I need to clear something up: This story is loosely based on the 1700s - 1800s. And I know Denise is a girl's name lol.
There's a bit of violence in this chap, and I'm sorry if i get the english currency wrong :).
Hope you enjoy this chap :D.


Disputes from Every Corner

Arthur breathed in deeply. His pulse rushed like a stereo. Captain Scanlon had returned with a smile plastered on his face. Arthur gulped; it wasn't like he never fought before, it was more of the fact that he can't back out and flee afterwards. The way Captain Scanlon's muddy eyes looked, Arthur could only guess it was his turn.

He tried not to skim glances at all those that had fallen around him. Unfortunately, he did. He stared aimlessly at the injured man with wide eyes. The man had cuts slashed deeply into his face, arms and chest. There was a large bruise probing on his forehead, his eyes were blackened to the point where Arthur thought he resembled a panda. There was a trickle of blood dripping from the corners of his parched lips.

Glancing up, he made out the victor. The man was heavy built and blockish, he was like a human version of a house. His hair was dark brown with strands of grey, there were warts plaguing his nose and chin, a large dominating mole stuck out on his neck, and there were minor injuries across his square, muscular arms where he probably used as defence. He noticed Arthur's judgemental stare and he screwed up his face into a sneer.

"Wanna fight?" he threatened, bulking up his arms to show off his muscles.

Arthur shook his head out of fear. He found a pocket knife from the man's front pocket. Begging the captain to let him go with his pleading blue eyes, Captain Scanlon just gave him a toothy smile and pushed him forward. When Scanlon smiled, his eyes deceived him.

So did his voice.

"Nobody likes a coward," he uttered darkly, his smile still plastered on his face.

Arthur suppressed the urge to sigh, "Alright…"

Captain Scanlon genuinely smiled this time, "That's the good man. Show them that your surname isn't just there as decoration."

He stepped up in front of the towering man in front of him. Never had he felt so puny in his life. The man had narrowed grey eyes and he stunk of fish and… wonderful things…

"Arthur Pendragon."

The man smirked, "Fredrick Van Houlton."

Arthur returned the amused smirk, "Foreign?"

His smile fell, "You got a problem with my name?" he hissed as he moved forward till he was straight in Arthur's personal space.

"No."

"Good."

Scanlon coughed awkwardly, "Well, cut the chit chat and get on with it!"

"Yes sir!" Fredrick saluted randomly and launched at Arthur like a feline predator.

"Holy!" Arthur quickly dodged out of the way.

Words diminished quickly like vapour, and they were circling each other like lions in a duel. Fredrick had his hands fisted in front of his face while Arthur was sweating from anxiety. He hadn't fought someone since he was fourteen and he was twenty-seven now. Gwen never liked fighting and convinced him that he was just hurting himself if he continued, so the rebellious, arrogant Arthur vanished and this mature, dutiful, soft Arthur replaced him.

The air tensed until… BAM! Fredrick pounced out of nowhere and landed a rock hard punch on Arthur's jaw. Arthur cried out in surprise. He tumbled forward, losing his balance, he tried to grab onto something, someone, but everybody around him shuffled away. They cheered on 'FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!' it took Arthur a while to get back on track.

But Fredrick struck again.

This time it was in the gut. Saliva spurted out of Arthur's mouth like a lizard's tongue just never returning. And from that moment, it seemed the young Arthur bounced out of nowhere and flamed up his emotions. He growled at Fredrick, who in return sneered back.

"Aww, what, did I just knock down a dragon?" he mocked.

"Shut up," Arthur muttered, standing up straight.

Fredrick laughed, but not evilly. He ran directly at Arthur at maximum speed. Arthur was still and watched as the man drew closer and closer until… He jumped out of the way at the last minute, causing Fredrick to charge straight into the wooden floor. Arthur smirked smugly and rammed his fist right across his opponent's face. Fredrick wailed out in anger, his eyes stormy and dark. Arthur did not move from his ground and stared into his eyes with equal amount of intensity.

He allowed Fredrick to make the first move, which was technically, charging into the opponent. Arthur dodged every attempt and occasionally, tripped him, kicked him and punched him. The crowd started to turn quiet as they got more into the fight, even Captain Scanlon was watching with much interest.

Fredrick roared like a lion (he was very much like one) and flipped out his knife and slashed violently. Arthur cursed, he had forgotten about that! But he thanked the old man from the fishing dock for giving him the knife.

The opponent's knife was closing in and suddenly a clang rung as metal collided with metal. Fredrick snorted, his knife was new and clearly sharper and larger than Arthur's, but Arthur trusted in his instinct to fight. Painstakingly, Arthur forced his knife upward in an attempt to overpower Fredrick, but gravity was working against him.

He had to let go. Waiting for the right chance, he slipped his knife back with one hand and slipped the other hand away. Fredrick crashed to the ground again. With this chance, Arthur elbowed the man's head downward. His face knocked the ground and blood trickled into a small puddle. When Fredrick glanced up in defeat, Arthur felt a little pang of guilt for deforming the man's warty nose and knocking out a couple of fine teeth.

"Winner is PENDRAGON!" Scanlon announced loudly and the crowd cheered whole heartedly, giving Arthur pats on the back of respect and congrats.

Captain Scanlon grinned broadly, "You live up to your name Arthur," he praised.

Arthur didn't know what was with Scanlon and his name, but he figured it was a good thing and let it slide. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Fredrick up on feet and heading his direction. The man didn't seem quite as big now that he had beaten him.

"Good fight kiddo," he nodded in approval, "Not that I have the right to criticise, but you're a little rusty on the punches."

"Thanks," Arthur managed, thinking before blabbing, "It's been years since I had a good fight though. Oh, and not that I have the right to criticise, but I realised you may put too much power in one attack."

Fredrick took this to account, "Yeah, been my issue for ages. I get caught up in the situation and go straight for it."

Arthur cracked a smile, "It's good to see passion these days."

He laughed, "Passion? You definitely don't sound like a poor man!"

Arthur faltered slightly, "I guess even a poor man can appear clever?"

"Tell me why you came here."

"My shop isn't selling well…" Arthur smiled sadly, "Pretty much in search for a new job to support the family. Tell me, how about you?"

"Bored of life kiddo," Fredrick shrugged, "I figured it'd be better to live my life than sit around doing nothing."

"Haven't got a family?"

"Nah never got married, but I do have a lover," he explained casually as if the broken nose didn't hurt at all.

"Is she nice?" Arthur couldn't help but ask.

"Hey, hey, if you weren't married I'd think you were gonna steal my lover away!" Fredrick cracked up, accidently wiping his bloody nose, "Ah shit… forgot 'bout that."

"It's going to be infected if you don't clean it," Arthur pointed out in 'a matter of fact' tone.

Fredrick nodded; his brown locks fell into his face and stuck a bit on the blood smeared on his face. Arthur grimaced at the sight and hinted to the man that he needed to wash his face soon. Arthur chuckled at his overly clean thoughts; Gwen really took a toll on him. She had always cleaned everything to the very grain.

Just before he was about to say something, Captain Scanlon popped from behind Fredrick and smiled. He was holding a rolled up piece of tattered paper. It seemed burned at the corners and edges. He unrolled it and gave it to Arthur read.

"It's not gonna bite," he teased, noticing Arthur's cautious expression, "It's a contract."

Arthur stared at him confusion, "Why do I need one?"

"Take it home and read it," Scanlon commanded.

Taking the edgy contract, he slipped it into his knifeless pocket. The captain nodded silently at Fredrick as the larger man waddled away clutching on his nose.

"Thank you, sir."

"Oi, I ain't that old!" he laughed out loud, giving Arthur a pat on the back, "We need more crew members like you!"

With that, Arthur smiled and left. The fishing dock was near empty as most of the fishermen were out at sea on their crummy, wooden boats that swayed back and forth in the ocean water. The sun was high in the Lazuline sky. It was almost lunchtime.


Casper was a light coloured tabby cat. He had the creamiest coat and the greenest of eyes. He was jumping up, trying to reach the ball of lilac wool on Martha's lap. Martha was comfortably seated on her dark red single coach. Denise watched her knit a small jumper which he assumed was for Casper.

They were in the lounge room where the candles were burning and the velvet curtains were closed, there were paintings of fruits and flowers hung on the cream walls. The carpet was also red and was soft and comfy. It was obvious that Casper had taken his toll on the wooden furniture. Scratches and tiny marks were littered over the tables, chairs and shelves.

"Where's Maxie?" Denise wondered as he searched the room.

Martha placed her knitting down, "Odette's taking him on a walk," she replied, "Are you by any chance hungry? It is lunchtime."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," he stammered in embarrassment.

She grinned widely, "Good," she picked up her small golden bell and rung it, "Marianne! Bring us some tea and bread – Oh, bring us some butter too."

"Tea, what is tea?"

"Oh darling… Do you not know what tea is?"

Denise shook his head sadly, "No ma'am…"

Martha rung the bell loud and clear again, "Marianne!" she shouted, her voice cracked a little, "Bring us sugar and some Yorkshire pudding."

At the word 'pudding' Denise lit up like a firefly. Marianne popped out from behind the large decorated door and brought in two small, light brownish gold puddings and two delicate cups of tea on a medium sized silver platter. She had a large smile on her petite face as she strolled her way through.

Marianne was a pretty woman. She had light blonde hair and light grey eyes. She wore a long black dress with a white frilled apron. To Denise she resembled a toy doll Lidia had back at London and she brought back to her hometown.

Casper stopped jumping and stared longingly at the tray. Denise laughed as Casper's small pink tongue shot out and curled over the top of his lips. Marianne must have spotted it and danced away from the cat and gently placed the tray on Martha's lap where Casper couldn't reach. The cat's face dropped and he sat there in defiance.

"Casper?" Denise called out, but the cat gave him the cold shoulder and trotted away.

"Leave him, he'll get over it soon," Martha stated as she handed him a piece of pudding.

He chewed on it slowly, savouring the taste in his mouth.

"Is it good?" Martha asked eagerly, "Do you want gravy with that?"

Denise looked up in confusion, "What's gravy?" he questioned, chewing the piece of pudding in his mouth contently.

"Oh my," Martha exclaimed, "Marianne, fetch us some gravy."

Marianne curtsied, "Yes ma'am," and hurried away.

"Normally we have meat with it, but I do not want to hinder Marianne at this moment," Martha said thoughtfully, "Oh! I almost forgot! Now where is that present I got you?"

Blue eyes widened with surprise, Denise stood up and began searching with her. He got on his knees and ducked under the tables and chairs, hoping to find a small wrapped up gift hidden there. It wasn't long before Martha gasped in triumph and pulled out a large tightly wrapped, pink gift from behind the coach.

Just as he was about to grab it, the door bell rang.

"Oh who could that be?" Martha pondered.

The door opened and Marianne was bowing politely, "Ms Goodwin, someone's expecting you," she reported softly.

"Let him in."

"Yes ma'am."

Arthur entered the room steadily. There wasn't blood on his face or evident bruising. He came to fetch his son home, but it was obvious that Denise wanted to stay a little longer. The boy's face was shadowed with slight disappointment. Martha had a wrapped up gift on her lap. It made Arthur wonder how she conjured the time to get such gifts for his son. But gifts were a good thing and Denise deserved it, so Arthur didn't question it further.

"You have come to take Denise home?" Martha pointed out, yet it ended up in question.

Denise got up and clumsily ran up to his father, "Daddy, I wanna stay and play with Casper! I wanna taste gravy and see what's inside the present! Can I stay? Please daddy," he begged, his eyes pleaded like a homeless puppy on the street.

Arthur didn't know what to do. Whenever Denise did that, he would oblige, but it was lunchtime, and Gwen had told him last night that she wanted both of them home at that specific time. He didn't know why she wanted them there so badly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that promised something good.

"Your mother has something she wants to show us," he reasoned lightly.

"Can't mummy show us later?" Denise whined.

"No."

Upon seeing that grumpy face, Martha chuckled and handed the gift to him. Denise sparkled like a firework and thanked her sincerely for the gift. Arthur smiled and thanked her as well before he led his son away from the lady.

Once they were outside her front door, Denise stared up at his father, "What do you think is inside?" he quizzed as he shook the present wildly.

"I actually don't know," Arthur admitted in a joking tone.

Their conversation grew longer as they started their barefoot walk home.


Gwen wasn't use to this. She was restless and jittery, she just wanted to dance around the room and rather than sweeping the floors. Maybe she could do both.

She stared out the glassless window, waiting for her husband and her son. Pieces of steak were simmering on the stove. She knew Arthur loved meat even though he could barely afford it. Roger was kind enough to offer a slab of meat for free, though she wasn't stupid enough to believe that there wasn't an alter-motive behind his carefree behaviour. Nobody in this era did things without reason; there was always a motive – a plan.

The smell of spices tingled her nostrils, she breathed in happily. Although she didn't want to admit it, she knew the butcher had a thing for her. To her, it was a mindless infatuation, like she was an object rather than a human being. He only wanted her because she wouldn't oblige to him and she was already taken. In her eyes, he was a thief in attempt to steal her heart away from Arthur.

And he would never succeed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She opened it and smiled, but her smile gradually fell. It was Roger.

"May I help you?" she asked politely, she kept the door open as minimal as possible.

"I can tell you're enjoying the meat Guinevere," he grinned.

Roger was a stocky man. He was well rounded and rather hairy. But he wasn't ugly. He had clearer skin than most men, straight white teeth, silky curled hair that was sand, and his eyes were nice and clear hazel. He was short and always wore a white butcher apron and a striped shirt.

"Yes I am, Mr Boucher," Gwen hesitated a bit. Should she let him in?

The butcher clearly saw that she was reluctant. So he pushed his advances.

His lips tugged into a charming smile, "May I come in?"

Gwen stalled. She didn't want him to come in, but she wasn't in the status quo to say such ignorant things such as no. It could put her whole family in jeopardy. She was treading on thin ice; if she didn't let him in he'd most likely harm Denise and torment Arthur. The fact that they were lacking in money didn't help the situation either.

"Sorry, what did you just say?" she asked, feigning confusion.

"May I-"

"Roger Boucher."

Roger turned around and was overshadowed by a huge Arthur Pendragon. His eyes were blazing from fury. Roger hadn't forgotten the day when the man in front of him smashed him into a wall and face planted him in his own products. And he still hadn't forgiven the man.

He gazed at Denise; he had to be the oddest looking child according to Roger. He didn't gesture any action to harm the boy because Arthur would pound him, he sternly strode out of the way and back to his shop. He tried to turn and smile at Gwen, but Arthur's deadly glare penetrated through his brain like a bullet.

"What was he doing here?" Arthur hissed as he pointed at Roger's departed direction.

"There's steak on the stove," Gwen replied steadily.

"STEAK!" Denise cried out in happiness. Today had got to be the best day of his life.

Gwen and Arthur watched as their son jumped onto the chair and waited readily at the table for a piece of steak to appear in front of him.

"I'll go get it," Gwen laughed.

Arthur shut the door behind him gently. He was proud of the white door, after all, he never painted in his life and it was a pretty good job. He seated himself in front of Denise and watched in amusement at the boy's sparkling expression.

When Gwen set down the wooden plates, the steak smelt like heaven. Denise was literally drooling all over it like a dog over a bone. He felt like he was going to explode with joy. He noticed his father was as excited as he was as they dug in.

They ate hungrily in silence, until Gwen broke the silence:

"Miss Margaret Emsworth came up to me this morning," she began, "She offered me a job."

Arthur dropped his steak on his wooden spoon, "What?"

"Miss Emsworth is in need of a maid. It seems she had twisted her ankle when she fell down the stairs the other day. I thought you'd be happy about this," she didn't cover up her confusion, "If it is Denise you are worried about; I will ask Martha if she can look after him when I am at work."

"Are you sure about this?" Arthur asked, popping in the same piece of steak in his mouth.

His wife nodded happily, "Yes."

He nodded, happy for his wife's happiness. He slipped his hand into his pocket, remembering the knife the fisherman gave him. The family didn't have many metallic things and found it more efficient to carve utensil's out of wood. He slipped the knife on the table.

"A fisherman gave this to me."

Gwen stared at him puzzled, "Why?"

"I…" he trailed off; he was not sure whether it was a good idea to tell Gwen about the job he just went of trail for. The contract crackled a bit as he moved into a more comfortable position on the chair.

He sighed, "I got a new job."

Gwen gaped at him, but her face portrayed extreme joy, "What kind of job is this?"

Arthur carefully chose his words, "A high paying job I guarantee, but a job that requires most, if not, all my time."

She contemplated this, "All your time? Surely no job requires that much."

"It's a high paying job."

"How much is it exactly?"

"Thirty three pounds."

"Really, that is quite a lot," Gwen didn't appear convinced.

Denise burped and rubbed his stomach. Normally, Gwen would scold him for such appalling manners, but it seemed like his mother was questioning his father with her dark brown eyes. Arthur shifted in his seat and reluctantly pulled out the contract Captain Scanlon gave him on Claudia.

She investigated the outside and slowly rolled it open. Arthur watched as her eyes grew wider and wider in what he presumed was shock. After the long moments, she rolled it up again and placed it on the table lightly.

"Arthur…"

He winced at her expression, "I know… I'd be gone for days."

"Days? You could be gone for months, if not years!" Gwen snapped her voice loud and clear as thunder.

Denise jumped up in surprise; his mother rarely raised her voice at home.

"But I have to, I've already did the trails for it," Arthur said slowly, "Beside's it's a merchant ship, we do trade! It's not like I'm never going to come back!"

"What about Denise? He's only a boy!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat, "He needs a father figure in his life!"

"And I'm sure I can help find a man who would his model."

Gwen sighed as she stood there in thought, "I still don't agree."

Arthur was at the edge of snapping, "You're being a hypocrite," he stated blandly.

She gaped at him in severe shock, "How am I a hypocrite?"

"You get yourself a job and expected us to agree to all your terms," Arthur pointed out, sitting there glaring up at his wife, "And you are the woman of the family, it's your duty to take care of Denise."

"H-How dare you!" Gwen screamed, "Just because I am female automatically makes me the servant of our own home?"

"Mummy…" Denise called out softly, he was scared, really, really scared.

His voice was drowned out as Arthur and Gwen's tone became harsher and more violent. In the end they sounded like alpha wolves snarling at each other. Denise didn't understand what was going on. Why were they fighting? Is daddy going away? All of these questions tumbled around in his head and overwhelmed him. Tears dripped from his eyes.

"Daddy…"

There was still no response from either parent. The sunny sky began to fade and clouds decided to mock them eagerly. Denise felt trapped; he didn't have his own room to run to, he only had the lonely beach that was their front yard. So, he darted out the house and stood on the pebbly beach and watched the wave's crash in response to his sadness.

Mingled with the drifting sounds of waves, he heard footsteps behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know that the person behind him was Gwen. He could tell from the rhythm of her footsteps in the hard sand. She had little footsteps, gentle and quiet.

"Honey…"

She called him honey when he felt sad, angry or frightened. Denise appreciated it and would sob his heart out once he heard the soft word. However, this time he didn't cry, he didn't turn around for support, he just stood there and watched the waves topple over each other.

"Honey…" she tried again, noting that the silence was a chance to explain their situation, "Your father is going to work on a merchant ship."

This caught Denise's attention, "M-Merchant ship?"

"Trade ship…"

"Like how Collin would trade pebbles with me?" he asked, Gwen had his full attention now.

"Yes, like that," she smiled, standing beside her son and watched the waves with him.

"But… He may not return for a long time," she continued.

"He's going on an adventure on a ship!" Denise suggested.

"I guess you could say that honey."

Back at the house, Arthur spied Gwen and Denise standing next to each other in a serene atmosphere. He felt bad. He didn't think Gwen would be so against it, but he had already signed the contract and had it in his pocket.

He hesitated, there had to be an alternative. But like fate itself, there rarely was one. Shutting the door gently behind him, he walked away from his family and to the docks.


Thank you for reading :)