Poisoned Hearts

1

GREY-

Drinks swirl around the tavern and I wonder how many of them I've consumed.

Technically I should not be drinking considering I am on the job. Sadly, I cannot find the urge to stop. Benjamin, with his rebellious spirit, will likely applaud me for this horrid behavior though his father would have banished me in a heartbeat.

I sit in a dusty corner, that reeks of death, staring into my amber colored drink. Wooden stools are lined up along a counter that the bartender moves from one end of the counter to the other in a well-practiced enigmatic dance. Foul-smelling men sit on either sides of the counter chewing loudly on the complimentary salted venison and commenting on the female bartender.

I pity any woman that steps foot into this establishment.

Benjamin on the other hand is slipping his sly fingers into a pouch belted around one of the bigger men and ushering the coins into his palm.
It is one thing to commit crimes as a commoner who needs the money, but as a son of a king seeking pleasure? It gets under my skin.

I hesitate, knowing I should intervene because I've been sent here to protect the crown prince but he seems to seem have a vendetta against me. Every-time I save his skin from a beheading or death it boils his royal blood.

I down the drink in my hand, wincing slightly at the strong taste of cheap liquor swarming on my tongue and travelling down my throat before finally blooming in my stomach, but I welcome the pain because it dulls the empty ache in mg chest.

With a groan I push myself up and leave some coppers to pay for my drinks - and a few extra as a tip so that bartender can quit this unpleasant job- and make my way towards Benjamin.

The man Benjamin is currently gaslighting into thinking he didn't steal his money wears a tattered tunic- or what once was a tunic- with boots a little too big and holes on the right and left shoe. His pants aren't in great shape either, dirtied in muck and grime, the legs are shortened from years of wear and tear. At least, he's covered in hair to keep himself warm.

My eyes burn holes into the back of Benjamins head, staring at his chestnut brown hair. Who does he think he is? Stealing from a poor man? I wish I could beat this boy the way his parents should have. Though I'm only his elder by two years I feel as though I am a father chasing down an energetic four year old.

The man's hand shoots out to strike Benjamin's jaw and before the man can react I've gripped his wrist so hard I'm afraid I might bruise him. Benjamin lets out an exasperated groan, huffing as he takes a step back and his toothy smirk fades into a deep annoyance. The big man speaks up, staring down at me.

"Don't protect this, punk. He stole my copper."

My eyes roll and give Benjamin a look colder than ice. "I'm positive he'll hand it back."

"My apologizes, but, I didn't thieve anything. And, my name isn't 'punk' it's Jay, Jay Ranger." A cheeky smile is instantly spread along his features once again as he extends his hand.

Oh, how could I forget? His ridiculous alias. Jay Ranger. Gods, it sounds gross, even in my head.

The man trashed against me, loudly cursing and drawing eyes towards us. He seems surprised he can't knock me over and escape my grasp- I have years of knightly training to thank for that. My heart is telling me to let the man go and ruin Benjamin's pretty face but my brain tells me that would end horribly for me.

More men have gathered around us, thinking this is a bar fight. The bartender also approaches us, a towel slung across her shoulder, watching the scene unfold. She's wearing a tight white dress that highlights her assets- what am I thinking? I'm no better than a pig-

My thoughts were interrupted by a fist crashing into my temple, sending me a few steps back. Blue Fire, that hurts. The hand gripping the bigger man jolts to my forehead and in less than a quarter of a second the man has Benjamin pinned to the wall.

I'll deal with that later.

My eyes scan for the bastard that hit me, and it is a tiny dwarf of a man. Bald-headed, thin red beard, a clean navy blue tunic sticking to his fat due to sweat and a face worn down by age. My jaw clicks in place as I realize he's speaking to me.

"It's not your fight, boy. Let the thief deal with the consequences of his actions." He practically drowns me in his saliva.

It's his fight, but you decide you can strike me?

I scoff and push past him to the wall Benjamin is pushed against to stop this fight before I feel skinny fingers dig into the scar on my shoulder right beside my collarbone.

No- not again.

Maybe it's the alcohol thrumming through my brain and uncovering memories or that harsh touch on such a sensitive part of my body but a recollection of my childhood flashes back to me and I have to remind myself I'm not the same boy. Taking steady breaths I calm myself out of that trance and swirl around landing a direct hit to the red-bearded man's large nose.

A rush of white hot pain hits me me back in my face and before I know it my body is reacting to old trauma. When I finally snap back into reality the man is sprawled on the floor, coughing out teeth with a puddle of red rushing from his mouth. The maroon colour gets caught in his ginger beard, but, he looks up at me with a smile, spots of black in his once full yellow teeth dirtied with blood.

No. No. No. It's not him. It can't be.

With trembling hands, I grab Benjamin and position him behind me. Shouts of protest emerge from the gathered crowd. The man Benjamin stole from stomps after us and faces me, chest to chest.

"Touch me and you'll end up worse than your friend." I growl, pointing my head towards the man on the ground.

"Evrend!" The bigger man exclaims as he turns around and kneels in front of the dwarf. I take this opportunity to yank Benjamin out of the bar.

Evrend.

Father Evrend.

Azraf is a small city and word gets around quickly. I doubt any inn-keepers will allow us a stay tonight. We cant sleep outside knowing someone- likely a friend of that Evrend- will hunt us down. My fist barely grazed him! Besides, that's sick bastard doesn't need any avenging.

Azraf is small but dangerous. That's why the Queen and King of Haksion sent their son here, to get all the danger out of his system.

Benjamin can sense my frustration and speaks up. "You seem angry, coins?" He extends a palm full of the copper he stole from the man at the bar.

This boy will be the death of me.