Book 2 Season's Change Spring's Revenge

Part 22 Deep Trouble

He chose to sit alone, though he knew he didn't need to. There were plenty of people nearby that would gladly sit with him, some for coin of course. He had no interest in such company, never had. He took his mead and his bowl of stew and bread and sat in the corner booth near the stairs as far away from other people as he could. From his seat, he could easily see the entrance to the kitchen, the way behind the bar and the front door of the establishment with one sweeping glance. There was nothing but wall behind him. He preferred things that way. He leaned over his food, hunkered really, and scooped the hot liquid and meat concoction into his hungry mouth with his spoon. As he slowly chewed each bite, his eyes made their sweep while his other hand lifted his mug to his lips, and he sipped his third mug of the thick Westendorunn mead. The food was good, the mead better, but he didn't taste either. When he finished eating his meal, he called the serving girl over and politely asked her to remove the empty bowl and refill his mug. He paid her the fee for the mead plus two smaller coins for her kind service. She refilled his mug until his words came out in a jumble. Then she helped him up to his room. He begged her to stay. He always begged her to stay, she always refused saying "No. I cannot. One day Elion, you will find your path and I will walk it with you if you ask me. But this is not that path." That was their routine, night after night.

The next night started out just like any other. Elion ordered his food, just whatever the cook was serving, and his mead and headed over to his seat in the back of the Hungry Yak. He ate his meal without taking the time to enjoy it and ordered more mead. He was four mugs deep when he watched an old enemy and his cronies push their way through the door. He watched them as they ordered their drinks and their meals then proceeded to consume them. He found himself offended at the way they chose to talk to the serving girls and how handsy they got with one of them. Luckily, she was not the one he begged to stay with him night after night, but he still growled and bristled at the girl's mistreatment. He found himself reaching for the hilt of a sword that was not on his hip. The tavern owner and the girl herself handled the situation like the professionals they were. He let it pass.

Those men were the very boys that he had spent his early years learning to hate and avoid. They had a penchant for attacking him for no other reason than he looked different from them. Before he met the young prince, and whenever the prince was not around, Elion was often the target of their unsolicited abuse. They, and their leader Jaioden, in particular, were explicitly cruel and abusive toward him.

Elion sat quietly, ignoring the full mug of mead in front of him, his eyes locked on his nemesis, hoping against hope and praying that he would remain unnoticed. His prayer went unanswered. Jaioden spotted him, pointed Elion out to his friends and immediately turned his attention to making Elion's miserable existence without his only friend even more unsavory. "Who do we have here? Ell-le-own the loser, sitting all alone. Where is your prince now? What is the matter Ell-le-owna, no one want you?" He spoke too loudly and laughed louder. "Why, you haven't changed a bit. You're still ugly as the demon that spawned you. You still waiting on Avriel to return to love you?" Elion sat quiet and tried his best to ignore the taunts. "I see. You still have nothing to say for yourself, no great insights? What? You poor baby. Are you defenseless without your lover here to protect you?" Elion did not look up.

As he felt his anger start to rise, he fought to push it down. If he ignored them, maybe they would go away. By the Gods, he hoped they left before he lost control of his anger. They, well Jaioden, had yet to say anything that Elion honestly had not already heard come out his mouth. The heavens and the hells help them all if he ever did. "He's never coming back, you know. Neither of them ever will. That family is cursed. Both princes died boys. They left the North that way. They died that way. They were weak stupid boys. They thought they were somebody special because they were princes. Yeah, well we see how that went. And now this family expects us to accept the rule of the princess? We may as well roll over for the next nation that wants to invade us and take our land. The girl is not fit to rule this nation. She is just pretty, no brains." Jaioden didn't hear the low growl that should have been his first warning. He didn't see Elion grow as his anger filled him. That should have been his second warning. He barely registered that Elion had moved until he felt his nose explode as a result of Elion's fist violently making contact with it. His blood was hot as it spattered over his face. Tears filled his eyes. Elion's attack came out of nowhere. He struck Jai multiple times in the span of a few moments before the others joined the fight. Elion landed several punches and kicks, but it was two hands and two feet against five sets of both. It was far from a fair fight. By the time the city guard broke it up, Elion was covered in blood that was mostly his own and Jaioden and his boys were bloody and bruised too.