days.
The Blue Bard would not get involved; at least when it came to protecting the changelings. She had a long life ahead of her, a career that was blossoming more and more with each passing day. She was a household name in Mithrock and she often spoke of traveling to the other lands of the world; of singing for those who had lived lives and told stories in lands where she had never stepped foot. She could not achieve her dreams locked inside an Aegimari cell.
Lily had promised to look after him. He knew very little of her fighting capabilities. Had he been in his right mind earlier, or at any point in the day, he would have asked about them. Whether she could fight or not, it wouldn’t be too hard to protect her so long as they stayed together; even if he was horribly tired.
The scales were set. On one hand, he weighed the blackmail that the Aegimari had over himself and Abe as well as Lily’s relatively assured safety. On the other, he weighed the lives of more than a hundred changelings.
Objectively, the choice was not hard. Subjectively, it wasn’t really that hard either. Yoric would wait for Abe and the Blue Bard to rest, and then he would sneak away with Lily if she was willing. If not, he’d go by himself.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
A crunch in the snow caught his ears and then his attention. Someone had gotten very close to them despite his Prominence enhanced senses. His hand reached for his Sosin blade as he noticed a pair of bright, red eyes in the direction of the sound. A hemorian. Life drinker, blood manipulator, a denizen of the night. They could go out in the day without being harmed, though they were half as strong as a normal man when the sun was up while they were twice as strong as one in the night. The choice of turning toward a nocturnal lifestyle, he had been told, was not a hard one to make.
Hemorians did not need blood to live. Fresh blood only added to their power, enhanced the world around them, heightened sensations to levels non-afflicted individuals would likely never understand. Ilya taught her patients that blood was much like a drug which was crafted to suit every biological want a hemorian could ever have. This man’s eyes were a deep, sanguine red, meaning he had not consumed blood in a very long time. It took months for the shade to grow so deep. They were not in danger of a feral hemorian.
They were just in danger of every other form of crime one could find in the Sad Ward.
“Close enough, friend,” Yoric called out, his hand still on the hilt of his short blade. “You did well to get this close without me hearing, but we’re no guards. There’s no need to sneak like this unless you mean harm.”
The man stopped, putting his hands up to show that he actually meant no harm. He looked young, maybe in his early twenties at the most. His hair was shaved to the scalp, though it looked like it could’ve been gray or black. The Orange Hues made the color difficult to judge. His face was gaunt. Cheekbones sharper than razors lined his face, leading down to a pointed chin. His mouth held the appearance of a small, red cherry. The rest of him was quite small as well. He stood more than a few inches shorter than Yoric who himself hardly sat taller than the Blue Bard. A man this plain and short, aside from the red eyes, would have no trouble sneaking around in any setting.
Yoric’s companions did not share his relative sense of ease. The girls both had knives at the ready. Abe’s wand was out, the wooden tip beginning to glow with Yellow Hues, the Hues of Slicing. A hemorian would have that effect on anyone. Yoric did not tell them to set their weapons down, though, for they knew not the man’s business, the reasons for sneaking up on them. Thinking on it further, Yoric realized the crunch in the snow was likely purposeful.
“Relax, guys,” Yoric spoke. “He could have hurt us at any time. Chose to reveal himself instead. Yes?” He looked to the hemorian with a stare his mother had taught him to use when one expected an answer.
The hemorian cleared his throat, moving his hands awkwardly. His fear was apparent and rational. “Um, yes,” he croaked out. Clearing his throat some more, he spoke again. “Yes. I don’t want to hurt any of you. Just have to move around quietly in these parts, though I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.”
Yoric gave a small laugh. The group had done anything but move quietly through this part of this Ward when escaping their tail. They really should have considered the dangers, but Yoric figured they were relatively safe in their group of four. Most of those who roamed the southern sections of the Ward operated on their own. Yoric, with his Prominence enhanced senses, could only pick up on one other person in their immediate area. That person did not move save for a small half-arc, though Yoric could not tell which of their body parts was doing it. Enhanced presence-sensing and hearing could only do so much from afar with little light to help. Still, that motion would likely be coming from one thing.
A guard? Here?
“Out with it then,” Abe spoke, the Hues in his wand not dimming by one lumen. Neither of the women had relaxed either.
“Jeez,” the hemorian said, reaching into a red, leather pouch he kept attached to his belt. Yoric watched intently, every move the man made and multiple hypotheticals processing in his mind at a rapid pace. If the man produced a weapon, Yoric would cut his hand off. If it was some Nightcrop, Yoric would take his hand away from his blade. If he opened his pouch to beg, Yoric would send him off with some coins and be on with this mess of a day.
The pouch wasn’t empty, as the man finagled with various items. Some even fell out of the pouch. A hair tie, some sea salt taffy, half a piece of blueberry quick bread with some bites in it, and some wax for sealing letters. Finally, the man produced a small white rock, perfectly spherical; an obvious work of the Arcane.
Yoric felt himself frowning, anger welling within his blood. Abe’s expression darkened. Bianca seemed surprised at the brazenness of the act. Lily was obviously confused.
“You lot seem like the kind of folk who enjoy a good time. Can I provide you with some Stone?”
Yoric looked to Abe. His friend nodded, the light at the tip of his wand changing from Yellow Hues to Green.
“Suppress him, Abe.”
- - - -
“Unhand me, you dumb fucking bloodbags! Lets me go! You know not who I serve! I will not allow myself to go this easily! Unseal my fucking legs and see what happens, you cunts! I’ll fuck your mothers, smash your heads, and paint your nursery cribs with your fucking lifeblood! Let me go! Fight me like men!”
Curses flooded from the hemorian’s mouth. None of his words enraged them. That was the point. It wasn’t too hard to avoid the massive powers words could wield when the one screaming them was bound by the feet, screeching at the top of his lungs, and hardly larger than a child.
Green Hues were normally used to create a ward meant for either shielding or hardening a surface; usually skin. Abe had created a ward around the hemorian’s feet and up to his knees, but Abe had also connected the wards, leaving the hemorian unable to move his legs in any manner which resembled walking. Unable to move, and with his hands full, Yoric and Abe had picked the man up. Abe by his warded feet, and Yoric by his now stretched arms. Lily walked under him, pointing one of her knives toward his mouth in case he tried to bite Yoric again. A hemorian bite would not transform him. A transfer of blood was required. That did not mean Yoric wanted to be bitten.
The Blue Bard walked behind them slowly, knives out in the open, watching out for any who might think to flank the group whilst they were preoccupied with their screaming toddler. They were Arc-forged steel, also known as Arcanium. One could tell of their make by the way moonlight reflected from the blades with a slightly pink tinge. Such knives would be sharper, more durable, and exponentially more valuable than their bland steel counterparts. She waved them around as an invite and a threat. An invite to steal her riches, a threat to those who might come to bother them. One did not obtain Arcanium through sheer amounts of wealth. Two smithies in the Autumn Isles knew how to make them. Two. That was all. If they did not judge you worthy, you did not obtain them. She had either earned the blades or stolen them from someone who did. Either idea intrigued Yoric greatly.
They were heading to the guard Yoric had felt earlier. While most crimes in the Sad Ward went unreported, the selling of Stone was a different issue. The white rock would create a smoke meant to be inhaled when subjected to great heats. The substance was irrevocably addictive, and was widely considered the drug most capable of dealing generational harm with the smallest doses. One rock was enough to leave someone with an addiction that was irrevocably difficult to kick. Once addicted, most would go to great lengths to obtain the Stone. Most of them also died going to those lengths.
Many saw the distribution of this drug to the Solrusians of Sad Wards all over to be one of the greatest harms to their population. This phenomenon was not particular to Theralyn. Sad Wards existed in most cities. It was well known that Stone had initially distributed in these Wards throughout the many cities of Mithrock. When so many members of an already oppressed minority were addicted to a substance which they valued above their own life, it was incredibly difficult to make them feel like their people were worth helping. It was even harder to make bystanders and other outside forces believe in their worth.
The guards in Theralyn, despite their willingness to let the Ward be, treated the distribution of Stone as a crime which was deplorable above all others. Yoric, who had been taught to be sympathetic to the plight of the Solrusians as a people, was enraged. The guard would deal with this trash and the group would finally be able to do something about the other problems at hand.
“It’s kinda nice,” Yoric said above the curses of the hemorian. Everyone else walked in silence as he waited for one of them to respond.
“Fine, I’ll bite,” said Abe. “What about this is nice? I’d love to hear it. What about anything in the last half hour has been nice, my friend?”
“Aye,” the Blue Bard said, also speaking above the fervent oaths of the hemorian. “I am with the tall one. Very, very little of this evening could be considered nice. My performances were cut short. I have lost all hope that justice will be served in these lands. This beast is swearing in ways that even a wordsmith like myself could not forge. Do tell, Youngclaw. What is so nice?”
“I will tell you, Bard, Abe. It’s nice that we have a problem we can hand off. We can actually give this clean-tongued lad to the guards and know that a smidgen of justice will be done.”
“One can hope,” Lily said as she dodged an orb of spit the beast had created just for her. It sparkled in the moonlight for a half second before landing on Abe’s good boots.
“Oh fuck off, bloodsucker! These are my good boots!”
“Unbind my good boots, you gargantuan cunt, or I’ll spit on them again!”
“You will not. You are a degenerate and a criminal, but I know you will not spit on my boots again!”
He did.
“By the Forge! Lily!” Abe yelled pleadingly.
“What, you tower of bricks? Should I stand there and let him spit on me instead?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“I’m a Huntsman! I serve the people! I deserve better than this!”
“I’m a Lady!”
“I care not! Stand still next time!”
“I will not!”
It mattered not, as the next wad of spit went right into her ear.
“Bah, fuck! Yoric!” Lily yelled pleadingly, as if Yoric could actually do something about the liquid in her ear.
“What do you want me to do?” Yoric yelled over the hemorian’s laughter, his grip on the stretched arms still firm.
“Get the spit out!”
“With what? Do you have a straw? Do you want me to drink it out? Is that what you want?”
“I don’t care!” she yelled. “Just get it out!”
The hemorian spat again, hitting her square in the forehead. She squealed, stepping away from her position to wipe the spittle on her forehead.
The hemorian bit at Yoric’s head. Yoric punched his face into the snow, turned him over, and continued on while wondering why they hadn’t faced him upward in the first place.
- - - -
The guard was hardly half a minute from the spot where Yoric had punched the hemorian. He wore Heret colors, his dyed golden leathers almost shining on this snowy night. He surveyed the street, watching for anyone or thing that might lurk in the broken stone buildings, any sad soul that might find themselves in the worst bits of the Ward during the worst bits of the night. His gloved hand gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword, moonlight shining off of an inch of exposed steel.
His survey continued as the group and their now quiet hemorian neared. The bound man wasn’t unconscious or even very hurt. He was incredibly tough. The punch had done just enough to show him that his four captors would not be toyed with.
“Sir!” Yoric called as they finished their approach. “We caught this man selling Stone. Tried to offer it to us.”
The guard said nothing, staring blankly into the distance as he rotated his head from side to side. Was he deaf? Yoric wouldn’t put it past a scheduler to place a deaf man in the middle of the Ward, especially after what he had seen from their captain tonight.
“Anyone know sign language?” Yoric asked. Abe and Lily both shook their heads, but the Blue Bard nodded.
“You think he’s deaf?” the Bard asked.
“I dunno. Might be.”
“Even if he was deaf, he can see you speaking. He would know you were talking to him,” she stated.
“Ah,” Yoric sighed. Was the guard ignoring them?
“He could be blind too,” said Abe.
“Blind and deaf?” Yoric asked, dumbfounded by the idea.
“Would be the perfect excuse,” Lily added. “Someone in charge of placements could say that they put a guard here, allowing them to appear confused when crime still happens in the area. Would reinforce the idea that the Sad Ward is too far gone to fix.”
“Stop bringing my apprentice down to your level, morons.” The Blue Bard said, annoyance drenching her tone. “He’s not blind. Blind eyes don’t move like that.”
Yoric did not know how blind eyes moved or did not move, so he decided to trust the more traveled of them all on this matter.
“He’s ignoring us then?” Yoric asked.
“Aye. Though I’m not sure why,” the Bard replied.
Yoric thought on the possibilities. The man could be new to the position, scared out of his mind, forced to be here by his direct superiors. The man could also just not know how to proceed with the situation. He might think this is a trap of sorts. Very few people would dare approach a guard in the Sad Ward; especially in the southern sections.
Yoric put the hemorian down. He had not used Kova when holding or punching the man as he had wanted to save his stores for later. The answer came to him when he saw the changeling’s grin. This was the grin of a man who knew what was going on. The grin of a man who knew he would get away.
He bribed the guard.
What are we coming to?
“Guard. You’re not being bribed, are you?” Yoric asked, exasperation apparent in his voice.
No reply.
“We have the Stone right here. He’s selling it. He’s adding to the pain of this community.”
“You could’ve put it in his hand,” the guard replied at a pace which screamed of defensiveness. “Didn’t see him with it. Could just be blaming a hemorian. Getting us off your tail.”
“I’m a huntsman,” Yoric replied. “That’s not what we do. We serve the people.”
“I didn’t see nothin’.”
“It’s right here. It’s in his hand. Cold hard Stone. Clear as day. White as the snow at our feet. You see it.”
“I’ve seen nothing.”
“Yes, you have. It’s here. He asked us to buy it!”
“Stop yelling, boy. I might start thinkin’ it’s you who had it first, not him. Get going before I have seen something.”
“He’s crippling this community, sir! Just take him down to the dungeons. They can charge him in the morning. Put him away for hurting families, the vulnerable. Sir, you have to remember them. They deserve it.”
Remember them.
“Please,” Yoric pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks as he blinked. He hadn’t realized he was crying. His exhaustion rendered quite unaware of his feelings. Steam rose from the tears as they met the cold. “Someone has to do the right thing! You’re in the Lord Heret’s guard! He’s better than the others! It has to mean something, man! It has to!”
If we don’t remember them, who will?
“Last warning, lad. I saw nothing. I see nothing. I don’t care about whatever it is you think you’re seeing. I don’t see it.”
The guard took a step forward. Looking down, he stomped on the hemorian’s hand, crushing the Stone into a white powder as the changeling shrieked. The substance blended perfectly into the snow.
This was corruption. Yoric had seen the insurmountable depths of greed on this horrid day. This was too much for him. Far too much. Someone had to do the right thing. No one knew how to do the right thing. No one would do the right thing.
Remember them.
Action here could result in his incarceration, trouble for his mother, all of his crimes against nobility coming to light. Action here could be the beginning of the end. His mother had worked to build another life for them. He could be taking yet another life away from her.
Inaction would mean the deaths of many, the continued destruction of a people who were oppressed for the actions of their matriarch a millennium prior. Had Valora not been born to a nobleman, she could have found herself in one of these Wards. He begrudgingly accepted being forced into the huntsman because he would be able to protect weak. He had been trained, molded, born to protect. That was all anyone had ever expected of him. It was all he could do. How could he turn his back on such monstrous apathy?
Remember them, because no one else will.
Yoric’s fist, alight with blue Spirit, smashed into the guard’s face. Nose, cheekbones, and teeth shattered under the power of his punch. The guard flew backwards, leaving a thin trail of blood behind as he slammed into a stone wall.
Yoric felt a scratch at his leg. Both Prominence and Aegis were in use. The explosive Kova from earlier swallowed his hands, leaving angry manifestations of Spirit in their place. His senses were afire with speed and urgency. Aegis covered his leg momentarily, just quickly enough to negate any damage from the scratch. It dissolved immediately. The hemorian’s bondage had disappeared, likely due to Abe’s surprise, and the changeling had made its move.
Yoric kicked at the hemorian, heavily concentrated Aegis covering his boot. He connected, kicking the half beast a fair distance down the road. The Aegis on his boot dissipated, though that on his fist still roared, blue Spirit licking at the air like flames.
A furious boom shook the air behind him. Yoric looked up to see Red sparks in the air, the signal that a guard had been attacked. They would know it was him. If he killed the guard, which he would not, the hemorian would get away and spread word of the incident. If he fought the hemorian, the guard would eventually get the story across. He was not blind or deaf, as they might have thought, but it would be hard for him to communicate.
Might as well subdue the hemorian, then. I have questions.
“Abe. Bard.”
They looked to him, confusion plain on their faces. He wanted their help. Denying it would hurt his heart, but he could not ask it of them. He had to remember his friends too. He had to remember they did not ask for this.
“Go. Keep an eye on my mother. See if you can get to Morrison.”
“What about you, Yor?!” Abe yelled.
“I’m going to Ilya with Lily and the hemorian! Go!”
“Wait! You can’t just take my apprentice, Youngclaw! That’s too dangerous for her, you don’t know-“
“I! Am! Going!” Lily shouted firmly. There was little time to argue. The hemorian was getting up. “GO!” she screamed.
Startled, they jumped, but they also listened. Abe and the Bard, linking hands, ran off to find safety.
Yoric looked to the hemorian, preparing himself to engage the man. He was tough. Too tough to quickly subdue without great bodily harm. The only factor in their favor would be that no guards would be in the immediate vicinity due to their location in the southern Sad Ward. Even then, time was limited. Response time was very, very quick when it came to Red flares. Even in the Ward.
He cared not. Yoric smiled, for he felt alive. Punching that guard. Fighting this hemorian who had done incalculable damage to this community. That was right. For the first time in this tortuous day, he had found the right thing to do.
He would worry for his mother later. His crimes, his reputation, his life, all of that was secondary to making sure Ilya and her colony lived. That was his decision.
My life for hundreds.
If the Allfather really values all of his children equally, this is a good trade.
He kept his weapons sheathed. Cutting the man would only heighten the risk of a transfusion. The buff of the night would be helpful when it came to evening the odds but even Yoric, shortsighted as he could be, did not want to be transformed in order to win one fight. The hemorian stood. No blood had been spilled with the kick.
I’ll just have to break a leg.
Yoric looked to Lily. Her face was solemn. She understood the severity of his actions.
She stood by him anyway.
“Can you keep yourself safe while I fight him?”
“I can, Yori.” She held out her knives, one in each hand.
“Good.”
He moved, Prominence enhancing his speed to superhuman levels. The hemorian moved, his body a blur. Prominence helped Yoric process the act. They clashed. Yoric threw a punch. The hemorian blocked, replying with his own. Yoric moved his head to the left, barely dodging the man’s blow. Yoric kneed upwards, though the man’s right palm stopped his left leg in its place. He brought his leg back down, his right fist punching toward an opening in the shoulder. He struck true, and he heard a cracking in the upper humerus.
The hit had been strong, strong enough to provide the hemorian with leftward momentum. The man kicked with his right leg, and his speed alongside the gifted momentum allowed him to kick Yoric right in the ribs.
Yoric planted his right foot into the ground, using both Prominence and Aegis to keep from flying away as a result of the blow. This weakened the Aegis he had allocated to his ribs. He felt a cracking, an unwelcome heat in his left side, though he did not succumb to the pain. Yoric grabbed at the man’s right leg with his left arm; placing his hand on the upper thigh, forcing the knee right between his bicep and forearm. A makeshift arm lock.
Placing all of his Kova, Prominence and Aegis alike, into his arm. Yoric pulled his hand downward as he pushed his shoulder up, forcing the man’s calf to snap upward until it lined up parallel with his thigh. The man screamed, though the sound was much more feral than anything Yoric had heard prior. The leg would be unusable for a long while. Tendons, ligaments, and bones in both the knee and calf had been torn and shattered. The recovery process would be long.
If the changeling lived that long. That would be up to Ilya.
Yoric picked the hemorian up. His pained screams filled Yoric’s ears. He ran. Lily followed, silent as they made their way through the city. None would figure Yoric to be the perpetrator. He was trusted throughout Theralyn. That would not last long. The guard would identify him. Pierson and Percius would connect the dots. Under their authority, he would be named a criminal.
As they made their way to the stable, they were not stopped by a single of the guards they passed. There were looks of bewilderment, sure, but anyone would glare at a young lad carrying a screaming, smaller lad whose leg had bent in ways legs were not meant to bend.
They passed through the northern gate without issue. They stopped at the stable where he and Abe had left their horses, Warden and Tensha. Warden, his leaf-green bay gelding, snorted with pride as Yoric mounted her. Tensha’s snorts had been those of derision when Lily did the same, but the silver gelding did little more than complain. With a great deal of effort, he helped the hemorian onto the saddle. More whimpers escaped the man’s mouth as his lame leg rubbed against Warden’s rump, though Yoric did not care. It was hard to feel bad for a man who willingly aided in the continued destruction of a vulnerable people.
Mounted, tired, and preparing to be declared outlaws, Yoric the Huntsman and Lily the Bard set off on the Heron road; both sure, for the first time in a long while, they were doing what was right.
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END OF PART 1