IABD 44: A Situation

Matthias whirled to see a man trying to rob his sister.

Dressed in plain clothing, the stranger was unremarkable except for the pair of daggers at his hip; his stubbled face scowled as he tried pulling the young girl’s coin purse from her hands, grunting in surprise at the ten-year-old’s strength. “Let go, you wretched little devil; it ain’t worth it!”

“No!” Dagma snarled. “Get away, you dirty crook!”

Matthias’s world turned red.

His older brother snarled like a chained dog.

Both brothers were in motion in an instant.

The thief cursed as they closed on him, giving the purse one more tug before fleeing. He raised his other hand to strike the defiant girl.

Dagma planted her feet, cocked her fist back…

…and drove it into the man’s privates.

His howl soared like a kettle whistling over a fire. He then doubled over—eyes crossing, coughing vomit from his mouth and nose—and collapsing on the cobblestones, twitching.

Matthias and Bregindoure were beside Dagma as she glared down at the heaving robber and spat.

Shock, then laughter spread through the street.

“That’s the way, little girl!” a young man standing in front of the lantern goddess’ shrine called.

“Well done!” cried a merchant.

“Serves the bastard right!” said another.

Another man might have let things end there and then—the thief had been dealt with, after all—but the would-be-thief had raised his hand at Matthias’s sister.

That could not stand.

His tendril slipped from his shadow—hidden in the mist—and wrapped around one of the thief’s ankles. The man grunted in surprise, but before he could examine his foot Matthias focused his intent on injuring the thief in a way he’d never forget.

The tentacle squeezed then twisted.

There came a sharp snap. Matthias slid the tendril back into his shadow.

The thief’s rising screams echoed through the air, soon cut off by Bregindoure’s boot striking his face hard enough to spin his body around. He slumped in a nerveless heap on the ground.

Onlookers cheered louder, though a single protesting voice cut through the din.

“Hey! Stop! What’re you doing to him?” the voice shouted.

Five men were rushing down the street, watching the fallen thief in horror, then focusing their attention on the Stonebreakers in rage. One of the five was clearly greatfolk, judging by his towering height and thick bone structure; he was nearly as big as Bregindoure.

In the middle of the group was a well-dressed man, dark hair styled into spikes with some sort of foul-looking grease clinging to it. His skin was bronzed by the sun, and his lip was pulled back in a sneer.

“Oleg, you hot-headed idiot. You shoulda let go of the purse the second she started shouting; now look at the mess you’re in, head kicked in, lying there on the ground. Stupid bastard.” Spiky-hair turned his glare on the siblings. “But you three are even stupider bastards if you think you’re getting away with this. Now we have ourselves a situation.”

“He tried to rob my sister.” Matthias stepped between Dagma and the men.

“And because of that, he’s got bruised balls and probably some broken bones. He’ll heal; but if he’d hit her, I would have made sure he didn’t walk again.”

Bregindoure stepped up beside him. “Forget walking; you would have needed to carry him around in a bucket when I was done.” His face showed a hint of berserker rage, perfectly controlled.

“And even if my brothers didn’t help, I could have broken him in two.” Dagma clenched her fists again. “I do Life Enforcement.”

“Life Enforcement? Think that’s scary? What a coincidence!” He pointed to one of the broad-shouldered men at his side. Though not quite as huge as the greatfolk, his body was corded in bulging muscle. “Well, so does my friend here, and I bet he’s been practising a lot longer than you, little girl.”

“How long?” Bregindoure asked, his arms down by his sides. His voice was eerily calm. His hands mostly shrouded in the mist.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The man’s sneer deepened. “Look, you three tried to embarrass me, and there’s a price for that: cough up everything you’ve got if you know what’s good for you and then grit those teeth. We get a punch on each of you, and we’ll call it even. Sound fair?”

The merchants had quieted. No one was calling for help.

“You aren’t worried about the guards?” Matthias asked.

Spiky-hair laughed. A heartbeat later, his men joined in.

The leader smirked. “You got any idea where you are? This is Dagger Rock. Little lesson for you, boy: unless you live up there?” He pointed up the mountain to the terraces below The Blade. The buildings there were larger and were built with soaring towers and tall walls. “You ain’t getting no guards running down here to stop anything, unless somebody’s dead, that is. But don’t worry, we won’t kill you. But you might wish we did! Now, are you taking my offer, or what?”

Matthias's tendril slid from his shadow, obscured in the mist. His knuckles popped as his hands clenched into fists, gauntlets swelling into their obsidian form.

“Go and drown yourselves, you filthy swamp rats.” He spat at their feet.

Bregindoure tensed beside him. Dagma raised her fists.

Spiky-hair snarled. “Fine, guess the guards will be coming down here...to collect your corpses. Get ‘em!”

His four henchmen—including the greatfolk—grinned, anticipating violence, eagerly rushing forward.

A bald thug snarled at Matthias, leaping for him while drawing a dagger.

Matthias’s tendril tripped him like he was on uneven stones.

The man stumbled with a grunt of surprise…and caught the young greatfolk’s stone fist in the face. Obsidian spikes shredded the thug’s skin, the wet sound of the impact making onlookers grimace as the man began collapsing like a slaughtered ox.

Cursing, the Life Enforcement practitioner—who’d been moving toward Bregindoure—swore and changed targets, charging at Matthias instead.

“You’re dead!” he shouted, gripping a handaxe.

Matthias caught the collapsing man’s arm and swung the entire thug like a club.

“Wha—” the axe man cried as his unconscious companion slammed into him.

Both went down in a tangle of limbs.

A quick stomp to axe-wielder's head—slamming his skull onto the stones—ended his protests.

The last of the human henchmen barely had time to register what had happened before Matthias caught his scowling face with a backhand, sending him spinning to the stones.

Only the attacking greatfolk remained standing, a club raised above his head, he cautiously advanced on Bregindoure. Matthias was poised to step in as his older brother raised both fists.

The enemy giant froze.

Colour drained from his face.

The Rune of the Berserker burning on Bregindoure’s right hand was reflected in his eyes.

“N-no! Monster!” He dropped his club, sprinting away.

“Here! You left this behind!” Bregindoure picked up the cudgel, turned his body, and heaved it at the fleeing giant.

It wasn’t the best throw; some of its force was lost, and while Bregindoure had been aiming directly for the head, the cudgel struck the fleeing greatfolk’s shoulder and back instead...

…while still delivering enough of his tremendous strength behind the blow.

The spinning cudgel cracked across the giant’s back, dislocating his shoulder, sending him flying. He hit the cobblestones; wind knocked from him as he skidded along the stones, chin-first.

Spiky-hair gaped.

He raised his foot and took a step…

…backward.

Then another.

And another.

“I-I’m going to remember this!” he shrieked, turning to run for his life.

“No, you won’t!” Dagma sprinted after him, leaping on his back and knocking him to the ground. She slammed his face into the stones again and again, only stopping when he stopped moving.

When all was said and done, the thugs were left mewling, or in unconscious heaps. Dagma got up, rejoining her brothers.

She met their gazes. “Greater cruelty,” she said proudly.

They patted their sister on her shoulders.

“Greater cruelty,” Bregindoure echoed.

“Greater cruelty,” Matthias finished.

Around them, hard-eyed rogues emerged from alleyways and alcoves—some were grown, some were young—but all wore a hungry look as they eyed the fallen thugs. They flocked to the would-be robbers like frenzied crows, stripping them of everything on their bodies. Rings were ripped from fingers, earrings dragged from earlobes, coin purses cut from belts, belts themselves taken, pants, shirts, and boots were all stolen.

Once there was nothing of value left, several men grabbed the unconscious bodies and dragged them into alleyways.

“Why are they taking them?” Dagma asked.

A merchant gave her a look. “Best not to ask. You piss off enough people around here, and they’ll just wait for you to trip up. After that? You'll be lucky if you wind up in a ship’s hold.”

“Oh…what does that mean?” Dagma asked her brothers.

“I don’t know,” Matthias admitted.

“I do not think I want to know,” Bregindoure added.

“Aye, things’ll be grisly for them,” called the man from the ramshackle stall. “But those raggedy bastards have been making trouble around here for weeks: this was going to happen. Glad you three gave them a good thumping.”

“And what a thumping it was!” laughed the young man who’d been praying at the lantern-goddess’ shrine. “Some might think kicking them while they were down was too much, but eh, I get being enthusiastic about revenge.”

“They’re lucky they got the privilege to keep breathing,” Matthias’ tone turned dark. “Besides, I don’t like bullies, even when they’re not going after my sister.”

“Right?” the young man said, his green eyes twinkling. “Though your sister seems a little bit, er, scrappier than mine. Mine’s a bit more fiery, though.”

He chuckled as though he was enjoying some private joke.

The woman beside him groaned, her black ponytail swinging as she shook her head. Beautiful twin, swords were sheathed at her waist, and she gripped a strange pendant as she spoke. “Good job dealing with those bastards. You all should be proud.”

“And you gave us a perfect little bit of entertainment. This is the best honeymoon.” 

“How many have you had?” Bregindoure asked.

“Just the one.”

“Then how do you know it’s the best?”

“Well, I’ve got eyes, right? I can see other honeymoons. I mean, I see other couples on honeymoo—Oh, never mind.” The young man waved a hand. “You just enjoy this beauti—” He looked around. “Er, misty and violent day.”

“You too,” Matthias said.

As the couple walked away, he heard another voice trying to get his attention.

“Hey! Hey!” the old man called from his stall. “Now that you’re done heroically beating those criminals, where’d you get that cloak?” He nodded toward Matthias’ tiger pelt. “Demonic beast, right?”

“Yeah—Wait,” the young greatfolk paused. “What do you know about demonic beasts?”

“Buy a few charms and you might find out.” The old man grinned slyly.

“Ugh, well played,” Matthias said, wandering over to the ramshackle stall with his siblings. He wrinkled his nose; the wood smelled like it had been out in the rain for way too many nights.

“I know a lot about demonic beasts. Seen all sorts of things in my business.” The man licked his lips.

“And do you know a lot about deities?” Matthias asked.

“I know many by name and some by symbol. And—hey, would you be interested in that?”

Dagma was examining a wooden charm etched with Enheduanna’s symbol. “Yes,” she said. “How much?”

“Two coppers.” The old man winked. “Since you bashed that thug up. Very brave thing you did.”

She grinned at that. “I’m training to be a knight.”

“Then maybe an offering to the goddess of victory would help you on your journey.” The old man grinned.

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Dagma was already digging through her coin purse.

“Now hold on, you don’t want that one.” The old merchant warned. “It’s been on display for a week, and the elements have taken their toll.”

Matthias resisted the urge to tell him that his entire stall stank like it’d been out in the elements for a week. Or ten.

“I can fetch you one in better condition,” the merchant continued. “Let me just—Oops!” 

As he bent to dig behind his stall, he bumped into the rickety structure, it swayed as though it would come apart at any moment. “Watch out!” he cried.

Matthias and Bregindoure quickly grabbed the frame to steady it. 

Talismans were swaying violently, making a terrible racket, when something tumbled from behind where the man had been sitting.

“Thanks,” the old man gave the brothers his gratitude. “Now where’s that talisman?”

He bent again, disappearing behind the stall, seeming not to have noticed the shining object that had fallen. Matthias bent down, picking it up from where it lay in the mist.

It was a pendant, forged of gold and silver with gems embedded in its centre, likely to be worth a hefty sum.

Matthias did not hesitate in doing what he did next.

“Excuse me,” he called to the merchant.

“Yes?” The old man poked his head from behind the stall.

“You dropped this,” Matthias handed him the pendant.

The man’s eyes lit up.

As he took it, a pensive expression crossed his face. “Awfully honest of you to return it. You probably could have kept it, and I wouldn’t have noticed it was missing for some time. It was very kind of you, young man.”

“It’s yours, I would have no right to keep it,” Matthias said. “Now about what you mentioned about demonic beasts…”

The man gave him a bright smile. “Ah, yes. The demonic beasts. Well, I know a lot about them. Matter of fact,” his voice dropped low. “I bet I know more than most. Tell me, do you have any more parts from that tiger? I might be in the market.”

Matthias frowned. “I thought you sold talismans?”

The old man gave a knowing look to the merchant in the next stall. “I do, but that’s not my only business, friend. It’s not even my main business, for those who know me well. Now—that pelt looks fresh—did you fell the creature yourself?”

Matthias’ chest swelled. “I did.”

“I helped him build the trap that caught it,” Dagma added.

“And I was in prison!” Bregindoure gave two thumbs up.

The old man gave the eldest Stonebreaker an odd look, eyes lingering on the Rune of the Berserker burning on his hand. His eyes flicked to the Rune of Clarity. “I might have a guess as to what happened.”

‘I doubt it,’ Matthias thought, remembering the events in the dream realm.

The merchant turned back to Matthias. “If you struck the creature down, tell me you didn’t only take the pelt from its body? There are a lot of valuable parts that can come from a demonic-beast tiger. I’d be interested in them, if you have any.”

His eyes gleamed.

“Very interested, since I know how to make proper use of them.”

###

Author's Note

Hellooooo, so that was a fun fight to write and there are a couple of references in this chapter that some readers might get. One is more obvious, if you've read certain stories and the other is a bit more subtle and might only be gotten if you remember garbage reality television from the 2000s.

Alrighty, I'll cya tomorrow! I don't think I have bonus chapters in me so expect just the 5 for the week as we continue our 5xweek marathon until we get to like chapter 55 or 56.

Also I have Fool announcement, so expect a couple of emails today from patreon, including this.