A blacksmith hammer, fashioned as a gavel, ten times as heavy as a neutron star and twice as old, broke reality in a focused space, with enough force to shatter galaxies, but not enough to even ruffle the unruly gaggle of figures sitting around the large obsidian slab of matter they were using as a table.
Spit, whistle, and all manner of obscene speech could be heard between each faction leader, everyone present a calamity unto itself, beings who reached the peak of their universe, and looked up, thinking, it’s not enough.
And it wasn’t.
It was never enough.
Those beings were now rounded, seeking a way forward when nobody saw one, and each and every one of them was mimicking the bearing of a shit-eating child, well into the third bucket of their favorite meal.
And so, it fell on him to bring reason to the table, the most neutral of the bunch, trying to bring attention to the matter at hand.
The violent showing granted him a moment of peace, and he quickly filled it with his argument, before tension could rise again.
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The Celestial Warden held his hammer high, looking at each sulking figure, waiting for a nail to be put into place. The nail did not stick out.
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Smoldering heat began to waft from the mallet engraved head, but before he could move, a metallic clinking sound could be heard, and the scantly dressed figure of the elven lord was confined to a box disappearing from sight with a satisfying Bop.
With a sigh, the hammer-wielding figure massaged his temples.
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The silver-skinned humanoid on his right dipped his head in acknowledgment.
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Highest of Councils, last eventide of the First Ages.
The pair quickly left to prepare for the challenge, and Omri got back inside, finding Mabel done with her cooking, already nursing a hot cup of tea, alongside the usual morning spread, while she waited for him at the table.
"Oh boy, what was that about? I heard the hunter’s brat's voice. Is he still going on about his weird little competition?"
“Yeah, apparently I’ve underestimated his stubbornness. He may have a weak gut, but he remembers his words, and it does not seem like he wants to back out,” he said awkwardly, wondering how would they actually measure who was the “best hunter”.
“Also, I know it’s a bit rude, but do you perhaps have a bow I can use? I remember them mentioning something about shooting, and I did not expect to need mine while in town”.
Omri did leave his makeshift weapon back at home, worried about the saltwater ruining it, and yet he still felt bad about the additional favor he had to ask his host.
Who seemingly did not mind in the slightest, as she gingerly answered his request by pointing at a sturdy oaken chest resting near the fireplace.
“And why would that be a trouble? I’m happy to help, as long as you teach Eric’s lad a lesson. He’s a good kid, but since his mother left them he’s been a pain in the ass. Always creating a fuss, but still don't go overboard with him… he could use a little humility, not a trauma”.
Hearing the woman's usual chatter let him relax, some tension he didn’t know was holding left his shoulders, before he focused on a detail, already moving to check the coffer’s contents.
“I’m sorry to hear about his mother, It must be painful to endure such a loss”.
A loud cackle erupted after a short pause, while he took stock of the well-crafted wooden bow carefully stored inside the crate.
“Nah lad, nothing like that. The whore just left them for one of the merchants that hang on my son's coattails. A jeweler from some muddy shithole back in the continent. It's been years since we’ve had news, and the last was that he left her for a waitress. Eric took the entire thing in stride, but his son was, and still is, a big mama's boy”.
A smile crept on the young hunter's face, some of his earlier compassion bleeding out after the colorful retelling, and he decided to focus on the present, holding the stiff shaft out to test its flexibility.
Mabel's eyes followed his movements, a weird mix of melancholy and joy clear in her aged gaze.
“That was my husband's bow, boy. It has been a while since it has seen use, but I’ve kept it properly polished for many years. I hope it's still in shooting condition, wait for me here, I’ll get you the bowstring”.
Omri simply nodded in silence.
The light wooden weapon resting in his hands suddenly felt heavy, filled with the elderly kindness, as he examined the yew more carefully, touching the simple carvings etched in the flexible timber with newfound respect.
It was a longbow of considerable size, and while he would need to fire a couple of arrows to get a feel for the draw-weight, he estimated it to be around the 150-pound range, well into the territory of military-designed weaponry.
After a few minutes, Mabel returned armed with a full quiver and a few strings held in her hands, and finding his guest still focused on the shaft, she jokingly quipped, “Ohi, I’ve got your stuff here. If you need help stringing it, shout and I’ll come”.
Coming out of his funk, he smiled, accepting the proffered items. “Thank you, Mabel. It’s a good weapon, I can already feel that. I promise it will come back without a scratch,” he said gratefully.
“Bah, don't worry kid, it was just sitting there gathering dust, and my husband doesn't need it anymore anyway. Like his clothes, seeing some good use out of it is the most I can ask but we’re wasting time! Let’s go out and shoot that thing, I wanna know if I should bet on you or not”, she answered, already ushering him out of the living room.
A small laugh left Omri’s lips as the wrinkly hands of his host herded him into the back garden, unsure about her last statement's seriousness, but he still quickly set up a couple of wooden logs as targets, while she sat down on a nearby chair.
She was once again nursing a cup of her spicy red tea, looking at him like a noblewoman watching a play.
He shook his head and placed down both quiver and strings, leaving just one of the sturdy threaded cords in his right hand as he hooked one end to the bottom limb of the bow.
Stretching out his left leg, he secured the sturdy shaft with the outside of his foot and, pressing on the top limb, strung it in a single motion.
He then tested the draw, happily confirming that nothing was wrong with the weapon, before firing a couple of arrows at the logs, all ending up deeply lodged into the drywood.
For each heavy “thump” Mabel let out a comment, flooding him with a slew of “good lad”, “ oh my”, “ good man”, and other compliments, so many that he frankly felt a bit embarrassed, especially considering how close his targets were.
After his little performance, they spent a few minutes idly chatting outside before moving back to the kitchen and finishing their breakfast.
Mabel excused herself, telling him she had her morning routine shaken enough, but still would check out on him and his “rival” later, once she was done with her chores, so he took the opportunity to leave the house and make his way toward the merchants' square.
The news of the hunter’s challenge had quickly spread through the small village, with many curious inhabitants gathering around the market for a welcome change to their routine.
Arriving at the site, he immediately noticed the unusual number of people already waiting on the sides of the otherwise calm plaza, while bales of hay covered in cloth served as rudimentary targets, placidly sitting on the longest side of the square.
Each had multiple concentric circles painted on it, with a smallish dot in the center to indicate the bullseye.
On the opposite side, Sebastian and his father were waiting for him, already busy talking to Olivar, with the town chief looking none too pleased by the disruption.
He made his way to the trio, and once he was within earshot, the regent's bored words greeted him, “Mr Omri, I believe we distinctly agreed that you would not make a fuss during your stay on my island?”
“To be fair, your fellow subjects seem to be more than happy about my 'fuss',” he thought, searching for an answer to the rebuke, before settling on a tried and tested “not my fault” attitude.
“You're right, but I was kinda dragged into this whole thing, and I’m still sorry for the commotion caused,” he replied with a half smile.
All he got back for his troubles was a grumpy gaze, quickly diverted away by Eric, who placed himself between Omri and the disappointed officer.
“Come on, Olivar, you already know it's true. My son started this, and half a day of fun won’t make the next winter harder”.
The regent's face contorted at the interjection, accepting the truth but not liking it in the slightest, and after a short pause in which he seemed to regain his composure, the man spoke, now addressing all three.
“I see, I see. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Well, the next time you come up with such a bright idea, kindly let me know before you organize half a parade, and close off our market square”.
He grimaced again, before speaking to the older hunter, “Eric, you will be in charge of the competition. If anything happens to our guest, to your son, or to one of the spectators…”
He paused, looking at the people hanging out all around the plaza, “WHO SEEMINGLY HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO!” He shouted, before tapering off, “I will hold you responsible”.
The grizzled man answered with a sheepish nod, shuffling on his feet, “Sure, no problem, I'll take care of everything”.
A last withering look, and a murmured “Well, let’s hope they don’t cause too much trouble,” was all they got as Olivar gestured at the trio, turned, and quickly walked away, taking his leave.
The moment his back could no longer be seen in the distance, the crowd started to holler and gossip, like an unruly class of children after the professor had left, and Omri felt a weird sense of kinship for the man.
Eric seized the moment, quickly getting up on a stool and shouting: “Great, now that our graceful Major granted us his blessings, I believe the challenge can begin,” the vein of sarcasm in his tone was not hidden, and the audience appreciated the jibe, small laughter rising up and dying down as he quickly moved on "The rules are simple: three challenges, whoever wins at least two wins the competition, no outside help and no tricks. You will compete in archery, woodland travel, and botanical knowledge, to then top the entire thing off with a more standard hunt. Questions?”
“Yes, one, what do you mean by botanical knowledge?" Omri asked, confused by the phrasing. Were they about to randomly quiz him in the middle of an unknown archipelago, uninhibited by what he estimated to be third-generation settlers, at most?
“Nothing special, I will select a plant that grows in some specific areas of the island. I’ll describe those areas' conditions and the plant properties, and you must bring me a specimen; the first to do so wins the round.”
“Well, I guess a father's love is still a father's love. He could have just told me he wanted to save some face for his son,” Omri thought about the clearly skewed challenge. “ At least I avoided a dumb test,” before lazily answering, “All good for me, we can start whenever then”.
Eric looked at the younger hunter with even more respect in his eyes and nodded. The man probably thought that he would simply concede the point to his son.
"Good, then we can begin, for the shooting test, you will have five arrows each we will go for a standard measuring. The bullseye is worth ten points, and each surrounding ring is two points less than the one before. The lines are worth twenty, but only if you call them before your shot".
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He paused to make sure they both understood the grading system, and then continued.
"Sebi, since you were the one who issued the challenge, you will start first, come closer and shoot when you are ready".
Sebastian moved with confidence, his usual clique of friends back to their supporting roles now that he was no longer puking his guts out in front of the town.
Taking his stance and adjusting his aim he fired the first arrow, followed by a second, then a third. He held the last two shots a bit longer, ending up with 5 darts on target.
The young hunter was by no means a master, but he had considerable talent with the bow; all the shots were at least eight points except for the last two that hit the center, scoring a total score of forty-four.
The crowd reacted enthusiastically to the feat, and even Omri politely joined in the applause, although his inner thoughts were more an inner analysis of his opponent.
"Mhh, with the target fifty yards away, you can say that is a nice showing. Master Beltram would have shot five arrowbreakers at the same distance, but the guy is a monster. And I’m happy his drills have finally found some use," thought the amused boy as he took his place.
He put on a serious face, unsure of where to go from there: he certainly had no intention of losing, but neither did he intend to humiliate the other guy in front of everyone for an issue created by a few mugs too many.
It was Sebastian who unknowingly sealed his own fate, his confidence bolstered by his results. The youngster was currently busy bragging about his skills, trying to swoon his group of friends with his back already turned to the shooting gallery, completely disinterested in Omri’s performance.
It seemed like he truly thought he was a pushover, and while crushing his pride was too much, the constant disrespect was starting to pique at him.
So, he took position and fired five arrows in quick succession, their path followed only by a few in the hollering crowd, still praising their fellow townsman for his showing. It was a matter of a second before all five quarrels hit their target.
Five regular wooden thuds echoed in the plaza, their distinct sound cutting through the chatter, and this time the audience was silent, almost as surprised by Omri’s stunning draw speed as they were by his precision.
Five shots, five centers, each arrowhead close enough to touch.
"Not like Beltram, but still more than enough for the settings, I imagine," mused the boy, watching the crowd's reaction.
His challenger, still busy chatting, didn’t even get to watch the spectacle, and he realized something had happened only due to the reaction of the people in front of him, which made him turn around.
Sebastian's gaze, light above his stretched lips, froze as it went between the two targets, before landing on his opponent and finally on his father, unable to understand what had happened, or at least how it had happened so quickly.
"The first challenge goes to Omri," Eric's voice almost boomed in the silence now pervading the square, voice cracking in disbelief at what he had seen.
The grizzled hunter was now curiously looking at him, analyzing his gait with an intense gaze.
His announcement broke something in the calm plaza, and the spectators expressed their surprise at the turn of events with a fervent roar, soon joined by a rain of applause.
"Well, that was not something you see every day. Let's move on to the second test, shall we? The plant we want you to find is called Salamander’s Tongue. It’s a flower with meaty crimson petals shaped like the amphibian's tongue, and you can only find it in the deepest parts of the forest, near creeks, rivers, and ponds, or below ground in the more humid caves. The first one to return here to the square with a specimen will be the winner.
Sebastian, now fully aware of the caliber of his competition, wasted no time and started running towards the jungle the moment his father uttered the plant name, while his contender carefully listened to the whole spiel, before he also made his way into the greenery.
“He gave me more information than I expected, but l mean, Sebastian has lived here his whole life. He knows one hundred percent where those flowers are. Maybe I should just get on with the hunt and give him a point? They clearly specified the challenge would end when one of us got two points out of three, but they didn’t say I have to do things in order”.
For some reason, the thought bothered Omri; losing one of the challenges would not be the end of the world, but he was more willing to concede his archery contest than actually give them the point they tried to weasel out with the treasure hunt.
As he idly searched his brain for a solution, he soon reached the edge of the thickest vegetation, where the houses gave way to sprawling jungle, while in the distance, he kept track of his opponent's shoulders as they disappeared into the green.
A simple idea struck him at that moment, and he almost hit himself for not having thought of the easiest solution straight away, "Another thing they certainly did not mention was prohibiting me from following another competitor. Now, I just need a suitable prey”.
Before moving on, he undressed, neatly stashing the borrowed clothes and boots in one of the many cave trees that dotted the forest undergrowth, alongside one of his pouches, brought along from Mabel’s house.
He was unwilling to mar her husband's clothes for a pesky challenge, and after the past two years, he was more than comfortable moving through the grove in his current getup, which was composed of a pair of undergarments and a simple leather belt, holding his trusty knife.
Pickin' up his pace, he tracked his challenger through the woods, deftly hiding in the verdant forest the few times Sebastian noticed something unusual, never letting the other hunter spot him during his travels.
The teen found out that he enjoyed the added challenge immensely, coming closer and closer to Sebastian, one time directly looming in the shadows of a couple of ferns while the young man was kneeling, busily searching the terrain for who knows what.
Eric’s son was proficient in all that mattered, and he would put him at the same level as a non-specialized temple initiate about to finish his training, but unfortunately for him, even a normal elite would wipe the floor with the youngster, and Omri was anything but normal.
The years spent on the island had skyrocketed his growth, and now that he was tailing another hunter, he realized how much better he had gotten compared to his past self.
A couple of hours past midday, Sebastian had to rest his legs, seemingly finding a good spot in a narrow river creek, located near a medium-sized lake that nested in a large forest clearing teeming with life.
Seeing a couple of large boars, and even a leopard, blessedly normal both in size and features, drinking from the lake waters, he reasoned that the older man wanted to avoid attracting the big game's attention.
It was something for which he was grateful, and that showed Sebastian's capabilities as a hunter, or at least showcased that not all of Eric's lessons had gone to waste.
Not wanting to waste any time, the boy quickly tracked one of the boars while his opponent enjoyed his rest, before closing in the distance and dispatching the beast in a short tussle that saw him straddling its large back.
A quick stab under the ear was enough to bring an end to the fight, the tough bone almost breaking as Omri’s dagger easily slid into the animal's hindbrain, down to the crossguard.
With a heave, he got the carcass on his shoulders, careful not to remove or even move the blade too much.
He didn’t want to be covered by a waterfall of blood, and the search was still on, which left him looking forward to a few filthy hours of painful trek if he let nature run its course, and so, the knife stayed in, and he stayed clean.
The beast’s weight was not too much of a problem, even as he had to track Sebastian, who by now had left his resting spot to resume his search, but as the day’s heat got worse, a thin sheen of sweat started to don his brow.
Eric was clearly serious when he told them about the plant's location.
They were deep in the verdant jungle, and while the large leaves and the intertwining treetops made a decent job of shielding the youngster from the sun’s harsh rays, they did nothing for the damp, warm air that stuck to the skin like a viscous film of oil.
The sweltering forest suddenly decided to be merciful, and the trees opened up.
Omri’s breath caught, this last slice of natural beauty burning in his mind, bright like the first.
A field full of flowers, a thousand different colors mixing in a rainbow of hues lay before him, sweet, fruity scents wafting in the humid breeze, as iridescent beetles skittered around in a symphony of strangely melodic chitters.
The gently sloped meadow apparently housed their prize, because in the middle, in a cluster of red-petaled orchids, Sebastian kneeled, one of the flowers already held in his right hand.
He approached the still-unaware hunter calmly, not willing to give up his advantage, but the added weight was seemingly too much to manage, and a sudden crunch revealed him when he was a good distance away from his bounty.
The older boy turned, his gaze going through an interesting series of changes as he took stock of Omri’s figure, starting with concern and confusion at his stealthy approach and his state of undress, before solidly landing on disbelief as he spotted the boar resting on his shoulders.
“No more time for subtlety, I guess”.
Credit where it’s due, Sebastian got over his surprise remarkably well, instantly getting up to start his sprint towards the clearing’s edges.
They locked eyes as they ran, one towards the town, the other towards the blossoms.
Omri finally reached the Salamander’s Tongue, picked it up while still running, and turned on his heels, chasing his hastily retreating foe at a relaxed pace, his breath steady as he rapidly shortened the distance between them.
The young adult had almost managed to get out of the clearing, and, just as Omri’s hulking form passed him, a splutter of blood hit him in the cheek, like the bobbing boar’s head resting on his bare back had spit at him from its neck wound.
A cheeky cry rose in the emerald jungle.
“See you back in town, Seb!”
What followed could not be called a chase, as the blonde boy quickly left his older counterpart in the dust, the distance between them widening with each passing minute.
Even weighted down from his prey, Omri glided through the forest like a ghost, the weaving woods recognizing the scent of predator and leaving him alone during his momentous dash, and soon, a few familiar smoke trails rose in the distance, the trees growing sparser the nearer he got to his destination.
If the careful search for the flower took them three bells, his mad dash was maybe a third of that, and the young hunter, now sweating profusely, located his previously hidden stash, grabbed one of the canteens in his pouch, and drank deeply.
Satisfied with his time, he made a couple of mental calculations.
He let the boar down, careful not to splatter too much blood from the now noticeably larger wound, and searched for a sturdy enough stick, before settling on a large stalk jutting from a hardwood tree so close to the village he worried someone would spot him.
Luckily, nobody did, and so the legend of Siegfried, the Naked Viking Prince, coming from the woods to steal your maiden away, was not born that day.
Instead, he got back into the forest, and then started to work, firmly securing the boar limbs to his newly minted stick, properly notched so the sinew cords used to tie it would not slip.
Using the remaining water, he quickly washed himself, wiped away his sweat and the boar blood, and dressed up again.
Finally, he put on his boots and, using one of the empty canteens as a shoulder pad, hoisted his prey like a knapsack, careful to position its wounded neck far away from his shoulders, before he swaggered back into town, pristine beside the teen sheen of sweat that was again adorning his brow.
The wooden pole he fashioned was digging deeply into his shoulder, even with the pad, but damned he would be if he showed a single hint of struggle.
Each step echoed silently in the almost empty streets, the few people not in the main square still working in their shops, but a couple of gazes found him, each tinted with the same disbelief that Sebastian had shown in their brief meeting.
Omri quickly reached the plaza, the chattering of a hundred mouths coming to a halt as he made his presence known, casually walking towards Eric, who was looking at him, eyes wide like saucers.
The experienced hunter understood more than most what he just did, and surprise made way for respect as he approached him, offering both flower and animal as proof of his ordeal.
Eric took the flower, brought it to a pot arranged for the challenge, and then also accepted the boar with a strained grunt, slowly bringing the beast to Edward, who looked at the single neck wound with a satisfied, knowing smile.
Murmuring was now starting to rise in the crowd, the low whispers held back by something he couldn’t place.
After a few minutes, a polite noise came from Eric, and Omri looked at him, his brow rising in question.
The older man stalled for a few seconds before weakly asking, “ Mmmh, lad, you wouldn’t know where my son is, right?”
Realization hit the boy, who widened his eyes, before hastily saying, “Of course! I left him in the flower clearing. I don’t know what pace he kept, but he should be here sooner or later. It really depends on his cardio, I would say”.
A relieved breath left Eric’s mouth, who was now looking at him with a questioning gaze of his own.
“What do you mean by cardio?”
Surprised, the boy answered to the best of his ability.
“Well, my master explained that cardio refers to the body's ability to resist strain during prolonged periods of stress…”
He was predictably interrupted by an even more confused Eric.
“Nono, I know what cardio means, but why would that matter so much in this challenge?”
Before Omri could start to explain that the last time they saw each other they were literally running to the finish line, a wheezing sound could be heard coming from the main road, and a haggard-looking Sebastian appeared in the distance, half-jogging, half-trembling as he made his way to the goal.
A shell-shocked Eric waited another couple of painful minutes before receiving a second plum crimson flower to put near the first, this time from the trembling hands of his son, who promptly collapsed on the ground, muttering “waaateer…” with a weak, raspy voice.
Omri looked at him, a healthy amount of respect in his eyes as he considered that the older youth did not like to give up a challenge, pushing forward to the bitter end.
His father seemed to have similar thoughts before he moved on to finally address the crowd, who had patiently waited until this tipping point to fall fully silent, waiting for what everyone knew was coming.
“Both contestants are back! And seeing how our new friend has finished both challenges in one, while also winning the second by a wide margin, we can call nigh on this trial! The winner is Omri, his honor is kept, and Sebastian Ericsson will have to abide by the terms of their contract! Now, give a warm welcome to our challengers!”
The modest crowd erupted in an earth-shaking roar, all banging on the stalls, on the ground, and on their knees, fully taking advantage of the small entertainment that had come to town to shake their daily routines.
Meanwhile, Sebastian had received the help he needed, his clutter of cronies droning around him as he drank from a large water canteen, but the looks they were giving him were not promising, and as Omri got closer to offer his hand in a handshake, he understood why.
The young hunter was currently in a manic bout, unhingingly muttering to his friends things he probably should take offense at.
“He’s crazy…He’s a monster! How does a human just, I don’t know, fucking appear naked carrying a two-hundred-pound wild hog out of nowhere!
One of the goons sighed, before condescendingly rubbing his back and saying.
“Yes, Sebi, yes, he is a devil, a terrible beast wearing human skin!”
Encouraged, the youth went on.
“Right, right, or he must be a spirit…coming here to torment me, having stolen the skin of a warrior of ages past!”
This time it was a girl, her messy auburn hair bobbing up and down while she took one of his hands, consoling him. “For sure, Sebi, he has come here to ruin you, yes. Or maybe he has cheated, taking away your deserved victory!”
Fear split the manic muttering, as the young man half shouted.
“NO! Never, he won, fair and square. Don’t speak of him cheating, he can hear you!”
Omri could, in fact, hear them, but not because of any particular power his apparent “spirit form” gave him, but because he was just a couple of steps away from the group, so he decided to make his presence known.
Clearing his throat, a tentative “Hello?” left his lips.
In an impressive display of athleticism, Sebastian cleared a good meter from the ground at the sound of his voice, before addressing him, his apparent fear readily forgotten in the second it took for him to turn.
“ YOU! Who the fuck are you! Where did the fuck did you come from! You’re maybe a couple of years older than me and you’re a beast, tell me, please tell me which fucked up shit hole chewed and spit you out to be a blight on this world, so I can at least try to join them!?”
Thick, heavy fear followed the proclamation, silence once again descended in the clearing, as the entire town watched with bated breath what many thought would be the last unlucky song of this particular swan.
A very confused Omri just idly scratched at one of his cheeks, focusing on a single statement hidden between Sebastian's questions.
“Uhmm.Yeah, I mean it’s not a problem, it’s just… can I ask you your age first?”
The other youth features unclenched, realizing that his big mouth had yet to kill him, and a thick sense of foreboding began to tickle the back of his neck right as he answered.
“Eh, well, I’m twenty-two, twenty-three in the summer of this year, right, Pa?”
Eric was focused on Omri’s face at the moment, not missing the small wince that went through his expression when his son said twenty-two, and sighed.
“Yeah, son, you can count. You will be twenty-three coming in the seventh month of this year”.
Eric did not miss the sigh, and the tickling sensation began to turn into a hammering certainty.
He looked at Omri, who was now sheepishly whistling a tune, not meeting his gaze.
“How old are you?”
The mumbled answer did not give him hope.
“Can you please repeat that, a bit… a bit louder please?”
He relented.
“Well, my upbringing has been…unusual, so I can’t say for sure… buuut I should be sixteen, give or take a couple of months…”
A pin drop could be heard in the following silence, before two voices, one raspy and old, the other young and full of anguish, screamed at the same time.
“ AH! I’ve told you he was a kid, you damned blind bats! Now, pay up!”.
Old Mabel, never changes.
“FUUUUUUUUCK!”
Sebastian was probably traumatized.