Othello trudged away from the Slums, moving towards the forest he had left not too long ago. He felt tired and weary, but the pain coming from his shoulder was enough to give him clarity to keep going.
As he walked, his facial features coalesced into a subtle frown.
'It... shouldn't be like this.'
He tripped over a small stone on his path and felt all strength leave his body as he fell face-first.
Othello struggled to turn his head, trying his hardest to breathe properly. His clouded eyes saw the forest—a mess of blurry shapes and elongated shadows—that seemed to move farther each time he blinked.
His shoulder burned from the pain, his thoughts were slow, but he tried to persevere, even in his condition.
'Staying here... is dangerous... I have to...'
A sharp pain shot through his head, making him freeze abruptly. He tried to take one step further, but it was useless.
Othello slumped to the ground, ceasing all movement afterwards.
---
"Taking the words of two male spits for it, the Baron's son and Madam Sonia have to possess worms for brains," a disgruntled mutter came out of the mouth of a guard.
He was tall and well-built, just like most of the others, but there was a long scar running down the length of his right arm. It was a trophy he had received for protecting the Baron from his enemies at some point.
"When he wasn't drunk on women and the dark arts..."
The man sighed, rubbing his black beard, with tufts of grey sticking out from under his helmet. A young guard had brought back disturbing news a day ago, talking about two men who had a complicated relationship and the state he found them in.
Thinking back, the man still couldn't believe his ears.
"One of them had a shattered pelvis, and they said it was done by a boy?"
He scoffed. "I'd rather believe that they got into a fight and ended on bad terms. Still, I have to obey the brat's orders to comb the forest till the entrance of that pigsty they call the slums..."
"Hm?" Suddenly, the man stopped. His eyes stared in part doubt and part shock at what had appeared before him—a boy who looked to be in his late teens, slumped on the ground, covered in his own blood and dirt.
"Isn't this interesting?" the man said, stepping closer to get a good look at the unmoving body.
The caravan he was guarding had been abducting lowlife brats from the pigsty for some nefarious reason, not that he cared.
"They seem to have enough, but I'll just bring the kid back just to be sure."
The guard picked Othello up like a sack of bricks and looked in the direction behind the latter's former position.
"He was probably being hunted down by some unforgiving debt collectors. Well, he'll serve a better purpose in the caravan."
With that, he turned around and made his way back to the caravan. He hadn't followed his orders thoroughly, but he barely cared.
Skyler Morrison did whatever he wanted.
___
Skyler walked back to the caravan with steady steps. A bored look could barely be seen from the slight slant of his mouth under his helmet.
There were fewer guards left with the caravan, and they frowned the moment they saw Skyler and his baggage.
"What is going on?" one of them stepped forward with a glare.
"Are you blind?" Skyler fired back.
"Watch your mouth, soldier," the guard warned, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. There were three gold stripes on the uniform under his pauldron, signifying his position as a sergeant in the Baron's army.
A normal soldier would've cowered, but Skyler was no normal soldier. He took off his helmet, revealing his grizzly face with three claw marks stationed diagonally.
His dark green eyes stared down at the sergeant, who was a head shorter, and he barked, "Get off your high horse, you brat. Do you believe I'll bash your head in right now and nobody will give two damns about who you are?"
Fury glinted in the sergeant's eyes. "You insolent—"
"Stand down, sergeant," a soft female voice promptly called out.
The fury in the sergeant's eyes didn't lessen, but he pulled back at the wishes of the voice and looked back.
A charming lady dressed in a black gown walked out of the rows of carriages as he did so. Her black hair cascaded down her back like a pure waterfall. Her eyes seemed to pull in the gazes of the men, making them lost for a moment, and her full lips, painted with a light shade of black, made one have wet dreams.
Well... most of the men.
Skyler stared at the woman with a deadpan gaze.
A flash of irritation crossed the woman's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. Not acknowledging Skyler's presence, she faced the sergeant. "Don't mind his lack of manners... It's just that he's different from the rest of the soldiers here."
"How so?" the sergeant replied, his face beaming, the fury gone from his visage like the wind.
"He answers only to the Baron... even I can't order him."
The sergeant looked at Skyler and snorted. "A soldier is a soldier all the same."
"Indeed," the woman replied with a smile.
Skyler snorted loudly and sauntered towards the carriage where the children were kept, swearing as he walked. The guards parted for him, and he entered.
A foul stench hit him immediately, and the palpable gloom hit his gut, making him wrinkle his forehead.
Rows of children and teenagers dressed in rags sat on the floor, covered in their waste. Fresh and dried blood covered their bodies, and they stared at Skyler with eyes full of pain and hate.
Skyler tsked and threw Othello on the floor. "I'm not the cause of your pain, you brats. If you wanna tear someone apart with your bulging eyeballs, tear the fat fool and his bitch in black."
He turned to leave, but stopped at the entrance.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what will happen to you."
He left, leaving the hurting children in their prison.
A moment later, Othello opened his eyes.