The days went by, Leslie kept working on them shoes. It was already two weeks since the last incident, old Johnson has reluctantly taken him back in and resolved the altercation with the parents of the wannabe criminals: since they themselves have admitted to stealing and there were witnesses, the town "elites" had to let go of the incident. That, of course, didn't mean that they hated the old man and Leslie any less, and because of that, the shoemaker gave Leslie even more shit than before. Leslie, of course, didn't like that, but was able to put up with the change, after all, he only needed to wait for a bit.
Tom's gang didn't bother him these two weeks, even though they were giving him the nasty looks, whenever they saw him in town. Leslie didn't want the fault of other people to restrain him in any way, so he kept going out to town to see his favorite places and dream about the future. The only thing that changed was that he now constantly carried that same mallet with him in case anyone tried to pull anything funny. He also heard that the parents of the hurt dude had to use healer's services to bring him back to normal. Leslie didn't really care about that as he has already decided that anyone who was going to mess with him, was going to regret no matter the cost.
It was pretty calm, so Leslie, although a bit worried at first, began to relax bit by bit.
***
- So, have you learned his route?
- Yeah, in the evenings he usually walks over to the blacksmith's, hangs out there for a while, looking at all the swords and armor...
- ... huh, as if someone like him would ever be able to buy any of that... Continue.
- Yeah, so next, when the forge closes, he goes to the tavern and just sits there on the stairs on the building opposite to it and watches at the folks coming in and out of it, until it gets dark, and than he goes home.
- What a weirdo. Alright, is there any way to catch him by surprise?
- Actually, there is...
***
Now, Leslie was just sitting on the stairs of the old building opposite to the tavern, which belonged to the post office and had no idea that the clouds have begun to gather up over him again. This day has turned out to be pretty boring and he hasn't seen any adventurers or any kind of anything special whatsoever, so he was just sitting there and yawning. Right when he was about to get up and leave, a rope fell onto his neck.
- Pull! - he heard scream from behind, as the rope yanked him back. Having barely managed to protect his throat with his hands in time, all he could do was wait for the rope to stop moving.
Once he was dragged into the dark alley at the side of the building, the pull finally stopped and he was now able to take a good look around. What he saw, was exactly what he expected: the former gang was standing around him, eyes glowing with hatred. He also noticed that there was almost half as many members as there were before, it was mostly the smaller kids that left, and some of the bigger guys too.
- What, did your people not respect you wetting your pants? - Leslie giggled.
- Shut up! - yelled the big Tom as he landed a heavy kick on his ribs. - Do you even know how embarassing that was? Bet your daddy isn't here now to protect you, is he?
- Nah, he's not my dad... - began Leslie as he reached to the rope to take it off.
- Stop your fucking funny business! - yelled another bully who was the one pulling the rope and tried to stomp on his hand, but Leslie rolled over.
- Let's beat the shit outta him! - yelled the big Tom, as they started doing exactly that.
Under all the hits, it was kinda hard, but being focused only on getting the rope off, Leslie has finally managed to do that. Having done that, he reached out for the mallet that was hidden meticulously under his belt and hit the closest person to him on the knee. They yelped and the second of hesitation it took for the others to realise what has happened, was enough for Leslie to struggle his way out. Swinging the mallet aroun like crazy, he kept them at distance, while getting back on his feet. He was pretty beaten up already, but still, he could let out another giggle, while threatening them with a mallet:
- What's up, weren't you so brave just a second ago? Come on, there's more where that came from!
They stood there for a second, considering their options, until Tom yelled:
- What the fuck are you waiting for, he's alone! He won't dare to kill any of you otherwise he'll be hanging the very next morning!
- Oh boy, are you wrong! - grinned Leslie, as the gang rushed in to get him.
To make it clear, he was not a fighter. Never was. He had no idea how to fight, were there supposed to be some kind of a "battle mode", whether he had to switch his mood like they did in anime or something. All he knew was that he needed to protect himself, and, guess, hitting someone till they stop being conscious DID count as fighting.
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Having bonked some of them on the head while retreating, Leslie ran. There was another chase, but it quickly died down as the pursuers realised that they have to take care of their fallen comrades first. Leslie quickly reached his home and closed the door behind him.
- What did you do again, brat? - old Johnson gave his voice from the couch, where he was finishing another bottle of rum. - You look like you just got into another portion of trouble, didn't you?
Seeing as Leslie wasn't hurrying to give his answer, the man continued:
- I told you this before and I'm telling you this again: don't fucking seek problems with the company of that rich brat. His dad got influence in town. You were lucky you got away with it the first time, due to the witnesses, so they couldn't just have their way with you without harming their reputation in the process. Next time you might not be so lucky. And if you hope I'm gonna pick you over my place in this town, you're damn wrong, boy.
As he was finishing speaking, thunderous knocks were heard from the front door. Leslie, who was already preparing to get up to his place, smiled wryly.
- Who the hell is there? - barked Johnson as he made his way to the door.
- Open up, ya dogface, we've gotta speak to that village brat of yours! - someone's growling voice was heard, as well as noises of a small crowd.
- Look in the mirror, you ugly bastard! - responded Johnson, as he was opening the door. Then turned to Leslie: - You did this again, didn't ya?! You just HAD to cause problems! Get your ass down here!
As the old Johnson dragged Leslie out there by the shirt, he finally saw what was behind the doors. There was a small crowd consisting of parents of the wannabe criminals, led by town's head merchant, as well as some passerbys watching. A little bit more to the side were said criminals, gazing at Leslie with hate and, as usual, spewing all kinds of slanderous bullshit.
The head merchant's figure truly showed that the Tommy boy really took after his father. Man was so wide it looked like he could eat three people Leslie's size and still have place for dessert. Man looked like he got a gravitational field of his own. Heck, the man looked like nothing ran in their family. Man could walk in front of a TV and Leslie would miss entire season of the show. Ahem, anyway. Dressed in the light yellow robes, he came up closer and grabbed Leslie by the throat.
- Do you fucking understand what you did, brat? You have harmed the native residents of this town, while being an outsider! And using a weapon, to that! Now there are two options for you: either you apologise before everyone present here, or we make sure you regret everything you did to the children of these honorable gentlemen! Even if you die, no one would care! Does anyone? - He looked at the old Johnson.
- Apologise before the sirs, brat! - old Johnson pushed Leslie further ahead.
- Why do I have to apologise?! They started it first! There are even witnesses! - Leslie tried to call to the remainders of their sense of justice.
- Let me tell you something, brat! - the fat merchant slapped him in the face. - Any of these kids is worth more than one hundred of the likes of you! You are nobody here! They have honorable families, who have lived here for decades and made this town better, and what do you have? Some stupid dumb useless farmers somewhere in the ass of the world?
- You don't dare to speak about my parents like that! - Leslie growled. These people have raised him as their own, and were kind to him all his life. Some fat shmuck with a mediocre position was in no place to speak about them that way.
Another slap followed, this time it threw Leslie down on the ground.
- Oh I do! More to that, you used a weapon, while they were defenseless, what can speak better about your savagery?!
- There were a lot of them, what, were I supposed to just take the beating?!
- Yes, you were, you ungrateful fuck! Now apologise or else!
Leslie took a slow look around, hoping to find anyone, who would look disgusted by the clear unfairness, but all he saw was faces filled with either hatred, disgust, or indifference. Even the old Johnson looked at him as if he was the source of problem. He really was alone in here. But he could already tell from experience, that bowing to others in hopes of the storm passing never helped. And as there was no other way out of this, he decided that at least he won't humiliate himself by bowing to obviously evil and unfair people.
- Yeah? Well, whatever than, beat me up. There is no way I'm apologising to yall, entitled ass fucks.
- Well there you heard it. - proclaimed the fat merchant, as old Johnson annoyedly landed the first hit.
As they toppled Leslie onto the ground and started showering him with kicks, he found a strange kind of satisfaction, knowing that even if he dies, he still denied these entitled people the pleasure of humiliating him. Slowly, everything faded to black...
Suddenly, he felt someone pushing the crowd away and checking his breath.
- Just what do you think you're all doing?! - another old voice sipped through Leslie's ears.
- Get out, old man, this brat is a dangerous criminal! - he heard the voice of merchant, as old and cranky hands were checking him for injuries. - You cannot just take him from us!
- Oh I can! Sure I can! Oh surely I can see he's a dangerous criminal! So dangerous it took an entire crowd of grown up cowards to deal with him!
- He beat up my son! Struck him on a head with a mallet!
- And mine too!
- And mine! - the voices of the parents shouted.
- Good! Those brats of yall really do needed beating! I've seen them steal from the tavern clients multiple times, but I kept quiet for the sake of peace. But this! This is beyond anything! Just who do you think ya'll are?
- Lies! And also who do you think YOU are? - fat merchants voice broke through the evergrowing silence. - You're just a blacksmith, what are you going to do?
- Well I can move the hell out of here so yall can fix your tools yourselves. I'm the ONLY blackmith, remember?
- We can just start buying them from the city, old man. - Leslie could hear a smirk in the fat merchant's voice, as if he had won.
- Bah! Good luck on paying all them taxes and road fees, surely the rest of the council will thank you for that! - the old man who was checking Leslie, giggled, finally lifted him up on his shoulder and took him away. One last look that Leslie threw at the scene before falling into the sleepy darkness was the rest of the crowd looking up to the merchant, but he was just standing there stuttering, unable to come up with any sort of response. Leslie smirked one last time and fainted.
Still, he made it a mental note: regardless of how someone loves you, you cannot trust them with making choices for you. His parents loved him so much and yet they couldn't have foreseen this happening. And also that no one around would notice your suffering unless for some incredible stroke of luck.