Talmar of Visigoth's Story

Defining Treason

It seemed as yet another day would pass in the port city of Xavport. Yet another crate to put on a dock, yet another contract to sign, yet another illegal deed on the black market to keep quiet. The black market, as corrupt and sketchy as it was, seemed to drive the city's profits, and the city officials would always look the other way because the benefit was too great for them. As sandy streets cleared up with traffic, as people went to the docks, markets, or otherwise, a coldness between people set in. No one knew who did what, and seemed better not to find out.

The sun was still rising, and larger buildings with canopies extending over their entrances and out into the street cast shadows covering most of the streets. Going through a more corrupt side of town, a taller man walked through with longer and more ragged blonde hair. People stared at him as he didn't have much on his upper body other than a leather brace, and his longsword on his back and one-handed battle axe held to his hip seemed to be intimidating. But the style of his wear was also interesting, as it wasn't typical of anyone in or around Xavport, most noticeably his green and white kilt that had little to no front, but a longer back that went down to his calves. Additionally, he had metal arm gauntlets, scratched and beaten from their use, but still intact. As he walked down, he took particular interest in an aged, rugged man scarred from numerous fights and much like a brute, receiving money from another man who was leaving the building he seemed to be guarding. The armed brute looked at him as if offended.

"What, do you find something amusing here?" he began to insinuate as he walked over with a large maul. His weapon's end seemed to be stained with the blood of people who haven't heeded to his warnings.

"It was nothing..." the young man replied, turning away sluggishly.

"What do you mean nothing? You obviously want something looking at other people's business," the bulky guard continued. As he continued is instigating, he took two steps and put his hand on the shoulder of the man and spun him around.

"You don't want to fight me," the guard was told.

"It won't be a fight!" the guard hotheadedly exclaimed, bringing his maul over head and whipping it down at the foreigner. However, it seemed to be easily dodged with one simple step to the side, and as he grabbed his one-handed axe, the guard whipped his maul to the side at the man. With just enough time to see it coming, the man put his hands on the blunt weapon, struggling to stop it at first, but he asserted his strength. Swiftly, he kicked the guards knee and grabbed the neck of the maul, wrenching it from his hands. As the guard panicked to stop the worsening of his situation, he went to kick his victim as hard as he could, but his shin was met by a sweep of the man's axe.

"Agh!" he yelled, catching more attention than was already attracted. His stomach was then jabbed by the maul's handle, and as the man flipped the maul around as best he could with one hand, he thrusted it forward into the guard's chest, sending him flat on his back.

"You're right, it won't be a fight," he said in a snarky manner to his attacker. "Don't ever try that again." He tossed the maul forward onto the ground, and turned his back on the site of his battle, and began to walk away. Even after he left, people still stood around as if dumbfounded, never seeing anyone defeat a guard like that, then walk on as if it wasn't anything all that accomplishing.

---

"You're saying he went into the city?"

"Yes! Take my word for it, please, there isn't much more you can take from me now!" a bartender pleaded, his tavern ruined with broken tables, shattered glass, splintered chairs, and a man in a black robe interrogating him with a wanted poster of a man with longer blonde hair, a longsword and one-handed axe. Letting the civilian cower in fear behind his bar, the robed man exited the building. Outside, in a rather small village not too far away from Xavport, a covered wagon carried forth by horses waited for the man. Three armored soldiers waited for him, guarding the wagon and in charge of the horses. One of the soldiers was carrying a crate to the covered wagon, laden with foodstuffs. The robed man proceeded past his wagon and looked outwards.

The village was atop a hill, and had an excellent view of the urban development known as Xavport, and the seas beyond. Beyond Raem there were yet more mountains, days of travel away from Xavport even on horseback.

"So where to now, Chrolus?" a soldier asked.

"To the port. That is where we will find Talmar. Now we haven't much time, he'll be there at least one day I suspect. He's been traveling as much as he can, I'm sure he's tired," Chrolus, the robed man answered. He turned back to his men and took put his hood down. He was young, and his eyes seemed as if they could pierce and shatter souls. He had short black hair, and concealed the rest of his figure with his robe.

"Now, we proceed onward. C'mon now, we haven't time to lose."

As the altercation in the black market concluded rather quickly, an older boy that observed followed Talmar as he walked away. Running swiftly, he caught up with the man and took a moment to catch his breath.

"Hey... where'd you learn to fight like that?" the boy asked, walking alongside now.

"What's it to you?" Talmar replied skeptically. It was difficult to know who he could and could not trust, especially in Xavport as he's discovered a larger corrupt marketing area. Walking, he sheathed his axe and put it back on his hip, turning the corner towards a port.

"Well, it's just that that guy in particular, John Ghein (geen), he's kept streets quiet for years-"

"I'm not interested in some cleansing campaign you might have in mind, even for money," he interrupted his follower.

"No, it's not that, but-"

"I don't care, leave me alone," Talmar commanded.

"I was going to offer you a job as a gladiator for my father, but I guess not," the boy said, going to turn away. Almost immediately, his potential employee grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"What?" he asked, holding the teen's shoulder and looking sharply into his eyes. The boy seemed to be overcome with fear, not knowing what to do now as he was stuck in a difficult situation at the moment. "You want me to be a gladiator?"

"Well... yeah." Following his affirmative response, Talmar struck his knee into the adolescent's stomach, eliciting a foul grunt and knocking the wind out of him. Holding the boy up as he bent over, he used his fist to hammer him in the back and onto the ground. As he lay there, trying to deal with the pain from only two strikes, a leather boot was placed on his face, pressing his head in the ground. Talmar kept the boy under his grip as his victim lay motionless and seething with anger.

"Take this as a sample of a gladiator's pain, and keep in mind that most of them are enslaved and have no choice but to fight, and few make it out alive. And you choose to exploit this?" Talmar asked rhetorically. He took his foot off the adolescent's head and turned him over with it. "Fighting, especially aimlessly, isn't for people to make money off of." With that, Talmar began to walk away again, and paid little attention to what the boy had left to say.

"You'll... you'll pay for that... I know people! I will get you killed for your insolence!" the boy exclaimed, getting to his knees on all fours.

"Get on the list, kid." It baffled him to see such an arrogant air about people, but then again, it wasn't something he hadn't seen before. It was that he ran into it time and time again, and there seemed to be no escape from it. It seemed impossible, and struck apprehension into his heart.

Thinking about the cause of all the madness that had ensued since his casual stroll down a dirt road, to the rather fear striking escape he was about to undergo, he followed the woman who said she had a safe place to stay. He could feel soldiers close in with each step, and quickened his pace. Countless possible horrific outcomes flooded his mind as he considered what options he had.

"I didn't know just looking at some guy would cause this much trouble," he spoke up, more to himself than anyone else. Concentrating on what was happening around him, and especially the soldiers, if Ksenia were to look back at him she'd see some worry upon the foreigner's face. He gulped, having a deeper and more serious tone now, and steeled himself for the next moments.

"I'm not sure you know how much a safe place would mean to me right now, that is if you aren't pulling my leg. But before you go too far, I'm warning you that I have no money," Talmar told her, looking shiftily too the sides of the street. "I can explain more things later if you like, but..." he paused a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It's crowded."

As the two continued along their path, people looked confusedly at them. One moment, it was as if they were at each other's throats, and now they're walking away almost friends. However, their glances were interrupted as soldiers came to the intersection where Talmar had turned. The royal nephew was not late to tell everyone what went on.

"This man, he carried an axe and a sword," the boy began, dusting himself off as he stood before the soldiers. "After he quickly beat some brute around the corner, I offered him a job as a gladiator and he beat me for it, trying to say 'gladiator arenas are bad' and all that-"

"Which way did he go?" a soldier asked, going straight to the point.

"Down the street, that way," the adolescent pointed.

"I know it'd be easier to blend in, but that also means more people might get hurt."

As the two came to what was a tavern titled "The Gilded Fox," Talmar listened to the words his new found companion had to offer. His height a bit of an extraordinary trait of his, he leaned down so that he could walk into the building, and into the room Ksenia had secured for them in the back. For a moment, it seemed he could actually relax; taking his weapons of his hip, he let them lay on the floor away from him as he sat down with his back against the wall, his knees propped up and his arms resting on them.

Sitting down, Ksenia stared as if trying to figure out what exactly was going on. His aggression, swiftly followed by seriousness, complimented with remarks of needing a safe place for no money. Thinking about it, he could say that it was a bit confusing who are what he was and was doing. Talmar looked back, his azure eyes deepened and eye lids darkened from lack of sleep. His overall figure was rugged, but Ksenia could see now it wasn't that he was rugged, it was that he was worn down from his travels and all that have come along with it.

"So I'm sure you want to barrage me with questions," Talmar began, "ask me who are you? What's your name? Why are you beating children? Why are you being suddenly so serious? Why are you making things sound more serious than they seem to be? Where are you from? How old are you, and why was that a bigger deal earlier? And I'm sure the list goes on."

His voice was mundane, carrying on as if he anticipated this, or was even too tired to care. His eyes shifted away for a moment, pondering.

"But what's your name?"

As time went on, Talmar was not sure what to think of all that had gone on. He wasn't sure what to think of the man who tried to fight him in the street, or of how he beat the boy not so long ago, or what to think of how all soldiers around him were after him. It seemed as if Talmar was looking at Sen, when he was looking at nothing in particular, and it seemed his mind was being ripped apart slowly, then he closed his eyes.

Sensing where and what people were doing, he could see that the soldiers were gathering at the counter and asked Bec a few questions. Not wanting trouble, and trying to protect a friend of hers, she gave the soldiers the easiest answers she could, and the soldiers began walking out.

"They're leaving," he told Ksenia. Opening his eyes, he lazily let his head flop back against the wall, staring in a somewhat upward direction at the wall and ceiling. Soon after, the doors could be heard opening and closing, followed by a thicker air of silence. Talmar wasn't sure whether to speak or not. Were his words going to be welcomed? Was his situation going to be considered? Regardless, he thought he may as well tell Sen something she should know in her endeavors to protect him.

"Sen... you may think I'm insane, but..." he began in a low voice and with a tone of sincerity, taking his time to think for the appropriate words for what he was going to say. "Do you realize you're-" he continued, but stopped himself. It seemed as if he was itching to say it, but unsure of if it was the right time.

"I'm not looking for many people to know who I am. But I hope it comes out to be that we are not perpetually ruled by Artaz or his descendents."