3 Months Later

"You swing your blade, cuz your blades the only thing you can rely on. If you can't swing your blade, you're a useless piece of shit that might as well offer his bottom to the river guard and wag it like a dog. Cuz they'll put you on a leash and have you wag it for entertainment. "

'Hak sput." A puddle of spit hit the earth.

"So keep swinging that sword boy. Either that or go be a lizardman's bitch. "

"Yahahaha! "

"Oi! He's telling the lad about the lizard people again. "

"Look at the boy, he's gonna cry. "

"Gonna piss his pants more like it."

"Yer gonna cry boy? Eh? Hahahaha! Fuckin woose, this one's softer than kitten fur he is. "

The boy cried harder as he swung his sword. His arms burned, his eyes burned, and although he couldn't pinpoint what the deep agony was inside, his pride was being torn to shreds.

But he kept swinging the sword.

Until the blisters of his palms opened up with blood and his arms went numb from pain, he swung. The crowd above cawed, the desert wind blew, and the clouds overhead passed by and lazy drifts that marked the slow passing of time.

Still he swung.

Soon the jeers quieted down and eventually wilted away like a dying rose, the eyes of the men falling into a begrudging respect, albeit a small one.

The boy couldn't tell with all the tears in his eyes.

Firm eyes that belonged to a large man of bronze skin and heavy muscle judged the boy carefully. "That's enough boy. Go now , wash up and get your chores done for the day. Work won't do itself. "

The boy fell heavily on his knees, wiped his eyes with the stained tattered remains of his sleeves and put his small rusty sword through a makeshift rope loop that barely kept it tied to his side.

The dusty dirty brigands watched the boy go in silence before speaking up when he made it out of ear shot.

"Not too bad that boy. "

"He's shaping up huh. "

"Not such a bitch anymore. "

"I don't know about that Georgy.

"What do ya mean? He swings that sword more than you do Mot. "

"Fuck you too Georgy. "

"How bout you say that to my face Mot. I'll fucking bash your head in , I will!"

As two men roared to each other and the brigands started sending wisecracks and placing bets, the boy walked deeper into the random assortment of tents that made up their camp. Heavy wind carried the sand littering the rocky earth into the air and blew the tents spiked into the ground a few feet off the floor before they would be caught by the rope tying them to the spikes and fall back down gently.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Here the boy started his chores of the day. Walking slowly while massaging his arms , he began the work of examining each rope for tears and rips. Untying and retying those that needed attention while making his way through the small twenty or so tents that were scattered around haphazardly.

Halfway through a roar interrupted him.

"Well if it ain't the Sad Eyed prodigy himself! Boyo , get your arse over at here and get some grub! Your too skinny as it is. "

The man who called him was large. Very large. With a belly so big that it blotted out the sun when the boy approached. His white but tanned arms were covered in tiny crisscrossed scars and his apron was smattered in a blood that matched the butcher's blade he held in his meaty hand. His face however was kind.

The boy's depressed features fell into a smile.

"Khale." He said happily. Then his sad eyes turned sneaky. "Are you sure the others won't get mad. They haven't ate yet either."

The butcher smiled back. "it's our secret boyo. Now go on ahead and take this while thier still up to nothing. "

A hefty slither of meat made its way into the boys palm and with a grateful nod he slinked out of sight. His next destination a large tent with that sat further away from the others.

He walked in and closed the fap quickly. The orders were clear that it was not to remain open. It made the insides fairly dark but he didn't particularly mind. Soon his arse was home to the comfortable tarped floor and His teeth sinking into the smoked meat with relish, gnashing and fighting the tough exterior to settle his hunger. He ate like an animal, licking his palms and his fingertips clean

"Hmmm, disgusting as usual." A nasally voice with a sneer spoke from within the dark

The boy jumped, his fingers reaching for his sword. .

"Hmmm, your going to draw your blade on me. Tsk tsk tsk. Such a shame, sad eyes. I dislike killing the young. "

His hand faltered as he swallowed his fear, then it gave way to relief, that made its way to caution.

Only one person in the camp talked in such a way.

"Sorry, wizard Jelawi. I didn't notice you. "

A small candle sized fire bloomed into existence lighting up the tent.

"No I don't suppose you would've hmm. Too busy were you making love to that subpar ration. "

The wizard Jelawi was a tall man standing at seven feet with limbs as thin as bean sprouts and sunken eyes filled with intelligence.

"Hmmm," the wizard said swiveling his eyes over the boy. " You are not as small as you were those months ago. Khelal must favor you often with those.... rations. "

The boy gave a small hesitant nod.

'What does this man want.' he thought.

With a long thin finger the wizard poked his chest , his finger lingering as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Black smoke poured out of the man's mouth slowly.

"Yes , hmm, I see, indeed, yes , you are quite uninteresting "

The boy backed up quickly. Hand resting on his sword with fear in his eyes.

The wizards eyes came back and he sucked the smoke back in his mouth.

"Ah well. I'd thought you were something you weren't. " The wizard took his flame and pointed it at a small candle on the ground illuminating the tent.

"There, I've given you some light to make your chores easier, that should ... make us even for putting fear in you. "

The wizard turned on his heel then and began walking out of the tent, an act at which the boy sighed in relief. "Ah yes, while you clean the good, make sure to pay extra attention to the new batch we've just obtained. Those are .... special. "

Then the wizard was gone , and although the boy didn't know when it started , his heart slamming in his chest began to calm.

With the newfound light he turned his eyes to the next chore of the day. An important task that quickly showed him what type of group he would be traveling with from day one.

He grabbed a small rag in the corner and spit on it and began scrubbing the goods.

The goods of the dead wouldn't clean themselves.