The idiots had it coming. I mean what did they expect to happen? That I would just let them take my fucking money and walk away? Of course not. Only idiots let themselves be robbed with a smile on their faces. Though I suppose that I wouldn't have to deal with this if I just let it happen. “Do you have any idea about how close you are to being royalily fucked.”
“Of course I know, I was there.” I mean it was ‘self defense’ even if it’s only in the loosest term.
“Then you should know that..”
“Can I go now?” I say, purposefully interrupting him to avoid his enlightenment.
“..Yes, leave” Terrance lets me out of my cell for what must be the 12th time this year. He’s one of the better watch captains we have. It also helps that I sell most of my stuff to them as well, even if they provide most of the supplies to make them. “Later Terry, always a pleasure.” He looks at me with that look of silent resignation whenever he’s forced to deal with me. ‘Or does he give everyone who he can’t keep locked up that look?’
“I don’t want you back here for at least another month. Understood?”
“Crystal! Now where’s my stuff?” I hold out my hand as if expecting candy.“
Not this time I'm afraid.” He says while giving me a stupid smug face to my dawning horror. “It would seem that one of your ‘Inventions’ broke section 12 act 4 ‘No person or organization shall manufacture any form of explosive or flammable substance without the signed approval of a council member with writ symbol of thy reigning noble.’”
This son of a.. “IT WAS A FLASHBANG! You can’t just take my..!”
“It was an unmarked IED, I can and I will seize all your possessions and have them Identified and marked. And with the contents in question you should feel lucky that the council doesn’t want you locked down.”
“But..”
“Leave, anymore and I’ll charge you with criminal obstruction.”
“..Fine.” ‘Prick’ I think to myself
“Oh, and one more thing before you go. Council member Jonathan von Heigberg has placed you under house arrest for the foreseeable future.” The jackass says it like it was the best news all week. Doesn’t help that he has that stupid look on his face like he just won the pot.
Before I can say anything else he continues “Guards take the brat home and make sure that you aren't too rough with him.”
Now not only am I piss poor broke I can’t do anything to change the fact either. While I’m escorted to my lovely abode the guards find it humorous to push me when I don’t move fast enough to their liking. Which sucks because I’m only half of their six feet. And so after much walking (run walking for me) and shoving we arrive and my shitstain of a home.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Ain’t nothing like home.”
“Your ‘home’ is nothing more than an accident waiting to happen.” One of the guards says.
It’s true. I live in the town's biggest trash pile. The whole place is surrounded by the slums. It’s not even the nice part of the slums either, the buildings here don’t deserve the designation of the word ‘sound’ with a single stiff breeze enough to knock most of them down and don’t even get me started on the ‘people’. The only reason nobody lives in the scrapyard is because it's the most dangerous part of the city. What with the giant rat lairs here, the occasional slime covered in rusty scrap metal there and if you're really unlucky the tribe of goblins hiding somewhere in the caverns of garbage and waste.
“Can I go now?”
“Hold on, we need you to confirm that you know the boundaries of your ‘home’ so you don't go past them. Now speak into the recorder so that all parties are aware of said boundaries.”
“C’mon we’ve already done this before. Do we really have to do this again?” All I need is for you to just fall for the bait. If he doesn’t record it then I can legally claim that I didn’t know what they were and continue to do as I please.
“Yes, now hurry up we haven’t got all day.” Darn it. It’s never that easy. Why is it never that easy?
“I Stacy Codwell understand that this garbage pile that I call home is my place of residence and that if I cross the boundary of said residence I will be placed under arrest with the possibility of exile should I voluntarily cross said boundary. Is that good enough?”
“No, now hold out your arm.”
“Wha.. HEY WHAT ARE YOU..” Before I can do or say anything more the guard grabs my arm and places a familiar manacle around my wrist. Familiar in the sense that I made it for the guards to track down escape artists that try to say goodbye to the lovely watch earlier than recommended. Crafted to shatter and send the debris directly into your wrist severing your hand from your arm should you try to remove it without the right key and passcode. Oh how good deeds always come around to bite you in the ass.
“Now you can go.” The guard says while looking like he just got paid for a job well done. Which I guess he did so fuck him.
Well shit. Looks like I really screwed up now. I might have been able to be in the grey with the law to travel to the slums, but with this stupid manacle on my wrist that option has flown out the window and burned up in the light of the sun.
And so with a heavy heart and an equally heavy sigh I head to my ‘home’ like a prisoner walking to the gallows. As I go I notice a figure dash into cover as I direct my gaze towards it. If I'm lucky it’ll be just another giant rat keeping its head down. If I’m unlucky then it’ll be a goblin reporting to his chieftain that I'm arriving unarmed and unarmored.
As I pull the lever to unlock the gates and pour mana into the pulley to open said gates I stare at home. Rust Hell, Junkheap, Scrapyard, Rat Haven and Red Rim are only some of the names of it. Only the insane, stupid or desprite would even try to live here and right know I guess I’m two of three.
Watching the gates open I can see the pillar of Isen Bane, a big ass rock jutting out from one of the far corners of the heap through the mounds of scrap. From the stories I heard from Iver, some wizard or something stopped a monster by throwing the thing at it.
When I head into the Junkyard I can hear one of the watch guards whisper under his breath something that’s probably an insult or slur. But I really don’t care about that as I have other things on my mind like navigating the safest path back to my actual home within this shithole and hoping that Rusty Ragger doesn’t go back on his deal and jump me.
As I’m avoiding some of the broken glass, trash dunes, Stinker the rost beetle and jagged pieces of metal strewn sharp enough to go straight through my boots I notice that I’ve been surrounded by surprisingly not goblins but the local gang of street kids. All of them but one looking at me like I just gave them tinnitus and a sudden case of temporary blindness. I suppose the bruises and black eyes don't help either.
Today just has not been my day.