A Tale of Crown and Country

Tavin

 Tavin picked his way through the streets of Weltyn. He scanned down the few streets he passed for Reichie. He knew he'd have to leave early the next morning, and he wanted to thank the boy for his help. It was only because of him and the introduction to his brother that he'd figured out truly what he would do once he arrived in Aldira. All he needed now was to ask Mrs. Surstan the best route to Aldira. And if she couldn't, she could at the very least tell him who to ask.

Weltyn was small, but no matter where he looked, Tavin couldn't see the boy. He doubted he had returned home; Reichie seemed like the type of kid who stayed away from home as long as possible, not out of any sort of familial hatred, but because it was more fun that way. He got distracted easily, Tavin had noticed, and preferred to be in control of whatever he happened to be doing at the moment. Sure he was intrusive because of that, searching people out for entertainment, but Tavin didn't mind; he preferred someone else do the introductions.

The sound of boots on rough dirt caught his ear, and Tavin picked up on a multitude of voices–male voices–behind a row of buildings. More curious than anything, Tavin stopped walking. He sidled up the General Store and took a few steps down the only alleyway in Weltyn. It wasn't wide enough to be a street, and too narrow to fit a building of any sort. In a town so meticulously planned and so logical constructed, Tavin had a hard time believing the alley to be purposefully placed. More likely someone had messed up, or the General Store had been built much larger than anticipated. Tavin smiled at his deduction regardless of the fact that it was not true in the least. In fact, the alley had been built because the founders of Weltyn had wanted to replicate the winding streets and narrow alleys of Aldira in their own small-town way. It hadn't worked too well, however, and it stuck out like a sore thumb in such a village, but there was nothing anyone could do about it anymore. Weltyn was stuck with an alley it didn't need.

It sounded like the boys–four at least–were playing around behind the building, on the backside of the village. Tavin imagined them kicking a ball around, and he started to turn. The scuffling stopped, and voices sounded again. This time, however, they made Tavin stop in his tracks. He leaned towards the rear of the General Store and listened carefully.

"Playing with sticks again?" someone sneered.

"Baby waby's got no friends, that's why," another snickered.

"Probably spying on his brother again. Him and that girl."

"Father heard they were headed to Odeila," someone noted.

"Only work he could get there would be scrubbing streets." Everyone laughed, viciously.

"That's my brother!" a new voice shouted.

Tavin's eyes grew wide. He recognized the voice among the others. It was younger, higher, and more frustrated and angry. It was defensive but also scared.

It was Reichie.

Tavin recognized the taunts of the presumably older boys. He knew what they were doing, knew what they were after. He hadn't had the same experiences, but he could infer from his own memory what these boys were after. He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. The usual ball of worry from his gut grew and expanded to envelop him. His heart told him to help Reichie, his brain and body urged him to run. He was too small and scrawny, no match for these boys, he told himself. What could he do to help the younger boy? More than likely he'd end up in the same position. Tavin felt like two sides of his body were arguing, each making their case to the fullest extent of their powers.

Taking a deep breath, Tavin calmed himself. The self-induced anxiety had made his throat tight and his head light. He shook his hands out and decided: the next instant he was walking full force towards the rear of the buildings, towards the assembled boys.