14
"Sister..."
"Yes, nas?"
"I wanna buy that mantle. My cotton shirt is worn out."
The priestess smiled at him sweetly.
"Sure, nas, if that pleases you."
The priestess took out her zeny pouch, and counted ten-thousand zeny. She passed the merchant the coins, and she gave the new mantle to her brother, whom she called 'nas'.
The little boy squealed in joy, giving his sister a hug.
"Thank you!"
The priestess tousled his hair playfully, then held his hand as they walked away.
A silver haired man tossed and turned in the stack of hay in the prison, murmuring incoherently. His garment was stained with blood, as of his face, which had lines of dried blood marring it. He spoke unintelligently again, writhing furiously.
The boy, about eleven years old, stood outside the "Night-Star", a tavern located near e west of Prontera. He trembled as the chill wind blew strongly, and because of drunk men staggering near him. He peeked into the tavern, scanning for a priestess. He spotted a familiar white-robed female standing beside a tall man, tugging at his arm. He recognized at once that the female was his sister.
Before the man stood three unfriendly looking men, each of them had a knife in their hands. One of the three shouted angrily at the tall crusader his sister was tugging at, waving his knife dangerously. The crusader shouted something back and made crude gestures at the three, springing them into rage. One of them took a beer bottle, lashing it out at the crusader's head.
Before the hit connected, the priestess stepped protectively over the crusader, the bottle smashing her skull. The boy watched in horror, tears forming in his eyes. He saw his sister bled from a hideous head wound, lying unconscious on the floor. He screamed for his sister, charging into the tavern. The three men said something about escaping, then fled quickly. The boy looked hatefully at the crusader, who merely said, "It's not my fault, she chose to die for me."
"Nas" jumped at the crusader, raking his eyes with his nails. The tall man stumbled backwards, clutching the injured eye. "Nas" wanted to jump at the man again, the next thing he knew, a booted foot kicked him hard in the stomach, sending his crashing through a table.
After the frustrated man left, "Nas" knelt beside his sister, bawling his eyes out. Tears rolled unchecked down his cheek, hoping against hope that his sister would survive.
"Wake up, sister! Wake up! Don't leave me all alone…who's going to take care of me? Who's going to buy me more garments? Don't die, sister…"
The pain in his gut wound jolted him from the nightmare. His hands went involuntarily to the wound, groaning in misery. The wound had only been crudely treated and bandaged, the prickling feeling from the hay surface made him uncomfortable, aggravating the wound.
He sat up with effort, his mind still fuzzy from the nightmare. It was dark, the only thing he saw were bars. He crawled towards it, examined with his bleary eyes. Only then, he realized that he was locked up. Locked up in prison. There was only a very dim illumination, the source coming from a far away torch hung on the wall.
The assassin felt helpless, something he rarely felt since the death of his sister. Recalling the dream, the man in it made him realized the reason he was jailed. During the battle earlier he slew Galor, the crusader who wounded him from behind when he was oblivious. He moaned again when blood suddenly spewed out of the wound, wetting the hay with the red liquid. Everywhere was dark, limiting his sight. He did not know how big the prison is, where the corridor was. The headache came again, wrecking his temples and a burning sensation coalesced in his brain.
He screamed as pain from the wound and his head intensified, driving him into oblivion. An exasperated guard woke up with a start, cursing the assassin for making a din in the middle of the night. The guard approached Skull's cell, then unlocked it. Producing a whip, he flogged the assassin on the back, tearing away the garment. Raw wounds formed on his back, but the assassin did not feel any pain, for he was completely delirious.
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Pay tossed and turned, unable to catch some sleep. He sat up, sighing heavily. Images of the duel between Skull and Galor flashed, depriving him of rest. But the main cause for his insomnia was the fact that Skull would be executed early tomorrow, for the king flew into rage when informed of this incident.
Just after the rest of the Avenger came to the bloody scene, the king's high officers came to take the assassin away, dragging him into prison. Tien stood amidst the crowd, guffawing away with his guild mates. Cerberus had wanted to stop the high officers, but doing so would commit the crime of barring the king's officers from doing their duties.
A creak behind him alerted him, reaching for his Arbalest instinctively. Nocking an arrow, he aimed at the window which was sliding open slowly.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
"Hey drop that bow, Sky! It's me!"
"Huh?"
The hunter looked closely as a lithe figure climbed through the window without the slightest noise, then closed the window.
"Lea?"
"Yup, and I thought your trained eyes could see in the dark," the female rogue replied.
The hunter made a quick apology and went back to sleep. Maraulea sat beside the hunter, observing him.
"Can't sleep?"
Pay sat up again, an unusual sullen look crossed his face.
"I doubt the rest can."
"You're right," the rogue said, pointing her finger to the other side of Piffy's house. "Cerberus's havin' a hard time sleeping too. I wish I could do something to stop tomorrow's execution."
"I could've stopped him by immobilizing his arm or something. I'm really worried for him."
Maraulea sighed, playing with her fringe. She sat cross-legged, staring out into the night.
"I've advised him countless times, yet he just doesn't correct his habit of acting rashly. Now, he's really in deep soup."
"Where did you go?"
"The church. Had to accompany the poor girl, she's not eating nor resting, just weeping. A priest, Test, wait a minute. Was it Tezzee? Teree? Oh never mind, that priest just got her to sleep with some spell."
"It's Tesse," the hunter corrected.
"Oh yeah. You know him?"
"Why not? Everyone knows him, the biggest admirer of Manald."
The rogue managed a smile.
"She keeps saying it's her fault, that she could have stopped him. But she ran away instead, after she was pushed away. Hey, do you think she likes Immuonnas?"
"Now's not the time to talk about these," Pay said, his brows creased together in a frown
Piffy's bedroom door creaked open, the alchemist briefly surprised at a figure sitting beside Pay.
"Who's there?"
"It's Lea," Pay said.
"Oh it's you, lass. What are you doing here?"
Maraulea started to reply, but a hoarse voice cut her short.
"Huh? What's the noise? I was just beginning to fall asleep."
Cerberus sat up, then cleared his throat. He lit a torch laid beside him, then hung it on the wall.
"You all are up?"
"How could you sleep at this juncture?" Pay said, his voice growing louder.
"Shh! You're going to wake the neighbors!" Maraulea exclaimed.
Cerberus heaved a sigh and went over to where the three sat.
"It's still dark. Where's the rest?"
"Manald's resting at the church, that wizard's there too. He's pretty dead from overdoing it," Piffy answered.
Maraulea snorted.
"Who knows he's with the darn Overlords now. Well, at least he saved my life."
"That don't matter now. I was thinking if we could get Skull to escape…"
"Wake up your idea, Sky!" Maraulea addressed the hunter by his last name. "You'll get executed after him!"
"I don't care. I believe he's innocent. He was stuck from behind by Galor! If it was anyone else, I'm sure he or she would have retaliated. Don't forget that man was responsible for his sister's death."
"Looks like I've failed as a leader," Cerberus said, his head hung low in despondency. "If anyone was to be responsible for this, it would be the leader. Being one, I have to lead and look out for the rest. Seems like I've failed to fulfill the latter. I should have paid more attention to him, knowing that his temper would eventually get him into nothing but trouble."
"Come on lad, leaders are not immortals. They still have flaws. I think you've done a good job so far, ya'know? I'm thinking we might be heading for the king and have a good talk," Piffy said, patting Cerberus on his shoulders.
"You're just wasting your time! Did you not hear the king himself? Unless pickies fly, you can't talk the king out of it!" Pay argued.
"Maybe he's right," Cerberus spoke thoughtfully. "Even if the king had second thoughts, Tien and his guild would definitely persuade him no matter what. You've seen it, they formed an alliance during the guild wars. They might get bribes to back them up. Anyway, its getting rather late. We'll play by ear. Let's get some rest before dawn breaks."
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The day was arriving, and the guards were already up, distributing sustenance to each cell. The same guard who had whipped a prisoner at the last cell of the row was on duty today.
He reached the last cell, the last set of sustenance in his hands. There was a bottle of water and a loaf of bread. The guard detached a ring of keys from his belt, unlocking the cell door with a loud click. He looked scornfully at the assassin, still maintaining the same pose of slumber since just now. The raw wounds stopped bleeding, but the bandage wrapping around his gut fell off.
"You useless cow dung… disturbing my sleep with your moans."
The guard looked scornfully at the helpless assassin, then dumped the sustenance on the face of the unconscious man.
"I shouldn't let you off so easily."
He took the bottle of water, uncorked it, and splashed it over the assassin's raw wound, before pouring it over his face. Taking the loaf of bread in his hands, he spat on it, and shoved it into the prisoner's mouth. The guard laughed uproariously at the man's humiliated state as he amused himself by holding the man's head up, slapping his face repeatedly.
The laugh was cut short abruptly, when the guard felt something sharp shot into his chest and withdrew very quickly, punching a hole in his heart. Skull glared at the guard, his right katar stained with the guard's blood.
The assassin delayed no more. He opened the unlocked cell door, and ran down the corridor. Ignoring the pain from the numerous wounds, he cloaked himself into the wall when another guard passed by, walking down to the end of the row. He knew he had to find an escape route quickly, for the alarm would sound soon.
He uncloaked himself, dashing past the rows of cells. Other prisoners stopped munching their given food and pleaded the escaped prisoner to release them. Some shouted in alarm, alerting a few guards still distributing food. Skull did not panic when he reached the guard's room, for he knew that all of them were either on patrolling duty or distributing breakfast.
Skull went into the guard's quarters, inspecting the room for possible means of escape. A window for ventilation at the top of the wall gave him the idea. He leaped onto a table to reach the small window, wincing when a sudden pain erupted in his gut wound. Apparently the first guard who passed him by spotted the dead guard, for an alarm rang loudly, signaling the escape of a prisoner.
His fingers worked furiously, even though he was very weak. The guards would soon return to collect the necessary weapon to hunt the escapee down. Since the latch won't budge, he plunged the katar into the glass window, smashing it into smithereens. He heaved himself through the window and landed on a grassy ground. Another series of pain assailed him again, causing him to double over and was forced to crawl.
Footsteps and heated argument from the guards above made the assassin gather himself up and ran. A thought crossed his mind, making him stop running. No matter how far he ran, which he doubt would be very far due to his injury, the guards would discover the broken window and he would be in sight. He cloaked into the wall just in time when two heads popped out of the broken window, zooming around for the culprit which was likely the escapee.
When the two heads shrank back, Skull stepped out of the wall and ran as far as his weak body would take him.