This Is My Town

Chapter Three ~ Rye

Rye hacked at the log of wood with the sturdy axe in his hands and watched as it split in half from the might of the strike. If he were younger, he would be excited about this, as he was weak and unqualified for the job he now had. But now it didn't impress him at all. With a heavy sigh, he took the axe back inside the blacksmith that had grown into his home since the man that used to own it died almost exactly three years earlier. Rye owned the business now, working as the only blacksmith and wood chopper in the small, riverside town called Longreach. Whenever anyone needed any cut wood, weaponry, tools or logs, Rye was the man they would approach for. He earned a steady income, but people in Longreach didn't stick around for long if they had to be there. They would either just be passing through, or they would be locals that hardly ever needed more of what Rye provided. The items Rye provided were such good quality that hardly anyone came back after a third time unless they needed something new or what they previously had was stolen or lost.

Rye lived alone, which made matters harder. He never knew his parents because they died before his tenth birthday, meaning that he didn't remember them at all. He never knew if he had any siblings, but only just recently he had heard someone or other whispering about him; whispering stories. He had gotten over the rumours, of course, but still the thought of this story haunted his dreams. He knew his last name was Mallor and his parents were Genevere and Nadir. He had a brother, once; a twin brother. Before he turned to a Vampire. Mortas, was his name. But Rye's mother was uncontrollable, apparently, and she... she ate Mortas. Tore him apart. Rye had gotten out alive, without a single scratch, but his twin brother was brutally murdered by their own mother, who was then brutally murdered by her husband. Rye's father. And then he was sentenced to death.

His whole family dead, all because of his mother.

He was still trying to process it, but with all the work he had been doing, he didn't have time to think about it. Rye had not always lived in Longreach, either. He did not always work this hard for a life. When he was a child, he had indeed lived here from what the King had said, but apparently he had lived in the Palace of the Royals in Crinya until his tenth birthday. A week afterwards, he was sent back to Longreach to work off his father's 'crimes'.

Murdering his wife.

He had gotten close with the Royal's son in Crinya, from what he had heard from the King as well. They grew up as mortals together; he and the Prince of Vampires. But when they aged, everything changed. During the week that Rye was in the palace after being successfully changed into a Vampire, he and the Prince talked slightly, but never got close again. These, however, were the words of the King, and he can only distinctly remember them. He remembered not of talking with the Prince, so he had simply named these claims under stories and tales.

It didn't bother him.

Once inside the forgery, Rye moved over to the sharpening wheel and sat at the stool at the base of the machine. Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Rye set the axe down on top of the wheel and switched it on, leaning back to avoid getting the sparks on his eyes. He moved it along the wheel as the axe sharpened from the speed of the machine, and as he did so, he pondered. He thought about the same things every time, and yet nothing ever changed. He knew that you couldn't just wish for something and expect it to come immediately; you had to work for what you wanted. Hard work was the only thing that Rye had anymore, because love was not something he cherished anymore. He knew not of what it was like to love, or to be loved, and nor did he ever have the intention of finding out. Love was a ghastly thing that fooled the minds of everyone whom dwelled in its walls. There was nothing for Rye in the word 'love' and he didn't know why he saw partners walking beside the river at sunset, holding hands and sharing secret kisses. He would find himself being offended each time his eyes lay themselves upon it. How could there be so many people out there that think they are 'in love' when there were so many more who had no one? Not a single person in their lives, to hold their hands and kiss their faces. How could anyone be so happy with another if there were too many that were starving, or alone? How could anyone be happy with the state Frate was in? There was nothing good about this place apart from the fact that Rye wasn't living in Montilo, but that was everyone else's thought too. Everyone that didn't live in the horrid city of Montilo was grateful for not being born in the same area as the big, evil city run by the widely known danger to the whole region of Frate.