Two by two, Hands of Blu (Chapters Seven and Eight)

Chapter Seven
The hand cannon’s shaft glinted in the sunlight that spilled through the window. Its elegantly crafted wooden handle passed under the metallic barrel. The sight at the tip of the barrel opened up into what looked like a trumpet’s horn. Etched into the handle in script was the name Brice, Captain of the Guard.
“It truly is a work of art. Led, you’ve proved your worth as master Gunsmith yet again.” said Brice, admiring his new gun.
“It is a pleasure to be of service to a son of Trilth. We fought alongside each other during the border wars, your father and I, did he ever tell you-“ the stooped old man that sat on a rickety stool was cut off in mid ramble.
“I’m sure it’s a very interesting tale, but as the new Captain of the Guard, I have matters to attend to.” replied the youthful boy, impatience showing in his brown eyes.
Led slumped in his seat as his ego deflated, then quickly turned back to his workstation. Another half finished hand cannon lay atop it, mold in the masters’ hands. Brushing sawdust off his red and gold armor, Brice slung his gun over his back. Just as he was about to come through the doorway that opened out into one of the myriad meandering streets in Trilth, Wilmo scurried in.
“Man-at-arms Wilmo of Awn with a message, sir!” he cried, saluting the youth overenthusiastically.
“Wilmo, I know who you are, and for the tenth time this week, you do not have to salute me.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Only following regulations, sir.” said Wilmo, trying to account for the affront he had caused Brice.
“Please don’t call me sir either Wilmo. Now what is this message?”
“Travelers from afar.” He ducked his head in the doorway.
“They are a bit strange, if you know what I mean.” He drew his head out again.
“No, I don’t know what you mean.” Brice could feel his patience running thin again.
“Well...one of them has a gun...and the other one...he’s riding around in a wheelbarrow.”
“A what?” It was too early in the morning for this.
“Well...at least it looks like he’s riding in a wheelbarrow.”
“Show me to them.” said Brice unenthusiastically.
Wilmo trotted down the street with Brice close at his heels, as the smell of fresh bread and fish wafted through the air. Turning yet another corner passed the Blacksmith’s, the young Captain glimpsed three figures ahead.
Man-at-arms Bolrick, with his rotund body standing resolute in the street, guarded the two newcomers. A girl round about Brice’s age stood, hands on her hips. Her midriff showed below her white shirt. Unused to seeing such a large amount of flesh laid bare on a woman’s body, Brice shielded his eyes. Her blonde hair was once again tied back in a fierce bun and an advanced-looking gun was slung across her back. The girl’s companion, a younger boy, looked at Brice under black hair. As Wilmo had said, he did indeed seem to be sitting in something that looked rather like a wheelbarrow.
“May I present Brice, Captain of the Trilth Guard!” announced Wilmo, receiving a dark look from the embarrassed Brice.
“I am Liam, and this is Ebony. We’ve crossed one of the Bridges here, following a group of Fae. We were wondering if you had seen them.” said the boy.
“What Bridges? What is all this talk of Fae as well? Everyone knows they are just a myth to scare little children at night.” Wilmo replied with conviction.
“Wilmo...I shall deal with this. Master Liam, Lady Ebony, follow me into the Barracks. We can discuss your unusual story in there. We don’t want to upset the villagers. Right this way.” said Brice, leading the way towards the barracks.
Dodging a couple of street urchins, they neared the building. Built of stone similar to that of the city walls, the Barracks towered over the houses that nestled beneath its shadow. Crenellations rose at even intervals, Town Guard patrolling on them. Passing through the open archway, Brice led the other four to his offices. A house like structure stood against one wall of the barrack’s courtyard. Men-at-arms practiced swordsmanship with one another in the open space, showing off for their new Captain.
The youthful soldier opened the decaying door of the office, and motioned the two visitors to stay in the main room. His men followed him into his private offices, shutting the door behind them. Brice laid his new gun upon a well-furnished desk, and took a seat behind it. Brushing his blonde air away from his sunken eyes he breathed deeply.
“So...what do we do with these people?” asked Wilmo.
“What do you mean, Wil? Must we do anything with them? I don’t see that they’ve done anything wrong. Maybe we should just let them be.” the boy replied.
“But they think they come from Neverbin, the first plane. They think they saw Fae. We do not want them to infect the minds of the villagers. We could have another insurrection on our hands.”
“Wil, I don’t think it’s a crime to believe in Faebel and the Fae. I think I shall let them go.”
“No! You shall not! They are a threat to the peace of mind of this fair village of Trilth. They are anarchists and rabble-rousers and will be monitored at all times!” came a familiar voice from the door. Both men-at-arms quickly stepped out, not wishing to intrude.
Closing the door behind him, the Prefect of Trilth, Ferrin of Kobble, stepped inside. Robes of gold and red covered his rather obese body. His stubby fingers were bejeweled with the finest of rings. His baldhead was concealed with a golden crown helm. It glinted with the sunlight that shone through the window. The blue stone that was etched in the crown’s center completed his opulent garb.
“What is your business here?” said Brice, knowing that the presence of the Prefect was going to complicate things astronomically.
“I can’t visit unannounced anymore? I heard there were some newcomers, and I thought I’d come by. I see you’ve gotten a new hand cannon crafted, Led is truly a master of the art.” said Ferrin, handling the gun with reverence.
“I would appreciate it if you would put that down. I paid for it with all last month’s wages. Which my men and I agree was all much too low. We expect at least ten more Gorns next month.”
“Now, Brice, you must understand. The budget of the Town Guard had to be cut down. After the last Poor Man’s Revolt, we’ve had to rebuild all the houses that were destroyed during the battle. Not to mention all the money distributed to the previous Captain’s widows. Which, I might add, is whose seat you’re sitting in. Can you imagine all the strings I had to pull in order for you to sit there? Don’t be so ungrateful.”
“I would be grateful if I had gotten here myself. To be the Captain of the Trilth Guard has been my life long dream, but not like this. I shouldn’t even be sitting here.”
“Yes you should, you are the best man for the job. You have earned it. You slew two rebels, those that would-
“Those that were poor, that had nothing. Those who had been oppressed and were pushed to the brink. Whose daughters had been taken from them to be wives of the wealthy. Men that had loved me...that I loved! All gone with one pull of my trigger, one flick of my wrist. If that’s what it takes to become Captain then I don’t want to be the Captain!”
“Order above all! Those men stood for chaos, for superstitious, dead beliefs. They had to be put down. It was for the good of the people.”
“Listen to yourself! They are the people! We exist to serve them, not them serving us.” With this, Ferrin gave a long cackling laugh.
“You still have a lot to learn, my young son.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You are my son, whether you wish to associate with me or not. I’m not the only one that misses you. Your sister wishes that you would come visit. We are only a few streets from here.”
“Well enough of this, if you would excuse me, Prefect, I have matters to attend to.” said Brice, attempting to hide the fact that he missed his sister as well.
“I came to offer my services. I’ve called for a meeting of the Six tomorrow. Among other matters, we will decide what to do with these two. For now, take them to the Beer Tap. Rune will be happy to give them room and board.”
“I see. Well, I suppose that can be arranged.” said Brice, just wishing for Ferrin to get out of his sight. He hated relenting to his father like this, but kept finding himself doing it.
“Good day, Captain.” said Ferrin, exiting the office swiftly. Rising from his seat, Brice exited his office. He walked straight into another argument.
“Now listen here, Milady. It’s bad enough that you are a member of the weaker sex that handles weapons. You must allow me to take that gun from you; they are not permitted on civilians in the village. Especially not young girls.”
“You can stuff it, jarhead. This gun has gotten me through a lot. In order for you to have it, you would have to pry my cold, dead fingers from it.” retorted Ebony, fixing Wilmo with her fiery emerald eyes.
“Captain, she will not part with her weapon. Should I have Bolrick make her?” asked Wilmo. From the corner of his eye, Brice could just make out Bolrick cracking his knuckles experimentally.
“Um...no...she can keep her weapon.” said Brice tentatively. Bolrick muttered something dejectedly under his breath.
“Follow me, we are going to arrange room and board for you at the local inn until we figure out what to do with you.” With that, Brice led them out the Captain’s house.
Quickening his step, Brice’s mood improved. He was going to the Beer Tap. He earnestly wished that he would be able to speak with the only person that made life in Trilth worth living. Flair of Ragfin was intrigue herself.


Chapter Eight
“I think, Master Mune, you have had too much Dragon’s Milk. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“O, no, young lad, I’m not drunk, jusht shlightly tipshy.” said Mune, falling to the inn’s floor with a resounding crash. This early in the day?
“Father...Mune blacked out again. Could you carry him outside!” cried Flair, stepping over the body tiredly. Rune shambled over, his bar apron splattered with all manner of drink. In front of the assembled farmers and miners, he slung the drunkard over his shoulder expertly.
“You should lose some weight, Mune. What have your wives been feeding you lately?” he said, much to the jeers of the inn goers. Rune headed towards the exit, his boots shuffling on the uneven wooden floorboards. He opened the door, and stumbled outside. Flair watched for a few moments, then turned back to the assembled men at one of the tables.
The nearest man, a grizzled miner, grabbed her dress, attempting to feel up her leg. As he grinned cruelly up at her, her eyes burned with disgust. Quickly checking to see if her father was still outside, she focused on the man’s elbow. What appeared to be the slightest tremor of a liquid like substance rippling through the air joggled the elbow he was leaning on. It slipped off the table, and the man’s face splashed right into his steaming soup. The other men laughed, assuming he had done this by himself. The screams would not die down for several minutes. Flair fervently hoped Alaric would not find out about her abuse of the Tap.
A knock came from the door. Assuming it to be Rune locked out, Flair stormed over. Steaming, she flung open the door.
“Alright! That’s it! I am never working at your horrid inn again. All manner of vile and disgusting filth can just waltz his way in...” Her voice trailed off as she saw the Captain of the Guard standing before her. Slightly taken aback, Brice meekly said:
“I hope I’m not this vile filth you speak of. Can I come in?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the girl led the way to the bar. Brice shook his head inwardly. Truly an oddity. Flair jumped over the bar countertop with one leap, upsetting a tankard of an unknown green substance. Turning to the Captain, she spoke.
“I apologize for the outburst back there. I thought you were my father. Is there anything I can help you with, Brice?”
“Yes...there are some travelers waiting outside...from afar. I wish to have them stay here for the night. Can that be arranged with your father?”
“I believe it can, he’ll be right back from taking out...the rubbish.” she said, pouring a drink for him from one of the greasy taps. She slid the mug towards him expertly.
“So...Flair, how are things?”
“They are good.” she said, busying herself by wiping down the counter.
“Still recovering from the fighting?”
“You know, you didn’t have to defend me like that. That man was not going to attack me.”
“I took it upon myself as a Son of Trilth to defend a Daughter of Trilth. It was my pleasure.”
“Blowing a man’s head off was pleasurable for you? I am so glad to hear that. I knew that man, I had seen him around Trilth all the time. He was not going to attack me, I can assure you.”
“He may have been polite to you before, but he was running towards you with a mad glint in his eye.”
“Perhaps because he saw the look in your eye.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Young lad, I would quit while your behind.” said a man drinking an ale beside him. Flair chuckled for a fleeting second.
The door flung open, and Rune stepped back in, Muneless.
“Father...there is an unthinking slave of the government here to see you.” said Flair, giving Brice a sardonic smile. He could feel his ears burning.
“Flair, I brought you up better than that! Brice, our favorite Captain of the Guard, how may I be of service to you?” Rune said, bowing emphatically.
“I have visitors from beyond Trilth. I would like to have them rest here for the night. Until we figure out what to do with them.”
“Certainly, anything for the Town Guard.” Brice could see from the corner of his eye Flair cough loudly with Rune’s latest comment.
“Hold your tongue, Daughter!” At this, Flair stuck out and grabbed her tongue, apparently in one of her obstinate moods. Shaking with indignation, the inn keep pointed up the stairs at the other end of the room. He could not even form the words. Achieving what she had wanted, the girl raced away. Taking one last look a Brice, she bounded up the stairs, her reddish-blonde hair flowing behind her.
“That girl! Infuriating! I apologize, Brice, you can bring your travelers in.” said Rune.
“She’s not all that bad. She brought a smile to my day.”
“You want to keep her?” replied Rune, half joking.