Chapter 7 — Marked!
The crowd parted with amazing speed, leaving him standing alone. Surely there were at least a few people high-enough level to not give a crap? Apparently not, and forcibly pressed together as they were, the gawkers even managed to block his view of the [Knight] and the lord’s [Guards], which meant Surlin would have privacy for whatever he wanted to do.
Toren shot a glare at Vim, who even while still hanging from his upper arm had the gall to pull on his eye and stick his tongue out! This was almost the worst case scenario. He could have achieved this outcome himself and kept the 3 silver rods!
“What have we here?” Surlin sleazed in a sickly sweet voice. “Could it be our missing debtor? Long time no see, Toren.”
Two new toughs he hadn’t noticed when looking earlier forced their way out of the gathered crowd blocking his way toward the platform. Toren recognized one of them.
“Robas, you’re working for that heartless creep?”
“Sorry, Toren. We all gotta do what we gotta do to survive.”
Not good. His best chance would be if he could get some bystanders between them but most were looking at him like he was thieving filth that deserved the beating that was coming.
“We all make our choices. I’ll remember yours,” Toren spat as he unclipped his steel club and drew a knife, backing away so they couldn’t surround him as easily. The sight of steel raised in threat drew gasps from lookie-loos who should’ve had better things to be doing than getting in his way.
A cry of pain followed by a yelled “You ‘lil shit!” snapped Toren’s gaze back to the thug previously holding Vim—now bleeding from the forearm as the boy scampered into the shadows of an alleyway.
“Let the boy go for now, Bonch,” Surlin ordered. “We got a bigger catch to teach a lesson to.”
Bonch kicked over a nearby barrel, getting a vocal objection from the vendor. Vim at least did him a favor in wounding the rope-user. The three with clubs he could at least fight—or run from, maybe.
No. Toren tightened his grip on his weapons. His new path was to confront his problems. With [Burning Blood], beatings and injuries were no longer likely to cripple him.
“So, thought you could escape your obligations by fleeing to the colonies, did you?” Surlin sneered. “Was the boy simply intended to be a distraction?”
There was not much chance it would work, but Toren wasn’t above appealing to reason. “I’m joining the colonization effort because of the debt. How else are you going to get your money?”
Motioning to Bonch and the other goon to flank around behind him, Surlin laughed. “By selling your unfortunate ass in the slave auction. You orphans know how it works.”
Toren self-derisively snorted. “Like anyone would pay for a level 1.”
The [Debt Collector]’s eyes widened before narrowing at him. “You had no right to your companions’ property. What they owned is required by law to be sold to cover their debts. Where is the money?”
“That is not our agreement. The harvesting license-”
“Is worthless,” the smug well-dressed man interrupted. “We’ve already sent someone to inspect the location. The trees are gone. And since you no longer have any collateral and no hope of delivering the next payment, we are collecting on the property of the signed debtors. Now, you will hand over the remaining property and any money you obtained for what you illegally sold, or we will be taking you to the [Magistrate].”
The more Surlin talked, the more Toren’s anger rose and he could feel the [Burning Blood] passive begin to take effect, filling his limbs with strength.
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Obviously, letting them have the last mementos he had kept was a go-castrate-yourself-with-a-rusty-spoon no. Hells no was that happening.
Maybe he was letting the feel of his blood burning go to his head, or maybe it was the shrews in the crowd getting rowdy and egging on the goons, but he was beginning to think that killing these guys and working off his crime wasn’t sounding too bad. And if he could draw the attention of the [Knight] by making enough ruckus, maybe he might even survive to enlist—after all a dead man was only valuable as an example.
“You dare?!” Toren shouted, his voice bellowing out, empowered by his [Burning Blood]. “You dare block access to the enlistment? Are you working against the king’s decree?!”
Surlin narrowed his eyes further in Toren’s direction. “Restrain and gag him.”
Toren already knew who his first target would be. Robas was friends with Avril and Owen, and now the fellow [Hunter] was collecting on their bounty after their death? He charged at the disloyal scum-sucker, pouring mana into [Burning Blood], and yelling out his rage in a blood-thirsty roar as he swiped with the club hard enough to make the air whistle.
Robas’ surprise at the ferocity of the attack was all the opening Toren needed to plant an Ability-empowered kick into the thug-wannabe. The satisfying feeling of boot burying into flesh was only surpassed by the “Oof” sound of air whooshing from the [Hunter]’s lungs as he was launched backward into the crowd to crash with a sound of striking metal.
Pain exploded in the back of Toren’s head and his wrist as club strikes from behind sent him sprawling to the ground with his vision white and then red then blurry. More club strikes rained down on his legs and arms, his travel pack thankfully protecting his back and sliding up enough that his bedroll covered his head.
“Careful! Don’t damage the goods in his pack!”
A sudden blow to his side made him gasp and twist. He could only be thankful that he was wearing his hunting armor, or he’d be dealing with broken bones.
“What is going on here?!” a voice boomed out, silencing the crowd and the clubs, leaving only the sound of blood fiercely pumping through Toren’s veins and the aches of bruised flesh and bone.
Toren tried to push himself up from the ground only for a sharper pain in his arm and a wave of dizziness to overcome his effort. A trickle of something wet dripped down the back of his neck, and his breath was steaming out with each pant.
“Nothing you need to worry about, Sir [Knight]. Just dealing with a common thief,” Surlin’s smarmy voice spoke up into the silence, quickly joined by supporting sentiments from the crowd.
The [Knight]! This was the chance he was trying to create!
Toren knew he needed to speak here if he was to turn things around.
“Sir [Knight]!” Toren forced out and forced himself to a knee, gritting through the pain. “Sir, this [Debt Collector] and his [Thugs] are acting against the crown by blocking people from enlisting.”
“You wish, orphan,” Surlin sneered. “Sir [Knight], this criminal is making sport of the king’s decree in bad faith to escape punishment. There’s no way a low-level orphan like him has the qualifications to enlist.”
“I do!” Toren desperately shouted out. “I have the qualifications! I’ve come to enlist!”
“Interfering with the enlistment is a serious crime,” the [Knight] warned.
“You can’t seriously believe-”
“The truth of his words is easily determined,” the [Knight] interrupted Surlin and reached out to pull Toren to his feet by his arm. “If this person is lying and your claim is valid, it is a simple matter to have him turned over to the [Magistrate] on [Official] Emeril Holfen’s authority.”
Two [Guards] opened a path through the gathered crowd and the people still shopping as he was half-dragged in the direction of the platform. Toren made sure to glare at Robas as he passed the [Hunter] being restrained by a third [Guard].