Quinn - City of Marge
Rain poured endlessly from the dark sky, striking the dirt pavement. My clothes clung heavily against my body, soaked through long ago, and every swing of the wooden sword in my hand felt heavier than the last.
My breathing had become uneven, each breath burning my lungs as my arms trembled from exhaustion. I could barely tell how long we'd been out here. The rain never stopped, the clouds never moved, and neither did he.
Master stood several yards away from me, his wooden sword resting loosely against his shoulder. The heavy storm shadowed over his face, concealing his primary features; however, I could still vividly remember his face if I tried.
The only things that remained clear in my memory were the long black robes draped over his body, his calm posture, and the quiet voice that somehow reached me over the rain every single time.
"Again."
I tightened my grip around the sword before charging toward him. Water splashed beneath my boots as I closed the distance between us, twisting my hips and bringing the wooden blade down toward his shoulder.
The strike never landed. Master shifted only a single step to his right, avoiding the attack with almost no movement at all. Before I could recover my footing, the end of his own practice sword struck my wrist.
Pain shot through my hand, forcing my fingers open as my weapon slipped from my grasp and landed in the shallow puddles below.
Before I even had the chance to bend down and retrieve it, another light tap landed against my chest.
The strike carried almost no strength behind it. It wasn't meant to hurt me.
It was simply enough to remind me that I had already lost.
His voice remained as calm as ever, "...Again."
There wasn't the slightest hint of frustration, disappointment, or anger. I would've preferred it if he had yelled at me. At least then I'd know I was making some sort of progress. Instead, I lowered myself, picked the sword back up, and returned to my stance.
Every attack I attempted ended exactly the same way. Sometimes he stepped aside before striking my shoulder. Other times he redirected the wooden blade with so little effort that my own momentum threw me off balance. Occasionally, I never even reached him before the tip of his practice sword rested against my throat, signaling another defeat.
Hours seemed to pass beneath the storm.
Dreams always had a strange way of making time meaningless.
Eventually my legs gave out. I dropped to one knee, planting the wooden sword against the soaked stone just to keep myself upright. Every breath came harder than the last, my chest rising and falling violently as water dripped from my chin.
"I don't understand..." I muttered, gasping for air.
Master remained silent for several moments before slowly walking toward me. His footsteps barely disturbed the puddles despite the weight of the rain surrounding us. When he stopped in front of me, I could only stare at the ground.
"Why did you lose?" he asked.
The question sounded simple enough, yet I'd heard it hundreds of times before.
"...Because you're stronger than me."
"No."
"...Because I'm slower."
"No."
I shut my eyes, in desperation.
"...Then I don't know."
The rain continued crashing against the courtyard as Master crouched until we were almost at eye level.
"You hesitated. You hesitated because you don't believe in yourself."
The corners of my lips twitched, turning into a frown. "I do! I-I do believe in myself..."
My voice gradually grew faint.
Master let out a deep sigh, as if he was masking disappointment. "Then don't hesitate." He gently raised the tip of the wooden sword and rested it against the center of my chest. "You cannot afford to doubt yourself after you've already moved."
His blade lowered once again.
"The moment you questioned yourself–
"you had already lost."
I stared down at my reflection in the puddle beneath me. The rain distorted it until I could barely recognize my own face.
"...Again?" I persisted.
For the first time all day, Master let out a small laugh. He wasn't mocking me, nor was he impressed. He was simply pleased.
"Again."
***
My eyes suddenly opened.
I looked up at the early morning sun radiating golden-orange light over the horizon. The streets reeked of a dusty odor being carried by the wind. For once, it was quiet, as it was too early for merchants to set up shop. The only people walking about the streets were teachers, garbage collectors, and others who hurried to their workplace.
I looked down at the concrete stairs I'd slept on, then at the green gate behind me, which I used as a pillow. It was the gate opening to a butcher shop. Boone was asleep beside me, nestled up into a ball on the hard concrete. I rubbed my face with one hand before letting out a long sigh.
That dream again...
Years had passed since those days. Yet somehow, every time I closed my eyes, I always found myself standing in that same courtyard.
Training under Master.
***
The sun had risen considerably higher by the time Boone finally woke up. I had already been sitting outside the butcher shop for nearly an hour, watching the streets gradually come alive as merchants opened their stalls and people began filling the roads.
The quiet atmosphere from earlier had completely disappeared. Carts rolled across the streets, shopkeepers shouted to potential customers, and the smell of freshly prepared food traveled through the city.
I had gotten used to sleeping in places like this over the past few months, but waking up on concrete still wasn't something I could ever call comfortable.
Boone finally shifted beside me before slowly lifting his head from the ground. He blinked several times, looking around as though he had forgotten where we were.
"...Morning."
"Morning."
He rubbed his eyes before looking toward the butcher shop behind us. The shop had been closed when we arrived, but its owner was now standing outside, staring at the two of us with a rather confused expression.
Boone noticed him too. In his groggy state, unable to completely speak, I spoke for the both of us:
"Oh... apologies, sir. We'll be on our way."
I stood up, pulling Boone up with me; we stretched our bodies before walking away from the shop. My back cracked as I straightened myself, and Boone let out a groan while rolling his shoulders.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Where else? We have to look for work."
We continued down the street, passing several businesses while looking for anything that might need assistance. Neither of us had much money left, and sleeping wherever we could find shelter was becoming more of a necessity than a temporary solution.
After the oil incident and almost burning this town down last morning, we decided it was best to lie low the entire day. What happened yesterday was the past. This was a brand new day!
Boone suddenly stopped walking.
"Wait."
I stopped as well, turning toward him.
"What?"
He looked toward a group of people standing outside a tavern across the street. One of them was holding a newspaper, while the others seemed to be discussing something among themselves.
"Have you noticed that?"
"Yeah, I was wondering when you were gonna notice it. People have been a lot more invested in today's newspaper."
After my reply, Boone began walking down the street at a hurried pace. He rushed to grab himself a copy of today's newspaper. As we turned the corner on a street, I caught up to him, keeping up with his pace. We passed by a tailor shop, then saw a coffee shop down the block.
As we arrived near the coffee shop, we turned to face the entrance. Coffee wasn't our actual motive; the newspaper stand outside the shop was. As we reached to grab a newspaper, a hand came down on us. Before he could slap my hand, I whipped it back.
An old man, almost nearing his sixties, sipped on his coffee. Holding a cane in his left hand, he tapped the ground.
"You want a paper? Pony up a half-Coin."
The currency in Elor was divided into three main denominations. Coins, Irids, and Iris. Furthermore, there are fractions for each, such as a half-Coin, which is roughly the size of a thumb's fingernail and worth half the value of a Coin.
Boone and I looked at each other before sighing. After taking a closer look, I jerked my chin at the old man to signal to Boone. The old man's narrow eyes, dullness, and age led me to believe his eyesight couldn't even be considered average.
Boone could tell what I was thinking and rapidly shook his head side to side, silently begging me to not do anything. I thought for one more moment, stepping in closer. I reached into my pocket, closing my fist, then pulling it out and presenting it in front of the senile man.
Don't hesitate...
As the old man believed I was holding a half-Coin in my palm, he reached out to grab it; however, I quickly opened my palm, grabbing the newspapers from the stack. My sweaty hand fumbled and picked up multiple papers, but there wasn't time to think.
In the blink of an eye, we dashed off.
"Hey! Hey! Thief!"
His distant cries couldn't reach our ears anymore as we were already a block ahead. We turned around to look at the small crowd of five people gathering around the old man, questioning why he was yelling out. Before he could point his finger, Boone and I turned the next corner and walked ahead like normal citizens.
After confirming we were far away, we turned right into a short alleyway, hoarding bags of trash. I untangled the mess of newspapers in my hands, holding them out in front of Boone and me. We began reading:
"Bounty! 2 Wanted Alive! One Irid For Each - Ten Coins For Information"
My lips curled up into a smile.
A bounty! This is great news! With Boone and my skills, no commoner from this little town is escaping us. If we capture both these nuisances, we'll have two Irids to our name; that's the equivalent of forty coins!
I glanced at Boone, who I expected to be cheerful at this opportunity, but also calculating; however, he was neither. His face was an expression of fear.
However, my happy smile quickly transformed into a look of confusion
"These two criminals are responsible for an oil spill on 29th Street, resulting in a fire that expanded north and reached 28th. The fire was put out due to our brave citizens and the spirit of Margerette. These two thugs must be caught!"
Below the print, a rough sketch was drawn of the two perpetrators. Although the sketch was average at best, anyone could recognize the criminals by putting it side by side.
The sketch and bounty were an official declaration against Boone and me!