Chapter 28
A Fair Man's Brawl P2.
[https://i.imgur.com/LZxDmvj.png]
----------------------------------------
“Tomas you fool! You nearly got me?!”
“Ah...yes, sorry, Jeffrey, didn’t see you there." The mage drawled, scratching his stubble.
“This monster killed Felix.” Jeffery snarled, glancing at the slanted newcomer, then back to my Mecha with a death glare. The current brawl had paused from the surprise attack from Tomas, but the tension in the air had thickened from the ozone and nitrogen produced from the thunderbolt that had been recently cast and the words that were just spoken.
Gritting, I had to think quickly before I received another thunderbolt from the mage. Foreseeing that the Boss might plan to distract me whilst his buddy from a distance, charges up a spell to deliver me off this world, I had to split my resources, or in this case man-power between two fronts.
“Teka. Can you distract the Mage?”
Teka not knowing what a mage was, gratefully clanged from up above accepting the task I had ordered. With no words to part, he jumped off the plumage---down the shoulder, vaulting off into the ground with his grass-made spear that could also be used as a blow dart. He had a quiver of darts at the back of his waist, implying what course he was planning on.
The boss Jeffrey noticing this, gave out a curse, whilst lifting both his arms out--in a boxer stance. Understanding his intentions, I replied with the same stance, just employed differently, with a pebble and a script. I grab both analog twigs and mirrored his motions. The baby had constantly cried through the whole struggle, even when tightly latched inside the interior of the mecha. The cries were muffled inside, only sounding out from the helm albeit low in volume.
“Can you keep him quiet!” I shouted below.
“I found his pacifier!” Sera replied back, relieved.
After the crying had halted, I turned to peak out to see Teka, without turning my helm, he was jumping and spitting his dart at the downright drunk thunder mage. He was throwing a small charge of thunder at Teka, who was expertly dodging it with his small frame and long jumps.
“Argh!” The mage named Tomas yelped at one of the darts that managed to pierce his cheek.
“So fisticuffs is it?” Jeffery snarled, his blue streak fringe cutting away from his ponytail. He spun his right arm around for an exaggerated haymaker, which ended in a typical overhanded punch. I leaned Amelia back to avoid the directed impact of the blow, then countered with a pullback punch, right gauntlet landing onto his jawline. The metal edges of the gauntlets had sliced furrows on the man’s jaw, leaving a plethora of red stains in the aftermath.
The man spat down a gob of blood that had built up in his mouth after receiving Amelia's counter, onto the dark dirt of the alleyway. “So you know how to fight.” He gritted Impressed as ready himself to return back to his stance. If I was a gentleman, respecting the tempo of a common duel, I would have waited after his compliment to get back into motion. But this wasn’t a duel, but a brawl that would likely lead to death or enslavement if I failed.
At the end of his line, Amelia’s right gauntlet retracted back to then aim a punch into the man’s jawline again. And again, like a mechanical drill, systematic in its motion. The configuration was sound, the loop had varied, every time the man had stepped back. The man was so dazed from my barrage he didn’t even activate any of his skills. I kept on it as fast as Amelia's mechanical joints would allow me. In the end, the boxing match was over. The man fell unconscious from the constant barrage I had prompted. It was not a proper brawl, it was just a machine pummeling a man, with the repeated motion alien to the world’s inhabitants.
When he was done, I directed my blood spattered Amelia to mechanically turn to face the jaw-dropping face of the inebriated mage. He had gawked at my mecha with a frightened expression plastered upon his sweats. His wizard hat was gone from his head, it had recently fallen crumpled on the ground, next to Teka who was sheltering behind a scorched stone, ankle level to the giant participants around. Tomas stepped back aghast. “How are you moving like that?”
The robotic movements of my mecha added with the dart that had pierced his cheeks---most likely had sobered the man in horrified fascination. I didn’t reply to his comment, for I was too worried to be targeted again by another bolt of electricity. Configuring back into my jump script, I recoiled for another skip towards the man.
Seeing my crouching form, the man threw another thunderbolt at me. As quick as the lightning that was sputtering towards me, I directed Amelia to angle her jump aways from her current spot. Avoiding the sizzling spear of blue streaks, I angled back to jump ahead. The man was taking his time to charge for another throw at my Mecha. Distractedly, Teka spat out another dart from his shelter, scoring another hit on the now sobering man’s expression.
'One more jump, I’ll be close enough to take him down.' The man, noticing my proximity, halted his charged casting, changing his active skill into a different type of spell. He threw his spell on the graveled floor. “Lightning Jump,” he shouted. He whizzed past me, both of us midair, going opposite directions. The visual distraction made me accidentally crash Amelia against the wall next to the backdoor whence we came. Shaking my head after the jerking collision, I turned to face the mage who had landed unsteadily upon his Boss. Trig and Pog had stopped their screaming, noticing blindly their ally nearby.
There was a shadow outlining a figure behind me, regarding it, but not heeding, I continued on my jump scripts to reach the mage before he could cast another thunder spell. He was my highest priority to take down, for if one of his offensive spells hit the metal of my Mecha that was connected to the grass network, then every small folk and baby inside would be electrocuted from the impact.
Trusting Wink had reloaded the right gauntlet sockets with another combusting barrage, I swung Amelia’s fist at the mage assisted by the trajectorial force from the jump. Pressing the pebble the same time the gauntleted punch had landed, prompted the explosion of sounds and thuds. The unequivocal force from the motion of the jump and the combusting stones landing on the mage’s jaw, cause the man to spiral past his blind colleagues, to then thud skipping against the alleyway walls, unconscious.
Grinning at the aftermath, my mecha had suddenly jolted backward from the two colliding forces of the two half-blind individuals who had tackled and latched on to Amelia. I tried to shake them off her, but Pog and Trig blindly latched on like their lives had depended on it.
“Turn him around!” A familiar hoarse voice shouted.
“Which way?” Pog hurriedly asked, holding onto my mecha who was mechanically fidgeting from the baggage.
“Just turn him!”
They turned me then, to face a socketed crossbow bolt aiming straight for my helm. My eyes had widened, recalling the pale eyes of a man who I just had killed, currently aiming his crossbow to murder me. ‘Wait?’ that wasn’t him, it was the Boss Jeffrey, who I had pommeled into unconsciousness before. My face paled, at the vitriol gleaming at the man’s eyes, he was eager to seek revenge for the loss of his subordinate. I then recalled my second cockpit, I might be able to slide down to the chest compartment and man the empty cockpit there, built for emergencies. But, my charade will end when they realize the continued movements of Amelia after getting a crossbow bolt to the helm.
I was about to leave my cockpit before the bolt was triggered, but was saved from the action by the remembered figure of a shadow before. A curve object smacked the back of Jeffrey's head, prompting him to pull the trigger of the bolt which spiraled out unaimed, ricocheting against the wall behind my mecha and the two goons who had latched onto her. We all fell agape, at the human garbed with a leather duster, holding a wooden lute by the neck--upside down, behind the collapsed form of their boss.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
“Don’t mind my intrusion, fair gents.” The clean-shaven bard shrugged with his charming voice, accented by the tone of a man who knows his trade. Then a little wizen old grass man stepped out from the bard’s right shoulder to give my mecha, a grass soldier salute.
Comprehending the allies before me, I was about to return back to jostle the two thugs who had blindly latched on when another sound intruded the scenery around.
“Halt! Everyone stop where you are!” Shouted a familiar gruff voice. The two shoving men on my Mecha had paused at the command. Marcus and a uniform score of town guards were at the entrance of the alleyway with a few of them holding crossbows aiming at all of us. I scripted my mecha to stop the instance the shout was heard, relieved at the familiarity of the voice speaking.
“Drop your weapons!” Marcus ordered.
The clang and strums of a wooden lute hitting the graveled dirt were audible to all the spectators around. The bard lifted both his hands up with a cringe at the sound. “I’m just a humble traveling musician!” The bard confessed with his singsong voice, obvious to the crowd around.
After the town's guards had surrounded us, Pog and Trig had removed themselves off me with their hands up, still temporarily blinded from my assault on their eyes. They were gathered up, along with the two unconscious men from the dirt of the alleyway. They had stepped away from Felix's bisected body, as they try to reason what could have been the cause of such brutality. I was restrained by two guards in a similar position as the hooligans who had departed, they were tense around my bloodied mecha, weary of my brutality. Recalling what I have done, I sat there in silent deliberation with my moral compass.
Marcus recognized me, then eyed the body parts that were strewn around the clodded soil, streaming bloody. He inspected the blood spattering of my armor, then swirled to scrutinize the fellows who were being dragged and escorted out of the alleyway.
“What happened?” He inquired me with a tense glare and a stiff face. He was clutching his pommel as he had said this. I could see from his curiosity that he already had surmised what occurred and out of courtesy or the charade of my noble heritage he had asked for my point of view. Well, I did tell him I was a nobleman and was familiar with the Teal Knight’s crew, so I must have garnered some of his respect to not be dragged along with others without questioning, but the tense air around was still there.
“I went to go have a leak. When these hooligans had ambushed me.” I lied with a half-truth in my story.
“You?” Marcus then pointed to the bard who was also restrained waiting to be questioned.
“Same here, sirs.” The bard then continued on with honest to good charm, exaggerating and adding commentary to what he had witnessed to Marcus..
“I see...Hamlin ain’t going to like this.” Marcus said, a hand rubbing on his chin as he eyed my mecha and the crimson tint that was decorating my armor.
Suzie then stormed out from the opened backdoor from the Inn. “Wink! Cutie! What happened?!” She inquired, searching for my friend. I had to facepalm at her query. Wink popped out from the left pauldron hatch, visible to all the giants around with a wave and wink. Suzie hurried forth to grab Wink, to hold him against her cheeks.
“Grass folk?” Marcus’s face altered in befuddlement as he eyed me.
Oona had gagged out to vomit at the side of Amelia’s helm prompted by the image she had witnessed through the slits.
“Yes, I keep them as servants.” I offhandedly shared, whilst cursing Oona, internally. Marcus contemplated Wink, then directed his scrutiny back at me when the sound was audible to him.
Hearing the gagging noises inside Amelia's helm, Marcus nodded in understanding the perceived aural reaction.
“Suzie?” Marcus named. “Did you see what happened?”
Suzie told them about my departure to go to “Trinkle my tinkle.” Then she remarked about another man exiting through the double doors after I had left. That must have been Trig, informing his Boss of my departure.
“Okay.” Marcus nodded at all three of our stories, mentally aligning to what he had surmised from the aftermath.
“I should escort you to prison, or the Medicas, judging from the crossbow bolt on your shoulder. I think you need medical treatment.” Marcus nodded at the spiral tail of the bolt that was pierced through my pauldrons.
‘Prison?’ I deflated at the thought.
“He is injured, and clearly he was not at fault!” Suzie said, her face embarrassed as she spoke her opinion.
“That maybe, but he had killed a man, and needs to be watched, in case he escapes judgment.”
“He already rented a room here, so you can judge him tomorrow. Let him look after his wound and look after the baby he is charged with. Do you want his death on your conscience if he dies going to the town’s prison?”
Marcus, spotting there was no blood leaking out from the pierced armor, shrugged. “Because you were not an instigator in this altercation, and you have reliable witnesses to back your claim, I won't put you in shackles, but I will have to confine you to your rented room, with two of my guards to watch your door, in case you plan on escaping.” He stated, whilst eyeing Suzie for her confirmation on his resolution.
“Yes,” I replied, adding a nod of understanding as reinforcement.
“Okay. Well, then, look after that wound, it looks like it’s not bleeding, but you never know. I’ll have two of my men guard you, until morning, so don’t do any funny business.”
I prompted Amelia to nod again, understanding his underlying message. He wanted me to stay put, and not escape his further inquiries into this debacle.
“In the morn---I’ll escort you back to the Mayor’s house, and we will discuss what had occurred tonight.” The veteran declared.
With an abruptness of a man policing his territory, Marcus directed a few of his pale men to remove the body parts at the scene, leaving two eager soldiers beside my Mecha, to stay put. They were not too keen on getting their hands bloody from the daunting task of their peers. When all was said and done, Marcus departed with the rest of his men, carrying the leather bags of the mess only leaving the bloodstains of my conflict, to my utter shame. I had killed a human being again, similarly on impulse. Yes, I was justified in my self-defense, but I had allowed myself to get into the situation where it wasn’t the only recourse I could have taken. I could have beaten the man unconscious, but I instinctively went for the swing.
Staring at the vibro-blade on the ground, I grunted. Why did I develop a weapon that could cut flesh within an instant? Did my mind unconsciously make me build this to sate my hidden desire for violence? Why did I create such mechanical contraptions of murder? Give a child a gun, and he will shoot it. Violence and death are easier when weapons are included in the altercation. Did my contraption escalate the situation from a tavern side brawl into a tavern side murder? So many thoughts crossed my mind as I had ruminated on what had transpired.
The bard noticed Wink who was nestled between Suzie’s cleavage, with a dumbfounded expression. He bent down to pick up his lute off the graveled dirt. After dusting off the grime, he turned to glance at me and gave me a wink with a wizened old grass man revealing himself atop the bard’s shoulder. The fair man directed a knowing smile to my helm.
“My apologies for my rudeness, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Wilaver Merrywind, the adventuring minstrel from the northern reaches to the southern steps, also titled, the Gypsy Serenader.” The bard gave a bow, with his left hand on his back whilst flicking his right hand in a gesture of courtesy.
“And my name is Gan of the grass folk, part of the traveling grass troubadour, which my pupil Merrywind is the leader of.” The wizened old grass man atop the bard’s shoulder also gave a bow in his introduction.
They then paused, waiting for something; not knowing the quiet subtleties of their silence, I had paused too.
“Ahem, your name Sir?”
‘Oooh, right!’
“My name is…. er...Sir Ghras from House Grass, also named the Grass Knight…”
Both the bard and the grass folk eyes met when they heard my name with a message hidden in their glances.
“Pardon, my rudeness Sir, but it seems I have never heard of the name?” The bard cited the air, his jaw leaning on his fingers as he pondered to recall if he had heard of the name. He scrutinized my mecha for a moment then shrugged, unable to summon the information from his brain.
Teka climbed up through the riveted chainmail, then taking a leap onto the damage pauldron. I swiveled my helm towards Teka and gave him a nod of thanks for what he had done during the brawl.
“Sir?” One of the guards spoke, waiting on me. He was holding onto his pommel tightly as he scanned me with a weary determination. Suzie nodded to me, followed by the Bard eyed Teka who gave me a thumbs up at my choice of companions. When all was said and done, we entered through the Inn again to a more somber and sparse crowd of onlookers, who had noticed the town guards following behind us, weary of me.
Giving me a wave of farewell, the bard went back to where he once had played to collect the other grass folks who were packaging up the small pavilion on the wooden table. Suzie had asked us to halt, so she could retrieve a bucket of water and dry cloth. Surveying what she brought, I stirred Amelia to nod gratefully, as I thanked her.
After the door had shut, and watching Wink being smothered by huge human lips, I collapsed onto my grass stool, turning off my Mecha. I looked at my hands, as I pondered what I had done. I murdered someone to protect my charge. A human being. I was justified, yet conflicted in the end. I could have done so many things differently. With my eyes bleary red, I climb down from my mecha to head to the bucket of lukewarm water.
I began my task, my toil, my mistake to wash the crimson blood specks of mecha’s plate, dropping my eyes when I saw my reflection from the gleam. The mutton on the table was cold, but it did not matter, my stomach was not ready to eat anything. I was all puckered out from today’s escapades and the acts of violence and murder I had to commit, arguing the moral quandary of myself. After all, I’m not a hero, I’m just an ordinary human being stuck in a small body, obligated by a promise and my conscience.