Rick watched as the small crowd split like the sea before the red-haired man. Walking like a god on earth, splitting the heavens with nothing but his sheer presence. The crowd wasn’t too big, but big enough that people stood shoulder to shoulder to see into the big gate, pressed easily aside by the big red-haired man.
The gulp of saliva strained strenuously against Rick’s tight throat, floating down like syrup down a too small glass. Staring at the red-haired man as he stood a little behind Brynjar, holding Bob in an uneasy grasp. Brynjar himself seemed to hold little, if no concern for the currently prowling predator, the red haired-man. Easily leaning against one leg as the other drew small circles on the snowy ground as he waited.
Wide steps covered much ground for the red-haired man. Rick spotted two guards further into the city jogging towards the gates, having a harder time pressing themselves past the slowly enlarging crowd. The guards standing by the gate quickly formed a chaotic mess of a line, saluting steadfast as the red-haired man strolled past. Even the aged man seemed to straighten and take a respectful step back as the red-haired man neared.
The red-haired man had his eyes affixed on Rick, staring as if a wolf set on its prey. Rick taking a step back, the red-haired man scowling harder. Rick avoiding his gaze, instead staring at his body instead. Sight being blocked by shining, glimmering metal. Looking up, he noticed that Brynjar had taken a step in-front of Rick, shielding him with his body.
Then, the red-haired man was upon them. One huge man towering over a fully metal man with a clothed cocoon man behind. The red-haired man took a stance of authority, clasping his arms around each other as he stared down on Rick, but slowly moved his head towards Brynjar instead. Rick having a hard time not noticing the axe strapped to his belt, looking small on him, but Rick could tell that if he himself held the axe, he would need two arms.
They stood silently facing each other; the crowd was silent, nature was silent. People inching closer and closer, desperately wanting to hear. Guards starting to realise the growing concern of the larger and larger crowd, but themselves not wanting to disturb the tense moment.
A looming silence that seemed to stretch into infinity.
A cough was heard, someone hushed them.
Silence reigned again, Rick letting his head lie low but his eyes scan the red-haired man frantically.
A deep, bolstering and loud intake of breath was taken by the red-haired man. Breathing it out slowly, a long, booming sigh.
“Brynjar, what are you doing?”
A deep voice, full of weariness, spoken quietly. Far too quiet, making it hard for even Rick to hear if he wasn’t standing but two arm’s lengths away.
“Ragnar, my friend, I was just talking about you. They say you’ve been quite busy these last few months. Quite the rumours I've heard."
Brynjar spoke calmly, voice slightly muffled by his armoured helmet, but coming out strong and loud, loud enough for people at the edges of the crowd to hear.
“Don’t give me that shit, Brynjar. Were going to make this nice and quick. Step away from the toymaker.”
Fear flared in Rick’s eyes, staring wide eyed at the red-haired man, feeling himself going smaller. Brynjar raising both of his metal arms up in what appeared to be an attempt to placate the big man.
“Hoohoo, not in the mood today, eh? Well, I’m sorry, Ragnar. But I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will”
The red-haired man quickly retorted, his posture and entire stance feeling as if growing larger, more looming, more, intimidating. Brynjar even paused for a second before speaking up, but sounding just as calm as ever.
“Ragnar, you’ve always been such a strong-minded fellow. Simple to the bone, but headstrong to a fault. You see, me and the toymaker have come to a deal, and it would be against my interest if yooou, you know, took him from me.”
The red-haired man snorted, glancing over at Rick who quickly turned his head away, then looked back on Brynjar and spoke louder than before. Giving the growing audience the chance to hear him too.
“And you are going against my interest by keeping him to yourself, Brynjar. I don’t know why you need the toymaker, but I need him more. My task takes priority.”
Brynjar listened calmly, leaning over towards his other leg, bringing one gauntlet arm up to his chin while letting the other rest on his hip, scratching at his invisible beard calmly.
“Ragnar, entertain the idea that I miiight have been busy with, you kno- slaying dragons and hunting its offspring for the past, I don’t know, half a year. I know were little right now. So why would your task take priority?”
Ragnar sighed, turned his head from side to side, speaking whilst doing so.
“The queen herself gave it to me. And Brynjar, you know just as well as me that going against her wishes isn’t something you want to do.”
A huff of “huh” escaped Brynjars muffled helmet, seeming to go stiller than earlier, head turning down as he seemed to ponder. Whispering quietly “that, complicates things” under his breath, tapping metal gauntlet against his metal helmet. Tick tick tick, resonated. Tick tick tick like the beat of Ricks beating heart.
“I, uhm, assume you can’t just, you know, wait for us two too complete our mission before you take him?”
Rick immediately turned to stare at Brynjars back, his heart beating faster at the question, eyes going larger, hair rising like hair before a thunderstrike. Rick blinked several times, then turned to see the red-haired mans answer. Seeing him shake his head in response, not giving Rick much assurance.
“That really does complicate things… Hmmhmm”
Brynjar spoke louder, slowly turning his head around to face Rick. Rick staring back, eyes reflecting an unchanging metal face. Rick tried to decipher what he was thinking, tried to reassure himself that Brynjar was but merely reflecting on a problematic realization, and nothing more.
He had a hard time reassuring himself of that as he stared into the unemotional helmeted face.
Brynjar faced away from Rick, back to the red-haired man, who still stood authoritatively, staring down with a face full of weariness. The red-haired man spoke up, loud and booming, deep and practically growling.
“Brynjar, don’t make this complicated, just give me the toymaker. I’m sure you can find other people to help with your task.”
A step forward was taken, one arm falling down the giant’s side, the other being placed on the metal mans shoulder. Hand completely enveloping the shoulder of said metal man, looking down on him with a face that was certain it would receive what it had asked for. A face that held a certain, softness to it, of wanting things to be resolved, smoothly.
Rick staring, growing pale like the snow surrounding him. Feeling equally as cold.
But the hand was brushed aside gently by the metal man, looking up at him and speaking softly, calmly, yet loudly and just as assertively.
“Ragnar, I’m sorry to say. But things will have to stay complicated. For there is no one else but the toymaker who can help me with this exact task. So as politely as I can say this, you will just have to wait, at least until I've completed my task.”
Relief blossomed in Rick’s face. The red-haired mans face turned stern though, stone faced and blank. Eyes growing dark as he listened to Brynjar speaking.
A second of silence passed between the two, tension growing. Crowd growing in size. Silence deafening.
The first to speak was the red-haired man.
“And I’m also sorry. But I can’t allow that. No task takes priority over the queens.”
Brynjars posture took a turn for the lower, one hand slowly going down to the bundle of knives placed on his hip, speaking with an icy cold voice.
“Are you saying, Ragnar, that a task from Dugnaður himself is of less importance than from the queen? A holy mission from god is of less value than that of a mere mortal?”
The red-haired man spotted Brynjar reaching his hand down, down towards the knives. His own hand slowly moving towards his axe in response, resting atop its metal head, eyes growing darker, brows furrowing deeper.
Silence once again, deeper and more pressing, like a weight on the gathered trio and on the crowd watching.
Tension almost touchable, palpable.
Both parties’ hands caressing their respective weapons. Both staring with death in their eyes.
Like the finest warrior on the battlefield facing one another.
A battle taking place between the two, one no one but they knew off.
Like warriors atop the corpses of their enemies, and friends.
Even the guards nearby started too nervously fiddle with their own weapons.
Tension sliced quietly by the words of Brynjar.
“Ragnar, I’ve decided. The toymaker is coming with me. And trust me, you don’t want the ire of the church of diligence on your conscious”
Silence.
But only for a second.
“Nor do you want the ire of me, their champion.”
The red-haired mans brows furrowed further down until his eyes were but small shadows within his bushy brows. Staring down on Brynjar with a tension that looked like a spring ready to burst. He took a deep, calming breath. Then slowly turned his head around, looking over his shoulder.
Rick followed his sight, realizing he’d been holding his breath. Spotting the now large crowd standing nearby, and a big gathering of many guards. Most of them were holding spears, a few grabbing their shields. Angry glances were shared, nervous glances were avoided. They were all staring at the red-haired man, waiting on what appeared to be his words.
The red-haired man turned back on Brynjar. The two staring like kings across the borders.
Then the red haired man rose his hand, the one from his axe, and sighed deeply. Shaking his head and taking a step to the side, speaking up with a raised voice.
“Fine. But I won’t let him out of my sight again. So whatever “mission” your doing, I’m coming with.”
The soldier behind seemed to collectively take a breath, the crowd did too. Brynjar himself immediately rising from his crouching stance, letting go of his knives as he reached up and gave the red-haired man a friendly pat on the arm.
“Wonderful! And I can’t be happier with that outcome! The more the merrier they say, and having someone with your skills on the team, boy, this will be a breeze.”
Then Brynjar took a step forward, coming up close to the red-haired man and spoke in a very soft tone. Almost a whisper, barely loud enough for Rick to hear.
“The toymaker is mine, and I decide when you get him.”
Then taking a step further whilst speaking louder, gaining the attention of Rick, who was already paying much attention.
“Toymaker, are you coming? We have business to conduct and people to meet. Oh, and Ragnar, I’ll fetch for you when we are heading out.”
Brynjar spoke calmly, taking confident steps towards the guards standing in a semi-circle around them. Rick shuffling quickly behind him, casting a cautious glance up at the red-haired man as he moved past. Meeting his gaze, seeing a deep tiredness and a furious expression.
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Moving faster, Rick kept close to Brynjars back, coming up quickly towards the large crowd and spotting what appeared to be four other guards. These guards appearing far more armoured than those who had stood in a semi-circle by the gate. They stood within a small opening in the crowd, and Rick realized that Brynjar was walking towards them.
Coming to them, they slowly made their way through the sizeable crowd. Rick and Brynjar standing behind as the four armoured soldiers pushed the mass of people aside. Rick looking around cautiously, feeling as if a thousand people were staring at him, judging him. Rick was not feeling comfortable.
But as he looked from face to face, he saw something different from what he felt, which confused him something dearly.
He saw wonder and awe. People pushing at each other gently to try to get a glance of him. Kids on shoulder of fathers pointing with smiles on their faces. Voices murmuring of the toymaker. The crowd reacted how one would react upon seeing a beloved king walk amongst their subjects.
It was quite bizarre.
It made Rick quite confused.
Then they were past the crowd and could walk faster, quickly moving away from the large crowd. Rick sneaking a glance back, looking out and over the large crowd, seeing it having turned with them, staring after as they moved away.
Brynjar took them to a turn in the road, and the crowd disappeared from sight.
Giving Rick the time to think back on everything that had happened, not quite sure on how to feel. On one hand, Brynjar seemed to have gotten the red-haired man of off his back, albeit temporarily. Giving him a respite from running away, from travelling in dangerous woods, giving Rick that desperately desired safety.
But on the other hand, the way Brynjar had garnered him his safety felt, off, somehow. Talking about how Rick was the only one who could help him with his task, a task Rick had no clue on how to help with. A task, if he assumed it for what it was, he really didn’t want to help with.
Rick took a deep breath, telling himself that it would work itself out. He was inside the city, the little beast was far, far gone and the red-haired man wouldn’t get to him. Everything was a little complicated, but to Rick, that was okay. For he would finally be able to rest. Food, warmth and a place to sleep was everything Rick wanted, the only thing he needed. Nothing more.
“That was a little awkward” Brynjar suddenly spoke, bringing Rick out of his thoughts as he focused back on him.
“But at least we got through it with our dicks still in our pants, right? Don’t you worry, Ragnar won’t cause you any more trouble. He knows what power the church of diligence has over this city. Though if I’m completely honest, it felt like he was more scared of me than the church. Curious, considering he has always been quite confident in winning against me in a duel, even though he’s always known I’m a champion. I’ll have to ask him about that later.”
Brynjar spoke loudly over his shoulder, bringing the small group of six people towards who knows where. Streets meandering every which way. City folks walking past at a respectful distance, some even bowing as they noticed Brynjar.
Eventually, after much walking and time passing, darkness slowly falling on the world. They made it past a house that gave Rick a view of what appeared to be a very, very thick castle. It had two rounded towers on each side, and a small gate between them. At the gate stood two very armoured guards and atop the gate four less armoured guards with what appeared to be spears. As they came closer, Brynjar turned his head around and said.
“Welcome, toymaker! To the church of diligence! Built by the past-past champion who first came to these lands. A mighty fortification, albeit a very boring one if you ask me.”
Their group continued walking towards the, church, but veered right as they neared the gates, walking alongside the outside of the walls. The guards saluting as Brynjar passed, but didn’t move forward to speak.
As their small group continued walking alongside the outside of the walls, they quickly came to the edge of the rightmost tower, spotting a small house near it. They quickly walked up to it and stopped.
“And here we are, home. Or I mean, your home.”
Brynjar stated quickly, calmly and without much fanfare, looking at Rick for his response. Rick looking back, not really registering his words until a moment later, looking at the home, then at Brynjar, then back at the home. Waiting for a catch, waiting awkwardly long as he stared in disbelief at Brynjar. Brynjar shifting his head to the side a little, managing to look confused in his shining armour.
“Hmmhmm? Oh, your wondering when foods ready? Don’t worry bout that, I’ll get a thrall to fetch you some before midnight. Ohoh and ehm, don’t worry bout security, I’ll get one of my men to stand guard all night in case Ragnar get’s any ideas. I don’t believe he would go back on his word, but who knows. Can’t be to diligent about these things, right?”
Rick’s mouth opened wide, staring in more than just disbelief at Brynjar. Wondering just how much power he must have in order to both have men and thralls under his command. Staring back at the house, at his home, feeling a sense of, relief filling him.
A smile came to his face, and something tugged at the edges of his vision.
“Don’t give me that, I know it isn’t much, but we have little else. You are of course welcome into the church proper, but right now it’s filled to capacity, so no empty beds. Winter isn’t easy for anyone. But I’m sure you’ll get used to it. You did after all travel the wilderness alone. Now, I have business to attend too and people to meet, I’ll come for you in the morning.”
Brynjar spoke calmly, seeming to misunderstand Rick’s expression. Rick wanting to express himself properly, wanting to show how thankful he was, but was plowed over by Brynjars calm, but steadfast, speech. Finishing it by turning to one of the guards, speaking quietly to him, then turning around with the three others and walking back to the church’s gate.
Rick stared as Brynjar walked away, leaving behind Rick and the guard he had spoken quietly too. Rick turned to the guard, the guard turned to him. The two sharing a silent moment. A silent moment where Rick couldn’t see the guard’s face, helmeted as it was.
Motioning with his hand, Rick tried a gesture, one of reaching his hand forward. The guard following the hand with his head, taking a second, then clasping Rick’s hand. The two shared a look, then nodded their head in a show of respect.
The guard was the first to unclasp hands and took a step back, standing in what Rick knew to be a salute. Rick scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, then turned to the house. Holding Bob as if keeping an anchor to reality, Bob himself stretching his arms forward as if also wanting to clasp hands. Rick taking the necessary steps to get to the house’s door, he grabbed the handle and slowly opened it.
Inside was but one room with little to speak of, seeing a bed, a stool and a small table. What appeared to be a drawer was pushed into the corner of the room and a window sat above the bed, and built into the house sat a stove with a chimney running up it, already blazing a red crackling fire, warming the room. Rick took a step inside and a little to the side, giving room for the guard to come in. But the guard didn’t. Peaking his head outside, Rick spotted the guard standing by the door, gazing away from the house and out at the city. Looking, diligent.
Rick waited a few moments to see if the guard would change his mind, but realized that he probably wouldn’t. Instead, he turned around and walked further into the house, not closing the door in case the guard changed his mind and wanted to come in. And hurried himself to the bed.
At it, he sat down, feeling himself slowly crumbling into its softness, like lying down a heap of snow, the bed being so soft that it felt like it was made of of nothing but feathers. The sensation like a long-lost lover, comforting him and forcing out a delightful sigh, soundless as always.
Then Rick noticed that he was growing warmer, warmer even through the muddle feelings that the medicine gave him. He reveled in the sensation, realizing that he felt quite sticky, looking down and spotting his mess of clothes.
That would not do, Rick thought. Slowly de-clothing himself, pulling aside pieces and pieces, putting his pack by the side of the bed and Bob beside him. Rick started with the clothes on his torso, having a hard time getting them off without tearing things a little, realizing that the caked blood, wet sweat, snow and something, else, hadn’t done wonders to them.
Next, he took off his shoes and placed them besides his pack. His two pieces of clothing that looked to be the most undamaged, robust as they were. Then pressed his feet down on the floor, flooded with a warm, tingling sensation on the bottom of his feet.
He quickly pulled up his feet in alarm, staring down on the stone floor. Wondering why it was warm.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he put them back down again. The warm sensation came once more, and instead of pulling away, Rick let his feet stay there. The warmth spreading like a butterfly on a warm summer’s day, like ecstasy coming up from the soles of his feet. It was such a pleasure that Rick could not think of this as anything but magic.
He quickly unclothed his shorts and boxers, lying down naked on the warm stone floor. Cheek pressed down with the rest of his dirty, sweaty and pained body, down on the warm stone floor. Like stepping into a hot springs waters after a icy cold bath.
Lying down, Rick enjoyed the warm sensation. Feeling oh so happy.
Hearing a grunt from the door, Rick looked up to see a stranger by said door. The stranger held in his hands what looked to be a wooden tray with a wide assortment of foods, varied in both colour and smell. It looked awfully appetizing if it was not for Rick’s growing redness in his cheeks, jumping up and pretending he hadn't just hugged the ground.
“I dearly hope I haven’t disturbed the master, but the food is warm and ready and I assumed the master wouldn’t want it cold in the freezing winter weather.”
The man spoke clearly, but sounded a little embarrassed himself, wearing a plain, but thick, brown cloak around his body. A face of young age but with a stubble of hair that could not be a kids. Rick stared at him as he hid himself in the big blanket, trying to blink away the redness of his cheeks.
“May I come in?”
The young man said, and Rick blinked at the question. Quickly nodding as he realized the young man was waiting for Rick’s answer. The young man quickly saluted then took a step inside, quickly making his way towards the table and putting the food down. Turning around, he once again faced Rick in a very stiff manner, saluting as he spoke, a little hesitantly.
“Would ehm, would the master want those clothed removed and, ehm, new clothes?”
Rick, still feeling awfully hot around his cheeks, nodded without really thinking about the question, seeing the young man nod himself and quickly make his way out, closing the door as he left.
Rick blinked, still sitting by the bed as the minutes passed by, slowly realising what the young man had asked. Then, only moving once the smell of the food drifted to him, smelling divine and wonderful, blessed even. He raised on two feet and shuffled over to the food, still wrapped like a small cocoon around the blanket.
Stopping when he heard knocks on his door. Shifting his shuffling, Rick moved towards the door instead, opening it hesitantly and spotting the young man again. The young man avoiding Rick’s face, sporting what appeared to be his own red cheeks.
“I-I forgot to bring your clothes, master. I’m very sorry for disturbing.”
Rick blinked in response, opening the door further to let the young man in. The young man quickly coming in and shoveled Rick's dirtied clothes into his arms. Rather small arms on a rather small body, barely big enough to wrap the many scattered clothes into his small bossom. But he managed, barely able to peak over the pile as he turned around, stopping as he spotted the food on the table. Staring for a second, for two, until he seemed to remember where he was and quickly shuffled outside.
Rick held the door for the young man, and let it stay open for once he came back. Shuffling his own way towards the table with food. Sitting down and grabbing the utensils in the food, immediately setting about eating. A wondrous meal that tasted divine, still slightly smoking and hot in his mouth, wondering if he’d ever tasted something so good.
Managing to devour half of the food before stopping, wanting to eat it all, practically salivating as he stared at it, but held off. Instead, walking back to the bed and sitting down, staring down on the small fire in the stove, letting his thoughts bounce around in his head.
Sitting quietly, still, peacefully.
A quiet grunt broke him free from thoughts, looking up to see the young man by the door, holding a bundle of neatly folded clothing. He looked at Rick, standing at salute but shifting a little nervously on his two feet.
“May I come in, master?”
Rick nodded, waving him in. The young man shuffling forwards, looking around for what appeared to be a place to put the clothes. Rick waving at him again, gesturing to give them to him. The young man shuffling awkwardly and handing them over. Rick grabbed them and put them beside him on the bed, Bob having to jump aside to not get crushed. The young man, coughing silently, looked around in the small room, spotting the half-eaten bowl of food.
“Does the master wish for me to take the food back, or does the master wish to eat it later?”
The young man turned to face Rick, standing at salute as he waited for an answer. Rick merely shaking his head, the young man looking confused, then seeming to realise something as his cheeks turned a shade of red.
“I’m so sorry, master. I forgot that your mut- that-eee.. Does the master wish for me to take the food?”
Rick smiled a little at that, feeling a sort of connection to the young mans awkwardness, but shaking his head. The young man coughed, then asked.
“So, the master wishes to keep the food for later?”
Rick shook his head again.
“No? Ehm, then, what does the master, uhm, wish for?”
Rick unraveled a hand from the blanket and pointed at the young man, then back at the food. The young man followed his pointing, looking very, very confused.
“I’m sorry, master, I don’t understand.”
Rick shook his head, then pointed again, then mimicking eating, then pointed at the young man. The young man looking as if realizing, asking.
“The master wants me to eat?”
Rick nodded.
“But, but… I can’t”
Rick tilted his head to the side, raising a brow.
“We-we aren’t allowed to eat masters’ foods… Master”
Rick kept his brow raised, then looked towards the door. He rose up on two feet, shuffled towards the door and closed it, then turned back to the young man and motioned an “hush” finger over his mouth, looking conspirical. The young man looking a little taken a back, turning down to the food, then up at Rick.
“But, I can’t?”
He said-asked, seeming very unsure and hesitant. Something that felt, a little silly to Rick. So he walked up to the young man, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him towards the food, settling him down on the seat and giving him the utensils. Pointing at the food, then at the young man in an assertive manner. The young man stared at Rick in disbelief. Rick just nodding his head and giving the young man a thumbs up.
Letting go of the young mans shoulder, Rick shuffled back towards the bed and heard the telltale sound of food being eaten. Without turning around, Rick dressed himself leisurely. The two by their separate sides of the room, connected by an invisible rope of comradery.
As Rick clothed himself, a sniffle echoed out in the small room. Rick stopped, looking up at the young mans back, heavily leaned forward with his shoulder pressed up. More sniffles, a quaking back, and even louder smacking.
Rick quickly dressed himself then walked up to the young man, placing an awkward hand on his shoulder, patting it as the sniffles turned louder. The sniffles not enough to make the young man stop eating, shoveling more food into his mouth.
The two alone in a warm room, lost in their own worlds, sharing a meal made for one.
Eventually, the young man ate the rest of the food and rubbed at his eyes. Standing up with the emptied bowl in his hands. Rick finally let go of the young man and looked at his face. The young man avoided his, looking down on the ground instead as he crept towards the door.
At the door, the young man reached for the handle, stopped himself and whispered.
“Thank you”
Before opening it with a rush of cold wind, walking out and closing the door behind him. Rick staring after, feeling a little sorry, and sad.
His mind having much to think about, but growing weary and tired. Telling him that a soft bed would be perfect, that the soft bed would give him a perfect ending for such a strange day.
Lying down on the soft bed, Rick stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking of many things that felt both important and not. Memories coming and going, thoughts jumping and falling, feelings ebbing and flowing.
A turmoil of a mind, warring within as his eyes grew heavier and heavier.
Soon sleep would have him.
Held awake by a sudden scratching.
A scratching from the window.
Rick slowly raised up on his bed and on his feet, walking towards the window that led to a dark and cold world outside his warm and lit house.
Stopping mid-step as he saw a head peeking up from the bottom of the window, staring into the house with wide and red eyes.
Rick was looking at the little beast, scratching at the window with its clawed paw.
Looking at him with its awkward, toothy smile.