The hustle and bustle of the street began dying down as people turned to look at Mikhail.
'I don't think I like where this is going…'
Mikhail's eyes darted from face to face, reading the various expressions of the people focusing on him.
The vast majority was shocked… And the rest looked fearful.
"{That kid doesn't look that old… By god,} Michael {the Mad is still alive!}"
One of the fearful faces ran, shouting the word Scourgeborn as he quickly disappeared, following one of the many different alleyways.
Some of the children in the crowd cried with fright before running away from the scene, and others stared at him angrily.
Suddenly, one of the older people of the crowd grabbed Mikhail by the shoulders while shaking him, screaming something he couldn't understand.
"{Kid! Is your father still alive?! Where is he?! We need to know!}"
Mikhail's crate fell to the ground due to the shaking, and he began to frown.
"Can you stop shaking me?"
The man stopped, but not because he understood him.
"{Shagar? I think he just spoke Shagar…}" the man said loudly enough for the crowd to hear. "{Is Spencer around?!}" he said while turning away from Mikhail, who bent down to pick up his crate with a neutral expression, feeling a very small tinge of annoyance.
The crowd grew to life, though it was now alight with worry and panic unlike the previous, welcoming atmosphere.
Eventually, a few people left the crowd, shouting "{Spencer!}" over and over again. Mikhail thought it sounded kind of like a person's name, but he couldn't be entirely sure…
The kids had all but left by then, leaving adult looking individuals and teenagers in his surroundings. The teenagers were all looking at him with intrigue, with a mix of young ladies and young lads whispering among themselves as they looked at him from afar.
He rolled his eyes when he looked at them.
'Teenagers and gossip… Some things never change, huh?'
Since no one was pestering him anymore, Mikhail began walking forward again.
"{Fuck man, I can't believe- Hey! Where are you going?!}"
"{He doesn't understand you, dumb fuck.}"
The man that pointed at Mikhail turned to the other man who had just spoken. But Mikhail didn't pay much mind to their ensuing argument and began walking around the crowd at the center of the street.
As he walked past them, one of the people who had run off yelling someone's name returned, exiting one of the alleyways and stepping onto the street.
Behind him was a chubby, middle-aged looking man with white skin that was covered in freckles, and hair that was a sort of orange color, leaning more towards red. It was cut short and curly.
He was wearing a black T-shirt and white pants, along with leather shoes. When he saw Mikhail, a glimmer flashed in his eye and he quickly approached him.
"You must be the Scourgeborn. I hear you speak Shagar?"
Up close, Mikhail couldn't help but notice his tattoos. How he had wavy azure lines along his arms, as well as some familiar gray swirls, and straight pale-yellow lines that overlapped them all in a strange geometric kind of way.
But he didn't pay much mind to it, turning his attention up to the man's face after that brief glance.
"That's correct, and my name is Mikhail."
Spencer raised his eyebrow when he heard that.
"Odd… Your father is known for the, uh, creative names he gives his children. Surprising that he finally went and named a kid after himself…"
Mikhail didn't really know how to respond to that and just continued to stare at him.
"Oh, right. Where are my manners? My name is Spencer, Mikhail. It's nice to meet you."
He put his right hand out, smiling nonchalantly with his other hand in his short's pocket. Mikhail reached out and shook that hand hesitantly, and was thankful that he didn't get his hand crushed.
"Nice to meet you too…"
The man that had shaken Mikhail earlier walked over to the two of them.
"Spencer, {the tribe needs to know about Michael's whereabouts! Quickly, ask him where his father is!}" the man requested.
Spencer nodded before turning back to Mikhail.
"Can you tell me where you last saw your father, Mikhail?"
For a brief instant, Mikhail had the thought to share what Grand Elder Maya had told him… But he quickly snuffed it out.
Michael was apparently an evil bastard after all. And seeing as Maya had apparently dealt with him personally in the past… There was a good chance that there were others in the tribe with a history regarding Michael.
If they knew Michael's soul was residing within him… There was a good chance someone would kill him just to settle their score with Michael.
So, he simply told them the truth.
"I awoke in the orc caravan's care with my memories of the past missing. As for what I've remembered since then, all I can tell you is that my father died."
"How did that happen?" Spencer asked with intrigue. "There's no way he fell back to the realm of a mortal and lived his life out peacefully in only a hundred years…"
And now, Mikhail would continue to tell the truth.
"My father fell prey to some disease, spending his last days in perpetual agony. At one point, my mother couldn't watch any longer, accepting the poor man's request to put him out of his misery."
He felt no sadness as he recounted those awful days, but he couldn't help but remember how the hospital refused to honor those wishes until they extorted an obscene amount of money out of his mother.
He let out a remorseful sigh, feeling guilty about how he couldn't feel the rage or the sadness right now.
Spencer, meanwhile, went slack jawed…
"Your father… What was he like?"
"He was a taciturn man, and he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. But, he seemed to carry a strange, ever present sadness. A strange guilt that I never understood… Until the day of his death, anyway…"