Snippet #1989264

Anthiro's Children

Centuries come and go. Cultures rise and fall. Events, forgotten and lost. Everything begins where others things end. It is the unending line of fate that tumbles and falls, to rise and cheer again. Our story began where those of others have ended, bringing a new change upon us. The tale began in a village with an insidious incident; one that will reveal the fate of a mischievous village boy and those close to him.
A roar echoed in The Dirty Fox, a small inn in a small village named Anthiro. It was immediately followed by the roaring sound of protest. "Ya little rascal, I’ll teach ya!" shouted the mighty giant of a man at the pernicious brat that dangled in his grip.
"What did I do wrong, sir?" said the rascal with a sly grin, which did not really endorse his words of innocence. "I've been sitting here the whole time." he added in another feeble attempt to sound virtuous.
"I know it be you. You peppered me clothes! Ya bloody Imp!" bellowed the giant.
"Mr Veron, I would never insult such an upstanding gentleman as you.” the boy said with a grin that spoke volumes. “It surely isn’t my fault when you threw your own merchandise among your clothes."
Veron’s face turned a hard shade of red. "Ya little rat! Me own pepper, I’ll show ya a good lesson. Time to color those stones with some of ya Shar's blood."
The mischievous boy realized he might have gotten himself in a real danger now and stuttered apologies while attempting to struggle out of Veron’s iron grip. The owner of the inn tried to stop Veron, but she could not do much to halt the bull of a man. Helpless, she prayed a short prayer for her poor Dion. Veron burst out the inn with a yelling Dion in his hands and just moments before smashing the poor boy headfirst into the cold tiles of the street, a strong hand stayed Veron’s arm.
"I’d let him go." spoke a deep voice. Veron looked down upon a middle aged man with silver white hair and defined muscles which showed through finely made clothes.
"Why would I? What do ya care about this small devilchild?" Veron replied contemptuously. Dion stared puzzled at the stranger who dared to argue the giant of a man. Much better.
"Because I’ll cover the expenses for any inconvenience that this boy has created. The why is my own concern. His blood on the tiles will not return you your pepper."
Veron seemed stunned, but his eyes immediately had that greedy inquisitive twinkle, one that had brought many men to poverty. "Had these special peppers imported from the Malania Isles. The boy’s mischief cost me easily ten gold crowns, which me thinks ya couldn’t afford, stranger."
As an answer the stranger placed ten gold crowns in the free hand of Veron, who stared bewildered at the money, after which the stranger placed another gold coin on top of the rest. "For washing the clothes."
Veron let Dion fall carelessly, his eyes focused only on the gold. "Thank ya kind sir, the boy is yours." With one last glare at Dion he stepped back into the inn. The boy stood on the cold stones and rubbed his bruised rear, pleased he escaped the bulky man with just slight inconvenience instead of paying a higher price. He looked up at the stranger who was much bigger than him, at least a head or more, and realised that despite the silver hair his face had was not that old. He actually looked quite handsome, Dion estimating him around fifty-five years old.
"Veron ripped you off. That pepper was hardly a crown’s worth." Dion said to the man and continued with a lopsided grin when he recalled the moment when Veron had discovered the pepper. "Though that ogre’s expression was worth the eleven crowns."
The stranger stared with his pale blue eyes into Dion wearily. "But it almost got you killed."
Dion's grin distorted into a pained expression. "And I thank you wholeheartedly for your saving me, though I don’t understand why’d you spend so much gold on a stranger. That money could have bought you most of this village."
The stranger smiled. "Better a life than wealth. I can spare the coins."
Dion thought that would be doubtful, considering the clothes the man wore. Then his eyes fell on the man’s sword. The handle had no impractical inscriptions but it did have decorations of rings in gold and silver, whereas the sheath was fully adorned with oak leaves made of gold on silver. Dion reached out his hand. "I'm Dion."
The man answered the greeting by shaking hands and spoke in a deep voice. "And I'm Eothin, nice to meet you." Dion nodded kindly. "Shouldn’t you go home? Your parents will be worried if you’re out at this late hour." said Eothin with a friendly smile.
It faded quickly due to Dion's pained expression and his words."I have no parents, nor a real home to go back to. I sleep in the stables of The Dirty Fox and it is the innkeeper's wife Cera who has been such a sweet person to me, giving me food and a bed for the little work I do. Even though I always pull these pranks she never gets mad. Wouldn’t know where I would be without her. " Dion's thoughts lingered on where fate had brought him. He quickly recovered and his eyes regained a curious twinkle as he asked what Eothin was visiting Anthiro for.
"On passage to Deria." The stranger was clearly amused by the boy’s interest. "I'm by foot and this sleepy village seemed to offer a nice place to stay and a warm meal." As if responding to Eothin’s words Dion’s stomach rumbled. the stranger laughed loudly. "Come on little buddy I’ll buy you a meal. I’m hungry as well, but promise me that you will leave the big guy alone or I will kick your ass myself."
Dion grimaced when he thought of the pain his bruised back had endured. "That I'd rather spare myself from. My butt has had enough to endure."
Eothin burst out in loud laughter. "Come let's go in.” And pushed the door open to the inn. The Dirty Fox was a pleasant inn, not overly decorated but had a noticeable feminine touch. A large fireplace kept the room warm and the smell of good food floated from the kitchen, prevailing over the smell of beer. Several tables were occupied by rising merchants and locals who liked chit chatting with strangers. Of course there were tables used for playing dice, one of Dion's favorite pastimes when he had some money left. Gambling was something he was miraculously good at at times, but he lost often enough to avoid suspicion. Dion did not really care for wins or losses; he just enjoyed the thrill of luck which was always worth a coin. Tonight he would not play because Veron sat at the table. Instead Eothin chose the table furthest away from Veron and called a maid to order. When she arrived Dion had his mischievous grin on his face.
"Hi Jenny, you are such a sunshine every time I see you. Are you sure you're not going to go with me at the old oak tree for the midsummer dance?" The old oak tree was famous for young couples hooking up during the midsummer festivals.
The maid blushed, focusing on Eothin rather than responding. "What would you like?"
Dion grinned triumphantly, knowing that his question had achieved his goal.
The stranger smiled as he replied friendly. "A good meal with meat for both me and this little lad here. Some beer as well." The maid took off to the kitchen after a brief glance over her shoulder to Dion, and returned a bit later with a fragrant meal with a good piece of pork. the boy was not one to wait and attacked the meal.
Satisfied, they both leant back in their seats enjoying their beer. Dion sat engrossed by Eothin’s company, who had started telling stories of distant places, like the Tulbanians and the Malania islands and their strange cultures. He was not sure he really should believe that there were birds and lizards big enough to carry people on their backs and that Tulbanian women were also warriors, but he was charmed by the stories either way. Eothin’s stories were interrupted just like all other conversations when a girl’s crystal clear voice filled the room. A elegant slightly noble looking girl named Philomela sat on the stool on stage. Soon everyone clapped and sang along, for Ciryll’s Virtue was a well-known tune in the kingdom. It was about the first king of the empire and his cordial good earnings. After they had finished singing along, she received cheers and kind words of the guests, then proceeded with an equally well-known song. This one was much more raunchy, and about the wife of a farmer who complained about how he could not be like her lovers by emphasizing on her husband’s shortcomings, which often evoked laughter from the guests in the inn, especially due to the lines the girl had added herself.
People cheered loud when the song finished and several coins were thrown at the feet of Philomela, and she picked them up, giving the men time to order some drinks before she went with a ballad about lost loved ones. By the end of the show both Eothin and Dion were heavily intoxicated, and were about to retreat when suddenly Veron stood in their way.
"M’lord, was wonderin’ if ya sell that fine sword ya carryin’? am willin’ to pay a great amount." Veron said eagerly. "Have never seen such a b’utiful sword, and me would like to purchase it at any cost."
Eothin's good mood vanished like snow in the sun. "No, I would never part with it, regardless the amount offered." His voice was icecold.
Veron raised an eyebrow but did not relent."Not even fo’ fifty Nippolian crowns?" Dion was shocked by the absurd amount of money offered. It was enough to buy a small mansion with some land.
Eothin did not waver. "It is not for sale." he said in a voice that did not invite contradiction, walking right past Veron up the stairs to his room.
Veron spoke at Dion. "Keep ya head down next time me see ya imp, ‘cause he be certain unable to save ya skin then." And with those scornful words he turned and left the inn. Dion felt that there was more meaning in Veron’s words than was apparent but could not place it. His drunken state probably was not helping, therefore he decided to just go to sleep, proceeding to the stables to lay in his straw bed while a lovely voice carried in the air.