Why are children so easily manipulated into becoming shells of whatever their guardians want them to be? Would I be different if guided by different people, or is this my nature? How would I resist evil ideals if they were pushed onto me?... I probably wouldn't.
Pulled to the edge of its reach, the drawer opened up fully for Milo to look inside. In the very back sat an envelope. Wax held the envelope seal tightly closed as dust layered the frail paper. A chipped sword was imprinted into the thick, red seal.
He picked up the note and tucked it into his empty satchel as Jackson groaned from behind. Hinged at his hips, he sat upright, holding his head.
Milo darted across the room and knelt beside him.
"Jackson, you're okay!"
"Ahh," Jackson pushed his palm out to hush Milo.
"No screaming; my head is killing me."
Milo wrapped his arms around the man's neck and hugged him tightly.
"I'm sorry," Milo said.
"I- uh, it's okay?" He replied.
After a second or two, the awkward air seemed suppressed as Jackson sighed and hugged back.
"Yeah, me too," Jackson said quietly.
"Ahem," Jackson coughed as they separated, "So what did you see-"
The red door behind the table began to open. Door hinges squealed as dust fell from the ceiling, revealing the door's age in the process. Centuries must have passed before someone escaped this room.
The two glanced at each other and nodded. Jackson picked up Flio and carried him behind Milo.
White light peered in through the cracks. An infestation of color encroached on the room's red palette as a bustling city appeared on the other side of the door.
Strange vehicles and bipedal races. Loud conversations and shouting over the prices of vegetables rang through the street. Anything your typical market alley might have was here.
The two stood on the brink of the exit, looking on in utter confusion. Civilians ignored the two strangers drenched in sweat, blood, and tattered clothing. Eyes looked through them like ghosts.
A meter or so above the ground, the exit floated in the street. Milo held out his hand as a man walked near, but he dodged it at the last second. Confused by his own actions, the man turned and looked to see nothing. He shrugged and continued on his path.
Milo stepped back.
"No, I don't believe it. We shouldn't leave."
"I agree..." Jackson's voice trailed off.
Extending his head out of the doorway, Jackson honed in his eyes on something sitting far away.
"...Piers?" He whispered.
"What?"
Milo looked around for any sign of the man left at the bridge. Sure enough, Piers was sitting at a restaurant table, eating a strange dish.
One step forward, and Jackson jumped out of the door. Dust hardly moved from his grace. One lady jumped at his sudden appearance. Newfound glares were shot in his direction, acknowledging his presence.
Milo looked around.
Still, no one saw him.
Jackson turned and waved his hand around. He threw his hand forward to grab something, but missed.
"Milo, jump. I think it's okay. I can't see you, but I can feel your presence."
Suddenly, Milo appeared beside Jackson, steadying himself from the impact of the jump. He turned to look at the red room, but nothing was there, just as Jackson had said.
"Strange," they whispered.
"Hey!... Hey!"
They both turned to see Piers running towards them, and it didn't take but a second for him to cross the bustling marketplace.
"Finally," he said, "How did you guys do it?"
The two looked at each other.
"Do what?" Jackson replied.
"Well... beat the dungeon?"
Milo thought back to his experience in the red room, and his chest tightened. Flashes of pain from each death radiated throughout his body. No words could explain such a memory.
"We-"
"Golem," Jackson cut him off, "Huge one too."
He spread his hands out to exaggerate the size of the fake monster.
"Really?!" Piers shouted excitedly.
"What about you?"
"Ah, nothing fancy, just a meek."
A meek?
Jackson seemed to read his mind.
"A four-legged ape that attacks with its tail. About the size of an orc, just more intelligent."
Milo smiled and thanked Jackson as Piers continued on about his time in the dungeon. He talked about how he was the last one alive at the bridge and how he opted to take his chances in the dungeon rather than continue to fight the horde of goblins.
"Three of the things followed me in, but that was sure as hell easier than the lot of 'em."
Piers looked down at Flio.
"What's up with him?"
"Huh? Oh, he should be fine, I gave him-"
Jackson looked down at Flio's wound. Something within it had festered. Black liquid altered the color of his veins as it crawled through his body.
"Shit! Piers, where's the nearest potion shop?"
He gulped down a bite of the bread in his hand and nodded in a direction down the street. Without a second thought, Jackson darted toward the shop.
Milo attempted to keep up, but he was no match for such superior speed. The short amount of time he had spent running was never enough for him to keep up.
Jackson was far ahead, but not out of sight. He kept his vision wide and watched Jackson's movements.
Right.
Before Jackson turned, Milo cut across an alley. When he came out on the other side, Jackson was running up the same street.
"Tonic Alchemy"
A large wooden sign hung from the side of a building up ahead. With such a stereotypical name, anyone could tell what they sold.
The door slammed open, and a couple of customers jumped; one almost dropped a bottle.
"Poison antidotes, where are they!?"
Out of breath, Milo slid and stopped himself on the door frame. He dropped to his knees as he caught his breath.
"Is-"
He sucked in another pocket of air.
"Is he okay?"
Flio's body was spread across a table Jackson had cleared. Blue liquid poured down Flio's sides as Jackson dumped the entire bottom on him.
A man raised his finger out of concern for the bottle.
"Sir, that-"
"I know!" Jackson snapped.
The man nodded and held his tongue.
People strolled by as Milo sat and waited outside the potion shop's door. Every glance in was the same: Jackson changing bandages or feeding Flio bread.
A loud bang caught his attention. Metal rang over the casual marketplace conversations.
Milo wandered, following the sounds to their source. In a small alley a few streets down, two men brought hammer to metal with intense force. Fire snapped and popped in the corner as the reflections bounced off the sweat on their arms and heads.
One man turned to the boy as he entered.
"Welc- oh.
He turned and continued hammering away.
"Get outta here, kid. Ain't no place for vermin."
Ignoring the commands of the stranger, Milo ventured deeper into the alley.
What a strange place for a blacksmith.
The alley was tight, barely enough room for two to work. The men were smaller than humans, but not like dwarves. To stop himself from staring, Milo focused on the alley walls.
Strung up by bolts and rope, an array of knives, daggers, short swords, long swords, and everything Milo could think of to fight with was lined up neatly.
The other man looked at Milo's hands.
Without stopping his hammer, he spoke over the blows.
"You some criminal?"
"N- auh, no, sir."
"Then what's wrong with your hands?" The other chimed in.
"Goblin."
One chuckled.
"Goblins? They're three days southwest of here."
"I was in a- a dungeon."
There was a slight disruption to their cadence, but not enough for someone to notice.
Did they just flinch?
"It was a mimic. We were on the way to a kingdom that I- I forgot the name of, but there was a bridge, and it teleported us to a dungeon. That's where I killed it. Then we were kinda dumped here..." his voice trailed off.
"Ah... where is here, by the way?" Milo asked.
"Tsunser."
"Yeah. Technically not a kingdom, but everyone calls it so. Probably what you 'er headed to," the other added as he spit into a bottle on the floor.
Milo walked closer to the men as they worked. This time, he couldn't help but inspect the strange appearance of the two.
Short, but not dwarves. Light green tint to their skin.
Everything else seemed human about them.
"They always get curious, Crank."
"That they do, Frank."
Crank and Frank?
Milo couldn't help but let out a giggle. The two men shot him a look that wiped his smile away.
The men sighed.
"They always laugh, Crank."
"That they do, Frank."
Well, now I just feel bad.
"..."
"I like it. It- It's unique."
Milo paused.
"Better than being named after a rat, at least."
The men stopped their work and turned to Milo. Crank took a couple of steps from his bench and stood beside Frank. Suddenly, they threw their arms around Milo and began to sob.
"Afteraratatleast!" Frank cried.
"You know our pain!" Crank finished.
They stood and wiped their tears. Crank placed his hand on Milo's shoulder.
"Take a look 'round."
"Just don't touch," Frank added as he placed his hand on Milo's other shoulder.
Milo giggled as the men went back to their work.
They're strange, but I like them.
Swords leaned on one another in a barrel in the back. Milo couldn't help but notice the sheer amount that seemed to be tossed out or incomplete.
"What are those?" Milo pointed.
Crank looked up, but scoffed.
"Ah, those are just junk; we'd practically give you one."
Milo stepped to the back of the alley and sifted through the blades. A black handle caught his eye.
This metal looks like the door in the mimic's dungeon.
Something about the strange metal drew him closer to it. His hand wrapped around the handle, but it was too heavy to lift.
"Hey, Afteraratatleast! No touching."
Frank lost his welcoming attitude, but wasn't as cold as before.
So much for our bond.
Milo sighed and walked back toward the street. Before he left, he turned to the two workers.
"I'll be back when I have money, I promise."
"Look forward to it, kid."
Little by little, the sharp sound of the blacksmiths faded as he made his way back to Flio.
When he walked into the store, his eyes widened.
"I'm the idiot!?"
"Yeah! You're the idiot!"
"How can I be the idiot if you didn't even realize I was poisoned until I almost died!?"
Flio and Jackson were locked in an argument.
Bandages wrapped around Flio's upper body, and Jackson was wearing a new shirt. Flio was still on the table, but sat himself upright. He dangled his legs off the side and kicked them back and forth while he argued, and his finger waved around in Jackson's face as he talked.
"You're lucky I'm injured-"
"Eugh!"
Both men grunted in unison as Milo wrapped his arms around their bodies and threw himself between them. He hugged them tightly as his voice choked up.
"It's good to see you, Flio."
Flio jolted from the sudden embrace.
"Uh, yeah, you too, kid."
Flio shot a look at Jackson, but Jackson simply shrugged and patted Milo on the back.
"Piers came in earlier, apparently he found Elias," Jackson continued as he pulled away from the hug.
"What? Really?"
"Yeah, as soon as Flio's good to go, we're off to finish the job."
"I'm good."
"You sure? 'Cause earlier you were bitching about your shoulder and how I didn't make it on time."
Flio jumped off the table and faked putting his guard up.
"Prick," he mumbled.
Flio put on his shirt as they stood outside the shop. It wasn't long before Piers came and led them to the bar, where everyone was waiting.
As they walked in, Milo's nose scrunched.
"You're showing too much emotion," Jackson noted.
Taking his advice, Milo relaxed his face.
I guess that's weakness in here.
Inside the tavern, Elias, Ralph, Conrad, and Brick sat at a table in the corner. Different groups of men gathered, but the crowd was similar. Each and every one of them had killed under orders. Knights, mercenaries, assassins, the whole lot was here to drink and exchange information.
And then there was Milo.
Almost every head must have turned to look at the boy. Some nodded with approval while others looked on in disgust.
As the group neared the table, Elias nodded to Jackson. It was enough between the two to communicate what they were thinking.
'Finish the mission now; talk later.'
Jackson and Flio sat, but before Milo could approach the table, someone stepped in his path.
"Whoa there, lil fella!"
"I- I'm sorry, sir."
Milo attempted to go around the man, but he forced himself between the table and Milo.
"Tsk. Now see, that ain't gonna cut it."
He continued, "Kids ain't welcome here, little boy."
Impatience turned his words snappy.
"Get out."
Silence fell throughout the bar.
Milo peered around the man and looked at Jackson for help, but Jackson kept his back turned to Milo, and so did the others—all of them except for Elias. He made a quick gesture to Milo and turned back to the group.
Did he just... tell me to fight this guy?!