The squire's head sprung up almost immediately after Rhys had answered the inquiry. The look upon his face suggested confusion, even suspicion. Both, however, were illogical reactions to Rhys. He had told the truth! What was there to be suspicious of?
"Decided so quickly?" He asked, looking back at Rhys. "Is there any special reason Syliras in particular?"
He seemed to be questioning Rhys. And, to be honest, Rhys didn't mind. Despite himself, it was good to speak to someone after so long.
After a moment of thinking, Rhys had decided what to say. Although he was hesitant, for he had not spoken about the subject to anyone. At that, Rhys pondered if Bolivar of Patron Knight Ser Theron would be an appropriate place to start? The squire WAS interrogating him, however, and an accurate answer may be appreciated by the testy squire.
"Yes..." He began slowly, obviously hesitant about sharing with the squire. "I was already heading here." He slowed again, clearing his throat. He had prepared for the emotional pain that would come with speaking of the incident, but had found that beginning wasn’t as harrowing as he guessed. Would it hurt as much as finishing? Or… Would it hurt at all?
“I was traveling with my mother. She didn’t arrive, though…” No. It didn’t hurt. Peculiar. Maybe he should go a bit further?
“That means that she’s dead.” No, still nothing…
A quick mental note was made: Emotional pains, despite hype, were insignificant and easily ignored or avoided.
After a small silence, the squire spoke again.
“Not to my knowledge, no.”
Rhys had to assume that Bolivar was responding to his previous ‘did I do anything wrong?’ inquiry, seeing as there wasn’t anything else to respond to. Lest he was responding to Rhys’ statement about his dead mother, and Rhys doubted that he could oppose that statement.
That aside, the answer relieved Rhys exponentially. The last of his worries was that of hidden felony: he feared prosecution for whatever crime he unknowingly committed, for he was almost certain he had done SOMETHING illegal. With the answer came reassurance. The last of his worries had vanished, as did his tight facial expression and his closed disposition. He was now perfectly comfortable in the presence of the squire.
“Though I feel compelled to warn you,”
Oh, c’mon!
“Syliras is not for those who do not commit,” He began. From experience, Rhys guessed that Bolivar was about to engage in a speech about who knows what. Rhys embraced the attention, however. As of late, he was another face in another crowd. He paid attention to the speech, eager and willing to comply to anything the squire wished of him.
Yes, he was that desperate.
“All that we do. All that we are. It is for the betterment of Syliras.”
Midspeech, Bolivar began to walk down the stairs they stood on. Not eager to be left alone, Rhys followed.
“See, each man and woman on the street and know their resolve. There is no such thing as half-arsing in these walls. Either make yourself useful or get out.”
Rhys nodded as if he understood, but almost none of the small speech made sense to him. From the last statement, he assumed that Bolivar meant that Rhys had to get a job.
As he spoke, the two had descended into the crowds, which may prove a small problem for the squire. Due to the decades spent with his mother, Rhys had taught himself to disappear, especially in crowds. His mother hadn’t exactly taken a liking to being seen with her son, much to Rhys’ disappointment. In an effort to please his mother, Rhys had developed an inexplicable talent to disappear I crowds with almost no effort.
“Then what do you suggest I do?” He asked, completely serious. He wanted a job, now. If it was as important as it was brought up to be, that is.
The duo didn’t seem to stop. Rhys wasn’t paying much attention to destination, rather the squire. Bolivar had begun to intrigue Rhys in the sense that he was powerful, yet responsible. He seemed like the kind of man a father would tell his children about. Rhys wanted to be that kind of man.
The duo had begun walking in silence once more, which seemed to be becoming frequent.
In the silence, the scenery had changed from a performer’s area with scattered concessions to a full-out marketplace. Why they were had arrived here, Rhys didn’t care to question. He didn’t wish to interfere with what could potentially be work for the squire.
“Though I have to say… The best part of Syliras is the people. Know what the worst part of being in a big city like Syliras? The people. Let’s go meet some.”
Once again, Rhys didn’t much understand the majority of what Bolivar said. Exercising the same trick that saved him previously, Rhys deduced that Bolivar was going to meet people.
The more, the merrier, I suppose…
As they strode through the marketplace, destination still unclear to Rhys, he observed that the marketplace was no less crowded than the structure. Upon realizing this, Rhys now made an effort to stay close to Bolivar, whereas previous his location fluxuated. He may have been behind Bolivar by a meter or two, maybe to his left or his right. But now, his focus was on staying with him.
Unexpectedly, the squire turned to Rhys and began studying him, as he had done earlier. What he could possibly be studying, Rhys didn’t know. This resulted in a few awkward seconds of staring at each other, before Bolivar eased his stance and spoke.
“Well? Is this fine?”
The question raised confusion. Fine with what?
“I am led to believe you threw up at the open theatre because it was too much to take in. What are your first impressions?”
Three things came to mind after the squire had finished.
I threw up? Oh. Yeah. The Something.
The structure was a theetarr? What’s that?
I don’t think I have any.
The thoughts collided and whirred inside his head, preventing him from creating anything close to an intelligent response. Instead, he paused for a moment before choking up an “I didn’t notice” excuse, and waiting for a response.
Before one came, however, both Bolivar’s and Rhys’ attention was directed towards a group of men with silver sticks on their belts.
Odd, Rhys thought What would such accessories be used for?
They surrounded a poor peddler and began misusing the merchandise that the man had to offer. Now, Rhys wasn’t sure about the social convention, but he was pretty certain that you had to pay for merchandise before using it. Wouldn’t it be illegal otherwise?
“Something… Amiss?” The squire said, addressing the group, confirming Rhys’ suspicions.
Instead of a response, the thugs turned to the duo, staring them down. One by one, each of their eyes was laid on Rhys specifically. The silver sticks seemed less of a fashion statement, now, than a menacing tool, much like the ax on Bolivar’s back.
The one to the far right lifted his hand, curled in all fingers but his thumb, and dragged the remaining finger across his neck.
This was twice as menacing as the silver sticks.
Rhys flung open his satchel and begun digging for the razor that he knew he had in there, somewhere. Precious time could not be spent digging for the tool!
It happened quickly. The blade was in his hands, the thugs were closer, and the determined expression that Rhys knew all-too well had been plastered on his face. It all happened in a heartbeat.
Don’t falter.
Don’t collapse.
Don’t stop.
The thugs were moving closer, now. He was ready. With the squire behind him and his blade in his palm, he was ready. He awaited the appropriate time to defend.
Don’t falter.
Don’t collapse.
Don’t stop.
This was it.
He drowned out every sound except the squire at his side, his own thoughts, and the thugs’ snickers.
This.
Was.
It. |
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by Bolivar on October 21st, 2013, 3:06 pm 
