Chapter 10. Omen

Shawn was walking home from work tired and sluggish; he was mentally dreading his meditation and the possibility of having to train after work. Work was less than a five-minute walk from his cottage.

As he was walking, he heard something behind him, he looked behind himself but saw nothing. He continued walking, but he missed the two thugs who were watching him. The smaller one said to the lumbering one, "He makes a good coin and me hears that the wench Tabitha watches him." The bigger one responded," What of his pedigree, are ya sure that nobody else backs him. I don't want to kill a noble's bastard child." The smaller one in turn said, "Yes, leader. They came from nowhere six or seven summers ago. Nobody heard of them, but I do remember em' getting in a mess with some nobles a summer ago. The beggar's old man is feeble." The bigger man had a tattoo on his head of a red knife. He looked a mix of fat and muscle, and the man at his side had a tattoo of the same knife except it was grey.

2 Months passed following the same routine. Shawn would: exercise, cultivate, go to work, eat, cultivate, and finally sleep. His grandfather's condition was continuing to get worse, he looked more and more fragile, and he found himself more talkative. He was taught more exercises and more fighting stances; he wasn't even close to being a master, but he could at least take on the other brats his age. He looked lean and muscular for his age and started to look a bit older than he was, no more than nine years of age. Tabitha had left him some books at his request that he read greedily in his spare time.