The Hero of Brookshire

Chapter Two

"This knife-eared pixie is late again on his dues, Utorg," said Amere. The young 17-year-old had a fire in his eyes much like his father, Kieran.

He  walked to the shop's door before locking it and standing in front of it keeping guard. He  crossed his arms as he and Utorg watched the elven shopkeep tremble and plead before them.

"Maurilin," Utorg started. "When will you learn not to play with Greigut's gold, much less, the Thieves Guild? The village guards won't save you from us."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Utorg. The business has just been slow lately. I'm trying to pay Greigut his gold so he'll leave me and my business alone!" said Maurilin.

"I don't think he realizes just how deep in shit he's in, Utorg. Maurilin, you're messing with the wrong people. Our job is to collect. The Guild's members are trained to find and eliminate those who don't pay what they owe to Greigut," said Amere. "You're very lucky Greigut didn't send just anyone to come see you. You'd be killed without hesitation if he did."

"Besides that fact, you've been short for weeks, elf. My patience with you is running out! Only a fool would try to swindle gold from the Thieves Guild. Do you know how far Greigut's operation spreads? From Brookshire, to Andross, to far out beyond this village and the kingdom's capital city!" said Utorg.

    The hulking orc shrouded the shaking elf in shadow. Leathery skin tinged the edges of his silhouette as he crossed his arms and leered down at the shopkeep, his jagged teeth giving him the look of a feral beast.

Maurilin shuddered in fear. "I-I'm sorry!" he begged. "Please, have mercy on me. I promise I'll have Greigut's money, just give me a little more time. Please!"

"Greigut has also heard that you've been selling Red Dust to our rivals back in the Corgate Mountains. Your loyalty to us not only protects your own life, but it also grants you protection from the other members in the Guild. We'd hope that what we're hearing are just rumors, Maurilin," said Amere.

Utorg reached behind his back, grabbing a hold of his great sword in one arm before pointing the tail end of it at Maurilin. "We could kill you right now and nobody would ever care that you died. You'd be a rotting corpse," said Utorg.

Maurilin's eyes watered, turning red at the sight of Utorg's sword. He whimpered as he faced the large orc and his gigantic weapon. "No, please, don't hurt me!" he cried out.

"Ever had all of your bones broken and skin torn off by a pissed off orc before, Maurilin?" asked Utorg.

"I beg you, Utorg, please, have mercy on me!"

Amere saw the color in Maurilin's white skin began to lose its pigment as he trembled and stared into the eyes of Utorg.

    Utorg turned his attention over toward Amere. "Little One, what do you think? Should we give the little knife-eared elf some more time to pay his debt or do you think we should make him suffer?" he asked.

"We really shouldn't leave this shop without the gold Maurilin owes Greigut. He'll skin us alive. However, it appears this cowardly elf has no gold in either of his pockets. We'll give him more time but also leave him with a parting gift warning not to cross Greigut. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Utorg nodded his head.

"Sure am," he replied.

Utorg snickered under his breath. He formed a wicked grin over his face before he passed his gargantuan sword over to Amere.

Gripping the great sword in both hands, Amere nearly tumbled over to the ground.

Utorg cracked both of his knuckles together before he balled up his left fist. He slowly cocked his left arm back. Swiftly, he punched into Maurilin's stomach. The strength of the giant orc's assault knocked the wind out of Maurilin before he fell to the wooden floor of his shop writhing in pain.