The peace was 'restored' when the Hussars arrived with their more breathable armour. They didn't use words; they used clubs and boots, using the wide streets to their advantage.
Ryckel noted with a dark frown that the Hussars were far more aggressive toward the Nōh, striking them even after they surrendered.
He also saw how some people were fighting back quite well. Most notedly, the man with slicked back hair, carrying a small boy on his shoulder and took down anyone who got in his way.
All with one hand.
In the confusion, a bruised and bleeding Pri lunged out of the fray, grabbing Ryckel's arm. "Run!"
They sprinted through back alleys, Pri wincing with every step. "See?" he wheezed, a bloody grin on his face. "I told you... I am very... killable."
Ryckel didn't smile back. He was busy watching for more uniforms. Surprisingly, he only saw few threads of intent flowing towards him but then vanishing.
"Damn Hussars!" Pri spat as they ducked behind a corner. "If it wasn't for the Herkos clan widening these streets, we would've beaten them back just like we did years ago."
They turned a final corner and ran straight into two Hussars. The guards didn't even bother, they just smiled.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Crap," Pri muttered.
One Hussar drove a fist into Pri's stomach, doubling him over. They looked at Ryckel, who had his energy fortification humming beneath his skin, ready to snap.
But the guards just scoffed at the Ryckel and turned back to beating Pri into the dirt.
***
Minutes later, Ryckel found himself sitting on a cold wooden bench inside the Hussar station. His wrists were cuffed. Pri sat beside him, looking like a discarded rag doll. The room was filled with detained Nōh people, their leaf-clad shoulders slumped in weary resignation.
At a desk, a woman was frantically scribbling on parchment while speaking into a strange plant hooked up to wires and wood.
The back door slammed open. An old man with grey hair and an almost small statue walked in. He had long, elaborate robes of leather and leaves, followed by a tall, gaunt Hussar whose armor was covered in badges of rank as his long golden hair buckled with each step.
"Oshoke, get your damn Nōh people under control!" the gaunt Hussar roared. "My paycheck is suffering because of these fights!"
Ryckel realized the old man, Oshoke, was the leader of the Nōh. He also saw Pri visibly shrink into his seat, looking more terrified of the old man than he had been of the guards.
I've been in town for half a day and I'm already arrested.
Ryckel thought, his heart sinking.
This is going to ruin everything.
"I am sorry, Mondo," Oshoke said with a thin, tired smile. "But perhaps if you made it so these fights didn't start in the first place?"
Mondo laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Does it look like I care? You bastards are Northerners... Vascals at heart."
"Our ancestors were," Oshoke corrected calmly, "but---"
"Yeah, yeah. Not another word. I'm hungry," Mondo interrupted, grabbing a stack of papers. "Release the Nōh. Get them out of my sight."
The Hussars began uncuffing the Nōh, though they did so with unnecessary roughness. The Nōh glared back, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Oshoke sighed, massaging his temples. Then, his eyes fell on Pri.
"Of course," Oshoke scoffed.
"Shit," Pri whispered.
Oshoke marched over. He stared at his son with disappointment that could have leveled a mountain. Then, he looked at Ryckel, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"What is the meaning of this? Why do you have a Southern-looking child? Are you trying to get us accused of kidnapping now?" He said.
"I found him, Father," Pri said, his voice small. "I felt compelled to help. He's just a kid."
Oshoke shook his head. "And of course, you involve him in a riot. I can't believe this is the example you set for your own daughter." He turned to Ryckel. "Your name?"
"Ryckel."
"No honorifics? No manners," Oshoke muttered. "Where are your parents?"
"Not here. Different town."
"I see. Well, Ryckel, I apologize on my son's behalf for the trouble." Oshoke suddenly slapped Pri across the face."We have much to discuss."
The old man grabbed Pri and began hauling him toward the exit. Pri looked back. "What about the boy?"
"What about him?" Oshoke snapped. "He stays with the Hussars. They'll handle him. You've done enough charity for one day." He looked back at Ryckel. "Tell them who you are and where you came from. They'll send you home."
Ryckel's eyes widened. He looked at Mondo, the gaunt Hussar who didn't even look up from his papers.
If I stay here, I'll be just a nuisance to them in their eyes. They won't help me… or even worse, they might just toss me somewhere.
Pri pulled away from his father's grip. "Father, he has no one!"
I have a family.
Ryckel thought fiercely.
But you're the only ones who might actually help me get to them.
"Wait!" Ryckel called out.
Oshoke paused at the door. "The Hussars are your guardians now, child."
Ryckel realized begging wouldn't work on a man as stern as Oshoke. He needed leverage. He stood up, his gaze turning ice-cold, the same murderous look Pri had seen earlier returning with a vengeance.
"No," Ryckel said, his voice echoing in the station. "You guys are much better. So it's either you allow me to follow you... or I tell the Hussars right now that you kidnapped me…"
"You wouldn't…"
"Didn't you just talk about it? Try me."
Oshoke stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back slowly, speechless, staring at the small boy who was suddenly a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Ryckel let the cold look slip, replaced instantly by a warm, pleading expression. "So please... help me."
Pri burst out laughing, clutching his bruised stomach. "He sure got you, Father! He definitely got you."
---The End of Chapter 24---