CHAPTER 11 -TROUBLE

The funeral was not a quiet one. Everyone and their mother stood there dressed in white. It had felt like the entire town showed up to grieve. Perhaps they had. Despite hating me, my family was beloved by all. My father was hardworking and a decent listener, while my mother ran one of the oldest taverns in the town. My brother helped anyone who needed it and was often helped in return. Now all the kind, sympathetic townsfolk stood there and paid their respects. I cared nothing for it. I only wanted peace and quiet. I only wanted more time.

My eyes were red, and everyone saw me. They saw my tears as I stood by the plain black cloth that wrapped her tiny body. I wished it would rain, but the shining sun made drops falling from my eyes glimmer. Those that saw, must have known why I had been absent for over a week and a half. And after the funeral, they offered kind words to me. To me!! The menace of the Orid-narr!

I ignored them.

Over a week later, I still walked through the town like a corpse, running useless errands that mother made up to keep me busy. People tried to help me as I did my best to select the prime cuts of meat to buy from the butcher or when I had to pick the right vegetables for the meal that my brother was going to cook later. It was only motions, but even that was better than the alternative.

Father had stopped conversing. He took off from work, and it reminded me of the time he had come back from the Sea of Cyclones. He would only mutter to himself, and he would fear sleeping. He drank almost non-stop and grew more violent with every drop that wet his lips. It was left to me to fight him off of customers when his manic episodes took over. When I held him and pulled him away, I understood why my mother kept me busy.

On those days, I could see her tired eyes, still grieving from the death of her only daughter, and I knew I was failing again. I should have been rising to the occasion, taking care of my father’s work while he was incapable of doing so. Asking her what else I could do. And so I swore I would help her next. Never would she be troubled again.

If only I followed through with that promise.

A mere three days passed before I broke it and proved that my word was worthless… But… I had not gone looking for trouble, it came to me. Some of the young men that I used to antagonize began to follow me as I walked to the fish market. And I saw a reflection of who I used to be.

They were making fun of me, taunting me, trying to get me to fight, just as I had done to them several times in the past. I did not bother to turn their way, letting their taunts fall flat. Even when stone were pelted at my arms and spit landed on my shoe, I ignored them. At first. I would not be able to help my mother if I ruined our reputation further or if I got into trouble. They gave up on the stones and flapped their lips, two of them butchering Kurjen with their accent. But they knew enough to spit insults.

“So, the bastard gets it from his father, how unexpected. I heard his whore mother used to be the fighter. It’s where the name comes from, don’t you know?”

“But look at him now, going to piss himself. Afraid? We can go one by one if you would like.”

“Nah, he used to fight the four of us at once, it would only be right to return the favor.”

“What, you don’t fight men anymore?”

“Of course he doesn’t, its only little girls.”

Their damned words still ring in my ears as clear as day. How many years it’s been and I cannot forget… Had I had the blessed foresight of women. Had I known it would come to this, I might have acted differently, but I am a man. I was grieving and although I was trying to be better, it was not easy for me to turn over a new leaf.

“Didn’t you see, he was crying at her funeral. He is a little girl so its only natural he fights other little girls. What a joke.”

“Crocodile tears, everyone knows it. He’s probably the one that killed her anyway.”

Each sound that came out of their mouths built pressure within me. One by one. One by one. Until I was a poorly constructed dam holding back an ocean. Inevitably, something gave. I suppose that is where my story truly starts. In broad daylight on the streets of Orid-narr. There was no wind that day. I held only a few coins and a basket which I was going to carry the fish in on the way back. No one else was on the street, and if there was, I could not see them.

“Family of crooks, she deserved whatever she got.”

“The kid can’t take any other girls to bed, it’s a pity that his sister was the first.”

I slowly walked towards the group, putting down the basket and coins that my mother gave me. I don’t know if they did not notice, or if they simply did not care, but I delicately lifted my shirt away and folded it, leaving it in the basket so it did not get ruined. I walked right up to them, and they continued to yap like hungry pigs. Perhaps they did not think I would fight after it had been so long, or maybe they thought the public space and daylight would stop me. But what did I care? I could barely even think.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“It’s not like any of them are better than dogs. They should all just be put in a hole to stew in their own filth.”

My leg whistled as I kicked the first one between the legs. Something crunched, and he toppled immediately. Without looking his way, I crushed his throat while he writhed on the floor. The second was too slow to react. Before he could blink, I had already grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his face down into my rising knee, breaking his nose.

Then there were two. They swung their fists, wild and frantic.

I ducked under the first punch and returned with my own. I twisted my body and railed my left hook just underneath his ribcage. It sunk in deep, and when he brought his arms down to grab his stomach, I broke his chin with a right uppercut. His teeth clacked together and he fell over, unconscious, joining his friends on the ground. And then there was one.

Funny how the one with the biggest mouth it always the last to fight. He was the one who had done the most talking, and now he turned to run away. The fool did not know I was faster than him. But I was feeling generous, so I let him take three strides before I grabbed his foot, causing him to fall face-first into the cobblestones below us. He scratched his hands and yelped when he broke his fall. What a disgusting noise.

How I hated his mouth. I flipped him on to his back and shoved the heel of my foot against his upper ring of teeth. He screamed as much as he was able to around my heel, and he only got louder when I reached into his mouth and began to drag downwards on his lower teeth. I pushed with my foot and pulled with my hands, determined to rip his jaw away. I could feel the muscles in his face begin to tear, as his guttural screech reverberated in my ears. But before I fully ripped it away, the city watch pulled me off of him.

I fought against them at first, determined to finish the job. But then I saw the basket I had set down, and I knew it was over.

-

The excuses poured out like rushing water. I tried telling the watch that I needed to buy fish for my mother. I was supposed to be helping her. I had only stepped out for a minute. They had attacked me. I was only defending myself.

But they were having none of it. I did not argue any further. I only dropped my hands by my side and hung my head, letting my black hair fall in front of my eyes.

It did not stop me from seeing the bodies on the floor, two gasping for breath, one unconscious and one trying to stop his nose from bleeding. I knew one of them was going to die. If not that day, then in a few days. And I was right.

There had been no trial. I was detained and held in a cell as they waited to see if the boys would recover. Three of them did. Two were left unable to speak -the one whose throat I stepped on, and the one whose mouth I ripped. Surprisingly, it was the one I punched that had died. Perhaps he had hit the ground too hard.

To my utmost shame, there were people who vouched for me, saying that I would not have done so unprovoked, but my fate was sealed. Because I had submitted once confronted by the guardsman, and not fought harder, I was given a choice. I was forced to choose between one of two options: hanging or fighting in the arena.

If you are reading this, it must be obvious what I had chose.

They gave me three days to prepare my belongings and say my goodbyes. During that period I would be escorted by two of the watch wherever I went, even the outhouse.

But there was nowhere to go. I could not face my parents. I had been nothing but a disappointment to them. It was Garent who I had turned to. My faithful younger brother. It was only to him I told the full story.

A part of me yearned to spend my remaining days helping my mother and father as best I could, but I knew it would only bring them pain to see their son, for who could love a murderer. Not only a murderer, but a monster that can leave four young men larger than himself groveling in the dirt. A monster that they gave birth to. No, I could not do that to them.

Instead, I begged Garent to care for them in my place. I apologized for what I had done, and I threw together a few belongings. I was unable to bring myself to stay in the house that night and asked to be taken back to the cell.

The next day I wanted to apologize to the young men’s families as though it may fix my mistakes, but the watch did not let me. Instead, I visited Aryel’s grave and watered the budding lilies.

My path back to the watchtower passed by home, and I remember stopping to stare at the sign hanging above with longing eyes. The Steel Bride. Home. Never had it felt so far away.

There was no home for me anymore. I asked the watch if I could be taken to the arena a day early, but they denied my request. Looking back, I am certain they were unprepared.

That third morning I was awoken before sunrise. I had not bathed or changed out of the clothes I was wearing once since the fight. The bandages around my hands were dirty as the rest of me. (they were from where I had split the skin over my knuckles after punching one of them, and from the cuts on my fingers caused by the teeth of the other.)

That morning, as I had looked down upon my disheveled appearance and reflected on the pain I had caused, a part of me wished for the rope. Two, left unable to speak, one left with a horrific broken nose, and one dead. By my hands. What justice was this that I was the only one alive and still healthy? I walked out of the cell taking almost nothing with me. I held no memorabilia from my family. Nothing of little Aryel’s, nothing from my parents except for the clothes on my back. A cart was waiting, one with a cage. I remember taking note of the light colored horses, but now I cannot say if they were white or simply light brown. The watch had apologized when they told me I needed to sit behind the bars, but I did not mind. At least the cage was clean.

To tell you the truth, although… assaulting? destroying? those older boys had left me feeling ill, I still could not forgive them for the words that they had uttered. If I was given a second chance, I would still want to get revenge, but I would have gone about it differently. But now I was confined with hands bound tight.

I did not mind sitting in the cage, because I knew I was an animal -one better kept locked up. If I was not an animal, would I have gone for the bait they had dangled in front of me? Would I have thrown away my future with my family that I had only just begun to mend ties with? So, I sat behind those bars, where I felt I belonged.

The cart began to move, and I shook around in the back. Familiar houses and streets moved past me as we rolled along. Nine years I had spent there. I was on my way to sixteen years of age. I should have been trying to find a job, perhaps as an apprentice for my father. Instead, I killed someone. I do not know how much longer the same thoughts would have been circling inside my head, but they were interrupted as we were leaving the city. My family stood at the gates.

The watch stopped, and gave us a moment to talk, but did not let me out when my parents asked. Mother and father walked up to the bars that caged me in and held us apart, and we began to talk.