The waitress lady merely rolled her eyes at the old man’s silence. Newbie - She commented in her mind as the old traveller only stared at her, as if trying too exhausted to speak. She was very familiar to this kind, the weak. They did not even last a day in their locality. Looking down in his lap, he was holding something so close to his torso, it was hardly possible to identify what it was, especially when the tavern is poorly illuminated.
As soon as the lady’s gazed went down at his lap, Bentley pulled Rikkard closer to his chest quickly shooting a glare at the lady. Did - Did she recognize me?! - Fear ceased his mind. But suddenly the woman, slammed the wooden counter.
“If yer’ ready ta’ order, then do it or get the h*ll outta 'ere!!”, he voice echoed in the small space gaining some curious stares from the background. After all, everyone would love a little drama in this mundane and monotonous land. “Give the old chap a break, Polly!”, someone voiced from table a little far away from them. Bentley was already having second thoughts about residing in this h£ll. How was he supposed to raise Rikkard to be the lawful, enlightened and polite King like his father was among this dirty rude lowlives?
“W-water…”, he managed to utter in a stammering and broken voice.
Polly felt bad for the old tramp and also a little bit guilty for shouting at him. But, could you really blame her? It was not a piece of cake to serve all these drunk and idiot b*stards without letting your patience run thinner than The Hollow River that used to flow down The Cascades in volumes ages ago.
First, she had encountered some perverted hobos in the morning who wouldn’t stop bothering her despite repeated outbursts and threats of chopping and gouging their eyeballs off their sockets and shoving them down their throats. Then, she had to serve The Gigglers sitting right now in a group at one corner and of course, The Silent Hawk, Sýed Armaan, sitting alone as usual and staring off into space. She had got to know his name from the poorly sewn fabric at the back of his overcoat. She knew that he was a Yzlam as his name suggested it. Polly mentally patted herself on the back for going through the cheap and torn books of the nearby bookshop in her pastime and furthering her knowledge about various cultures, nations and their history as much as a mere tavern worker like her could (though something told her that the silent hawk’s name wasn’t really what she thought to be).
“A’ight, mate.” Polly nodded at the old tramp to pick up one of the tumblers on the table. The man looked at the old, brownish and worn out tumblers and his face contorted to one of shock and disgust.
The waitress rolled her eyes. Yeah, this ain’t a castle for Heaven’s sake!
Bentley gulped when he touched one tumbler. Just go with the flow, old man. You’re thirsty. One dirty tumbler wouldn’t really make a difference. You already smell worse than a pack of butchered hounds.
“Just pick 'em up, ya maggot buffoon!” The girl stomped the clay pitcher on the table in such fury it was a wonder it didn’t break already. Bentley jumped in fright and that’s when a child’s cry from his lap emanated all through the tavern.
“Would yer’ look at that, Polly, that fella 'as stole a baby,” a voice should to the wench with the pitcher. It was the same voice as before. Polly looked toward the old man, quizzically.
Even though Bentley had downed a large gulp of water from the clay tumbler, his throat became as dry as a drought land, as Rikkard started to cry and he was being accused of stealing this baby. Turning his gaze at Polly, she had her eyebrow raised in accusations.
What should I say… - Bentley had to choose his words carefully, in order to find a shelter there with safe neighborhood. He already had many enemies looking for his head to be served upon the royal platter for the Usurper. He would not like any addition to it, especially not here, not now.
“Answer, ya’ b@st–rd!!”, Polly bellowed echoing her voice and slamming the wooden counter before her again.
“I… I have stolen no babies!”, Bentley voiced, stammering slightly, and pushing his terrible lying skills for the sake of the lord-ling’s life, “He’s my son, yes my own son! Why would I steal him?!”, Bentley surprised himself with his own words as he sprang up from his seat. Rocking the baby to stop his cries, he reminisced for a few seconds. He was just a butler. Never in a million years he would deserved to be the father of Rikkard, but he was all the poor baby had in this miserable world. So, yes, Bentley was his family, his only family.
“Then why would ya’ shove your lad down the table, hidin’ the babe as if you have stolen him?” Polly quirked an eyebrow at the senile man shaking with terror. She looked at the baby who was very much concealed away in the worn out brown cloth wrapped around him.
Such a small little thing, she thought. For a moment, she was surprised when a feeling of empathy came over her. Of course the man would shield his son away and protect him if he were to be walking through this place. Any sane being would do that, wouldn’t they? After all, this place wasn’t really a walk in the park with it’s notorious reputation of being infested with soulless killers, mercenaries, psychopathic thieves and whatnot.
Bentley breathed out and decided to solve this situation in a calm manner. After all, unnecessary fights and arguments won’t get him anywhere. He needed to escape now and fast. “Look, my lady --” The woman quirked an eyebrow at him and Bentley coughed. He wasn’t supposed to say such proper words suited for nobles and educated men alike in this dingy h*ll-hole. “-- err, I mean M’Lady. L-Look M’Lady, I speak honestly to you – this,” Bentley looked down at Rikkard who was half-awake, half-asleep now and looking at him with weary eyes. C’Mon, Ben! Think of a random commoner’s name fast! “This is my son… Morgan. My village…” He ransacked his weak memory and thought of the village which was invaded a few days ago. “…Helmuthspar was invaded by soldiers of the enemy army a few days ago. My… master died… in the process but I escaped with my son and… ended up here.” He looked at the ground and refused to look into the woman’s eyes. He had vowed to himself to never lie in lieu of his liege lord Brendon Norvill who was known to be an inspiration to people near and abroad for being the most honest and honourable man ever.
But fate always has other plans, doesn’t it? She doesn’t stop rolling the dice as she is infatuated to make people’s lives h*ll.
‘343,041 people died in 1952 but it began with one man.’ Lewis had written on the paper 40 minutes ago and then promptly left the comfort of his dorm room to join the boys in a game of footy. It was wet and muddy but they didn’t care, it was part of the fun. Besides, for Lewis, it also meant he escaped his writing, as well as spending more time with Martin.
As soon as his tall and muscular stature dressed in a team jersey stepped into the field, the snort nosed players of the opponent team scrunched up their noses, “Oh look! Scar is here!”, someone teased and he could feel his own teammates giving him hateful stares. Unbothered, Martin proceeded toward the oval shaped field his blonde locks dangled before the side of his face hiding a long old scar on his cheek. Granted most people did not like him for many reasons along with that scar , but he was a skilled player. He still had an hour until the game would start. He was doing some stretches in the isolated corner of the field when he saw Lewis approaching. Martin’s face lit up and a smile materialized on his face. “Hey Nelson, over here!” he called out loudly and waved his hand.
“Hey Marty,” Lewis shouted back as he made his way around the field. “Any chance you finished the history paper? I just can’t understand my notes, man.”
Hey, @RPers, you’re more than welcome to create a character and join the story.
“What? Been up all night writing?” Jerrold teased with a giggle, kneeling down to tie his shoe. The sun peered from behind the clouds and radiated onto his melanated skin. As the sun came into view, so did his gleaming grin as he squinted while tying up his dreads into a neat bun. Jogging in place, he nodded to the McCarthy twins. “Those guys giving you a hard time?” He asked Martin.
“You guys are wasting air and time let’s just play” Shawn said emphasizing the word ‘and’ as he walked into the field, grabbing the ball from the ground and playing with it in his hand while walking towards his teammates.
“Just ignore them” he said with a shrug “they don’t have anything in their tiny little heads anyway, at least they can use their legs though” he added with half a laugh and looked over at the other team and rolled his eyes
Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, Jerry, man, I started it about an hour ago and just can’t do it. Don’t think I’m going to pass this class.” Then looking over at Martin, he nudged him with his arm, partly to be cheerful and partly as a way to ask him if he’s alright. When Shawn came over, Lewis turned his head to him away from Marty and laughed along with him. “There is that. You guys keeping score in this practice?”
Martin had learnt to shrug off such teases long ago. Yes, life was not easy for his family after his father went missing, but he was not at fault. But he appreciated his friends being concerned about him. Martin flashed them a grateful smile. “Nah, I’m fine, guys.”, he answered to both Shawn and Jerrold.
Martin was beaming with suppressed joy when Lewis showed up. He did enjoy being around him and often wondered if Lewis liked him in that way. However, he felt awkward being asked about his history paper and rubbed his neck. “Don’t ask me about it, Lewy. You know, I’m terrible at it.” , he mumbled. Tell truth, he seemed to terrible at all subjects.
“Hell yeah” Shawn smiled back at Martin as he said he was fine,
He threw the ball up and caught it again, “I got my sister’s notes if you want” he said as he overheard them talk about the history paper “she sure knows how to make good notes” he laughed lightly
Watching Martin rub his neck, looking a little awkward, Lewis raised his right eyebrow at him. How about we work on it together, after this game? It would be great to-" He faltered, his beaming smile fell and he shrugged, trying not to show too much enthusiasm. What would the others think of him? They’d mock him terribly and he’d never hear the end of it, never live it down.
Shawn mentioned his sister’s notes, and Lewis nodded in response, “Oh, yeah, how’d you get them from her? You can’t have asked, she didn’t let you use her pencil last week.”
He laughed, it was true, his sister never gave him things. They weren’t exactly the ideal image of the perfect siblings but it didn’t really bother him just as much.
“I have my ways” he smirked while he rotated the ball on his finger and caught it again.
A little friendly blackmail doesn’t hurt doesn’t? Benefited both sides, his sister didn’t get ratted out to their parents, and he got the notes. Perfect isn’t it?
Martin rolled his eyes but chuckled. School life had its own perks and he again got reminded that he was going to miss this pretty bad next year. Tucking a lock of his blonde hair behind his left ear he crossed his arms against his muscular chest. “Whoa, at least I earned all the C and B with my own merit. H€ll knows I used to wonder how’d you get those As with that birdbrain, Shawn the sheep.” he teased jokingly.
“But if you’re sure you can get those notes from your sister…” he begun and quickly stole a glance at Lewis. Obviously he was finding excuse to spend some time with him. “… We could do a group study this evening? You know… Since Lewy also needed help and I’m totally hopeless here?” it came out more as a request.
Summary
@CerealKiller every time I write Martin, I get reminded of vice principal Martin of Sorority High
“Your ways? You thieving lunatic,” Lewis suggested in jest. Watch the football spin on tip Shawn, he continued to jest, “You wanna take it to the court instead of the field, that’s not a basketball.”
Lewis laughed at Martin’s remark on Shawn’s intellect. “B’s? Lucky for some, I’m scraping by with my C’s and the D here and there.” He shrugged. “C’s still get degrees.” Lewis’ beaming smile returned with a nod. “Yeah, we should use the notes after the game, yeah?! When is this game continuing?”
“Maybe a sheep,” he started “but tell that to the A’ I’m going to get on the history paper” he said
He let out a small laugh at the remark,
“Not a basketball but it spins better than the gears in your brain” he smirked jokingly, and playfully threw the ball at Lewis
“Let’s play” he said “enough chit chat”
forgot to edit the crush