This Is My Town

Chapter Twelve ~ Rye

Rye watched Kiara walk out of him home, closing the door firmly behind her. He felt disappointed; of course he did. He was just starting to get to know this girl, and suddenly she just got up and left. Rye knew that she was doing it for his own good, but what did he really have in Longreach to come back to anyway? He could always accompany her until the whole 'Pandora' situation sorted itself out. Surely she wouldn't mind some help if it's offered? Rye had nothing else to do, anyway. So why not?

Rye cursed and stepped back into his room, grabbing his boots and yanking them onto his feet, tucking the hem of his trousers into them before grabbing a jacket and pulling it on over his shoulders. He took his own sturdy steel sword and tied its sheath around his waist before sliding the weapon into the brown leather, not worrying about the sharp edges like he usually would be. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out the only clothes that he had, shoving them into a leather bag along with a few bottles of blood to keep him going for a week or two.

He also grabbed those coins from the window sill and shoved them into the pocket of his coat before opening the door to his blacksmith, not caring if anyone would knock it down in the time he would be gone.

He wouldn't be coming back, anyway.

Rye took one step outside the blacksmith and suddenly something large, loud and solid hit his face, smack in the middle and he stumbled backwards, crying out in shock, surprise and pain. He dropped his bag and fumbled blindly for his sword, but another hit to his face sent his sword flying and his head spinning. His eyes were robbed of their sight and his feet lost their balance before he tumbled into a deep unconsciousness after one last strike to the face.

As soon as Rye was aware of himself, he shot his head up and flung his eyes open as quickly as his nerves would allow him. He was sitting down, and he could feel the hard surface of a wooden chair beneath him, along with the roughness of the ropes around his wrists and over the tops of his boots. They didn't bother him.

He was sitting in the centre of the main room in his blacksmith, right in the middle. The air around him was thick, but the tension was thicker. He looked out the window. It was past noon; almost sunset. Kiara would be long gone by then.

Then he snapped his head back around, catching movement in the corner of his left eye. A young man; short, black hair that was tousled and messy on his head walked in, draped in a loose black shirt and brown fabric pants, his boots thudding on the panelling that covered the floor of Rye's shop. His head was drooped, so Rye could not see the man's face, but he looked to be the same age as himself. Why he was here, however, Rye had no idea.

"If you are going to kill me, get it over with already," Rye spat, and the young man chuckled, still pacing around Rye. He had moved all the way around him and was now behind him, taking slow and steady steps.

"Believe me, blacksmith boy," the man replied, his voice light and confident. "If I were to kill you, we would not be having this conversation."

Rye scowled and flicked his head up.

"What are you planning to do with me, huh?" he spat. "Steal my gold? I have a little short of twenty pieces if anything small interests you."

"I am not here for your gold," the young man answered, still moving with his head down. "I am here for... information."

"I have lived here all my life," Rye snapped. "I have had nothing happen to me since my parents died. I do not know what in the Gods' names you want from me."

The young man chuckled. "I do not want your dramatic backstory," he told Rye. "I want to know of someone."

"There is no one in my life. Not now, not ever."