[1]

“I ran away because of you! What do I have to do to make you go away?” Sabine shouted at the top of her lungs, seeming to stop all commerce on market street. Since we were in Harcourt, the capital of Ergentein, that meant that I got to get my dressing down in front of all the diverse races of our kingdom.

Human and Wildling farmers stopped loading their carts. Out of the corner of my eye, a stoneblood dwarf put down his repair hammer to go get his wife. Street children in the nearby alley began yelling with laughter. Even an angry goat stopped bleating at its master to watch the spectacle.

Saewulf and Rollo, the two sellswords I hired to help “rescue” her, had enough empathy to be embarrassed for me. I, on the other-hand, was just too numb to be upset at Sabine’s vitriolic reception.

“Why would I ever want to marry a jumped up looking weasel like you? Had that ever even occurred to you? It doesn’t matter how much money your father has! No girl should have to have your ratty cursed spawn!” Sabine continued. Spittle flew across my face in a drizzle, giving a physical impact to her rage

Sabine’s words hurt, but the hate in her beautiful green eyes and the grotesque mockery in her sneer set my heart well on the road to recovery.

I had been a damned fool.

Somehow, I had given into the fantasy that because Sabine was always polite to me, that she would accept a marriage arrangement. When the other girls in the village laughed and called me “gremlin”, I never heard Sabine join in. Once her brothers beat me with sticks, pretending they were swords and I was a monster, she had scolded them. And I never forgot that kindness. In fact, against all reason, I let that begin the embers of my infatuation. I became so used to the disgust of my peers that I misdiagnosed common courtesy as infatuation.

How utterly stupid! How pathetic!

Now here I was being yelled at by an already pregnant woman that apparently had every reason to be mad at me.

Stunned by the flaming wreckage of my rescue fantasy, I just looked on stupidly while she continued to scream.

“...which is to say nothing of your miser of a father! It’s no wonder your mother ran off with Tink!...”

Fortunately, Saewulf had had enough, and came to my rescue.

“That’s enough of that, you damn cow!” Saewulf started, undercutting her tirade with a growl.

Sabine had just sucked in a bunch of air too, so it was probably going to be long.

The man behind Sabine, I recognized as Andrew the Baker’s son, moved forward to protect his pregnant mistress but took one look at Saewulf’s scarred visage and thought better of it. Probably smart on his part; I had seen Saewulf carve men apart like a professional butcher. Instead, Andrew gripped her by the shoulders and tried to pull her back.

I’ll admit, the fear in his eye gave me a teeny bit of thrill.

“This man, spent everything he fuckin’ had to save your ungrateful ass, thinkin’ you was kidnapped. He didn’t travel in the safety of a trail coach like you neither! We fought beasts and bandits and slept under the elements for three gods cursed rainy months! Pregnant or not, grateful or not, think real hard about the next thing you say about this boy. I got no qualms knocking out a few of those cow teeth.” Saewulf ended, stepping forward menacingly.

To her credit, Sabine did not step back in fear, but she took his words to heart. After a second, she looked at me. I mean really look at me, covered in road filth, a bloody bandage wrapped around my head and sporting enough wear and tear to start a career as a beggar. In actuality, I was pretty much a beggar. Saewulf was not one for exaggeration. I had spent the dowry her father had given for our betrothal, and my savings to hire Rollo and Saewulf—two high level classed mercenaries.

Sabine’s gaze softened, but still held a sharp resolve.

“You could have left a note,” I said lamely.

“I can’t read Harald. Nobody in the village, except your family can!” She retorted. It was nice to hear her normal speaking voice again.

“Left word then? We all thought bandits took you.” I said, gesturing uselessly at the men behind me.

“Couldn’t risk my Pa finding out! He’d have forced me through the wedding and probably killed Andrew for taking my flower. You don’t get it. We are in love.”

It was hard for me to find sympathy.

“Look,” Sabine said, sighing. “I told my Pa that I wanted to marry Andrew, but he’d already got a proposal from your dad. The farm hasn’t been doing well--”

I turned around to leave, having heard enough, but Rollo stopped me with his massive hand. The giant spoke little, but when he did, it was good to listen.

“We are still on your roster. I’m keen to at least make that one,” he pointed at Andrew,” limp for a few months. I promise it will make you feel better.”

Tears welled in my eyes at the show of support. Saewulf and Rollo had become the first real friends I ever had. Though they came at an exorbitant price, they were more than just professionals to me. Rollo taught me how to fight with dagger and fist, play bones, and skin a rabbit. Saewulf had a thousand crude jokes that always seemed to take me out of my depression and worry for Sabine. He also taught me how to sling a stone and set a camp, how to march; and a hundred other things. The two were a worldly wealth of knowledge, unlike anyone back in Weston.

“Nah,” I said, turning to look at Sabine’s scared face. “Andrew’s going to need those legs to make coin for that bastard on the way. Consider this my betrothal gift to you.”

Saewulf thought that was classy. He let out a chuckle and slapped me on the back. “You really are a good kid.” He said.

“So what now?” Rollo asked.

“I don’t know. I need a bath, then I need to sleep on it.” I said, watching Sabine and Andrew scurry away down the street, to the sound of boos and jeering. Once our drama had fully unfolded, the crowd had moved in my favor. More than a few common folk called her a harlot, though that did not make me feel better.

In a strange way, I almost felt relieved at watching her go. Had Sabine and I married, the course of my life would have been fairly straightforward. I would have taken over the general store, and the caravan contracts. We would have moved into that house I’d planned to purchase near Rosie’s Inn. And, just like my Dad, in a few years I wouldhave been the richest fish in a small pond. Probably just as unhappy as he was, too.

“Kid, look… looks ain’t everything,” Saewulf said, trying to help in his way.

I could almost believe him too, considering how many scars he had on his brutish face. Because, despite his appearance, Saewulf found a woman to tumble with in nearly every inn we visited. I would not be surprised if half the kingdom was his blood relative in a couple of generations.

Gremlin, weasel, rat, and snake were the most common insults people called me. As much as it pains me to say it, I shared a commonality with all those things. My ears are too big, my lips and mouth too thin. Well, just one of my ears now; a wolf, bit half of my left ear off on the road—and good riddance. I have even heard people say that my eyes were too shifty. Whatever the abyss that means. Anyway, what I mean to say is I do not just look like those things, I’m also scrawny like those things.

Saewulf might have been every bit as ugly as I was, but he was also six and a half feet of axe swinging muscle. Whereas I was close to an entire foot smaller than him, with arms and legs that were built for running. Not coincidentally, I had spent a lot of time running.

“It’s all right. And… Thanks for standing up for me. It meant a lot,” I told him.

“Aw hell kid,” Saewulf said. “You paid us, it’s our job to fight in your interest.”

Rollo gave Saewulf a meaningful look, and it occurred to me for the first time that they just might have expected this outcome all along. Gods, I had been so stupid.

“First drink is on me,” Rollo said, trying to do his best to pat my back gently with his monster hands.

A drink! That was exactly the thing that I needed. Seeing that I was only sixteen, I had not had the occasion to drink much in the past. However, after three months of hard travel with those two, I picked up a taste for it.

Good thing he was paying. I spent the last of my coin renting a room at an Inn called the Horse’s Bladder for a week. After tonight, that week would have been up. I had no doubt that Rollo was aware.

“Will you be okay to head back by yourself?” Saewulf asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” I said. Searching high and low for Sabine had let me become somewhat more acquainted than I’d have liked with the city.

“Good, good. Since there is still a little daylight left, we are going to see if we can pick up a commission with a caravan heading back to Hornebolt.” Saewulf almost looked guilty.

I could not understand why, so I just nodded.

Before long they were out of sight, and the tears that I held back came down in a flood. I quickly ducked into an alley to cry out my heart for a few minutes. Then I headed toward my room at the Inn.

What a shitty end to a shitty journey.