Unnamed Town.
Outside the Baron’s Manor.
“Milord! You can’t do this to me!”
“I can and I am doing this.”
“B-but, milord, they're mine! They’re my children!”
“Okay, first of all, they are NOT your children. Secondly,” Atlas stared at the hulk-like man throwing a tantrum beneath him, “Let go of my legs!”
“Neva’, milord! I’ll not be letting go of your legs unless you spare ma children!”
“Enough is enough, Mr. Wootz. Stop throw–”
“It’s Douglas or Dougie, milord,” the elderly blacksmith corrected the prince.
“Stop throwing a tantrum and let me enter my manor, Douglas!” Atlas yelled with frustration. “And stop referring to them as your children! They’re coal! COAL, for goodness’ sake! You’re making it sound like I’m doing something seriously immoral here.”
“To you, they might simply be coal, milord. But to me, they’re ma precious, wee little things,” Douglas replied with a longing look within his eyes. “Small, rounded, and black like ma hairy bal–”
“Aa~nd, timeout! TMI! I DO NOT need to know that,” Atlas immediately interrupted him. Sighing with resignation, he massaged his forehead with both of his hands. The damned headache had returned with a vengeful fury.
“Alright, listen. Let’s come to a compromise. In exchange for using up all the stockpiled coal, I will compensate you with twice the amount when the mines become operational again. Agreed?”
“Agreed!” Douglas immediately let go of Atlas’ legs and shot up. A content smile filled his face, oozing with joy. Not a trace of his previous crying, tantrum-throwing appearance was seen on his face.
The change was so sudden and so great that even Atlas was caught off-guard and rendered speechless. Eying the man from top to bottom, Atlas sighed with resignation and frustration one more time, before speaking.
“All that’s left is estimating how large of a stock we have. Then, our deal can be considered com–”
“Two cart’s worth, milord. Two, just like ma’ two bal–”
“Stop talking about your testicles!” Atlas roared, cutting him off. “I don’t need to know ANYTHING about that! Just get out of here and do your job, man!”
“Understood! You can count on me, milord!” Douglas happily replied before heading off to complete his duty.
Atlas had given him the task of supervising the transport of coal from the Kiln to the Lumber Yard, where it will be used to warm the makeshift sheds that will serve as a resting/gathering place for the weary miners –when they return– while another portion of the coal will be used to cook meals en masse at the same place. Douglas, who was in charge of the Kiln and other coal-related businesses, was one of the main coordinators.
Watching him happily walk away, Atlas mumbled underneath his breath, “The day I get my knight squad/ private force, their first order of business will be to cut that bastard down.”
Sighing out loud one more time, Atlas turned around and headed into the manor. The manor was quiet and empty while Atlas himself was all alone. Entering the building now, Atlas really felt the loneliness hit him.
It was strange. For a man who had lived the latter years of his previous life all alone and away from human company, you’d think that he’d be used to being alone by now. However, as much as it irked him to admit it, Atlas did miss the constant presence of the gentle giant called the Baron, whom he had lately grown used to.
“Wait, gentle giant?” Atlas froze in horror. “Gods, I must really be losing my mind. Calling that pig-headed monster of a man, ‘a gentle giant’.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Walking through the familiar corridors, Atlas entered the room designated as his bedroom. He then closed the door, shuffled around to find a new set of clothes, and then spent a few minutes inside changing into it.
A few minutes later, the door to his bedroom opened, and out came Atlas, dressed in another set of clothes. The clothes were woefully simple and unsophisticated leading me to skip their description. Simply put, they were poor man's clothes.
Feeling the scratchy, starchy, slightly damp fabric rub against his smooth skin, Atlas thought with furrowed brows. ‘The clothes of this era really are quite sh*t. Look at this. My poor, flawless skin is being ruthlessly violated by this sh*tty material.’
‘That reminds me, I still haven’t looked at my face. I should do it sometime.’ Hopefully, he lucked out on the genetic lottery.
Resisting the urge to pull at his clothes, Atlas turned around and grabbed the slightly wet blanket that he had placed in the drawer adjacent to this bedroom door. Taking it in his hands, he closed the door and made his way to the office.
Arriving at the office, Atlas looked around the room before nodding his head with satisfaction. He then threw the blanket on the sofa adjacent to the door and walked towards the window behind his desk. After fiddling with its lock for a few minutes, he released its latch and swung the window doors wide open. Instantly, a gust of fresh air that smelled of rain entered the room.
Taking in a deep breath, Atlas stood by the window for a few minutes before retreating into the room. The rain continued to fall outside, but not to yesterday’s extent. It was more gentle and enjoyable. The constant gusts of fresh air entering the room also served to air it out and rid the room of its musty odor.
“Now this is more like it,” Atlas proclaimed out loud, before retreating towards the sofa.
On the way, he grabbed the dimly glowing oil lantern from his desk and placed it on the table next to the sofa. He then sat on the sofa, grabbed his blanket, and took one final look around this office before lying down on the sofa and covering his body with the blanket.
While the open window did bring in a constant source of fresh air, it also brought with it the coldness and dampness of the outside. One irritable thing that ruined his otherwise perfect napping setup was how damp everything was; his clothes, the blanket, the air, etc.
“Can’t have everything, I guess,” Atlas mumbled quietly before laying still and closing his eyes. The rescue team and the rescued miners weren’t scheduled to return for at least a few more hours. As such, Atlas decided to get as much shut-eye as possible.
And so he slept. All alone inside an empty office with an open window.
All alone within the large manor that was isolated from the rest of the town. So isolated that even if someone were to scream from inside the manor, it would go unheard by the nearest populated area. (This was discounting the fact that the falling rain already isolated and dampened the sounds being spread.)
All alone with no one to protect him and with the large, powerful Baron out of the town in a rescue mission.
All alone with everyone within the town knowing that he was all alone.
---
Unnamed Town.
Tent #24.
Standing alone on the fringes of the town was one of the few non-renovated tents. The tent bordered the town’s eastern perimeter and was the building that was farthest away from the town’s center.
Sleeping inside this poorly constructed residence was a family of three. The father, Paul Higgns worked in the construction team and was a man of an affable nature. His family included his wife and his son.
Life in the town was pretty simple and straightforward for the affable Paul. He had a great job, good friends, a loving wife, and a naughty son whom he adored with all his heart. Food was always available to fill his and his family’s belly and quite soon, they would be assigned to a newly constructed shared residence that would guarantee exponentially better living conditions. He should know. He had built a few of them after all.
Midnight passed a little while ago. Paul and his family slept soundly within their residence. The falling rain was kept out by the tent’s covers. The general dampness and coldness couldn’t be helped and was something that they just had to live with. Until the new residence was built that is.
As he turned to lie on his side, Paul felt a wetness assault his cheek. Lost within his dreams, he did not pay much attention to this wetness and simply settled to turning to the other side with unconscious familiarity.
Minutes later, the wetness assaulted him once again. This time, it even invaded his dreams, turning what was previously a scene of him frolicking across green pastures with his naked body into a scene of roaring storms and rocky boats.
With furrowed brows, he eventually woke up, unable to contain his discomfort. “What in the heavens,” he swore, reaching to the lantern kept by the side. After fiddling around its body, he eventually lit the device and swung it towards his bed covers to find the perpetrator of the wetness.
It was water. Lots and lots of water.
“Oh my Gods!” Paul, who was semi-awake and semi-annoyed until this point, immediately shook off his daze and exclaimed with shock. “Darlin’! Darlin’! Wake up quickly!” He shook his wife awake.
“What’s the matter?~” His wife lazily opened her eyes, questioning her husband with an annoyed tone. It can’t already be morning, can it?
“Wake up quickly! Our damned home’s flooded!” Paul hurriedly explained while jumping off of his bed.
Plop! He landed in water that had risen as tall as his waistline.