Seven Sins Committed

4. Envy

Glasses brimmed full of foaming and frothing beer spilled onto the wooden stands. Men hunched over in their seats, nursing their drinks, gulping the contents and asking for another. Some sat around tables, decks of card tossed about. Sober content filtered the atmosphere, dispelled any sort of grief or anger. Bar fights weren't allowed here unlike other places, tenders enforced the formalities to continue inside, as well as outside.

The night remained quieter than normal, calmer without the stray burst of quarreling voices that was forcefully quieted after a few shouts. Dim light spotted the walls of the bar, lanterns doing a poor job.

Three cloaked men entered, striding down the aisle of drunken men. Two older men, grey hair trimmed short and close to their heads closely observed the others. The younger of the two, straight copper hair gathered in his wide eyes. He wore a silver cross and beads around his neck. Following the other two, he never strayed far, always within reaching distance. They all pressed their riding leather, gloved fingers against their noses, trying to block the smell.

"Can I help you folks?" Wiping a glass with a rag, the bartender eyed them, slamming his cleaned mug harshly on the table.

"Yes, we are looking for an apothecary, one of our priests is ill." Tallest and eldest, he folded his hands on the table, dominating the air.

The youngest priest in training slipped behind the second man, raking his gaze over the heads of men, apparently searching for someone.

The bartender raised an eyebrow before tending a haggard, tired man who asked for ale. He poured the alcohol inside the mug. White froth bubbled over the edges. "You won't find an apothecary around here. There was a doctor in the neighborhood, but he disappeared. Left his wife."

"Who was this man?" Frowning, the second priest interrupted the conversation. Dangling from his ears were pieces of silver.

"I believe his name was Renwick Connerwall," The bartender shrugged, uncaring. "Look, I didn't know the man, he was a very unknown doctor."

"May we know where his house resides?" The first priest asked, beckoning with encouragement, almost daring the other man to object.

The priest in training nudged the second priest and cocked his head for the door.

"Sure, he lived in a white farm house four miles north of here." The bartender explained, a shake in his voice.

"Thank you, have a pleasant night." The first priest bid him goodbye, nodding his head. Others following pursuit, they all single file left the bar.

They were never seen again.

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Hollow bones clattered together, and thumped heavily on the soil bottom. Rain pounded in sheets down my back, soaked the thin fabric of my billowing undershirt. Black hair slick, stuck against my face, I glared at the potato sack slumped in the dirt. Dirt stained my hands, and I rubbed them on my pants, disgusted.

"I hate humans," I mutter, grabbing the shovel, and tossed dirt over the deceased. "Aren't humans annoying?" I ask, kicking leaves over the edge.

Two womens' muffled shrieks caused me to wince, their cries too loud. I heard them with perfect clarity. A redhead quivered, her knees tucked tightly against her breasts. Her bloody, swollen lips sewn shut twitched as she tried to scream. Her friend, a lanky body, brown haired girl lamented, sniffling softly.

"Don't cry," I soothed, hushing them to no avail. The redhead flinched as I brushed her bangs away from her face. "Your stitches might split."

"Please let me go," the brown haired girl whimpered, rubbing at her leather restraints. Unlike her friend, she wore a thin white gown.