“This is intolerable,” Matthis muttered, as he stood beneath the large ash tree, trying with futility to avoid the heavy rain.

Vermasse is less than a mile away. We could have been there by now.

“And arrive with dripping clothes, hair matted to my head like some unwashed peasant?”

You’re ridiculous. And if a peasant had wet hair it would probably mean they’ve washed, right?

Matthis ignored the comment. A crash of thunder echoed overhead.

You waited too long. Should have just gone straight to the city, instead of trying to wait out the rain. Now look! This storm is getting worse, not better.

Another roar of thunder as lightning split the sky.

If we don’t leave now, we’ll be trapped here.

“Go on then,” Matthis taunted the voice in his head. “You take us to Vermasse.”

Silence.

“Oh, that’s right. You can’t!” Matthis let out a cackle of laughter, as he did so a bolt of lightning struck the ground not twenty feet away. Chunks of blackened earth flew into the air.

Matthis’ laughter stopped and he chewed on his bottom lip, glancing up at the tree and the mighty branches overhead. “Perhaps we should continue on to Vermasse.”

Once again, your quick thinking leaves me astounded.

Matthis took a step forward, then another. He cringed as mud splashed the sides of his boots. Moments after leaving the relative shelter of the tree, the rain had his clothes sticking to his skin.

“Curse this place! Now I remember why I left here,” he shouted at the heavens.

You left because you pissed off Three Silver.

“Well, yes. But also the weather. Mostly the weather.”

I don’t recall that factoring into the decision.

“Regardless, the weather played a big part.”

If you say so.

Matthis hunched over, pushing forward into the rain with his arms wrapped around his chest.

“Even my bones are cold!” he declared to nobody.

Every step brought a fresh layer of mud onto his boots and it wasn’t long before even the shins of his trousers were stained. He glared at the offensive muck.

Perhaps the rain will wash it off, the voice in his head laughed.

After what seemed like a lifetime to Matthis, the storm began to abate. A sun ray, braver than most, pierced the heavy clouds. And then the rain was gone entirely, the sky clearing, blue and bright.

“Well isn’t that just wonderful damn timing,” Matthis muttered, as the walls of Vermasse came into view.

There are men approaching.

Matthis straightened. Sure enough, four men were slowly crossing the open grass between them, looking almost as wet and miserable as Matthis.

Another four more behind us.

“Great. The only tunic I own that isn’t ripped is now soaking wet, a murderous psychopath lies before me, and 8 angry men beside me. Just great.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I feel you may have valued the importance of one of those things too highly.

“Shut up!”

“You talkin’ to me?” The first of the men approached, spinning a small knife over hairy fingers. A vicious scar ran down one cheek, leaving a white line through black stubble.

“My good sir, not knowing the language of the apes, I wouldn’t know how to talk to you.”

“The fuck is an ape?” The knifeman turned to his accomplices on either side but was met only by shrugs.

Matthis chuckled and the leader glowered. “Probably some bullshit madman thing.” He hawked and spat.

Matthis narrowed his eyes.

“Matthis Albion. Am I right?” Scar-cheek continued.

“That’s him, Laslo. Sure, as day,” one of the henchman chimed in.

Matthis looked to the sky. “Well it is day, of that I am sure. So, I guess I must be he. Can I help you good folk?”

The leader grinned. “Matthis Half-Mind.”

Matthis’ good humour fell away. “You’ll be careful what name you choose to address me. I’ve been nothing but civil.”

You called him an ape.

“He doesn’t even know what an ape is!”

The goons looked at one another, nervously. “Told you it’s him, boss. Talking to himself he is!” Feet were shuffled and weapons fingered.

“Good!” The boss laughed. With that his hand rose into the air — and quickly fell.

Something sharp struck Matthis’ shoulder and he staggered. Reaching a hand up, he grasped the dart there and pulled it out.

“Poison?” he asked as his legs buckled and he fell to the dirt.

From somewhere far away he thought he heard laughter. Your last un-torn shirt now has a dart-shaped hole in it!

**************

Something shiny reflected the light. It was followed very quickly by a pungent aroma.

Matthis’ nose wrinkled. “Smells like beets and faeces,” he muttered. “Must be the breath of Ronald Englurt!”

Something hard struck him in the stomach and he doubled over. Or at least he would have, had his hands not been chained. Deep metal cut into his wrists as he fell forward, and he swore.

Lifting his head, he forced his eyes to focus. A row of shining silver teeth greeted him. “Yep. The breath of a shit-eater. Definitely Ronald.” His head jerked to the side, having been propelled that way by a large fist.

He giggled. “You definitely hit like a Ronald!”

He felt a hand clawing at his chin, lifting his face into a bright light. The light dimmed as a figure fell in front of it. A big bushy beard and thin shoulders.

“Well, it is you Ronald! How have you been? It feels like forever. I’d shake your hand but, well, as you can see I’m a little tied up at the moment!” He chuckled again and shook his manacles noisily.

“As crazy as ever I see. Good. I was worried the sea air might have set your head straight.” There was the sound of wood scraping on wood, before the figure in front of him slunk into an oversized chair. The offending lamp was moved, and Matthis’s eyes focused properly for the first time since waking.

“You’re looking old, Three Silver.”

“And you’re going bald, Matthis.”

Matthis tried to reach instinctively for his hair, but the manacles held his arms in place.

“You almost had me. Very good.”

Ronald Englurt, the man they called Three Silver, stood. “Believe what you want, but the bald spot is visible as day from this angle. Isn’t that right, boys!”

A chorus of heckles and laughter echoed around the room.

Matthis’ face darkened, his voice went cold. “I’ve been civil up til now, but you go too far. When I get out of this, I’ll kill all of you.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure you never get out of it.” Three Silver picked up a cane, tapping at his wooden leg as he limped around the room. Matthis craned his neck to follow him.

“I like what you’ve done with the old warehouse,” he said, taking in the rotting wood and peeling paint. “I especially like the boulder with eyes. Quaint.”

The boulder blinked and grunted.

Three Silver laughed, prodding at a huge shaven-headed man with his cane. “Boulder with eyes. Did you hear that, Dengal? He called you a boulder with eyes!”

The boulder grunted again.

“Very good,” Three Silver continued. "I’ll miss that sense of humour.” He pointed his free hand towards Matthis and then nodded to somebody outside of Matthis’ vision. Hands clawed at him, and he found himself being lifted to his feet. A sack was pulled over his head and the world went dark.

The material of the sack scratched against his skin and he jerked furiously. An iron grip held his head in place as someone reached a rope around his neck, tying the sack. The voices in the room became muffled, but he heard Three Silver’s, loud and throaty. “Just so you know Matthis, it was never me who wanted you in the first place. But there’s a very nice price on your head from one Doctor Lapis.”

Matthis sounded the name in his head. He was sure it was familiar to him somehow.

“That’s right, Matthis,” Three Silver paused. “Enjoy your time at Park View!”

Park View! Matthis recalled now how he knew the name Doctor Lapis. An unfamiliar shiver of fear ran through him as Ronald’s laughter echoed around the sack. Matthis kicked and squirmed as much as the manacles would allow. Fists and feet rained down on him until his body went limp. Still, he fought, with snarls and growls, and angry threats.

He fought as they dragged him out of the warehouse. He fought as he was bundled into a bumpy carriage. He fought through the narrow streets and wide-open plazas. He fought until they reached large, creaking gates. And, when they removed the sack from his head and pulled him inside the dreaded grounds of Park View, he fought hardest of all.