Age of Agony

2

"It's three silver for two oranges, my lord."

A sultry day with gusts of wind that whisked the light cloth draped on my shriveled body.

Amos, the name in every mouth. Demonized and completely shunned of any humanity. It is the reason why I've lurked and changed in the shadows overnight.

"I'll take four then," The lord dressed in fine silk spoke "Six silvers." He reaches into his coin purse.

This is the only logical path to take.

"Give me a cloth to wrap these in." His eyes gleamed in the streaks of sunlight.

"My lord, I've no cloth to give you." I reasoned.

"What of that cloth around your waist?"

A sudden piercing glare from his lazuline eyes.

For a moment I stared. Admiring the sudden shift, perhaps this is fear cloaked in amusement.

I ripped a part of fabric from my waist and wrapped the oranges. I offered it to him with both my hands raised.

He dropped the change on the ground.

"Thank you my lor-"

"How much for all of your oranges?" He breathed "Along with every inch of your skin, how much?"

His face now closer as he bends down to gaze at me with his manic eyes. His chiseled jaw dropped as his lips curl into a skin-crawling grin.

"You're an interesting one." He breathed as he seized the oranges from my hands.

"I'll come for you." He uttered his last words before he disappeared in the midst of the crowd.

I stared at the silvers on the ground before I picked up the coins. It made me feel as though I'm no better than the dogs who feed on waste, filth scattered all through out this rotten town.

I could feel my blood rush to my head as he disappeared from view and I could feel the daggers from the eyes of fellow vendors.

A plump woman approached me, a fellow vendor at the plaza. Her smile was familiar and the way her thick brows knotted and raised with every expression she made was somehow odd.

"You there, young girl." She pointed her stout finger at me "Orange seller, what business do you have with that man?"

"I sell oranges, and so I did." I simply answered.

"What a girl! That was not some lord." She threw a laughing fit. "That was a lord from the Ordo Sancti."

Ordo Sancti, they've found me.

"How do you know? Knights from the order are not regularly strolling the streets." I could feel my hands get stiff and cold with every passing second.

"Lord Adan had been injured early on, he was sent back by the patriarchs to his family to rest and heal." The woman whispered.

"Lord Adan wants the girl." A weak voice screeched.

From behind the corner a gaunt man appeared, he carried his frail body over with nothing but a withered wooden stick and his bare calloused feet. Shadows formed from the strong blaze of the sun were cast in the crevices on his face, cheeks sunken and eyes hollowed without a glint of hope. 

"He asked for her." He breathed heavily, pushing every bit of air out of his chest.

"The lord wants a lowly orange seller?" The woman chuckled in disbelief.

"He will come back," He continued "for her." He heaved one more breath.

A loud thud sounded, the plaza held its breath. A body laid in front of us, nothing but skin attached to bones. From the plaza, incessant wails of terror were heard; yet, nobody truly felt sympathy.

They were just simply afraid of death itself.

"Requiem aeternam dona eis."
"Grant them eternal rest"