The Letter

Finn had left the courtyard, the day still long and lasting. He had taken about patrolling the city, his usual armor and leather adorned him once more. He saluted fellow guardsmen standing ready at their posts. Lokarth, being as ever, so grim-looking. Though the appearance was dark, gritty, and always grey and black, with metal everywhere around them, the people of this city were upbeat in spirit. You could walk through the market and find ordinary folk conversing happily. You could pass by one of the many taverns and hear singing and laughter. And you could visit any clerk or merchant in town and be greeted warmly. It truly felt like a hearty bond had formed between the citizens. It reflected the nature of Ebonvale well. Good-hearted people. They came from all around the world, living a well-earned, honest life. Finn? He wasn't the type to make it obvious, his face always so serious. But he enjoyed it here. He had seen the bad parts of this city and the good parts. He liked the squad he had; he liked the friends he had. And even though he lived a lonesome life, he had plans. He wanted to become someone, make a name for himself. Staring at the mark Brugo drew on his forearm, that feeling of purpose he already had amplified tenfold, as if something new was ahead of him.

The guardsman marched alone for now. He had taken enough time to relax and recover; now it was time for duty. As he walked through the city, the sounds of a commotion could be heard, and the words flew through the air audibly, immediately reaching his ears from afar. "THIEF!" A woman yelled, her elder voice screeching as if she had been overfilled with youth once more. And a young, sleek and rough man ran through a crowd, he expertly avoided each obstacle in his way, jumping over a wagon, dashing under a horse, leaping through the air as he was nearing an alleyway. He was about to make a dramatic exit. Expertly done. Once he entered the alleyway, his face met something akin to a wall, his nose blistering with numbness from the impact as he fell to the ground. The thin man looked up, his catlike eyes spotting what seemed to be a tower of leather and metal. His steel was shown to the thief, flashing brightly in front of him.

He jabbed the blade through the air; Droplets of water sliced in half. It reached his face, prodding just the very tip of his nose. "Halt." Finn spoke in his usual rough tone, monotone and dastardly serious. He approached the thief in the manner of a brute, manhandling him to stand up straight, using just a single hand to pick him up. He walked through the town, the people of the market booing the thief and spouting line after line.

"Shame on you!"

"You had it coming, dipshit!"

"Filthy scoundrel!"

"Throw him in the crypts!"

"Knock him up some more, Sir Guardsman!"

Finn finally approached and hit the elderly woman. She quickly smacked the thief once, then twice, grabbed her purse, then smacked him with it as well. Finn put his hand out, gesturing for her to stop. "Enough, he's for the crypts tonight. He'll come out a bright new man soon." The elderly woman looked up at the guard's intense face, speaking her mind to him. "Sonny, people like him won't learn until they get placed at the noose. Just let this wretch swing." Finn glanced towards her, thinking of the prospect. Then, as if on cue, the thief began to speak, clearly terrified. "W-wait a second, hey, uhh, listen, her purse barely had any silver! Just a couple of coins! I can't swing for that kind of crime, it's ridiculous!" Finn looked at the criminal, giving him a sharp, deadly look. "Speak when spoken to, thief. No, we won't so kill you, but answer me this: Which hand is your favorite?" The thief stupidly answered, lifting his right hand. "M-my right." Finn nodded, a sick smile appearing on his face, his eyes glowing from the cover of his hood. "Then we shall cut off the left!" The thief's jaw dropped wide open, and he soon passed out from what he had just heard. Finn grimmly chuckled to himself, walking off towards the Jail Post of the city to deliver the man to his sentence.

A sudden 'neigh' cut him off from his tracks, booming from above him. A dark stallion stood in front of him, with an armored figure atop.

"Finn Hensman. I see you're back from the dead." The voice echoed from an armored helmet, so Finn turned his head up to see who it was, already having a good feeling about it. "I don't die so easily, Captain." The Captain scoffed, her eyes glancing at the unconscious thief. "Hand that criminal over. I'll take him to the Post for judgment. In the meantime, Corporal, I have something for you." The Captain ruffled her satchel while Finn mounted the criminal onto the horse, attaching steel cuffs to his wrists so as not to move. Finn was handed over a piece of parchment, sealed with a glop of dark wax, the emblem of their kingdom present on the seal. "He stole a purse from some crazy old lady. Do with that information as you will." The Captain nodded. "It shall either be his hand or work in the Quarry. Alright, I have to go, Finn. Read the paper when you can, it's for your eyes only." The Captain tapped her breastplate with her knuckles twice in quick succession. Finn did the same. He curiously peeked at the parchment, reaching for the wax seal, only to be interrupted by a loud bang and ringing noise of bells. He looked to the side to see that the middle of Morning had come. Finn sighed, stashing away the paper for now. It was time to move on and end his patrol, walking through the city as serious as ever.

A warm fireplace burned away at logs numbering three, sparks of citrusy smoke pushed into the chimney. An orange peel was thrown inside, burning brightly. The voice of a youthful man could be heard from within. "There is no way, in all the seven hells, or eleven as you dwarves would believe, that I am going to go get wine for the night. It shall be you." Yorsen frowned and got up from his seat, pissed off. "Well, aren't ya a pisspot? You're awfully tyrannical, even though we are the same rank, boy." Lanor grinned at the Dwarf, patting his head as if he were a little dog. "And you, old man, have not made a single journey to the Tavern since the start of this 'shahir'. I advise you to follow suit like everyone else here." Yorsen gripped the elf by the collar of his cloak. "Or else?!" Lanor's eyes glew brightly, preparing for the dwarf to make a move, only for the sound of a door being shut to stop their scuffle. They turned to see a familiar glare pierce right through them, a harsh, rugged tone following suit. "What are you two fools doing?" The dwarf and the elf quickly disengaged, saluting the man who had entered. "A-APOLOGIES, SIR CORPORAL." Finn sighed, looking at the two with an annoyed look. "You two.. I can't even die peacefully. I just know if I were gone for good, Sergeant Krig would only be troubled with you both." He sat down in his usual spot near the fireplace, his cloak left on the rack as usual to dry off. He waved his hand, dismissing the two fellow guardsmen. Lanor and Yorsen looked lost for words, only nodding to each other as they surrounded Finn out of nowhere. He looked at them confused, only to be suddenly assailed. "CORPORAL, WE MISSED YOU, SIR!!!" Yorsen and Lanor tugged on Finn, embracing him from both sides. The human only able to struggle away from them. "G-Get... Off.. me... Now! Yorsen.. your beard.. stinks!" The dwarf and elf combo lifted themselves away from the corporal, teary-eyed and pouting. "S-sir, Finn.. we missed you so much.. MPFFF!" Yorsen grabbed his beard, blowing his nose on it. Finn flinched as he inched away from the dwarf. "Corporal, we need your help. The Sergeant Krig is.." Finn looked over towards Lanor, and as he glanced up at him, his eyes diverted away to the background of their little encampment. Was that.. Sergeant Krig passed out in a corner? What was going on? "The Sergeant has been like this since yesterday. He drank himself to sleep and hasn't bothered moving an inch. Every time we tried to move him, or offer him a carry back home, he would just smack us!" Finn looked at the Sergeant, unable to think of a reason as to why he was acting like this. "Lanor's right, Finn. Strangely, though, last night, I could hear him mumble your name in his sleep, Corporal." Finn was confused. Why was that? If anything, Krig should've been the one to know best in what kind of condition he was. There wasn't a reason to drink oneself to death if nothing bad was happening. Unless..

Finn grabbed a parchment from his satchel, the very one he had been given by the Captain earlier today. He ripped off the seal, beginning to read through it.

"To the Guardsman known as Finn Hensman. You are relieved of your duties, and are to present yourself for graduation at the Middle of Tuesday, by noon. You shall present yourself with your gear, with blade and armor, and you shall recite your vows as you prepare yourself to join your new brothers in the next Guard." Sharply signed, a dagger followed by the name 'Inquisitor Grim'.

"Join your new brothers in the next Guard... Tuesday.. that's.." A rough and jagged voice pierced through Finn's ears. The Sergeant was staring daggers at the soldiers, a hand holding onto his pounding head. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Finn, you'll no longer be part of this Squad. They're moving you somewhere else." Finn looked bewildered, though, sighing, he stashed the letter away. He put his hands onto his helmet, taking it off and placing it in front of Krig. His eyes glared right back through the Sergeant, and a tone of ruggedness overpowered his jagged one. "Sergeant, then what is the reason for this kind of behavior? I do not approve of what you are doing. So I recommend you return to your senses, unless you wish for me to do it in your stead." The other two guards backed off, something giving them a bad feeling about the situation.

"What did you just say to me, you Undead piece of shit?" Finn quickly responded. "I think you heard already, do you wish for me to repeat myself, Sergeant?" Krig got up from his table, standing face to face with Finn. The sharp smell of booze radiated off his breath as he spoke. "Listen here, you dirty fuck, I resurrected you from the dead, alright? You don't get to poke me around. ME! Your superior! Who do you think you're trying to threaten?" Finn's eyes didn't turn away; instead, his mouth gave away even more powerful words than before. "That wasn't a threat. It was a warning. And I do not like to repeat myself to drunken fools, Sergeant." Krig nodded, stepping away. He grabbed his cloak and got hold of his staff. "Let's go outside then." Finn nodded, getting hold of his cloak and checking his blade, sheathing it back into its scabbard.

The two exited the outpost, a sudden silence falling over the building. Yorsen and Lanor looked at each other, both shaken by the encounter. It felt as if the little bit of family and camaraderie they had built over these couple of months spent together was starting to splinter away.