Flashback I can do this

[Mittle]

25 Winter 513

"Ok then kid you get shit duty until you can learn something. Or if you you piss me off. There's an execution slaughter clean up at town square in half a bell. And don't puke-it'll just give you twice as much to clean. GO!" Rat said, shoving Mittle out the door.

He set out in a jog, his boots sloshing through the dirty snow melt and skidding on the icy cobbles. He ran past the back of the Foundry, glancing through the alley way to make sure the Watcher was there to keep an eye out for his dad. Yep.

'It's worth it, I can do this.' he thought, rounding the corner and slowing his pace. He reduced his speed to a careful walk across the sheer ice and kept his eyes focused on where he was walking. Two other teens were only a few paces away and they also had on the same thick dark gloves he had on as well. That must be who he'd be working with today.

Mittle halted and just looked at the randomly thinning crowds in front of him. That was where people got hung, drawn, quartered and had their heads chopped right off. Or worse. The other two were making their way along the side and ran around through to the back alley. He picked up his pace to follow behind as fast as his long gawky legs would carry him, nearly stepping on their heels. The girl turned and looked at him then turned back to wait for their cue from the executioner.

The tall bearded man in the hood raised his hand and made a gesture to them to come forward. Apparently there were more people on the crew than the other two he'd seen. A small group of lean angry looking women in mob caps came forward, each of them putting masks over their noses and mouths.

"So glad I'm not a cooker!" the girl said fervently. "Gross!"
"What's a cooker?" Mittle asked as his grey eyes followed the women bringing forward the heavy cauldrons as well as bundles of salt and cumin.
"They have to cook the heads in cumin and salt so they last longer on the spikes!" she wrinkled her nose. "We have to clean the guts and blood. But we also end up smelling what they're 'cooking' while we do it. Didn't you know?" She looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Well kinda I guess. Rat told me not to puke."
"You work for HIM?!" she walked off swiftly, considering Mittle as she would the same Rat he'd mentioned.

Was he not supposed to say that? Was it a secret he was supposed to keep?

"Don't let her get to ya. It's her first day and she's not used to actually working. Look at the fancy pure black leather shoes she's wearing! I don't think she realizes she's gonna have ta kneel in that pretty dress on her knees. Betcha a silver, she pukes and leaves us to take on her share of work!"

"I'll take that bet. She looks stubborn enough." And he remembered Rat's words from not long ago. Women would kick your ass if given the chance to.

The boys walked over to just in front of the scaffold next to the girl and looked up at the executioner.
"Leave the heads for the cookers only. Just clean up the rest. And when you hurl, clean that up too. Squeaky clean cobbles kids. Don't leave no intestines or blood."

Mittle went to the front center, the other boy went to the left so the girl went to the right of the raised dais.

"Hey tall kid, get up here." He held out a huge gloved bloody hand to help him up on the raised platform and Mittle tried hard not to look at it too closely.

"You're what sixteen? Seventeen? You're tall enough to get the bodies off the nooses." He paused and stepped back, looking at Mittle carefully. "You one a Rat's guys right?"

The teen nodded and wondered why that mattered. The executioner handed him a heavy gore covered butcher knife. Oh damn. He looked at the blood soaked thing and his stomach squirmed. Good thing he hadn't eaten supper so he wouldn't sick up.

"Cut the heads off and then toss them to the cookers first and -then- you start cleaning, right?" The hooded man walked to the edge of the dais to call out to the other two.

"Ok time to get to work. Darkness is closing in and it's getting colder by the chime! Then you'll have to crack open the blood to clean it and guts stick like glue."



WC 787

[Mittle]

Mittle looked around the hanging block and noticed the post had a lever sticking out at just over five and a half feet. He grasped the handle and yanked it down hard. A loud clanging noise jerked it in place and five bodies dropped to simultaneously hit the wooden floor. The teen jumped back at the sight and sound, his blue eyes wide and backed into the post.

One of the cookers snickered at him and he refused to look at them. His right hand still rested on the lever and he looked at it more closely. Brushing away the blood and gore, he saw that the hinge mechanism was his father's work! He knew that style by heart.

Taking it as a sign, he stopped standing around and started on a project that would surely be the most gruesome thing he'd ever done in his thirteen years. He started by trying to remove the tight knot but a cooker scolded him immediately.

"Don't be removin' that unless ya want ta play ball ta catch the head when ya sever it! You'll get blood everywhere on everyone and everything you dumb oaf!"

"Be nice Yrna, he's one o' Rat's kids that will do anything for money. He's too big ta be a thief so he's just training ta be muscle like my boys. The kid don't need ta have a big brain, just grow some height and muscles to follow orders like an ox."

"Ya only say that fer yer sons Grom and Basher. They sold their brains and souls ta that scum sucker Rat!" She spat a wad of phlegm angrily toward Mitt, making her scorn as blatant as she could. But give credit where credit was due. If nothing else, she got some impressive distance!

Mittle knelt down and turned his back on the cookers, holding the gory knife in his shaky right hand. If he readjusted his position to put the top of the head between his knees, then it wouldn't go anywhere and the cold was too much for anything to spray anywhere. He aimed the butcher's knife at the neck and bowed his head down, closing his eyes. It sounded wet and felt sticky but he sawed away, his mouth corners firmly clamped down. Metal squeaked across bone and he was startled enough to open his light blue eyes.

"We don't wanna be here all night! It's like a pig's head, let's go!"

Yes! He'd helped his mother in the kitchens enough to know that! He tried not to think too much about the slick squish. The teen shoved in the butcher knife point to drive through until it hit the space between the skull and the vertebrate. The neck snapped loudly and the head smacked him wetly in the face with a loud slap, scaring the shyke out of him. The head bounced off of him and rolled slowly to turn with its eyes staring directly at him.

Mittle dry heaved hard, his stomach clenching and his limbs trembled, threatening to buckle.

"First one's always the hardest, just toss the head to me boy." One of the women said, trying to snap him out of it.

Now all the cookers were jostling to catch the head so they could hurry up and get through with it already. Those angry women were waiting for -him- to hurry up. Sitting back on his knees and arching his toes in his boots while using both hands, Mittle raised the head to chest level and threw the head like a basketball into the crowd.

He heard the boy on the left begin retching which really didn't help the situation. Just four more heads to go.



WC 617 Total WC 1404

[Mittle]

Mittle noticed the girl on the right had taken off the double head wraps to put on each knee, her dress was rolled up to the waist, showing sturdy brown pants beneath. And yet the boy on the left was now trying to sneak off. And welch on their bet! Leaving them to clean up after him! Another memory cementing into place that you don't mess women.

With determination, he wiped down the knife with the brush to remove the bone chips and made it through, finishing each one faster than the last.

"Heads up!" he called, tossing the last one to the woman who had defended him earlier.

Just at that moment, the executioner came out to check on everyone's progress and he nodded to the teen.

"You bring the bodies in here. Kneel, sling it over your shoulder face down and ya can carry it easier. Move it, it's cold out here and you're gonna have ta peel the bodies outta the frost as it is!" He said gruffly.

He knelt by the first body to tug it to the edge of the wooden scaffolding, then jumped to the ground. When the boy slung it over his shoulder, the heavy, revolting sucking sound as it peeled from the frosty coagulated blood, was a sound he'd never forget. The teen swallowed hard, twice and grunted as he hefted the literal deadweight. His breath frosted white as he panted toward the cellar door with shuffling steps. At the end of a long hallway there was an empty grimy room waiting for his deposit. Mittle dropped the heavy body with a back breaking thrust to hit the ground with a solid THWACK!

The young man trudged back to the other bodies, each one harder than the last to pry off the raised wooden dais. The blood had turned to ice that was brittle in some places and rock hard in others. With both hands, he grabbed at an arm, dug in his heels and pulled back as hard as he could. He landed flat on his back on the bloody cobbles and the headless body landed half on top of him!

Mittle twisted and squirmed like mad, slipping on the ice and trying to stand up again. A strong hot waft of boiled heads swarmed his nose and mouth and he reeled away from the cookers only to walk into the stiff. His face was green and he started feeling dizzy.

A gloved hand put out a small vial under his nose and the nausea immediately rescinded in the wake of salt and ammonia. He turned to look down at the nice woman and smiled at her.

"Good boy, get back to work now." she said, returning to her boiling cauldron.

Hm. Maybe the girl had it wrong. The cookers might have to put up with more smell but at least they kept hot enough to visibly sweat while they stirred their macabre soup!

Mittle turned back to the body, again hearing that sucking wet sound as he peeled it from the frozen cobbles and felt the cold deadweight against his back. He shuffled his feet under the heaviness and heard something around the corner.

"Nah the smallest boy left with no work. The girl and your boy are still here. He's stupid but he's a good work horse."
"Ok then have him take over the other boy's work then."
"Why isn't he doing actual work? He's big enough."
"He's only thirteen so he's got more growing ta do-probably gonna turn out bigger than even Basher. When he hits his first growth spurt he'll be put ta good use though." Answered Rat.
The sound of metal coins changed hands and the voices receded.

'Stupid? Work horse? Who's Basher? But I got good school grades! Doesn't that mean something?' Mittle asked himself, "I guess it doesn't actually matter if I'm only doin' stuff like this." he murmured with shame and turned to head back outside. Had he made a mistake? If he had, it was too late now. Rat had kept his word and Mittle had seen the Watcher tailing his dad all day, all night. He had to keep his word to Rat. He sighed and walked back outside with determination. 'If that's what I gotta do, then it's what I gotta do.' Mittle thought with resignation. His immediate future was set in stone and the most he could do about it now, was to endure it and not give up.

The teen was sweating hard at the exertion and he really needed to drop the body before his legs gave out. Now. As soon as he got within a pace of the door, he heaved the body with a massive shove, slamming it down with an air of finality. His frustration and anger at the situation gave him the resolve and strength for him to turn and walk back outside to finish another two bells of cleaning.

Rat watched from around the corner with beady eyes. 'If he's this strong at thirteen, how much more will he be at just sixteen?' He wondered and gave a greasy pleased smile as he left.


WC 862 Total WC 2,266

[Mittle]

Mittle climbed back up on top of the raised platform and stood there for a chime to scrutinize the mess around him with a critical eye. There had to be a more efficient way to clean this up other than just a couple small wire brushes. His grey eyes roamed to the girl as she tapped the hard wooden back of the brush into the ice before turning it to scrub a small area. Shouldn't she clear away the hard stuck on stuff first before wasting energy endlessly scrubbing at ice in this cold?!

The tall bearded executioner came out and began collecting the heads in a rough burlap sack cloth. The thirteen year old hopped off the platform and his large feet hit the ground hard enough to jar his heels.

"Hey can I use the full cauldrons?"

"What the?
"Are you touched in the head boy?"
The cookers looked at him in horror and turned to the man watching them.

"Sure just make sure they're stacked empty by the door. And the paddles too! If he's dumb enough ta do the last half o' your work, then let 'im! Here's your pay ladies."

The cookers didn't give him a second look as they lined up to be paid for their three bells worth of work in the frigid cold.

Mittle walked to the scrubbing girl with long strides and tapped her shoulder.
"Hey, if ya stand aside, I can dump out the hot water in portions over the cobbles ta rinse off the frost before we scrub each section. Whadda ya say?"

"Good idea meat head." She smirked. Standing up stiffly, she walked to stand by the door and stamped to try and get some feeling back in her toes.

Once the cookers left, Mittle dragged the heavy cauldron over to the girl's section first and dumped a quarter of the hot boiling water out onto the cobbles. Clumps of offal washed off, running down the slope and cleaning half the walkway. He grabbed one of the long wooden paddles to shove the debris forward and loosened the mess considerably.

"Be quick before it freezes!" Mittle urged her to haste.

Immediately the girl jumped in to scrub twice as hard as she did before, now that she was able to cover a wider area in half the time.

Mittle dragged the heavy hot three quarter filled cauldron to the raised dais and sloshed it over the wood, watching it run downhill. Swiftly he lowered the empty cauldron and grabbed the paddle to shove off the gore in large swipes. Once that was accomplished he rapidly dropped to his knees and began scrubbing away at the mess in large arcs with the wire brush.

Tirlmon walked home from the Foundry after a ten bell shift of yet another nail drive. A dark cloaked figure followed stealthily behind the smith, from half a block away and blending into the shadows. His tired eyes noticed a little boy on the executioner's block, cleaning away industriously. Both eyebrows shot up in surprise at seeing what had to be his son up there. The blacksmith had worried that leaving his son alone so much would have him running around with gangs or getting into trouble. But he was working! Working damn hard. His chest swelled with pride at seeing his boy using his empty time well. Izurdin knew, he'd done his share of heavy work at Mittle's age and it was good for him. And Reineli thought he was just running with thugs or something stupid like that. Just wait until he told her what he'd been up to. Whistling, he carried on his way home, swinging his heavy work gloves as he walked.

A whistle rang softly across the frigid winter night and Mittle looked up to see Hunter following behind his father! His eyes widened and his mouth formed an O of surprise.

"Right." The teen reassured himself. "Dad's safe so I just need to keep on working." Now he just needed to take care of the center and left of the raised wooden dais. That and the vomit the smaller teen had left behind. Great. He tugged the empty cauldron to clang across the cobbles and grab another full hot one to lug it over to the girl.

"Stand back and we'll get some more hot water on it."

Hunter cast a quick glance at the boy and frowned. He probably thinks everything's gonna be roses just for his dad to be babysat. That poor dumb kid's guaranteed to have a life of being nothing more than a muscle head with work like that. Didn't he see it was all heavy labor to build him up while he grows? Well if he doesn't figure it out on in his own, then that's the life he deserves.


WC 806 Total WC 3072