The Mad Dog

The streets around the old port were accompanied by many narrow and winding alleys. Why the ancients thought it wise to build such confusing roads was beyond Gabriel. During the day, bars weren't that lively, many still had their doors closed. Without the constant buzz of downtown Edenea, the old port felt in contrast, rather eerie. But it wasn't long till Gabriel managed to find one tucked away in an alley's corner. He waved goodbye to the flustered middle-aged woman who helped him find the place with an awkward smile.

A flight of stairs traveled downward, where boisterous chatter could be heard alongside the clinging of glass and enthusiastic clapping. The cloud of smoke was thick enough to cover the place in a white haze. An odd acidic scent was in the air, growing stronger and stronger as Gabriel descended. There was a cliche jazzy tune behind the voices of men.

The establishment was one among thousands, and Gabriel could hardly tell this place apart from the many others he'd frequented. Especially back in Xillandra where the furniture in the lower rungs of the city were both cheap and worn and yet there was always some poor attempt at decorating the place to be in fashion. Here, old fashioned portraits of people in bygone attire adorned the walls, vacantly glaring at the patrons. Perhaps Camilla was right about the bars in this area.

There were less than a dozen customers, all of them crammed around a single table by the back corner. Gabriel caught a glimpse of silver hair and flushed tanned skin. A familiar laugh echoed, "C'mon now! Going to give me all that bark with no bite? This is boring!"

Dressed in black from head to toe made the brightness of Frode's eyes and hair even more striking. Unlike the gangly boy from Gabriel's memories, the man that was now Crimson Crown's leader had shoulders broader than his own and a smile that glowed of confidence that Gabriel couldn't remember him having. From that awkward boy with limbs too long and an almost girly visage, Frode grew into an impressive handsome young man.

Gabriel blinked. It wasn't time to get distracted by nostalgia.

Frode had the arm wrestling match perfectly locked in the middle. The man who sat opposite Crimson Crown's leader was easily double Frode's size in muscle mass alone. He was growling, veins bulging ridiculously from his face, neck, and arms but he couldn't budge his hand even an inch.

What a farce.

Frode smirked and slammed the man's hand into the table so hard a loud crack could be heard. The crowd roared and Frode tossed his head back in laughter. He collected the pile of cash at the table and called, "Is there anyone else who wants to challenge me? I'll be glad to use my bad hand!"

No one could meet his eyes and the vibrant glow of energy that Gabriel had been once upon a time drawn into as well. He stepped forward, finally making his presence known. Frode looked up, his expression instantly dropping as he met Gabriel's eyes. Gabriel didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"I see that you have yet to fix that drinking problem of yours, despite taking the reins in Crimson Crown." Curious and cautious glances were sent his way but Gabriel easily ignored them.

Frode's entire body tensed, and Gabriel found himself staring at a glint of a silver chain that disappeared underneath a black shirt. "Why the hell are you here?" He spat accusingly.

"I could ask you the same." The words were tumbling out of his mouth. Narrowed gray eyes watched him, a swirl of bestial rage glimmered within there but Gabriel continued, "What are you doing here in Edenea, Frode Hagen?"

Frode was still, barely moving even to breathe. "He hasn't changed." An idle thought floated behind Gabriel's head, ignoring the way his heart was slowly speeding up.

"You're as pleasant as ever, aren't you Gab?" a low growl spilled out beneath the words. Dark fingers curled into fists and the air within the bar chilled. Everyone took a visible step back.

Except for Gabriel, who stood his ground, "Answer the question."

He received a sneer in response, "Obviously not to see your ugly ass face. Take a hint! I'm not going to answer your goddamn question when it isn't any of your business."

"Of course it's my business when Crimson Crown's Mad Dog makes an appearance in my city." He replied coldly.

Grey eyes narrowed, "Don't call me that." Frode warned with a slow growl.

Are you a child? Gabriel didn't say that instead, he went with, "Fine. Just answer the question."

"Fuck off. When will you realize that the world doesn't revolve around your noble ass?" Frode snapped like a rabid dog.

He felt his mouth dry, Gabriel licked his lips, "If you were smart, you'd realize that answering the question would make me leave."

"You think this is fucking hilarious, don't you?"

The air grew still.

Annoyance grated him but Gabriel was a stubborn man, "I don't have all day."

"Don't fucking test me."

A primal fear began to fester among the patrons, as they froze with widened eyes flitting between the two men. And for a moment the bar was completely quiet, aside from Frode's breaths drawing fast and deep. Something wild threatening to break loose.

Eventually, Frode threw up his hands. "Fine! Fine! You fucking win! Congratulations Gabriel Duciel! I'll fuck off out of your noble sight right now." The table was pushed aside, coins and empty bottles tumbled onto the floor but no one moved to pick anything up.

For a second, the tension eased, but Gabriel hadn't had enough. He blocked Frode's exit, hand reaching out to grab the other man by the shoulder "When will you stop acting like a child?"

Frode instantly flinched at the touch, and Gabriel was able to catch the red glint of madness in Frode's eyes. It gave him barely enough time to dodge the wide swing that came for his face.

"Calm down!" He cried, reaching for the sword at his hilt. It was a fatal mistake because he was no match for Frode in speed without activating his resonance core.

A wooden table was knocked to the ground, chairs tumbling after it. There was steel clinging against wooden tiles as well but the High Paladin didn't register that his sword had fallen to the ground. It took Gabriel a moment to realize that his back was against the wall and all air knocked out of his lungs. A thunderous crack came close and loud enough to his left eardrum that drowned the entire world in white noise. Frode had left a hole in the brick wall, right next to Gabriel's head.

"Do NOT tell me to calm down!" He hissed through clenched teeth, with a fist of Gabriel's shirt pressed against the High Paladin's collar. The heat of radiating off Frode's body imprisoned him.

Gabriel shuddered. He couldn't move, knowing well that it was futile to fight against Frode's monstrous strength, and there was nothing he could do except stare at the unnatural glow of red that shimmered in Frode's eyes. He kept as still as he could, heart hammering against the trembling hand that held him there.

The crowd was murmuring and pointing but they seemed too distant for Gabriel to mind, his world was consumed only by the beast in front of him.

"Let go of me."

And Frode did and turned, leaving the establishment with wide strides. The door of the bar was slammed so hard in his wake that the hinges tore from the frame. It took a few seconds for the whole thing to crumble to the ground. No one spoke, shocked and confused by the entire scene they had witnessed.

Gabriel closed his eyes, summoning as much peace and calm as he could, schooling his features despite the untamed gallop in his chest. He couldn't even decide if he was feeling anger, arousal, disappointment, or simply fear. Frode's Earth Curse had most certainly gotten worse.

A throb of pain shook him of his thoughts, and when Gabriel glanced down he could see that his left wrist was left with an angry red swell. He sighed, walking over to his pathetic sword on the floor. The customers in the shop had by now erupted into a frenzy of wild gossip, but weary gazes prevented any of them from approaching or talking to him.

Gabriel had no intention of staying. "Forward all damage and repair costs to the Imperial Knights. I apologize for the inconvenience." Before the bartender could snap out of his stupor and argue against him, Gabriel made a hasty escape out of the fallen entrance.

It seemed that even the High Paladin was capable of making ridiculous errors, Gabriel berated. That night, he could hardly sleep at all.

His last memory of seeing Frode in person was a decade ago. In Gabriel's dreams, he saw this younger Frode, whose hair still had some of its original dark color, with silver only dying the tips. He was lanky, having only caught up with Gabriel in height recently. Eyes shining red with rage it took three people just to hold him back.

"You coward!" That pretty face was twisted in anger, spitting curses and insults, "Get back here, Gabriel! Don't you dare leave!"

Gabriel remembered lingering, committing the image of overpowering madness and Frode's slipping sanity in his mind. He blamed everything on the Earth Curse at that time. There was a silver chain with a blackened ring around Frode's neck, a witch's charm that kept the madness at bay. But it was already faded, even though Gabriel had recharged it just the day before.

Camilla had longer hair at the time. The look she gave him at his departure was an apologetic one that appeared between pained grimaces while she used all her strength to hold Frode back.

"Don't you dare think you can just run away from your fucking mistakes!" Gabriel ignored those words too as he turned away.

If his dreams remained true to memory, Gabriel would simply turn his back on them, abandoning everything he had back then for the prosperous promise of the bustling capital city.

Maybe it didn't have to be forever, the eighteen-year-old him thought naively. Maybe one day he would come back.

However, the dream twisted and Frode broke free from his restraints. Frozen, Gabriel couldn't defend himself as he was aggressively shoved onto the cold pavement. The Frode that was above him was no longer wiry, his delicate features were replaced with sharper edges. In the past, Gabriel could still manage to defend himself and parry Frode's clumsy blows even in the height of his curse-driven madness. But this bigger, taller Frode with silver hair and glowing eyes was a steel prison above him, unyielding. "You can't run forever, you fucking coward!"

Gabriel woke in the middle of the night, body traitorously hot. Growling in disappointment at himself, the High Paladin decided to spend his time until morning nose stuck within old collected titles on Earth Curses, looking through information that he already knew and scoured for causes and cures that didn't exist. He barely slept a wink.