Chapter 10: A Bloody High-Five

Dorl goes closer to Isan and Tina

"Isan that's no way to speak to our guest—especially in front of Tina." Placing a firm hand on Tina's shoulder.

"Hrmph!" Isan grunts as he spits into the mud, his eyes wanting to burst in Jorel's direction.

Jorel removing his hand from the hilt of his sword as his muscles relax.

Not worth my time to be engaging with him…

Don't want anything hindering me from leaving this place.

He continues walking forward, finally reaching the area he was with his horse lastly.

Whew… going to return home at long last.

He sighs with his face, loose.

But suddenly, Jorel's face twists as his eyes widen and his mouth gapens. His horse gone, no where to be found, not even a much as a strain of hair.

"..." Jorel's brain a loss of words as he turns around dotting his immediate surroundings. The mud, covered in too many horse tracks and footprints—making it hard for him to try and track it.

The people around, their faces quiet with their sunken eyes.

Ughn, where could it have gone off to?

All my gear…

Jorel, scratching his hair as he squats down and looks at the mud, he then stands up and looks towards the sky while walking around.

Where is it?! Who could've have possibly done—

Jorel's eyes looking at all the peasants there, some their faces down while others look at his feet.

"Hey where is my horse?!" Walking forward and his voice becoming more deeper.

At the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Isan. His head tilted downwards as he chuckles.

Why would he…?

…!

Wrinkles forming from his eyes down to his upper lip as his eyelids part.

"You!" Jorel's voice scorns, fully unsheathes his sword as he moves towards Isan, each step increasing pace.

Tch!

It's probably him! I mean…He has every reason to!

I just want to leave!

SWISHH–

CLUNG!

Bits of wood chips fly in the air as if time had slowed down, Jorel turning his fierce face to the left.

"Oh no…" Dorel sighs, his hold on Tina loosens.

The peasants there stare, all silent, fewer than before.

"Why are you attacking me? Aren't you a noble?!" Isan smirks as he falls away.

Jorel's throat silent, his anger loud. Dashing towards him once more, this time with a thrust.

"Wow!" Isan barely dodges to the side, Losing his balance, tumbling to the mud.

CLUMP!

His sword cutting the wind—but not Isan's gut! Jorel's teeth gnashing as the grip on his sword creases.

"All because of what a horse?" He chuckles while crawling in the mud.

"For a noble you sure are petty!" He snarls.

When did I ever mention anything about looking for my horse?!

Which could only mean…

It's him!

"Where is my damn horse?!" Jorel shouts, purposely cutting the mud besides him.

"I don't know!" He barks back, clinging to the mud.

"Hrgnh!" Jorel's throat vibrates.

Isan swiftly throws some mud towards him—towards his eyes.

Quickly raising his sword to his face.

SCHLOP!

It touches the cold steel and slides off. Isan, though struggling as he tried to gain footing, tries to stand up and run away from me.

Dorl and Tina run closer towards us.

The peasants too, closing in.

"Where"

"Is"

"My"

"Horse?!"

Jorel kicks Isan's heel as he fully stands up.

CLUMP!

He falls right back into the mud!

This is what he deserves—for making me touch mud!

How could he first disgrace me!

And now steal from me?!

A peasant?!

Raising his sword in the air, ready to drive it down into Isan.

Isan looking at him—his eyes, watery, his mouth quivering as he puts out his right hand.

At this point, I do not care anymore—he could even be pretending.

As if that'll make a difference.

Jorel changing his stance from holding the sword from downwards to upwards, the sun slightly reflecting off the blade and onto Isan's pitiful face.

"No!" Dorl shouts as he gets closer with Tina right behind him.

A quick silence then a ringing sound can only be heard, only the peopled eyes speaking for them as Dorl extends his hand forward—his pupils dilated.

SWWIISH—

SSSHLP!

Slashing downwards, his right hand comes right off as it twists and turns in the air with blood spewing all over, touching Jorel's face and clothing.

Isan's hand flying towards the ground, landing in the mud, painting the brown a slight red while Jorel's once clean blade now stained with blood.

"AAHHHHHHHH!" Isan's irritating voice tears the entire street, grasping the lower part of his right hand, blood gushing all over.

Jorel's gazes above him…

He should've deserved more…

"Isan…" Dorl, falling to mud as he holds him.

"U-Uncle..Isan…?" Tina, her voice fractured, her once gleeful face painted all over with tears.

She moves closer and rests her head on Dorl's body. The peasants all recoiling back—their eyes all fixed on Isan groveling with his hand besides him.

Jorel reachs into his satchel for his cloth, using it clean the blood streaks off his face and sword. When done, he sheathes his sword back, fastening it to his waist.

"Hey, Kumigara!" His voice deepens as he directly faces Dorl.

It's about enough now…

"Hmm?" His body jolts as he faces Jorel.

"I want to leave, and not wasting a second longer."

"Do something about it." Jorel staring directly into his soul as he looks at back, speechless.

Or was he deaf when I spoke?

"Now!" Jorel speaks slowly but still sharply.

"Y-Yes S-Sir…"

Tina's continued cries drown out Dorl's stammers and Isan's scream.

"Someone please help! Help and carry Isan to a healer!" Dorl shouts, his voice prevails against Isan's screams and Tina's cries.

He gently holds Tina's head into his leg as they both rush off somewhere.

At least I won't hear that brat's awful voice anymore.

The clouds parting, some of the sun's beams shining through and directly on the road.

I–I cut…Off someone's hand…

Me?

Bending his head down as his hair covers his eyes.

…

Isan still shouting and rolls from side to side like he's in a cradle with metal clanking and squeaking sound becoming more louder—more closer.

"Hey you stop!" Someone shouts at Jorel.

Who's that?

He raises his head up and looks at the person.

They don't learn…Do they?

—The end of Chapter 10—