I'll kill myself tomorrow. The thought rang hollow in Leath's head. Nothing felt like anything.
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The cold water soaking his skin and drenching his clothes felt numb. The cold pig shit he woke to find himself laying in had no smell. Morning sunlight shone through gaps in the wood roofing of the pig stye. He squinted his eyes, the vinegar-like taste of stale mead from the night before still stuck to the back of his tongue.
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"Get up! Get off my property! I'll have the city watch come," the fat barmaid screamed as she dipped her bucket back into the filthy water trough, ready to drench him again.
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"Where is my armor? My sword?"
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"I don't know and I don't care."
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"I would be happy to leave but not without-"
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Sloosh.
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Leath, eyes closed and face dripping spoke through gritted teeth as the maid dipped her bucket again. "Look, I just need my things, that's it."
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"I didn't ask what ye need, ye pathetic drunk! Up n' out! Now."
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"You-"
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Sloosh.
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"Now I've never beaten a woman in my life, but today I-"
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Sloosh.
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Leath rose to his feet and walked out of the stye past the maid as she glowered. The sky was gray and the road was mud. Mule drawn carts rode past as people went about their business. Ironworkers beat orange-hot swords fresh from the fire, women weaved and carried buckets of water and milk. Children ran through the streets playing swords with sticks.
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I need my shit.
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Leath made his way back to the adjacent tavern that he had blacked out in. His hands, face, chest, and back all ached. He examined himself as he walked, bruised and bloody from the night before. Much of his skin seemed brindled with bruise and welt, pale here, purple there, red in between. He rubbed his aching jaw and felt the short, sloppy stubble growing across his face he could almost feel the grey hair growing in.
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You're getting too old for this shit Leath. Fuck, what did I get into last night? I look like I fuckin' fought a bear.
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The tavern door swung open and Leath entered the nearly empty room and sat down at the bar.
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The man behind the counter stood facing away as he cleaned his mugs. "Good mornin' to ya."
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"Hmph, another beautiful day in Morativa. I'll have whatever you gave me last night," Leath said.
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A scrawny rat-faced man dressed in a tattered old brown tunic turned to meet him. "Look at your eye! It's practically swollen shut, friend."
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That accent. Eritanian?
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"We're not friends. The drink. I'll pay in gold if you hurry up."
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"It's midday, my friend..."
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Leath shot him a one-eyed stare of contempt.
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"Alright, alright. Don't rip me head off," he said, sliding Leath the mug. "The names' Aiden."
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Leath placed two gold coins on the counter and drank the entire mug in one gulp. The coins clanked as Aiden dropped them into the pouch on his belt and used a finger to stuff it shut.
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"A strong drinker and a fat purse, ye must be a mercenary," Aiden said.
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"What gave it away?"
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"Last night ye came bargin' in here half-drunk, and by the look of it ready for a fight; in that set of armor with your fancy lookin' black sword. Though now I'll admit ye look much less scary what with ye in normal folk cloth."
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"Have you seen my armor, or my 'fancy sword' anywhere?"
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"Alas, I haven't."
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"Is that your wife out there working the stye?"
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"Yes, that be me wife, the heavy one. Why do ye ask?"
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"You speak the same. What are two Eratinians doing in Sylacia?"
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"There are no Eratinians anymore, we're all Skan now, and poorer for it."
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"Regardless that's quite the travel. I know we Sylacians are known for our drink but surely you didn't need to come all this way to open a tavern."
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"War is brewing in Skanhelm, war that this poor man will be havin' no part of."
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"I see. And, Aiden you're sure you haven't seen any of my belongings?"
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"I'm not sure friend, perhaps for a bit of gold I could tryn' remember somthin'."
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"I've given you enough to feed yourself for weeks, at least two months."
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"Times are tough me friend I've no money and a starving family to feed."
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"I think you would have a much easier time feeding that family of yours with working arms. Don't you?"
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An uneasy smile came over the rat-faced man, "Right... Last night some fellas came in, bandits perhaps, looking rather shady. You, well you were piss drunk, barely able to stand by the look of it. They waited till ye had passed right out then stripped ye of your armor, took the sword and left in a hurry all quiet-like."
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"The shady type huh? Not the lying Eritanian kind I hope."
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"What are ye on about?"
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"I find it odd that a poor man such as yourself with a starving family could have such a heavy wife."
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"Well, ye see, I actually spend most of the money I make from this here tavern just to feed that one."
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Straight to the excuses then, Aiden? He won't even pretend to defend his 'wife.'
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"Yes the money that you keep in that pouch on your hip, 'poor' man."
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The man adjusted his body so the pouch was out of sight, "I...Extra money...A lot of soldiers have been through these parts recently."
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"Right then I'm sorry I accused you."
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Leath stood and made his way towards the door but stopped in his tracks. "Though I am curious, how you know what color my sword is."
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"I...What?"
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Leath turned back to Aiden. "My sword, you called it a 'fancy black sword' and yet only the blade is black not the hilt."
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"The soldiers drew it on when they took it off you, took my money they did and made off in a hurry!"
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"From bandits to soldiers now? Look that gear was expensive, it took me years to acquire it. I will do whatever it takes to get it back."
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"Well, I haven't' a clue what to say. Your sword and armor haven't been in my tavern since last night, I wish ye the best of luck in findin' them but they ain't here."
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"Right."
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Leath walked out of the tavern and back to the stye. The fat barmaid stood with her back turned, feeding the pigs.
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"Your husband is a real prick 'ye' know."
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"Now I thought I told ye to leave me lands!"
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"I will, I will, though I'll probably have to kill you first. You don't have any children by chance?"
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"What do ye mean? Stay back!"
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Aiden's face went from shock to fury as Leath drug his wife, kicking and screaming, into the tavern by her hair with a knife to her throat. The two men sitting in the back of the tavern rose to their feet but gave no words.
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"This breaks my heart Aiden, until this day I hadn't laid so much as a finger on a woman."
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"By the gods' man! Let me wife go!"
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"Just tell him what he wants Aiden," she yelled.
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"Yes Aiden just tell him what he wants," Leath said nodding.
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"Alright, alright I've got the sword, man, it's just upstairs, please, please don't do nothin' crazy."
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"I'd suggest that you don't take too long then."
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Aiden ran up the stairs and after a few moments began to slowly make his way back down. Leath found himself at the other end of a loaded crossbow made of red-wood. It looked heavy in Aidens scrawny arms, he shook with fear. He could make out his sword, sloppily tied to Aiden's hip.
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"You'll shoot your wife before you shoot me, fool, I can tell from here your aim isn't that good 'friend'."
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"This is your only chance, let me wife go."
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The woman shrieked so loud and sharp that even Leath flinched as he began to slowly draw the knife across the woman's throat. He pressed hard enough to draw blood but not kill. Her cry was cut short by a bolt to the head from her nervous husband. Aiden stood in shock at his wife's death as Leath dropped her to the floor.
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"What have you done!?" Aiden screamed.
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"This was your doing, not mine."
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Aiden went to draw the sword only for it to get caught in the hilt half-way through. He pulled again drawing the sword from the hilt and raising it above his head. The black blade seemed to absorb the light around it as it wavered in the air.
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"You may yet live, Aiden-"
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He was cut short by the warcry of the scrawny man as he charged him, sword raised high.
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Leath stood, unmoving and caught Aiden's wrist in the air as he tried to bring the sword down on him. Before Aiden could answer Leath's knife met his stomach thrice. Aiden fell to the ground bleeding and shaking.
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"You know my son forged me this sword just before he died."
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Aiden gave no reply but spittle and heavy breath through clenched teeth.
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"My armor, Aiden. Please tell me I'd hate to have to track down your children and sell them to the Khidori."
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With eyes full of dying hate Aiden spoke through cough and spit, "The bastard prince, I sold it to the bastard prince ye cunt."
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Leath squatted down next to the dying man and pointed to his wife, "You see her, Aiden, she would be alive if you weren't a liar."
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Leath stood and met eyes with the two terrified men at the back of the tavern, "Either of you know where I could find this 'bastard prince,' it's of great urgency."
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"Y-yes, I know where to find the bastard prince," the ginger one said.
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It took them a few hours but soon enough the ginger man had led Leath to the bastard prince's party. He gave the man ten gold coin and told him to be on his way.
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The party consisted of some forty men. Each man was dressed in different attires, many of cloth, others of studded leather, and some of metal armor. At the center was the bastard prince, sat atop a horse in silver armor with heraldic robes overtop. Leath could see his armor wrapped up and tied to his horse. He walked right into the camp past all the men, straight up to the young boy.
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"All your men here are useless."
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The bastard prince's hazel eyes met Leath in a glower of confusion, "Who the hell might you be?"
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"The armed man that just walked right up to you. And that, on the back of your horse is my armor that was stolen from me while I slept last night, fortunately, the thief has been dispatched."
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"A man will balls as big as yours? I'd be surprised if there was anything left of this thief."
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"Thank you, now about my armor."
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"Yes, I bought it early this morning for five hundred gold, as I'm sure you know that quite a lot of money, it's five years of work for each of my men. I made an investment in this armor, but It seems I'm in the market for another Investment. You're a bold man, I need bold men, I'm certain you'd be interested in earning back this armor."
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"Earn back what is rightfully mine?"
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His eyes seemed to see through Leath, devouring him even, "I would let you take it as of now but you would come to serve me here in my company as my soldier. With pay of course."
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"I don't know...I had...plans for tomorrow."
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"What plan could bring you greater glory and coin than helping a bastard usurp his uncle's throne?"
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"Which throne would that be?"
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"The seat of Poniatov."
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"Help remove one monarch only to seat another? Have you not noticed? The people of Sylacia grow tired of the crown."
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"Because my uncle sits the throne I will be different."
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"I think I'd rather go ahead with my plans for tomorrow."
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"I'll pay you double what I pay the rest."
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"Ha, deal."
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