That night sucked.
It had been raining for two days, and that night seemed to be the climax of the storm. The rain pelted down from the dark, night sky like the worst hailstorm imaginable. I'd left the courthouse earlier that morning and had been wandering the streets of Königsberg since, hoping to find some answers to all of the questions I'd been left with. It wasn't that I wasn't happy with the turn of events with the court case, but even a verdict like that didn't answer all of the questions I'd had.
I found myself wandering past a bar at about ten, and stopped in the light of the blinking neon signs, the large blinking one reading "Frank's Bierhaus". I thought for a moment, and eventually wandered in, more for the warmth than anything else. I walked slowly to the end of the bar, pulling off the hood of my jacket while I took in the sights of the bar. There were less than half a dozen people: three sat at a round table laughing and enjoying their beers, one large man sat in the middle of the bar drinking a stout, and the bartender who watched me as I took a seat at the far right end.
The bartender watched me as I drew my wallet, scanning the shelf of bottles behind him before glancing to his face, which offered a polite smile as he rubbed the bar's counter with a rag. I nodded back, and he came over, taking my order as he stood under the light of a florescent bulb.
"Whiskey over rocks, sir" I asked as I passed the money over to him, "mix some diet soda in with it if you would".
"Yes sir" he responded. I watched as he drew a bottle from the middle shelf and mixed the drink together before sliding it over the bar to me. I nodded, holding the cold glass in my hand for a moment before taking a long sip. The bartender spoke up after a little while, breaking the pattern of drunken laughter and the music box playing a folk song.
"So you're in the youth?" He questioned, motioning towards my uniform.
"Yes sir" I responded respectfully. "You need ID?"
"Nah. I was when I was younger, back when it was compulsory- don't know how you kids do it anymore with all of those new requirements"
"Well, its tough, but its certainly an experience. Supposed to hope with job opportunities in the future, you know?"
"Yeah, thats what I hear. So what unit you a part of?"
"Lions Guard"
The bartender dropped a glass on the counter, seemingly by accident, after I said that sentence. I watched the glass roll across the table for a while before looking up at him, a surprised reaction on his face.
"You go to the academy?" he asked
"Yes sir"
He stayed silent for a moment, but was about to say something as the big man sitting down the bar beckoned him over for another bottle. It was at this point that I noticed this man occasionally looking over at me, a snare in his mouth and a squint in his eyes. He seemed about forty-five, and his jet-black hair combed back reminded me far too much of Erik's. I sighed, looking back down at my glass and eventually taking another sip of it before I noticed the bartender coming back over.
"Whats your name?" he questioned.
"Siegfried" I responded, lying. I didn't want to give him my name, though only lord knows why. Surely no one had heard about the court case: the school was careful to keep scandal out of the public eye, and it was part of my being allowed to stay in the academy, and by extension away from my parents, that it stayed out of the public's eye. The bartender continued to clean glasses, occasionally trying to make small talk with me as I slowly had my drink.
"Hows the academy? I understand its the best in the country"
"Its got its perks" I responded shortly. I think that it was then that the bartender realized I wasn't much of the talking type, at least not on a day like this. After a moment, the big man down the bar spoke up.
"Leave the kid there by himself, come down and wait on a real man" he remarked. My eyes narrowed and the shallow smile I had on my face, directed towards the bartender, faded away quickly. I glanced over at him, and he had an enfuriating grin on his face, watching the bartender slowly move away from me and towards him. I rolled my eyes and looked back down at my glass, thinking over and over the testimony that I had given in the past few days, and began to think back to the evening that caused this mess.
My mind wasn't able to delve too deep into itself before the big man down at the end of the bar continued to mock me. He looked up at the bartender and said that he'd "have to find shorty a couple of glasses of milk so he'd grow" as his piercing eyes and hideous smile tried to chicken me out of the bar. I sighed, taking the final swig from my glass before I looked up at him.
"Sir" I started slowly "Mind yourself or I'll make you mind it.".
All drinking stopped, and the tick of the clock was the only sound. The three drunken gentlemen over at their round table nearby fell silent, and I could feel their looks on the back of my head.
"Oh really? Why don't you make me, punk." the big one responded.
"Leave the kid alone" the bartender remarked.
The big man laughed with a billowing wheeze, eventually looking up at the bartender who stood before him drying a glass with the response of "Oh piss off". He eventually looked back over to me, eventually saying something:
"Little kid thinks he's got spunk just because he goes to some high society school for the government. Well he'd still be just as much of a fag whether he went to the Lion's Guard academy or not!"
I slammed my glass down onto the counter, trying to contain my anger. That was the absolute last thing I needed to hear this evening, and I knew I'd either break down or fly into a fit of rage if I didn't control myself, but after a few more incoherent jabs at me I spoke up.
"Its clear you're here for trouble mister" I remarked. I stared him down, and as he was about to open his mouth I continued with "and troubles something I try to shun, but if your wrinkled ass insists-"
He stormed up from his stool at that point, and started to rush over towards me. The gentlemen at their table started to hoot and hollar as I rose, yelling "kick his ass". I couldn't tell who they were rooting for, and I didn't really care. The big man came rumbling towards me, his arm raised high as if he had already prepared his strike. As he closed in and swung, I could feel my mind switch over from normal mode to the strategic one that came out during boxing matches.
Alright, he's about six foot two and at least three hundred pounds. Just a few jabs and a punch to the stomach and you'll have him to the ground.
He swung, and everything moved into slow motion. I stood in stance, and watched his fist pour through the sky and towards my face: I dodged my head down, brought it back up after his arm came around fully, and almost caused him to spin himself around in a circle. I brought my fists up and drove one straight into his stomach, watching him stumble backwards on himself and onto a table. Cheers came from the group of three drunken men and I smirked, watching as the big man slowly found his footing and looked at me angrily.
He moved forward, trying to punch me directly in the face. I could hear my coach yelling "slip!" in the back of my head, and moved my head forward and to the side as he came too close to correct his punch, causing him to fall forward. I spun around and moved forward, kicking him into an empty table and watching him crash to the ground. I watched as he laid there, struggling to get up, eventually rolling onto his back. His nose was bleeding profusely and was bent in a strange, contorted way that made me believe it was broken. He gave me that same shiteating grin from before, and the billowing laugh returned, filling the silent air of the bar. The bartender walked over, remarking to me "You do go to the academy."
"Yup" I remarked, "and nobody calls me a fag but me." I remarked, directing the latter comment to the big man lying on the ground, cupping his nose. He rolled his eyes, and as I headed out of the bar, I left him with a final remark: "Make sure not to tell your parole officer you got beat by a fag".
I was well down the street and halfway back to the academy before the police probably arrived. I walked for half an hour more, eventually reaching the side gates of the academy and scanning my card, standing there in the damp cold air as the gate slowly slid open.
The campus was pitch black and dead quiet: curfew was far past but I had an exception because of the court case that wouldn't expire for another week, eventually making my way across campus, into my dorm building and into my empty room. I sat on my bunk, staring across at the empty other side of the room, the mattress removed and all of Erik's belongings long gone. I sighed: he was gone, but things weren't going to get easier, that was for sure.