A Scoundrel's Song

1

It wasn't the first time Niico had ever found himself tossed from a window, though, admittedly, this one was from a much greater height than his previous experiences, saved from several broken bones and damage to his pride and dignity, well, what remained of it, by the colourful awnings that hung outside the windows, keeping the rooms within cool in the Spring heat. Nor was it the first time he had found himself in something wet and sticky. Though those other times, as pleasant as they were, usually involved a night of fun and debauchery.

Groaning, he lifted his hand and grinned at the, frankly enormous, emerald revealed by his opening fingers. Not a bad morning's work, if he didn't think too much about the terrifying, four-story fall. Now, all he had to do was escape from the area, blend in with the crowds, return to his room at the inn and leave town before anyone else saw him.

As he tried to lift his head, groaning once again, he noticed that someone had seen him. Two someones, in fact, and they stared down at him as though he were a Patron dropped from the skies. He had that affect on people. The child peered down at him, but it was the man that caught Niico's attention.

"You are very pretty, sir. And big! Dear Patrons, you're big! Pretty and big." His eyes trailed down the bare-chested body of the dark skinned man, that carried a great many scars, though they didn't spoil his good looks, and his eyes widened. "And ... big."

Despite the intoxicating, upside-down view, Niico tore his eyes away from the beautiful man and lifted himself up to a seated position, grimacing at the feeling of wetness and stickiness. Well, it was an alley in Casoria, what did he expect? He lifted a hand, sniffed it and grimaced again before shaking the excess ... something from his fingers. Only then did he see the bodies.

Niico wasn't one for squeamishness. Live long enough as he had and it was inevitable he would see a fair amount of dead bodies. It did pose a problem, however, as he wondered whether he was about to be accused of murder again, instead of for the matter of a little light pilfering that didn't hurt anybody. Not really. He had to get out of here, fast, and hope no-one questioned why he was covered in blood. It may prove difficult to explain.

"Are you a mage?" A voice from behind him. The child's voice, and Niico made quick calculations about how long he could spend answering a child's questions. "Can you fly? I'm a mage, but I can't fly."

"Hush, Herit!" That voice was deep, powerful, resonant and more than a little sexy. The man. "Do not speak of such things in public."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm no-one. Just passing through. From above. No, I'm not a mage and, yes, you should really keep that to yourself, little ... Herit, is it? They really don't like mages in the Three Kingdoms." Niico clambered to his feet, his boots squelching in the blood mixed with the dust. He hooked a thumb at the bodies as he looked, once again, at the man's outstanding chest. "You're work? You should probably run. I am. Stay safe!"

A quick look in both directions and he decided that running toward the harbour was the best option. There, he could jump into the sea, wash off all the blood and swim back to the shore and no-one would be the wiser. He gave the big, pretty man a wink and started to run, only for a powerful hand to hold him back.

"We need help. We do not know this place and we are ... pursued." Eyes. They were always Niico's weakness, and those big, dark, brown eyes held his. "Help us. We must leave this town."

"Sorry. I'd love to, I really would. Helping people. I do that, and you are so very, very pretty and ... big, but any moment now ..." The sounds of shouting reached his ears from the other end of the alley and Niico chewed on his lip. "But right now, people are coming who may very well want to kill me. For literally no reason at all! You can follow me, but that's about all I can ..."