“When in doubt, attack.” A phrase first said by a famous military officer, the intent is that any action can be better than no action, there are many situations where this is true, but if used correctly in an uncertain situation, inaction is an action. Inaction forces your opponent to come to you, makes them take the first move. Inaction is different than hesitation. Hesitation means you already have an action in mind and for whatever reason, do not take it. Inaction in the form of waiting, you choose to let your opponent come to you, you choose to wait and observe, to learn. Inaction in that case is your choice of action, the only difference is intent, and I fully intended to let the magistrate give me an opening to get information or take action.
“Hmm,” the magistrate hummed while rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “there haven’t been any unexplained crimes in this county in some time, so I doubt it’s as bad as that, but something is not as it should be… something is… off.” he trailed off then started slowly walking around me in a circle. As I turned my head to follow, he barked out a curt “DO NOT. Eyes front. Do not move, child.” A lifetime of poor choices told me one thing for sure, if I disobeyed, I would be dead. It felt the same as having a knife pulled on you, or a gun held on you by a person who could use one. His mannerisms and tone were familiar, on guard but with no tension in his movements, taking direct and deliberate charge of a situation, he was confident in his ability to handle any action I took.
I turned my eyes and head forwards again, the mayor was standing directly in front of me several feet away, the record book still in and, but his opposite hand held by his side in a way that would let him quickly draw a weapon. From this life I knew he was a great champion before becoming our mayor, but now I could see it in ever line of him, if he had a weapon he would be ready to draw it, and only for one purpose.
“Sir, the boy had a… an accident just yesterday. A head wound, he might not have recovered yet.” The mayor said, starting to sound unsure and desperate, but trying to sound calm. The way a doctor sounds when he is trying to save your life and doesn’t want you going into a panic to make his life more difficult. So I stood, doing my best to give off the impression of impassive confusion. Something I could easily give off, since I was so spent from the emotional shock of the last day, I couldn’t help but be much more than indifferent, and I was genuinely shocked.
After the magistrate had completed a full circle around me, stopping beside me on my left, he took two steps back. “What was the cause and nature of the wound? Was he in a fight? Was he attacked?”
“Sir, he was struck by a merchant’s wagon, a protruding piece of bar stock shifted when he rounded the corner at the crossroads. The man was traveling excessively fast, had he not been on his way to visit the healer already he would have died. The merchant has been officially [Rebuked] and is banished from our village for 10 years.” The mayor said, his speech pattern gradually more official, but still nervous. “it was all I could do to stop the family heads of the village from enacting a more final justice on him themselves. The Miller family is well liked and respected, but I convinced them banishme-“
“Already on his way to visit a healer? Is he ill? What are the symptoms?” the magistrate interrupted.
“Sir, he-“
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“No,” the magistrate cut him off again. “Clear the square. Bring this healer, I will hear it from her. We will bring this, whatever it is, to a conclusion in your office. It is not for the eyes of the village.”
The mayor paused for a moment, about to say something, then stopped and walked towards my family where they were at the side of the green and began ushering people away.
Switching back to his low tone the magistrate began giving me instructions, “this discussion needs to take place more privately, I will follow you to your mayor’s office. Walk. Now. Do not run or stray from the path.” He did not seem the kind of man who enjoyed harming others needlessly, but he would not hesitate.
With no other option, I turned to leave the square scanning the crowed I saw looks of confusion from the younger people, while the older ones looked frightened or resigned, my dad had a look I had never seen on him before, but I knew well from my last life, dread.
The magistrate followed behind me as we walked out of the square through the series of unlabeled unnamed dirt streets that made up the village of Eagleton on my way towards the mayor’s office. As my feet followed a well-known path, past the stables, the blacksmith, and the locals only pub. I turned left past the one inn we had and wove down a shortcut between it and the bakery, going towards the crossroads where the mayor's office sat. While I walked, I took in the village with fresh eyes, context I had not had before told me a story I already knew, but with an outsider’s perspective. Most of the houses were uncut stone and mortar, some had a second story made of wood covered with plaster. They were roofed with well laid wood shingles, but a few had grey slate roofs. The village had seen prosperity the last few decades, it was no trade hub but still a stopping point for merchants and caravans that brought light but consistent business.
We had so many visitors in our first pub that the mayor needed to decree the creation of a second pub and the original one was turned into a locals only establishment. It wasn’t truly only for locals, nobody minded a merchant or wagon driver in there, and nobody would be asked to leave, but it had just gotten too crowded with only one pub. The men of the village had great fun with new visitors about what pub they were allowed to use, they never visited the right one the first time, and after a few visits they would catch on to the gag and usually help rope in their friends the next time they came through.
My mind was wondering, and I let it. Having a gun aimed at your back is always unpleasant, and having a distraction would help me relax and not let panic or fear drive my actions. Maybe 'distraction' and 'relax' weren't the right words, some people would call it 'disassociate' and 'detach.' Either way, fear would not be making the choices for me.
We reached the mayor’s office, a large single-story building, made from cut stone blocks with a heavy iron bound wood door. I pushed it open and walked inside, the interior was a single spacious room. A few feet inside of the door the mayor’s assistant and wife, a kind looking plump woman in a simple cotton dress, sitting behind a heavy wood desk. The shutters on the windows were open so the interior was well lit. Around the room stood mounted animals on display, a great fireplace to the left side, cool at the moment, with trophies and awards the village had won on the mantle. Our people took great pride in their achievements, and every winner of any livestock show, competition, or bake off would be asking the mayor to hang their ribbon or award in his office for all to see, not forever, eventually when the next prize was won the oldest one would be returned to its owner and a newer one take its place. It was a tradition that dated back past any records. There was the stuffed dire bear the village men brought down 10 years ago, the mayor had personally lead the hunt for it. Next to the bear was a stuffed eagle the size of a man, its spread wings taking up a quarter of the wall space in the room. The records said a former mayor and a group of hunters followed and killed it after it took a child, and it was from that bird that the village’s name came. There was another heavy wood door in the back with a lock, maybe the only one like it in the whole village, guarding the fund and treasury. This was the only official government building we had, and it was as much a trophy case for the town as it was a place of business.
I had taken it all in as I entered and stopped by the receptionist's desk, I had always thought this was the grandest building I would ever see, but now it seemed small. The magistrate stepped in behind me, “clear the room.” His commanding demeanor left no room for debate and the mayor’s wife scrambled out from behind the desk and out of the office. The magistrate deliberately walked around the desk and took a seat, leaning forward to on his elbows steeping his fingers he observed me for a moment then asked “Just what sort of thing are you?”