The place the martyrs live is about the size of Trav's place, way bigger than any of the houses I've seen.
There's a flower garden in front of the building, and I can see shapes watching me through the blurry windows.
I bang the door a few times.
"Heeeey! Delivery!"
There's some clatter inside and some thumping toward the door.
A kid opens the door just a crack.
He looks like he's going to cry.
"H-how can I help you s-sir?"
I push the door open.
The kid yelps and tries to stand in my way.
"T-This is the martyrs' residence! Y-you can't just do whatever you want!"
He spreads out his arms to block the hallway.
When I push the stack of bags and boxes into his hands he nearly tumbles over.
"You're hardly a tough guy, so you're lucky I'm playing postman.
You don't gotta give me your stamp, but I wanna talk to whoever is in charge."
He struggles to walk straight, but manages to carry everything down the hall.
"Well, then just… follow me… hah… Miss Rina will talk with you."
Every step comes with a big breath but he doesn't ask for help, like me when I used to carry groceries for mom.
The inside is pretty similar to Lirien's place.
Do the same people make all the furniture in town?
Little tables, vases filled with flowers from outside, some paintings — like a grandma's house.
We make our way into a big living room area, cushy plush couches and chairs with good window views.
The kid nods at one of the couches and I sit.
Well shit, I should be a martyr.
Free presents, chairs that don't make my ass hurt—god I'm sick of hard wood stools and benches, this is great.
Nice warm sun, cushy chairs, the smell of flowers.
Staying awake is hard.
My back hurts anyway… what's a short nap… I earned it.
I sit up quickly when I hear a door creak.
A big glob of spit is stuck to the chair and I try to wipe it onto the back of my jacket before anyone sees.
A woman comes into the room.
She looks like a mummy, bandages everywhere.
She has a friendly smile, and sounds sort of like the pretty art teacher I used to have.
"Did you have a nice nap? Haha—mmm—Excuse me, I am glad to see you working hard.
When Lirien told me about your little break in at his house I wasn't sure you'd stick around."
She hobbles to a nearby chair and slowly slides into it.
The kid from before looks like he is ready to jump in and catch her any time.
"You're the one I owe all that money? Was I 'that' hurt?"
I feel sick thinking she has to live this way because of me now.
She clears her throat and spits something black into a can on the floor, just like an old man at a pachinko parlor.
I try hard not to look at her.
"Haa—you're sweet for worrying about me but no, this is an average week, -chhherrt Tch—"
The tin plinks like a western.
It's impressive, but makes my stomach turn.
"Keeping this place running is our duty, thank you for bringing everything.
The others are resting, but if you come again you should say hello… oh excuse me, what is your name dear?"
Can't half-ass the introduction, especially when I owe her so much money.
Big bow.
"Gōki Takanouchi, ma'am, thank you for all your service!"
I can feel my face burning.
The kid is quiet but she's giggling—maybe I overdid it.
"Ok soldier, at ease.
Everyone here is already stiff enough without you being so serious.
I'll let Lirien know everything made it ok, try not to get too hurt out there."
She's pretty cheery for someone so beat up.
Don't know if I could put up with living like that all day.
Maybe being a martyr ain't for me after all.
Give her a little wave on the way out, and pat the kid on the back.
I see why he tries to act tough.
The sun is starting to set on the way back.
The breeze is cool so I stuff my hands into my jacket and jog back to the tavern.
The wind smells like booze—maybe I'm just thirsty.
Dad was always out late drinking after meetings, I'm starting to see why.
Gotta pick up the pace.
Trying to walk around in the dark here is a pain in the ass.
Lirien always makes those little lights, but learning all that seems like a pain too.
That Rina lady… I wonder how long it'll be before I'm done paying her back… is there even a reason to rush?
Not like I have anywhere to go anymore.
Lanterns are turning on all over the hills.
I can barely make out Trav's.
A couple good drinks will sort me out for now.
The drunks are rowdy tonight, singing and yelling so loud I can hear them from the other side of the square.
Stepping inside, Lyria gives me a little nod through the stack of drinks she's hauling across the room.
A few tables are packed with a bunch of rough-looking punks carrying clubs and knives.
Gralkus is sitting at the bar watching them with a pissed off look.
Ferra whistles and waves at me from the opposite end of the room.
She and Merrik look so tame and professional compared to Fist of the North Star wannabes.
Plopping down, I give Lyria a little wave and she adds another beer to her next stack with a smile.
Have to lean in close and yell for Ferra and Merrik to hear me.
"Who are these losers? The guys at the mill don't carry weapons."
Merrik looks tense, eyeballing them.
"I guess the next big raid is gearing up. It's always like this.
They know not to make trouble, but what counts as 'trouble' isn't always so clear.
Gralkus has it handled. I'm more worried about 'him'."
They look like a statue — just a huge suit of armor.
The black armor blends in with the shadow of the drunks against the wall.
He's got a sledge hammer as tall as Lirien.
I can't see their face, just a greenish jawline and a big pair of tusks I can barely make out between sips of their beer.
I poke Ferra.
"He a big deal or something? That's their boss?"
She just shakes her head.
"Nah, that's one of the orcs from the warcamp near the border.
They don't usually make trouble but… they certainly could if they tried."
All the regulars seem on edge.
Even Lyria is quiet.
One of the beefier guys from the group is chatting up Gralkus.
He's trying to get real chummy.
Gralkus just looks like he wants to break the guy's teeth.
When she brings the next round of drinks I see it.
A bald guy in the middle of the group—he just copped a feel when Lyria set those mugs down.
I'm sure of it!
That's why she's quiet! She's never quiet!
Ferra said something when I stood up, but I was already across the room before she finished.
Pushing a couple chumps out of the way, I reel back and clock that bald fuck in the side of the head.
He tumbles out of his chair, knocking over two other guys.
They're all soaked in beer now.
My knuckles sting and I can see the red lump on his head already.
"I'm gonna break those dirty fingers, shit head!"
Lyria screams, and it's a brawl.
Gralkus and Trav are yelling something in the background.
The two guys covered in beer joined my team after he fell and are beating the hell out of baldy.
Turning around–a bottle breaks on my head.
The beer and blood sting my eyes but blurry or not I can kick someone's ass.
I'm completely surrounded.
It's like a rock concert — no one knows who they're fighting.
The arms just keep swinging.
The shine on his head is all that keeps me on target.
I feel his teeth pop inward after a few punches.
Suddenly Gralkus calls over the crowd, louder than anyone short as him should be.
"Ya bunch ah rotten shit heads! Quit fightin' this goddam second or I'll go to town myself an' let yer captain pay for the damages!"
The room stopped.
Everyone watching for the next punch but no one moves.
Gralkus clears his throat.
"Take. it. Out. Side.
You too Gōki… clean up yer mess."
The bald guy and five others stare me down as they head out the front door.
Gralkus nods at me to follow them.
Ferra and Merrik start to get up but Gralkus glares them back into their seats.
The rest of the thugs go back to drinking, except for the orc, who wanders out the door after me.
Six against one ain't great odds.
Baldy has a mouth full of broken teeth, but his friends look fine.
They all have clubs in their hands and knives at their waists.
I pull my belt buckle off and push my fingers into the brass knuckles.
They don't say anything.
The ones on the sides are moving to get behind me.
Screw waiting around — let's do this.
Rushing the one furthest left since he looks the biggest.
My hook connects with his ribs with a nasty crack.
Bastard whips his club against my face — my cheek stings, but he's spent and falls over into the dirt holding his side.
The orc screams.
"Yea hahaha, crush em'!"
They sound like a monster in that helmet, but I don't mind an audience.
The other five move together, just like the fights back home.
When I lift my legs I slip — the guy below me has my ankle!
"Let go asshole!"
Falling to the ground I kick his face again and again but it's too late.
The others are on top of me now.
Shielding my face is the best I can do.
Fuck!
-Crack-
The first club swings down on my elbow… It's dislocated…
My forearm flops against my mouth…
All I can do is clench my teeth… I won't give them the satisfaction…
-Crack-
My arms are numb…
At some point my face started to get wet with blood…
I can't even move anymore…
-Crack-
His shoes smell like mud and shit…
I can see his bald head in the moonlight… his limp dick broken smile like he won this himself…
Boots and clubs smash my chest…
I can't do anything to protect them but curl up…
Now they just keep kicking my back…
They stopped… thank god…
There's something else in the light… a glint… it's his knife!
Shit! Shit! No no no no no.
"Rah-ugraa… -Ghha-ka-ka-ka"
Make words damn shit I can't breathe.
"Das no fun, unda dog stories is fun, but'cha ruined it wich' ya knoife."
The metallic echo… it's the orc.
He's huge standing over them blocking the moonlight.
The glint disappears in the orc's hand and bent metal scraps fall to the ground with a crunch.
"C'mon unda dog, lez' get'cha som' 'elp."
The men walk back inside… I can hear cheering…
Sounds like… Lyria crying… shit sorry… I'll apologize… tomorrow…
I'm so tired…
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