CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:
~ VIOLENCE
~ CHILD ABUSE
~ BLOOD
Gaalin accepted a fresh pint of ale from a passing wench, chuckling at the antics of a few of the drunkards dancing around the flame in the center of the room. Men and women, warriors, guards and civilians all mingled with one another. Rejoicing in the continued celebration of the recent dragons death. A night like this one, with people smiling and drinking in celebration from a recent victory after an attack by bandits, he met Libelle.
A group of men crashed through the heavy wooden door, drenched from the downpouring rain. "Call for the king!" one screeched, stumbling over his own feet as two men behind him dragged a young girl inside by her arms. She snarled like a feral creature, struggling to free her thin wrists from their burly grips. She kicked at the ground and at the men, dragged her feet, lunged at them with an intent to sink her teeth into their flesh.
"Call for the guards! The king!" One of the men holding onto the girls wrists growled. "He needs to see this!"
Several of the patrons stood up from their seat and approached the trio of men with the snarling girl, some out of concern and others out of curiosity. Many asking, what was wrong? Who was the girl? While others shouted to guards patrolling the street.
"We've found one!" said the first man panting, a middle aged man with greying hair and a fat waist. "We found a slayer!"
"A slayer?" many of the patrons shouted with surprise. Their eyes widened, and even more of the citizens stood up and approached the frightened girl. Hair a pale blonde that was wet with rain and dirt; her young, thin body barely covered by the rags she wore, hardly enough to keep her warm in the current season. Her body was covered in bruises, and cuts: blood mixing with the rain and dripping onto the dirty floor.
"There hasn't been a slayer in almost fifty years! How can you claim that this sewer rat is one?" a drunk guard asked, slurring his words and spilling his drink.
"He's right! The last slayer died a long time ago, there hasn't even been a rumor of one around these parts since the last one was killed!"
"It's true!" one of the man growled as he continued to hang onto the struggling girl.
"She has powers, we saw it!"
"That cant be true," one of the women holding a pitcher of ale smirked. "-perhaps you were drinking again Erik, and your eyesight is playing tricks on you."
"I ain't been drinking wench!" he turned and tangled his fist into the collar of the girls rags, pulling her from the grip of the two men who released their hold. He easily picked her up and threw her into the center of the crowd in the middle of the room.
"I can prove it!" Erik said, "Wade, Gael, they can help prove it."
Gael, another thick and burly man with a long beard stepped up behind Erik and glowered down at the panicking child. "She tried to steal from my stall, tried to steal some bread. Wade caught the little thief, snatched the bread back outta her hand, he did."
Wade, a man slightly older than the other two crossed his arms over his chest. "She hissed at me like a viper, didn't scram either."
"Just because you say this girl is a slayer, doesn't mean she is one." said another patron who had gathered around.
"How can you prove this runt is a slayer? It looks too pathetic to challenge a dragon, it'd be turned to ash in its current state." one more commented.
Erik smirked, "We can prove it."
Gaalin remembered standing up at this point, pushing through the crowd of people to push to the center of the room. He was in his early twenties, but he had the body of a mature warrior at this age and was known in Edinburgh. Known for his capable fighting skills, for his fearlessness in battle, and his aggression towards those who offended him. Many let him pass, letting him reach the inner edge of the circle surrounding the growling child.
Erik, the man who had led the other two into the inn stepped forward towards the child. His foot slid across the ground behind him, and then in a singular, fast motion, kicked his foot outwards into the child's abdomen. The force lifted her into the air with a harsh grunt, and when she landed back onto the floor she slumped forward, clutching her belly, coughing and vomiting up the little content in her stomach.
Gaalin didn't flinch as he watched the three men take turns kicking, slapping and punching the child. The abuse went on for several minutes, yet none of the onlookers said anything as they watched the child be beaten. She looked small, no older than ten or twelve years of age. Such a weak and fragile being, he found himself thinking.
Each man huffed and puffed, seemingly growing more frustrated as the child lay limp on the floor. Her growls and hissing had stopped after a few strikes to her abdomen, replaced with pained gasping and whimpers.
"This doesn't prove anything." A guardsman said with a frown. "This just looks like a beggar child who was caught stealing, nothing more."
The other guard standing beside this one shrugged, turning away from the show to take another mug of ale from a waitress who held a platter. "Toss the vermin outside, this doesn't look like a slayer to me."
Several of the individuals who stood by watching began to walk away one by one, yet Gaalin remained. His gaze following the trembling of the girls frail body, and back at the three men who seemed to be even more frustrated by the situation. He could understand it though, a man who discovers a slayer can be rewarded a fortune from their respective king or lord of the land. How disappointed they must be for having been made a fool of in front of all these people.
"It's true!" Wade shouted.
"We saw it, all three of us!" Gael said while looking frantically at Erik. "Do something you imbecile!"
Erik gritted his teeth, then cursed. He stomped towards the round stoned pit where flames roared, he snatched on of the loose, long timbers from the pit. Holding it away from his body, he stared at the furthest end that was burning with a large yellow flame: just as if it were a torch. His frustrated gaze turned to the young girl who had pushed herself up, and she stared back at him with a worried look.
"You will show them. You will reveal yourself, slayer."