Valiant

Chapter 12: Search No Further

"I'll not 'ave cheeldren hanging about 'en my bar, wee one! 'Tis no place fer the likes of you!" Orik, the bar owner is a huge presence in front of me, and his smell is that of sweat, cheese, and baking bread. He is speaking only to me now, and lowers his booming voice to that of a dull blast.
"But I-!"
"I know yer curious, but it be dangerous 'round these parts! I'll help you out of 'ere,"
Fear blasts through my stomach as I am steered toward the streets, but I am saved by a small, cooing sound behind Orik.
"Wait! He was with Isaac too!"
Relief pumps hot through my chest and the enormous hand on my shoulder releases.
"Oi! If et isn't wee Lilly! Yer saying he's with Isaac too? Why, that ol' codger's 'comin up soft! Taking in lit'le ones," he pauses to laugh heartily and slap his stomach. "'Lright! You can 'elp me too!"
Then, he wheels around to gaze toward Lilly, and so do I. She is wearing a plain, brown cloth working dress, with a spattering of flour across the front, and on her hair, which is tied up behind her. With the pale, white sheen of powder across her tan face, and the plain attire, her eyes seem even more mystic and ethereal by comparison, with their deep, vibrant blue shining like torches against the dull complexity of labor.
"You can use that wee blade of yours, aye boy?" Orik's booming voice draws glances from the table to our left, where a shifty-looking man in a dark robe was conversing with a young maid, who looks utterly compromised by alcohol. Sad, too, for she is very pure-looking. A girl of but 17 years.
Suddenly, I feel protective of Lilly, and step closer to her, knuckles white as they grip my wooden sword. "Aye," I reply defensively.
"Well then, wee ones!" He pauses as he reaches into a fold of his cloak, drawing forth a small, cloth parcel which jangles merrily as he hands it to Lilly. "I need yeh both to go down a street or two left side, and fetch supplies from Iris's shop. Tell her that I want the usual package, aye? And give 'er that," he says, pointing an enormous finger at the package Lilly was tucking into her dress.

So, keeping tight to Lilly, who is strangely quiet, I lead her to the street. Suddenly, miraculously, the rain had stopped, and a clear, cerulean sky peaks out behind the shattered fragments of storm cloud, edged with blinding sunlight that showers my face in comforting warmth. People have now begun peaking out from shops: shifty-looking folk with darting eyes, dirty clothes, and hooked noses.
Fear darts across my abdomen as I look back and don't see Lilly. I gather the air in my lungs to call out for her, but then I spot her not three paces away, marveling at a fountain, with a pensive, distant look in her supernaturally blue eyes.
I walk slowly up beside her, and she acknowledges me with a slight flick of her eyelashes. "I recall fountains such as these in Ocean Province," she murmurs with a wistful, monotonous hum dancing through her voice.
I sit there awkwardly for a minute, gazing upon the depiction of a king carved from stone, and spouting water from the tip of his raised sword. He sits astride a rearing steed, who's mane is corroded a bleary green shade from the constant flow of water. The king's noble expression befits the gaudy crown of bronze on his brow.
Finding my voice, I ask a hushed question, "What was it like there?"
An emotionless smirk finds its way onto her face, and she begins to describe it,
"What I remember most about it was the smell. Sea-salt and fresh bread from the bakery down the streets. It never was cold there, so people would come from leagues around to escape the bite of winter. Everybody there was smiling, tan, and rotund, as if life was a carefree feast that never ended. And the beach! It was so dazzling, that it reflected the moon and stars onto the sand like midday."
She has a glint of joy in her eye as she continues.
"My father would take me out onto the water almost every day so as to school me in the art of the sail, and we would spend the day adrift, casting nets on the sides of the boat to catch fish. He would spend the day strumming a sort of handmade harp that has only five strings, and the music held everyone who heard it in place. And at night, we would have bonfires up and down the sand of the beach, and sing and dance to the beat of the waves. And we would eat these fruits, round, orange fruits that one had to peel the skin off to reveal the meat. They were so juicy and tart, we would cook our lamb and cattle in their juices, to give them flavor. I remember-"
But at that moment, a nagging, whiny, threatening voice interrupts her tale.
"Well, gentleman! Search no further! We've found our girl,"
I swivel on my backside, careful not to fall into the fountain, and my eyes land on three boys.
The one at the forefront wears a fashionable, expensive-looking jerkin made of fine, black leather, and adorned with gold designs. Under that, he wears a simple, red silk vest, held in place with golden buttons.
Fastened to his waist is a thin, black, leather sheath, with another spattering of gold curling around it, and a magnificent hilt protrudes from it. Adorning it is a quillon hand guard crafted from golden wire and a pommel fashioned from an enormous, blood-red ruby.

He has straw colored hair, and cold, calculating, blue eyes, and he looks at Lilly and I like we are something unpleasant that he stepped on in the stables.

The other two boys seem to be his bodyguards, as they are almost a full head taller than him. Their arms ripple with bare muscle and protrude from matching red-enameled chest plates crafted from gilded steel. On those chestplates, a fiery crest blazes forth.

"Guy, would you be so kind as to relieve this peasant of her burden?" Before I can react, the bodyguard to his left darts forward and grabs Lilly by her upper arm, jolting the parcel of Orik's coins out of her hand and into his own.
Rage boils instantly, sour in my stomach, and I snap. I am done with people and chance spitting on me and the ones I love. I can't stand for anything anymore. Somebody has to pay, but I know that I can't react now- the time wasn't right. That was the very first rule of combat Isaac taught me.
"Give that here," I spit out hurriedly, apprehension slithering across my torso.
The blonde lordly one laughs maliciously. "Are you talking about your coins or your whore, peasant?"
Lilly's eyes blaze forth a torrent of anger so fierce, I fear for the boys' lives.
"Well, neither, actually. 'Twas a reference to that girly boot on your foot, so I can shove it up your arse for you."
The lordling's eyebrows furrow, and his smirk drops into a snarl. He draws his steel from its sheath, holding it ahead of him with the tip pointed my way.
"Do you quarrel, speck? Do you covet death so much?"

Forcing myself to hold his gaze, I cautiously draw my wooden blade from my belt, and hold it loosely at my side. "We shall see about death, fiend."