TAKING the back roads is the shortest route to the blacksmith. Though we refer to them as the back roads, when you consider when they were made, they’re actually the original main roads. As the village grew with more people, they built wider roads. Hence why this road runs parallel to where people live. Stagnant water, eroded soil, moldy grass, withered trees, rusty metal, damp half-dried cloths. Whether it be at the castle, or a town, or a village: wherever people live, this kinda stench follows. There’s a difference in how noticeable it is, but the stench of habitation never goes away nevertheless.
Sound is another thing you can bet on. You’ll hear far more voices spillin’ out onto the winding back roads compared to the main road.
“Officer, please spare me with this amount.”
The voice startles me—it’s a child playacting. Out of the kids playin’ behind the blacksmith’s shop there are two boys who catch my eye. One is holding open a filthy bag, while the other picks up a bowl sitting on the porch, from which he pours a measured amount of sand into the bag.
“No, no, it’s not enough. Doesn’t even reach half of what ye owe.”
“Forgive me, but you are asking for double what I paid last month, my lord.”
“This is the cost starting this month. It’s what the men on top have decided. Go on then, dump it in. Pour it all in. Otherwise a rope’ll go around yer neck ‘n ya’ll hang!”
Both kids crack up laughing. They toss aside the bag, bowl, and sand to start chasin’ each other ‘round the yard. Child’s play is like a magic mirror—it reflects the cruel reality of the world.
I wait for them to noisily run by me before entering the blacksmith’s shop.
I can shave the shaft of an arrow. I can attach the fletching. But arrowheads are one thing I can’t make on my own. And there’s nothing suspicious about a hunter buyin’ arrows.
I buy just what I need and thank the blacksmith as I take my leave. The blacksmith’s thrivin’. Just goes to show how dramatic the increase in the number of people wantin’ weapons has been.
A woman is beside the shop when I step outside. She’s still young. She wears the hood of her cloak low over her face, but it does nothing to hide her seductive curves. Her perfectly supple and voluptuous breasts are pressed tightly together by her corset and still jiggle. It’s a feast for the eyes. Her intent to cover up has the reverse effect of makin’ her stand out because of the cloth.
And she’s clearly not used to the roads ‘round here. She’s restlessly dartin’ her eyes around, and just when I think she’s passed by me, she turns back. Does she not know where to go?
She’s asking for danger at this rate.
“Ah!”
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, she bumped into a man arrogantly striding down the middle of the narrow road like he owns the place. Though they lack any uniformity to the clothes they wear, each and every one of these sleazebags sports expensive armor and weapons—he’s from Lord Design’s personnel army.
“YOW!”
Bang! Clang! Metal hits metal. The grating sound pierces through the oppressive air and rings in my ears. Sounds different from the blacksmith’s regular beat by striking his mallet against metal.
“What’re ya doin’, walkin’ ‘round with yer head in the clouds, lady?!”
Oh c’mon, there’s a limit to how far you can stretch a false accusation. No matter which way you look at it, he’s obviously the one who walked right into her!
“I’m terribly sorry. It was careless of me.”
“Careless? Think that’ll make it all go away, huh? If yer gonna apologize, ya gotta show yer sincerity!”
None of his fellow soldiers stop him. Worse yet, they form a circle around the woman. Things are going in a bad direction.
Trouble is trouble. Don’t get involved. Don’t butt your head in. Don’t take action. Forget your knightly mettle and noble sentiments, Gideon!
I know what I need to do, but my feet won’t move. I don’t turn and walk away.
“C’mon, guys, you’re troubling the lass.” One of the older bearded men mumbles out from the back of the group, but is ignored. “Let’s just go get a drink!” he tries again, but a glare from their apparent leader silences him.
The man who started it all turns back to the woman, “Lemme teach ya the way outta this plain and simple. Leave yer entire purse and go.”
I’ve never seen such a bold and open highway robbery before!
“Money… Is it all right if I just pay you money?”
“That’s right, girlie, obediently put out ev’rythin’ that can be put out!” The first man crassly reaches for her.
“What are you doing?!” The woman retreats in fear. The momentum knocks her hood back.
“Oooh, whatta we ‘ave ‘ere? Ain’t you a fine woman!”
She’s definitely a looker. Curled eyelashes sweep over beautiful almond eyes rounding off a rather attractive face. A straight nose offsets her amber eyes and smooth long silver hair. Her vibrant, almost luscious chocolate skin gives away that she was probably born in another country. One to the far, far south of here. All of this adds to the lady’s rare and highly exotic beauty.
“Know w’at, I ‘on’t need no money after all.”
“Got that right. Don’t need no money with this. Join us for a bit, lady.”
“I refuse,” she boldly declares.
“We’ve got money.”
The silver-haired woman knits her thin, plucked eyebrows together and turns her chin up defiantly. She glowers up at the man through narrowed eyes and firmly closes her coral lips. She’s smiling. “Unfortunately for you, I am not that kind of woman.”
The prey they had supposedly cornered boldly attacked back.
“Bitch!”
This is where people with any decent sense of shame would walk away before they embarrassed themselves further. But these men were given weapons and power they hadn’t earned, and they didn’t have that kinda head on their shoulders. Rather, they’ve got a few screws loose.
“Don’t ya dare make a fool outta me!”
One of the men snaps. His face contorts and he violently grabs the woman by her bertha collar.
“Stop it! What are you doing?!” She writhes painfully under his hold.
Her cloak slips off. Still, the man isn’t satisfied. He forcefully tears off the fasteners keeping her dress together. The threads rip apart, exposing her chest. Round and heavy, dark voluptuous breasts bigger than an adult man’s hand sway out from her busted corset. She is a stunning, beautiful exotic woman with an amazing body.
“No! Let go of me!” The woman’s shrieks shoot through me. She’s terrified.
My body moves faster than my brain.
“C’mere. I’ll slowly beat the insolence right outta ya. I’ll teach ya that women exist to obey w’at men tell ‘em to do!”
“Yeah, you tell ‘er! Do it—ARGH!”
I sweep the legs out from under one of the men surrounding her. As he tumbles onto the ground, I step over him to reach for the man standing next to him. There’s nothing to it. They must’ve let their guard down, assuming nobody would dare to get in their way.
I grab the outlaw’s wrist above the joint and tightly clench the bone just under the skin. “Let the lady go. She’s not interested,” I growl. All I’ve done is grab hold of him—for now.
“Hmph! Don’t go buttin’ in! Ya ain’t no knight.”
“True, I’m but a hunter. But I at least can tell the difference between what you should and shouldn’t do.”
“Ow! Ow! OW!”
I dig my fingers in and squeeze. His skin bends under my fingers and the bone cracks. The man’s face distorts and his eyes roll back. I tighten my grip.
“EEK! Yer ‘urting me! It ‘urts!”
“Release the lady. Else, guess you can say goodbye to your wrist?”
“Don’t! Anythin’ but me good hand!”