“They always say these things behind my back,” Exclaimed Heral as we walked along the busy city streets. “No one has ever had the stones to say it to me directly. The day they do is the day they’ll get a crack to the jaw.”
He was a large bulk of a man, dark-skinned and intimidating, with a menacing smile. He was a Mard bailiff, someone who went around the city collecting money for the group.
“And what about you young Jeb?” he said in the local tongue.
“What about me?”
“How is your training going?”
I sighed, “My dagger skills are getting better, I’m a natural with a knife, or so Ben says, he puts it down to me being Bervian.”
“But not the sword?”
I winced, “I find it too awkward to wield. The weight throws me most of the time, and I find myself off balance.”
“Well, that’s because you are small Jeb, small and weak.”
I frowned, “If you say so.”
Heral had no issue with being too forward. Sometimes his words leaned on the verge of insulting, but I knew him long enough to know that there was no spitefulness in the things he said. He was just too big to deal with any painful consequences. When Heral said something, you tended to agree.
“Fear not though.” He continued. “A dagger will serve you well. Some of our best fighting men are dagger trained and do just as much damage as the swordsmen.”
“And what do you like to use?” I asked.
“Whatever is in my hand, HAHAHA!”
I’ve heard horns that were quieter than Heral’s laugh. It was so loud that the people around us jumped in fright at the sudden sound.
“I must say though Jeb, you have come a long way these past six months, your Wannihiemian is as clear as can be. If it wasn’t for your pointed nose and brown skin, I’d have taken you for a local. HA- UGH,” He let out a throaty cough that was equally as loud.
“Thank you, I suppose.”
“In all seriousness, both you and your brother should be proud of yourselves. I hear he’s doing well scribing under Raina, it’s not easy for a foreigner to pick up the language, let alone the written word of the city.”
That gave me comfort, mainly because it was true. Despite all that the city had thrown at us in the beginning, Caine and I had survived it, and now for the first time since fleeing our homeland. We felt safe.
Heral and I turned down a side alley of an Inn. He looked around before bringing me in close.
“Now remember,” he said in what he considered his quiet voice. “Although Kline is and has always been a loyal overseer, his underlings are fresh. We must be wary of them. This is still new territory all things considered.”
“You suspect something?” I asked, hopefully demonstrating how a whisper should sound.
He cocked an eye, “I always suspect something, young Jeb.”
He pushed open the side door to the Inn. Steam from the kitchen hit us instantly and my eyes started to sting as they adjusted to the room. The smell of salted fish hit my nose and made my mouth water. The food that came out of the inns and taverns from the newer parts of Mard territory were a welcomed bonus.
I had lived in the south side of the city for the first two months of being in Wannihiem, and not once did I have the chance to try the cuisine, excluding the rats we caught, and the scraps of bread that we occasionally found discarded.
Everything was new to me. Roasted chicken, tender beef, crisped duck, freshly cooked cod, venison, boiled potatoes, steamed broccoli, smoked eel and so much more. All seasoned with spices from throughout the continent. Living so close to the Inns and taverns but never being able to afford anything was tough to swallow when I realised what I was missing. And so, my mind made up for it by giving me intense cravings when I got the slightest whiff of any sort of cooking.
The food in the northern parts was just as delicious and it was nice to have the pick of both. I’d never felt more spoilt in that regard.
Shortly after the events that happened with me and Gerert, the Mards began moving in on Helm territory. They took control of an area called Brigands’ Wharf which wasn’t very large, but was considered extremely profitable for us, and a devastating loss for the Helms. Because of its Value, the Mards sent bailiffs around frequently. I was with Heral as his understudy, to see how the business worked.
The big man nodded to a thin-haired local who stood behind the door we entered. It set the man at ease when he recognised Heral.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The chefs paid us no mind. It was morning and they were working tirelessly to feed the dock workers coming in for their breakfast. We walked through the kitchen and Heral pushed open a door at the far end.
It went into a backroom.
“Welcome!” Heral shouted with extended arms. He liked to do that, he said it kept the overseers on their toes. By the shocked looks on their faces, I’d say he was right.
“How goes it Heral?” one of them said idly. He was the one sitting closest to the door on the round table and was the only one unimpressed with the big man’s entrance.
“All goes well Kline, very well indeed, and how goes you?”
“As can be expected,” Kline’s face was blackened with soot. Leaving his blue eyes to shine brightly. I concluded that his other profession had something to do with fire and he had not long finished. It wasn’t uncommon for Mard men to have another role in the city, as well as do the work they did for the Mards. Especially if you were a local. Anna told me that it made people less suspicious.
“Well, isn’t that grand,” said Heral with a mocking smile, he gestured to the three others sitting at the table. “And how are the new meat treating you?”
Kline looked up said nothing, he stared at Heral with no amusement.
There was an awkward silence.
Heral shrugged, “You know why I’m here.”
Kline huffed and then pulled a brown sack from between his legs and plopped it on the table. The table vibrated with a loud thud and the sack jingled with clanging metals. Heral grinned widely. He picked up the sack and twisted it around his shovel-like hands a few times. He then flung it over his shoulder.
“I’m assuming I don’t have to count it?” he said.
“Not at all, it’s all there, honest.” Said one of the others at the far end of the table. He was a youngster, no older than sixteen. He had a face like a rat’s and long stringy hair that stopped just above his shoulders. Heral glared at the boy like the table had just spoken. The boy shrunk in his chair. The other two at the table were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. They kept their heads down and pretended to focus on their playing cards.
Kline gave his own glare at the boy and then turned back to Heral, “As I have said countless times before, no, you don’t have to count, but if you feel the need to do so. Then feel free to do it here. Otherwise, our business is concluded.”
Heral shook his shoulder making the bag jingle, and grinned, “It feels about right. Be seeing you.”
“Be seeing you,” Kline replied, and his attention immediately went back to the game of cards.
We walked back through the steamy kitchen, weaving past the busy chefs, and out onto the side alley.
“The stick that's wedged up Kline’s arse could reach the deepest part of the Ra!” joked the big man. “I’ve known him for the better half of my life and not once have I seen him smile, never mind though, one of these days I-”
WHACK!
Something hard hit the back of my head and I found myself staring down onto the stony, alleyway floor. As if from instinct I quickly rolled on my back, I was looking upwards.
Heral was on his knees. A man had struck him with a metal rod. The sack of coins wrapped around his hands rattled across the floor. There were four of them.
CRACK!
A boot struck me in the ribs. I yelped in pain.
Heral took another hit to the back of his head. The assailant raised the rod again to strike him a third time.
I covered my ribs with my arms anticipating another boot.
Heral shot to his feet like a fish out of the water before the man could swing his rod.
THUD!
The second boot to the ribs hit parts of my arm deadening it.
Heral swung out an elbow whilst spinning, catching one of them clean across the jaw, the man staggered back as his legs went from under him.
I prepared myself for the third boot by moving my right arm to guard my ribs, and with my left arm, I went to draw the dagger from my belt.
THUD!
I took the third boot on my forearm as I gripped the knife's hilt.
Heral had spun fully now and faced his attackers. The two other men raised their rods to strike. The large man caught one of them on the chin with a solid right that floored him. The sack of coins was still wrapped around his hand. He then raised his left forearm to his face.
CRACK!
His arm took the brunt of the other pole.
I took the fourth boot and waited for the fifth. The boot came. I unsheathed my dagger as quickly as I could and plunged it into the top of the attacker’s foot. He screamed in pain and jolted back. I got to my feet quickly. The man I stuck fell onto his backside. His head leaning on the alleyway wall. I struck a boot into his chest, almost losing my balance in the process. Heral had ripped a rod out of the attacker’s fingers and whacked him across the face. Blood splattered from his mouth and painted the alley wall. The man dropped with a moan, joining the other who remained unconscious.
The big man moved on to the last assailant. Pole in one hand, sack of coins in the other.
I struck another boot into the chest of my attacker. He let out an ear-piercing cry.
“What are you going to do now little man?” Heral whispered. He had backed his assailant up against the wall. It was the quietest I had ever heard him speak and it gave me chills.
The rod was softly pressed against the assailant's nose, and the man was shaking in fear. The one I had stabbed began to whimper, “Shut up!” I said and booted him again in the chest.
“Who sent you?” growled Heral.
He started to apply pressure to the pole. The man glistened with sweat; his mouth opened with a nervous jitter.
“WELL?”
“J..J...Jaskal” he said, “Please sir, I didn’t mean nothing by it, just orders is all”
“And what exactly, were your orders?!”
“T..T...To rob you. We weren’t going to kill you. It's why we brought the rods. Jaskal just wanted to send you Mards a message. Please don’t kill me, sir, I have children.”
“So?”
The inn door opened, and Kline stepped out onto the alleyway. His entourage of men were behind him.
“What’s all this commotion?” He asked.
“Fools thought they could rob me, that's what.” Heral didn’t take his eyes off the man he had pinned.
Kline’s face soured at the site, “Let him go, for your own sakes.” He pointed to the end of the alleyway. “People are beginning to stare.”
We were attracting attention. A series of onlookers were gazing into the alley, and it wasn’t good for klings like us to be seen doing criminal things.
“Heral,” I said quietly. He looked at me and I nodded to the growing audience. Heral dropped the rod to his side and the quivering man sighed relief.
“Go,” he said.
With a tear down his face, the man darted as quickly as he could from the alleyway, leaving his three other companions to their fates without looking back.
“We better get going,” Heral said. His face riled. He dropped the pole, walked over to me, and picked up the stabbed man. He launched him over his shoulder. The man groaned in anguish.
“What are you doing?” Kline said aghast.
“Taking him with us, what’s it look like?”
“What am I supposed to do with these two?” Kline pointed to the two unconscious Helms on the floor.
Heral shrugged and continued walking out of the alley.
I followed him gingerly as we were back onto the busy street.
“What about the guards?” I asked, noticing the onlookers.
“Fuck the guards,” Heral replied