from top to bottom and noticed I wasn’t from the area, “Where
are you from, stranger?”
When he asked that, I had an instant
flashback of what happened in Vieris. But this time it was a
villager asking me. I hoped I didn’t raise any suspicion.
“Uh, Borleng,” I replied.
“Oh, you come from the northeast. It must’ve
been quite a travel!”
“Yeah, it was!” The bluff had worked!
He placed the cart down and whispered
closely, “Don’t let the soldiers know I spoke to you of this, but
it’s their fault the town is in this bleak state.”
That little bit of info made me raise my
eyebrow.
“Flama used to be so beautiful,” he said
full of melancholy, “Murals on every wall, gardens in front of the
houses, businesses on the streets, and fruitful fields all over.
But then, the Royal Army came. They took over because of the war.
They took each and every resource the town had to sustain the army.
And now, this is what’s left.
“I guess it was the taxes,” he exhaled
feebly, “We always paid them in full, so they came to take from our
prosperity.”
“Wait,” I interrupted him, “By ‘take’ you
mean they are taking now? This town is occupied by soldiers?”
Without giving me any answer, he lifted his
cart and continued down the road. I took his indifference as a yes.
I cautiously continued down the road when I saw a group of balorian
soldiers on the next street. I hugged the wall and hid behind an
empty barrel. I just couldn’t believe my damn luck! Why couldn’t I
catch a break? I had just dealt with a monster, and now I was in
the center of a town controlled by the army. I tried to rub the
frustration off my face.
The soldiers were yelling a lot. I peeked to
see what their commotion was about. There were about six or seven
of them making a circle, and they were bullying someone in the
middle. When they finally had their fill of enmity, they shoved the
person to the ground and left, taking their shouts and laughter
with them. I took pity on the guy. But when I had a second look at
him, I recognized his clothing; a blue robe with bird decorations
all around. It was Yang, the orient man I met in Vieris! When I
hurried to him, he was unconscious. I pulled him by the arms and
dragged him to the nearest alley. The soldiers had given him a
pretty good beating. He had a black eye, a bruised cheek, and
footprints all over his robes. He didn’t respond when I called to
him, so I slapped him. It worked.
“Ah, stop hitting. I did no wrong.”
“Yang, wake up. It’s me, Erik!” He opened
his slanted eyes little by little as he recognized my face.
“Ah, Erik. You are here.”
“Don’t you worry, the soldiers left. Come
on, try to get up.” He couldn’t balance himself. I held him by the
shoulders and helped him walk. He told me that he simply asked the
soldiers why the place seemed so abandoned and badly maintained. It
was a question similar to the one I asked the villager, but I guess
he asked the wrong people. Out of the alley I saw the town’s pub,
called “The Mead Pit”. Like the other buildings, it looked rundown,
but it had more flow of business.
I wanted to take Yang to a doctor, but I
didn’t want to come across the soldiers and get in trouble again. I
thought maybe a good drink would help him sooth the pain away.
Hearing soldiers marching to our direction, I hurried Yang into the
pub.
All the tables were full inside. The
townspeople glanced at us, but gave us no importance. They returned
to their drinking and chatter. We sat at the bar and I asked for a
mug of mead. The barkeep gladly poured us a full one.
“Only one?” the barkeep asked.
“Just the one,” I nodded, “It’s for my
friend. He received a nasty beating from the soldiers.”
“Those dirty dogs,” he shook his head.
I started to notice a pattern here. First,
the man pulling the small cart; and now, the barkeep. They both
showed signs of grief, and blamed the army for it. I had to
are you from, stranger?”
When he asked that, I had an instant
flashback of what happened in Vieris. But this time it was a
villager asking me. I hoped I didn’t raise any suspicion.
“Uh, Borleng,” I replied.
“Oh, you come from the northeast. It must’ve
been quite a travel!”
“Yeah, it was!” The bluff had worked!
He placed the cart down and whispered
closely, “Don’t let the soldiers know I spoke to you of this, but
it’s their fault the town is in this bleak state.”
That little bit of info made me raise my
eyebrow.
“Flama used to be so beautiful,” he said
full of melancholy, “Murals on every wall, gardens in front of the
houses, businesses on the streets, and fruitful fields all over.
But then, the Royal Army came. They took over because of the war.
They took each and every resource the town had to sustain the army.
And now, this is what’s left.
“I guess it was the taxes,” he exhaled
feebly, “We always paid them in full, so they came to take from our
prosperity.”
“Wait,” I interrupted him, “By ‘take’ you
mean they are taking now? This town is occupied by soldiers?”
Without giving me any answer, he lifted his
cart and continued down the road. I took his indifference as a yes.
I cautiously continued down the road when I saw a group of balorian
soldiers on the next street. I hugged the wall and hid behind an
empty barrel. I just couldn’t believe my damn luck! Why couldn’t I
catch a break? I had just dealt with a monster, and now I was in
the center of a town controlled by the army. I tried to rub the
frustration off my face.
The soldiers were yelling a lot. I peeked to
see what their commotion was about. There were about six or seven
of them making a circle, and they were bullying someone in the
middle. When they finally had their fill of enmity, they shoved the
person to the ground and left, taking their shouts and laughter
with them. I took pity on the guy. But when I had a second look at
him, I recognized his clothing; a blue robe with bird decorations
all around. It was Yang, the orient man I met in Vieris! When I
hurried to him, he was unconscious. I pulled him by the arms and
dragged him to the nearest alley. The soldiers had given him a
pretty good beating. He had a black eye, a bruised cheek, and
footprints all over his robes. He didn’t respond when I called to
him, so I slapped him. It worked.
“Ah, stop hitting. I did no wrong.”
“Yang, wake up. It’s me, Erik!” He opened
his slanted eyes little by little as he recognized my face.
“Ah, Erik. You are here.”
“Don’t you worry, the soldiers left. Come
on, try to get up.” He couldn’t balance himself. I held him by the
shoulders and helped him walk. He told me that he simply asked the
soldiers why the place seemed so abandoned and badly maintained. It
was a question similar to the one I asked the villager, but I guess
he asked the wrong people. Out of the alley I saw the town’s pub,
called “The Mead Pit”. Like the other buildings, it looked rundown,
but it had more flow of business.
I wanted to take Yang to a doctor, but I
didn’t want to come across the soldiers and get in trouble again. I
thought maybe a good drink would help him sooth the pain away.
Hearing soldiers marching to our direction, I hurried Yang into the
pub.
All the tables were full inside. The
townspeople glanced at us, but gave us no importance. They returned
to their drinking and chatter. We sat at the bar and I asked for a
mug of mead. The barkeep gladly poured us a full one.
“Only one?” the barkeep asked.
“Just the one,” I nodded, “It’s for my
friend. He received a nasty beating from the soldiers.”
“Those dirty dogs,” he shook his head.
I started to notice a pattern here. First,
the man pulling the small cart; and now, the barkeep. They both
showed signs of grief, and blamed the army for it. I had to
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