I can feel the bone wrench under my fingers. Pain must’ve gotten to him, because he releases the woman’s hand. Without a moment’s delay, I twist his arm behind his back.
“URGH!”
Didn’t take much effort. I slam my left hand into the back of his knees and shove the collapsing body right into the middle of where his comrades are standing stupefied.
“Now then, gentlemen.” I add a theatrical bow. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
“Bastard!”
Pisses ya off, don’t it? As I hoped.
Tons of junk lies around in the back roads. Add in the fact that it’s Market Day, in front of a blacksmith’s shop, and you can count on all sorts of objects lyin’ around. I dunno whether this handy wooden pole at my feet is kindling that tumbled off a carriage or an axe’s hilt before carving, but either way, I already had my eyes on it before I stepped forward. I kick it into the air with the tip of my boot, grab it, and immediately slam it into the back hand of a cutthroat dressed up as a soldier about to draw his sword, pinning it against his body. I firmly twist the tip of the pole without easing up on the pressure.
“Just a moment. It’s game over if you unsheathe that pretty lil’ thing you’ve got there.” Digging the pole in even deeper, I close the gap between us. “Take a look over there. You’ve got eyes, don’t you? It’s a government official. What’re you gonna do? Unsheathe it right here and now? Hmm?”
“You! You—”
Corrupt as the officials are, they can’t ignore a dispute if a weapon is drawn in front of them in the middle of a village that continually meets their tax quota. You can only look the other way for so long, and failure to meet the higher taxes is a death sentence for an official. And let’s not forget we’re in the boondocks out here. Corruption hasn’t permeated as deep as it has at the center of the kingdom.
“The officer in this village is thickheaded,” I continue, “Bribes from your fancy lords don’t work all that well on him yet… Ya understand what I’m getting at, don’t’cha? It means you better pack your bags ‘cause they’ll chase you outta this village. You wanna bet on whether there’s a nice, comfy pile of rocks for you to camp out on outside the village?”
His allies stagger to their feet. The man who tried to draw his sword averts his eyes and pensively steps back. I swiftly withdraw my sword (otherwise known as the conveniently placed pole). The victor has been decided.
“You’d better remember this!”
“Sure, sure, if I’ve got the spare time to.”
What a cliché line. They turn their backs on me as a group and briskly trot away. I watch them go before lowering the pole’s point.
“Are you unharmed, miss?”
“Thank you.” The silver-haired lady has already pulled her cloak back on. Looks like I don’t need to be polite and look away from her. “You saved me, lad.”
“I’m not young enough to be a lad.”
“All right then, how about I call you this then?”
Uh-oh.
“O.L.D. M.A.N.”
Supple, warm skin squishes against my upper arm as she presses her chest against it.
“Won’t you join me for a drink as thanks? My treat.” She gazes up at me from under her hood with an extremely enticing smile. Her honeyed voice tickles my ears. If I were ten years younger, I would’ve jumped at the chance. Probably would’ve gotten my hopes up that I’d be lucky enough to be treated to something other than a drink…but things are different now.
“Tempting, a very tempting invitation, miss. But this old man is busy right now.”
“With work?”
“Nah, childrearing.”
“Aw, you have kids.” Her soft, jiggling breasts and their warmth quickly drains away. “Too bad.” She shrugs her slender, round shoulders.
“Sincerest apologies, miss. At least let me escort you to the main road.”
“Thank you.”
“…This way.”
She walks side by side with me. Luckily, she doesn’t cling to my arm this time.
“The roads here are really complicated. It’s like a maze,” she complains.
“They’re pretty useful once you get used to them. You can take a lot of shortcuts.”
“I don’t plan to stick around long enough to get used to them.”
On the way to the main road, a familiar song stops me.
“A spoonful of sweet, sweet milk every day for the tiny people to feast~♪”
Six girls are standing in a circle playing ball. They throw a ball that’s one-size bigger than their hands to the beat of the song.
“Round, round, fluffy-uffy, roly-poly Brownies~♪. Tiny people, protective spirits of your sweet, dear home…♪”
Apparently, they have a set pattern to throw the ball around in. Sometimes they bounce it once on the ground. Or one of them will toss the ball straight up in the air, clap, and catch it again. Some sorta unspoken rules seem to be regulatin’ their movements. And because they’re matchin’ it to a song, the timing and speed’s all set too. Looks pretty difficult but fun.
“But, but, be careful. If you forget the milk…♪”
What happens if you forget the milk?
I’m straining to hear the next line when a small voice shouts, “Oh no!” and the ball rolls over to my feet. Looks like the girl couldn’t catch it. I bend over and pick the ball up. It’s surprisingly light. Its exterior’s probably made from lamb or goat skin. The seams are minute, thorough, and there are signs that it’s been mended many times.
“Here you go. Catch!” I lightly toss it back with one hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Hunter!” A girl with her black hair tied in braids catches the ball. Bright-green ribbons sway from her braids. She must be the innkeeper’s daughter. She quickly bows her head before returning to the circle.
“A spoonful of sweet, sweet milk every day for the tiny people to feast~♪”
They restarted the song. Must be a rule. I didn’t get to hear the rest of the verse.
“Round, round, fluffy-uffy, roly-poly Brownies…♪” Six voices sing in chorus. Princess sings this same song alone.
“Maybe she’s lonely.”
“Your daughter?”
“Nah, my niece. I took her in ‘cuz my younger sister and her husband passed away from an infectious disease.”
“Oh no. That must be rough.”
“Yeah. I still can’t get used to children.” I shrug and move on.
“Are you thinking about buying her a ball as a present?”
That startles me. The silver-haired lady is peering up at me, the corners of her lush pouty lips curl up. She saw through me and managed to guess the idea that had just randomly crossed my mind.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. That’s not a game you can play alone.”
And then she quickly shuts it down. I was that obvious, huh?
“The most she can do is toss it up in the air and catch it when it falls back down.”
“…Yeah? I guess you’re right.” This kinda game is impossible for Dragon and me. Our physique’s way too different—especially Dragon’s. “Maybe I can sing along with her.”
“Can you sing?”
We exchange glances for a long, hard minute.
“…Probably?”
She shrugs.
“I think it’d be nice if I could sing.”
She snorts. “Best of luck to you.”
Sunlight shines in the direction we’re going. I can hear the clamor of people, the creak of carriage wheels comin’ and goin’ to and from their destinations. The main road is just ahead.
“Thank you. See you next time, old man.” A slender and lithe black finger glides down my cheek. A feeling of slight warmth and silky smooth skin stays on my cheek as the finger leaves.
“Huh?” I completely freeze for a second. The lady gracefully pulls her hood over her head and walks off.
Meanwhile, I stand still in the middle of the road, with a hand on my cheek like an idiot. It takes until she’s gone for me to finally realize: she was stroking my cheek.