All Good Things...

All Good Things...

Postby Serrus » Wed Aug 06, 2014 3:57 am

The sun rose over the hollows of Myrkentown, orange rays stabbing through the craggy mess of slums clumped high and wide, bricks of clay and stone basking in the light to reveal all their flawed crevices, cracks and holes; an old poisoned bodily organ inside the rest of the functioning city. The stench of rotting fish and shit odorized with the rancid smells of wrought iron and boiling leather. Cocks crowed, dogs yapped and babies screamed, an ever constant musical greeting to awaken the poorer denizens of the city. To the east, the thrumming sounds of the marketplace could be heard as peddlers made their way across dirt-kicked roads to set up their wares for the day.

They shared a room in a small hollow of the dilapidated manse known to its denizens as The Castle; Ella, a woman known to most as the 'one-eyed whore', and the halfling performer, Haydon. Like most of the other tenants who resided there, they were provided a roof, floorboards, a small cut into the old stone to store goods, and an open hole for a window, draped with rags, just large enough for a small child to stick their head through. The view outside was often spoiled by the smoulder of an iron forge and a huge pile of shattered clay from a pottery not known for any spectacular works of art. Sometimes, when the wind was strong enough, the smoke would clear to a view of the lower street, where one could watch the smithy work at his anvil for most of the day, making everything from doornails to horseshoes. Today was one of those days, and Ella looked through the small window as the smithy beat his hammer to the rhythm of something or other... she guessed he was making nails.

Haydon rose from the small gallon barrel that was his seat at the larger ale barrel that made the table, surrounded by other small barrels of the same. Being a halfling, his head barely cleared the top of the largest barrel as he trudged over to the small brazier, the smaller stump of his leg clunking on the floorboards and making his walk look precarious, though he seemed to manage with little difficulty. He wrapped a thick around a metal rod, sliding it into the brazier's handles. Hot coals warmed his cheeks and singed his hair, but he persevered, lifting the bubbling pot of gruelled barley from the hot brass cylinder. One foot moved across, then the small stump went with it, each movement made in careful, slow steps.

"Breakfast," he grunted.

She turned her gaze from the window, brown hair sliding behind her back, her one good eye smiling at him as she stepped toward the makeshift table. "Smells delicious," she commented, clearly in jest, though her stomach did grumble impatiently as she sat down, brushing fingers through her hair.

"It's a far cry than what most others in The Hollow are waking up to this morning," he replied. "We should be thankful for some food, at least." With a final huff, he placed the pot onto the in the burned ring at the large barrel's centre. Steam rose, water absorbed from the humid night before. Haydon found some bowls, tattered, dirty and chipped, but neither of them complained as Haydon put dished up the steaming slop. "How was your night? Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"As well as any other night." She took her small bowl, blowing gently on the steam.

"Did you pechance take a moment to reflect upon our previous conversation?"

Ella frowned, her shoulders sagging. "Can't this wait until after we've eaten?"

He raised a hand apologetically. "It's just... Look, I just think that our home is simply far too small to accommodate all three of us."

She sighed, placing the bowl back onto the makeshift table. "Haydon..."

"Ella, please," he replied, voice gentle. "It's been over a month now. His wounds are healed, he seems to be quite aware of his faculties. Don't you think it's time he moved on?"

She glanced back toward him, folding her arms "He's been helping us."

He nodded. "Helping us, yes! Indeed, he has been most beneficial to our safety during our performances. Moreover, I am certainly most appreciative of his assistance, but..."

"It's what we agreed. We would give him shelter if he stood watch during our performances. He's been doing just that."

"Yes, that is correct, but I..."

"And if I remember right, you were the one who came up with this 'wonderful idea', Haydon." She smiled at him with her good eye, a coy, teasing smile.

"I did," he agreed. "I most certainly suggested the idea. It was an enterprise I thought best suited to him while he was recovering from his wounds. Now that he has recovered from these wounds, however..."

Her smiled faded. "So what? We just kick him out, then? Just like that? And who will watch over us when we perform next week?"

"We'll find someone," he suggested. "Or we shall simply be more careful."

"Really. More careful." She was frowning now. "And what of the coming festivals? Shall we just let brigands and thieves take hard-earned our shillings, then? Or perhaps you'd like to be kicked in the dirt and pissed on again by some upstart boys, just like they did last year?"

"Don't talk like that!" he snapped angrily. "You know I don't like it when you mock me so!"

She sighed again. "I'm not mocking you, Haydon. I don't think you're seeing the point. Wouldn't you agree that we've been much safer since he's been on watch while we've played?"

"Perhaps you didn't take note of our depreciating audience. We've been quite unpopular since the incident with the merchant last week."

"He thought the man was drawing a knife, " she explained.

"He was performing a parlour trick, Ella. Nothing more."

"And what if it had been a knife, hmm? What if some knave had slit out throats, or cut off your manhood? Would you be worried about your little audience then?"

He fell silent, a scowl featuring on his features, her words cutting deep. "I don't want him around anymore, Ella. He's better now, his wounds are healed, and we've each other to worry about." He took another spoonful, shrugging. "Besides, I very much doubt the work we've offered him caters to the man's... standards."

"How do you know?" she scoffed.

"Because he hasn't stopped complaining about being short of coin for the past week," he replied. "And since you're not the man of the household, you've been given the liberty of not hearing it, unlike myself."

She held her frown, glancing at him askance with her good eye. "Well then, since you feel yourself to be the man of the house, you can be the one who asks him to leave."

The halfling sat up straight, matching her tone. "I will."

"Good," she spat, arms still folded. "I just wish you'd be less of an arrogant snob and let the man stay a while longer."

He folded his arms, mirroring her. "Why? Fancy him, do you? Ah... ahh, but of course you do!"

Ella said nothing, her one eye glaring in his direction.

"How could I not see it?" Haydon exclaimed. "The Whore & The Sellsword! A Trae Kelsan romance to sweeten the soul -- no no, a tragedy! Why, I can see the words flowing across the pages of my mind like the waters of the Albourne! Though, I do wonder: Does the whore get to fuck him before or after the peripeteia --"

She leapt to her feet and slapped him, the force toppling the halfling over with a start. Bowls clattered to the floor, and Haydon fell to his chest with a painful groan... though he was more wounded of pride than body. Ella said nothing, turning to stalk her way back to the window, her hands balled into fists by her sides.

He found his feet slowly, rising to his chair with a grunt. Gruel lined him from head to foot, in his hair, all the way to his pants. He felt deserving of it, and immediately regretted his words. Blue eyes glanced to the woman, his voice soft.

"Ella. Ella, I'm sorry. That was truly abhorrent and uncalled for."

She said nothing, her good eye never meeting his as she gazed out the window toward the street below, the smith out by his anvil again, hammer beating in time to strike sparks up into the ether.

Seeing movement, the halfling glanced up. Standing in the doorway was Serrus Belcaw, wearing cotton shirt and undergarments, a glint of steel coming from the dirk held in his right hand. Black hair hung over his shoulders and back, and his narrowed eyes relaxed some after he'd surmised the room and surrounds.

"Everythin' all right, then?" he asked, voice sounding far more blasé than concerned.

Haydon nodded. "Oh... yes. Yes, we're quite alright, thank you. Would you.. care for some breakfast?"

Serrus scratched at the rough beard that was growing back about his chin, glancing the halfling up and down. "Think you're supposed t'put that stuff in the bowl, mate."

Haydon frowned. "Yes, I'm quite well aware. There was a little accident whilst I was trying to bring over the pot."

Serrus shrugged, sauntering over to plonk himself upon one of the smaller barrels with a sigh. "Well then, maybe leave it on t'brazier next time, eh? That way, we can all 'elp ourselves, mush stays nice an' hot, an' you don't go lookin' like y'brought up your breakfast instead of ate it." He picked up one of the bowls, scooping a large amount into the bowl to fill it to the brim. "Slept like a bloody baby, I did." He glanced over to Ella. "Mornin'."

She stood still, staring through the window, her gaze and stance unwavering. Serrus turned away, raised his eyebrows to Haydon in a facetious expression, before he tucked into his meal, making an art form out of talking while stuffing large amounts of food into his mouth.

"Rent for t'stable's due this week," he commented. "Gonna 'ave t'find new spot for me 'orse. Either that or we'll all have us some good eats for a while."

Haydon ignored the man's wry humour, fetching himself some more of the now cold slop. "You haven't found gainful employ as yet?"

"Been lookin' some," the sellsword answered. "Got a few options for work. There's that army they're roundin' up in town. Could always look into joinin' up. Or there's that army outside that wants t'kill this army, or who t'fuck knows. Heard t'Crown's offering good shillings for men wantin' t'work freelance in them ranks. 'Course, that could be jus' fishwife horse shite, for all I know." He slurped up another mouthful, leaning back against the wall, legs crossing over another barrel. "What I do know is, there's a number o'folks about who'd very much like t'see the end of that Governor Bambi, or whatever 'is bloody name is."

"Glenn Burnie," the halfling corrected. "Rumour has it The Crown seeks his arrest and trial."

"Pff, trials. Horse cock, that. Bunch of fancy men with gowns who already made up their bloody minds whether man's guilty or not t'very moment he walks in the room."

"Every man has a right to due process, don't you think?"

"Due process? Fuck off. By who's law d'we make due process? Same bastards who run them courts are t'same ones who bloody hang ya, anyways. An' why all t'ceremony? Folks want t'see the last of t'Governor? Easy. Gimme three good swordsmen, a longbowman, enough coin t'last me a lifetime, an' we can all say goodbye to Mister Guv Barney."

"Burnie."

"Who t'bloody hell cares," Serrus dismissed. "Don't do politics, anyway. Too much drama." He glanced over to Ella. "You not hungry, luv?"

The woman glanced his way momentarily, shaking her head before turning back to the window.

Serrus shrugged. "Suit yourself." He served up another helping into his bowl. "Waste not, want not."

Haydon cleared his throat, folding his hands upon the table. "Well... While we're on that subject, Ser Belcaw, I thought I might perhaps ask you of something. Rather, that is to say, both Ella and I have been discussing matters."

"Oh aye?" The sellsword glanced over his bowl, eyebrows raised.

"While we do think you are a man of reasonable character, a most skillful mercenary, a witty and humorous companion for the dinner table, and a most watchful and respectable sword-for-hire, there are several matters of discussion we thought it best to bring to your attention. While I don't mean to cause disarray to your daily errantry and requirements, being that you seem quite a busy man and all--"

Serrus sighed in frustration, dropping his bowl to the table. "Listen, Ser Short, if y'got summat t'say, then jus' bloody well say it."

Haydon nodded once, his overtones measured. "Very well then. We want you to leave."

There was a brief pause, before Serrus shrugged, nonplussed. "Right y'are, then. Got a few things t'get sorted first. Should be outta your hair by t'end of your week, as like."

Haydon frowned. "Today, if you please Ser."

A longer silence ensued this time. Serrus glanced toward Ella, but she did not look his way, still and sullen by the window. "Oh well." He turned to Haydon, jovial tone had all but vanished. "I'll need t'get me horse an' kit sorted first, if'n y'don't mind. Got things t'sort out downtown, too. I'll have it all done an' be gone aft t'noon. That suit ya?"

The halfling nodded. "Of couse, of course. Take all the time you need today, Ser Belcaw. You can stay until this eve, if you wish."

Serrus frowned. "If I fuckin' say I'll be gone by t'afternoon, then I'll be fuckin' gone by t'afternoon, all right?"

Haydon's frown deepened. "Yes. Very well, then, whatever you feel comfortable with."

The silence came again, and hung in the air for a time, little to be heard but noise of the morning humdrum outside. Serrus stood slowly, dusting himself off. "S'pose I best gather me things, then." He spared Ella a glance, but she did not look his way, and with a lazy shrug, he turned from the table. "Guess we had a good thing goin' while it lasted, or summat."

"Please. I... I hope you won't take this personally, Ser Belcaw," Haydon offered.

"Everythin's personal in this fuckstain of a town," the sellsword offered back, ducking into the outer room.

Haydon sat as he was, silent, before he glanced to Ella, eyes apologetic. "Ella, please. Please understand. I'm doing this for us. For us. It's for the best. For the both of us."

Ella said nothing, but Haydon didn't need words to see the discontent upon her face.
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