The Lord Tiranis, An Origin, Book 5 (part 2 of 13)
Tiranis is a world of humans and furries, of super science and super powers, of ordinary people and extraordinary ones.
Stories of the Past is a series of stories exploring the history of the city of Tiranis, as well as the world it exists in or sometimes people of importance in it.
This is excerpt is about 400 word of a 4,400 word chapter.
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A story of the past
"I'm not taking anything that's yours."
"It isn't mine, it was one of the bandits."
"You killed him, so it's yours. Nothing a demon touched means you well."
"I can swear it three times if you need me to."
The man started to nod, stopped, sighed. "Guess if you meant me harm you could have done it already."
El smiled. "I thought protecting you was a good indication I mean you no harms."
"Can never tell with demons." The man looked at his feet. "Sorry, not mean anything by that."
"It's okay, I get that with the few people to come this way, there's even less chances you've seen someone like me before."
The man nodded. "It's early for food, you said a bath. There's a tub in the barn. It's old and dented, but it holds water.
"Hot water?"
The man shook his head. "Bucket leaks."
"I'll manage, if you can take me to it."
The barn was old, missing planks here and there, but the structure looked like it could endure storms. A cow and horse, both thin, were in stalls. At the back, the man pulled an overturned tub and righted it.
It wasn't the cheap thing El expected. The bathtub was long enough El would be able to stretch in it, had clawed feet and sound thick. It was rusted in place, and as the man said, dented, but well cared for. This was probably the farmer's most valuable possession, and he took care of it.
"The well's behind the barn." The man indicated the other door. "There's soap on the shelve. If you use those." He turned and left El alone.
He inspected the tub. Free of cracks and a knock confirmed it was thick. He hollowed a pit under it then went out the back to gather wood, filling the pit with them. He felt for fire, and the closest was in the house's hearth. The farmer wouldn't appreciate the burned trail if El called a flame to him, so he took out the flint and his knife.
He managed to hold on to a refillable lighter for almost twenty years, hoarding light fluid and flints like they were gems, but eventually he'd run out and had to do like everyone else in the army.
He stroked the knife against the flint once and the wood caught, the fire spreading quicker than a normal fire would. He didn't bother with the well to fill the tub, he drew it out of the air.