“Terry Williams!” shouted Alment Kingsten. “I challenge you—”
“Zip it, armor boy! You can wait your turn,” snapped Terry, his blistering gaze never leaving Kelima’s face.
“I—” she started.
“Nothing bad ever happens in a market square,” he said, throwing her own words back at her.
There was another bestial roar that shook the earth beneath Terry’s feet. He turned to glare at the gryphon, which was standing on the destroyed remains of several booths. Terry scanned for injured people. He felt like this was all, well, no, it definitely wasn’t all his fault. Not this time. But he figured that he probably had to own some of the responsibility. Even so, he didn’t want some random farmers or merchants getting eaten or crushed because they just happened to be in the same place as him when the universe decided to take a big, fat shit on his head. The poor bastards didn’t deserve that as their fate.
He was relieved not to see any bodies. There also wasn’t any blood around the gryphon’s beak to suggest it had killed anyone. He thrust a finger at the…Eagle? Lion? Bird-cat-monster? Yeah, he decided, that’s it. He thrust a finger at the bird-cat-monster and shouted at it.
“You can wait your goddamn turn, too!”
The monster looked startled and deeply uncertain. It even took a hesitant step back on its bird-cat-monster paws and talons. Clearly, nobody had tried plain old discipline with it. Is that the problem with these monsters? Nobody ever told them to behave? Turning back to Kelima, he took off his pack and handed it to her. Then, reverently, he took off his rice hat and gave that to her as well. Since he’d already been pointing at things, he pointed at her.
“Do not let my cat die,” he commanded as Dusk poked head out of the pack and let a soft meow. “And don’t let anything happen to my hat.”
Kelima winced at the mention of his hat, no doubt remembering the time that she herself had put a hole in his hat.
“I won’t,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Good,” he muttered before walking over to a stall that mostly seemed to sell potatoes.
He glanced over the top of the tables and found a husky young man who looked to be all of about sixteen cowering behind that scant cover. The kid looked up at him with terrified eyes.
“What?” the kid shrieked.
Terry opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed the Douche Knight was getting impatient.
“Terry Williams! You will not ignore—”
Deciding to lean into the disapproving finger-pointing thing, he pointed at the idiot.
“Wait!” barked Terry before turning his attention back to the frightened kid. “How much for all of these potatoes?”
“What?”
“How much for all of these potatoes?” Terry repeated. “I want to buy the whole lot.”
The kid’s brain seemed to lock up as it tried to do math around all the gibbering terror. Finally, Terry just threw some coins behind the table. They scattered around the kid whose mind seemed to be getting farther and farther away from reality.
“If that’s not enough, we’ll settle up later,” he announced before palming the biggest potato on the table.
He glared at the bird-cat-monster again, but it seemed to be patiently waiting. This place is so fucking weird, grumbled Terry inside his own head. He turned to scowl at the knight and the people spreading out behind him. Terry tried to remember what the word was for those people. Squires, maybe? He thought that was it. Seeing that Terry was finally paying attention to him, Alment Kingsten puffed out his chest and began monologuing.
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“You have long eluded my righteous vengeance, but that ends now. I, the fist of the Holy Church challenge—”
That was as far as the man got before a potato slammed into his face at a speed that would have made major league baseball pitchers investigate the possibility of hiring a hitman. Blood exploded into the air. Teeth flew. The knight toppled to the ground with a resounding clang. The squires were all so shocked by the sight of their glorious leader being brought down by a potato, that none of them noticed the potatoes that crashed into their heads or chests. Having been in this position before, Terry had spread out that extra sense he’d picked up.
To his complete lack of shock, there were people positioned on top of nearby buildings. Like a turret made of flesh, he sent tubers hurtling toward their positions like organic bombs. There were screams as people were carried off of those buildings by the force of Terry’s potato bullets. A few of them had managed to fire off a bolt or two, but none of them had come close to him. When he was satisfied that there were no more immediate threats from the Church, he stalked over to the knight. Alment Kingsten had managed to get up to his hands and knees. The man swayed back and forth as he watched Terry approach.
“You have no honor,” slurred the Douche Knight.
Terry’s foot slamming onto the man’s back and driving him down to the ground again was his first answer. Next, he picked up the asshole’s sword, drove a foot of it into the stone blocks beneath them, and wrenched it sideways with all of his strength. There was a shriek as the metal bent and then snapped. It was petty as hell, but Terry was pretty sure the knight’s sword was obscenely expensive and probably had some hard-to-perform enchantment on it. He didn’t know if the guy would have to replace it out of his own pocket, but it was going to cost someone a pretty penny to replace it. Plus, breaking it brought him a sense of visceral satisfaction.
“No!” shouted the knight, who tried to stagger up to his feet.
Terry’s foot landed on the man’s back for a second time. The Douche Knight hit the ground again and spat up some blood. Crouching down next to the guy and methodically removing anything that looked valuable, Terry spoke in a conversational tone.
“You’re a jackass. You also don’t seem to take the hint very well. So, here’s how it’s going to be from now on. Every single time you bother me in any way, I’m going to break your sword, take your money, and beat you unconscious.”
Suiting actions to words, Terry punched the guy in the face. Then, he did it a couple more times. He was relatively certain the first punch had done the trick, but there was no point in doing a half-ass job of it. A glance at the bird-cat-monster showed it standing stock still, gaze fixed on him. Well, as long as it's not eating anybody, I guess I’ve got a minute. He shamelessly robbed all the squires as well, making a point to break their crossbows in the process. They probably weren’t anywhere near as expensive as the sword, but it would inconvenience them. With nothing left that he could use as an excuse to avoid the metaphorical and literal bigger problem, Terry heaved a sigh and faced the gryphon. A thought occurred to him.
“Well, it’s worth a try,” he said to no one in particular before he bellowed at the monster. “Look at this mess!
“What the hell are you doing?” Kelima whisper-screamed at him.
He ignored her and started walking toward the bird-cat-monster.
“I mean, seriously! Look at this mess you’ve made,” he gestured at the crushed stalls beneath the gryphon. “Do you have any idea how much work it’s going to be to fix that? Do you?”
The gryphon, defying Terry’s expectations that it would simply attack him immediately, hunched down a little and averted its gaze.
“And you scared all of these people who never did anything at all to you. You have been a very naughty bird-cat-monster!”
Terry stared with disbelief when the damn thing tried to hide its head beneath a wing. I cannot believe this is working. Even so, he did his best to channel angry TV mom into his voice and bearing. He crossed his arms and dropped his voice a little.
“I am so disappointed in you right now. I can barely stand to look at you!”
The gryphon flinched and that made him feel a little bad. It had dropped in and done some damage, but it hadn’t actually hurt anyone.
“You need to apologize to these people,” ordered Terry.
He realized after he said it that he might have made a mistake with that one. How the hell was it supposed to apologize? However, it dragged its head out from beneath a wing, stared at the ground, and a trilling, mrowing sort of noise issued from its throat. Deciding that was probably the best he would get and about a million times better than he could have hoped for, he pointed at the sky.
“Now, I want you to go home and think about what you’ve done!”
There was a tense moment when Terry thought it might resume its attack. Instead, the bird-cat-monster spread its wings and, with a mighty flap, flew off in the morning sunlight. For about half a minute, nobody did or said anything since they were all too busy watching the chastised monster retreat to wherever it lived. Kelima eventually stepped up next to Terry.
“Did you just scold a monster and send it to its room without supper?” she asked.
Terry heard the question, but he discovered his throat was closed up with rage. He just kept staring at the thing in Kelima’s hand. He eventually managed to push out a few words through the fury.
“Why is there a hole in my hat?”