First Blood
Anomen Delryn tightened his grip on the club and peered into the chamber in front of him. There they were, scurrying lazily around in plain sight, not even bothering to hide.
Rats.
"So, you want to be a paladin? You want to prance around on feathered horses like those sanctimonious gits? An honest day's work is too good for you? Here! You can start your grand and noble career by conquering the rats in the cellar, knightling!"
His father's angry words as he'd thrust the club at Anomen still burned in the twelve-year-old's ears. His mother had stood in the doorway, looking sad and weary; even in his chamber on the other end of the house, it had been all too easy to hear every word that Cor Delryn had shouted to her about 'planting foolish ideas in the boy's mind', only minutes before. And Moira... his little sister had clung to Mother's skirts, wide-eyed and silent. She is the only one he never lashes out at, yet she always seems to fear that he will, Anomen mused grimly.
One of the rats paused for an instant, stared at him, and then continued onwards towards one of the flour sacks. The infestation had only been discovered that very morning, but for all anyone knew, the vermin might have been there ever since the winter supplies were restocked, almost two months ago; the careless behaviour of the rats told Anomen that they must have been fattening themselves on his family's grain for a long time indeed.
The boy's eyes narrowed as he took another step into the chamber. There was no reason for him to be here; a rat catcher had been summoned, and would arrive later that afternoon. Was this demeaning task intended to be some sort of a lesson as well as a punishment? Or did his father merely seek to lower the catcher's fee by leaving him fewer rats to catch?
Another rat stopped to look at Anomen. It was perfectly unafraid, regarding him as a curiosity rather than a threat, and... did he merely imagine it, or was there truly a disdainful look in the creature's eyes?
Yes.
The rat's eyes held an echo of the exact look that his father had bestowed upon him every single day since he had found out that Anomen had neither the talent nor the disposition for entering the family trade; the look that told him that his father would never let him forget the error of his ways. Ever.
The temptation was too great; for a moment, he let himself imagine the rat as an embodiment of his father. Greedy, shrewd, unfeeling, selfish, foul-tempered... despicable!
"How dare you!" Anomen shouted as he brought the club down on the rat.
-.-.-
An hour later, Anomen entered Cor Delryn's office, holding the bloodied club in his right hand and carrying a dozen or so dead rats by their tails with his left. He gazed downwards even as he held up the proof of his work; somehow, he could not bring himself to look at his father's face.
"Did I tell you to bring them here, boy?" his father all but shouted. "Dump them on the kitchen midden, where they belong!"
"Yes, Father," Anomen murmured, and left the office, still clutching his victims' tails.
