Chapter 8: The Street Urchin
Akalgan made it to the inn very quickly, or at least the raucous ruckus and noisy merriment echoing into the street he traversed made it seem close indeed. Akalgan slipped into the inn and in amongst the heat of people bustling to celebrate the end of the day, as it were. It was like any other tavern to Akalgan, but apparently the Dark Elves especially enjoyed being at the publican establishment of their choosing every night. The reason for this is an established norm of celebrating surviving another day in the wasteland, and at the end of every week of celebrations the drinks were especially in abundance for the merry-making. Whatever the reason, Akalgan just saw it as another excuse for the general population to get drunk. At least in Dark Elven inns, however, the crowded room was somehow orderly. Every table only had enough drink for the night and never asked for more, the servers and workers managed to navigate the maze of people to do their job, and the minstrels performing for the inn were well-received. This odd presence of courtesy in merry-making intrigued Akalgan for a brief moment, before he returned to what he needed to do. "A bowl of stew, please." Akalgan ordered from the counter, and the barkeeper nodded. He picked up a wooden bowl and scooped up some ready-made stew from one of a few pots on the fire. Upon slapping a wooden spoon in the bowl, Akalgan exchanged the amount of coins needed for the bowl, before nodding in thanks and making his way toward upstairs. As he ascended, the atmosphere of the noisy tavern slightly faded out. Akalgan went to his room and entered slowly, shutting the door behind him as he looked over his prisoner of crime. As Akalgan thought, the boy was awake and struggling to be free of his bonds, more-so at Akalgan's entrance. The Dragonian chuckled and stepped closer as the boy made muffled cries. The boy then paused as his eyes widened and then narrowed as his nose wrinkled at the stench that followed Akalgan, who was not any more pleased than the boy was. "My apologies--Not every mercenary gets a job that leads to them smelling like flowers." He apologised to the boy, before setting down the stew and his sheathed weapons, along with the pouch containing his smaller items and more importantly his payment. He stepped towards the boy, who was still struggling a little against the bondage that Akalgan had assigned him. Akalgan sat down beside him with a sigh and put his hand to the boy's gag. "Look, I'm going to trust you not to scream as soon as I take this off so I can feed you." Akalgan murmured. The boy quietened and stiffened afterward, as if in sudden realisation of Akalgan's size and potential to quickly smother him to death if he didn't comply. "Good boy." Akalgan added with a tiny smile. He then pulled the boy's gag out of his mouth and picked up the bowl of stew. The boy exercised his sore mouth by moving his jaw for a moment, before looking up at Akalgan as he posed a question. "Do you have a name?" Akalgan asked politely. The boy hesitated before answering. "Yes... My name is Brendas." He replied. Akalgan then nodded in acknowledgement as he held out the bowl of stew and offered a spoonful of the hot meal to Brendas. The smell of sewage was replaced pleasantly by the smell of a delicious stew, and Brendas was more than happy to open his mouth. However when Akalgan spoon-fed him the stew, his mouth burned fiercely and Brendas panted to compensate for the heat of the stew. Akalgan chuckled and put the spoon back into bowl which he left on the end table. "Too hot, huh? That's alright then, we'll let it cool down." Akalgan observed. He then stood up, and as he did, Brendas took in his every feature illuminated by the room's candlelight. Barring the foul odour, the Dragonian actually was not, by any means, horrifyingly ugly. Terrifying, perhaps, but he was at least quite handsome compared to the fire-breathing beast the boy imagined in his head. It was a strange thought to surface, but perhaps the Dragonian's current kindness of at least providing a meal for him was more than the boy expected. Akalgan turned away and moved to leave the room, not bothering to replace the boy's gag. Brendas bit his lip before calling out after the Dragonian. "You haven't told me your name, or where you're going!" He called. Akalgan paused and spared the boy a look. "Akalgan is my name, and I'm going for a quick hot bath while your food cools down, Brendas. I'll be right back." He replied, with a miniscule hint of unorthodox caring in his voice. This reply alone satisfied the boy, who then became as quiet and meek as a mouse. Akalgan then flashed a smile before leaving the room to have a bath, and Brendas remained quiet in his absence. Wisps of steam danced off the surface of the boiling hot water in the tub while Akalgan unfastened his armour, pulling off the pieces and washing them one by one with a wash basin until he was fully naked and his armour was more or less clean. He then used the damp cloth and the hot water in the basin to scrub himself down, eager to clear himself of the off-putting smell he had kept souvenir for long enough. He took the time to wipe down his wings as well. Once all the dirt was scrubbed off him, Akalgan stepped into the bathtub and relaxed within its steaming confines, comfortably nestled in what would be a fatally heated bath for the Dark Elves but just right for Dragonkin such as him. As the heated and soapy water washed over his scales, Akalgan began to think about the hot springs of the mountainous north. The bath's heat served only to remind him of the fond memory, but could never compare to the feeling of being immersed in the waters of the spring. Akalgan let out a soft exhale of air, mentally exhaling his thoughts with it and decided upon making his hot bath a quick one. As fond as his memories may be, Akalgan had no intention of possibly even beginning to miss them. Akalgan pulled himself out of the bath carefully and dried himself off. He then casually washed his armour with the soapy bath water in a timely manner, before donning it once more. He then left the hot bath to cool down for the next user, and returned to his room. Brendas was startled when the door opened so suddenly. As he saw Akalgan, he wondered how long he had gone. It could not have been longer than ten minutes, which surprised Brendas as he believed Akalgan had abandoned him for some reason. The Dragonian simply showed a gentle smile as he stepped inside, and Brendas calmed down slightly. He also noticed how pleasant Akalgan looked and smelled in comparison to when he first walked in. Everything about that time and moment was enough to outweigh the feeling of being a prisoner. It felt more like he was a child locked in a room as a form of discipline, and it worked. Akalgan resumed his place sitting beside Brendas and he picked up the bowl of stew once more. There was still enough heat within the stew to make it comfortable to eat, and not as harsh to try and swallow as it was before. Akalgan picked up a spoonful once more and continued his act of spoon-feeding Brendas, and the boy complied by opening his mouth each and every time in respect of the kindness Akalgan was displaying. Every now and again, the boy would pause to speak, as he felt that Akalgan would leave again once the stew was gone. "Why are you doing this?" He blurted out after a few spoons of stew. Akalgan tilted his head curiously as he did before, but with a quaint chuckle. "You would rather I let you starve?" He posed as a wiseass would. Brendas did not answer for a moment, and then figured it was better not to push the matter unnecessarily. Akalgan decided to humour him though as he lowered the bowl of stew. "I travel from city to city, town to town, and sometimes even village to measly village." Akalgan began explaining. "What I do varies but regardless of what it is, I expect to be paid for what I do. The curse of travelling so much is that I do not have the luxury of bringing vast amounts of wealth with me, as convenient as it would be for me and thieves such as your own self in other settlements." He continued, and as he mentioned thievery, Brendas cast his eyes elsewhere with a feeling of shame. Akalgan noticed, but decided not to make anything of it at the moment in respect to getting to the point. "The point is, I only get paid to spend what I earn as much as possible before I set off on my next adventure, barring only the amount of gold coins I need for my journey." He concluded.
Brendas nodded in acknowledgement. "I see..." He replied. Akalgan nodded in return and continued to spoon-feed the boy once more. Another few spoons passed and Brendas spoke once more. "What kind of adventures?" He asked. Akalgan realised what the boy was doing and was so very amused and admirable of it at the same time, he decided to humour the boy once again by lowering the bowl to answer the question. "Have you ever stayed in a tavern long enough for a barkeeper to warn travellers of dangerous places in the area, or eavesdropped on a conversation in the market speaking only in hushed whispers of dreaded people or creatures?" Akalgan asked. Brendas nodded slowly, recalling one or two times it may have happened, but he just thought nothing of it. "That is what I travel from place to place for. The odd jobs I do are just for me to get by and maybe enjoy the place I have chosen to reside at a little more than a poor labourer might experience." Akalgan started to elaborate. "What I am the best at is not necessarily fighting, but surviving--I survive and overcome whatever obstacle in my way so I live to tell my story somewhere people will hear me out. I could tell you stories of how I took down fallen kings in their forlorn halls, or of the wondrous sky temples on the Isle of the Blessed, for they are but little of what I have seen in my lifetime." He went on. Akalgan painted not necessarily vivid images, but wondrous beginnings to what would be fantastic tales. It was just enough for Brendas to try and imagine, and in turn long for the chance to hear of the adventures Akalgan had been on. He was so busy picturing the seemingly legendary encounters that he was not prepared for Akalgan to ask him a question of his own, instead of presenting a spoonful of stew as Brendas expected. "But perhaps I have gone on long enough about what I do. Perhaps you would care to tell me what kind of life you led before unfortunately running into me." Akalgan asked with a sharp smirk. Brendas was a little stunned, merely by how engrossed he was in learning more about his captor-apparent that he was not prepared for any question about him. "Guh--I--Well..." He stammered. "I- I'm a pickpocket." Brendas replied basically. Akalgan chuckled. "So I noticed. It is the reason you're in this predicament." He observed. Brendas sighed. "Yeah, well... I don't really have any other choice being a street urchin." He began to explain. Akalgan angled in, interested to hear the boy out, and Brendas delivered. "See, it wasn't always life for me. I once lived with my parents, who sent me to school and had me educated. I can actually read and write, I just... Don't really need it." Brendas told Akalgan. This explained a lot to Akalgan, and possibly partly why he was intrigued by the boy. "But my parents abandoned me. It turns out that I wasn't good enough for them. They left me alone one day of school, and I had to find out by returning to an empty home." Akalgan felt a slight pang, and his brow furrowed partially. "I decided to leave it all behind and start a new life of my own. I smuggled myself amongst a trading caravan that brought me here, and once I was on the streets and on the lam constantly, I started doing the only thing I believed I could do. Steal. And now here I am." Brendas concluded. Akalgan however was still trying to get past how strangely familiar the story was to him in some form or another, but after a moment he let go of it and then nodded at Brendas slowly. "I see. I'm sorry to hear about that." Akalgan murmured. But Brendas simply grinned. "Don't be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten caught by someone as interesting as you!" He remarked. For a moment, Akalgan was taken aback by the seeming compliment. "Ah... I suppose not!" He replied. Brendas laughed softly, and so did Akalgan. After a short while, Akalgan simply smiled and continued to spoon-feed Brendas. "You should finish the rest of your dinner before it gets cold." He noted. Brendas nodded and complied, and the bowl of stew was almost empty spare two spoons more, when he decided to pose one more question or two. "Do you think-- You would let me hear at least one of your tales sometime?" He asked, before realising he was still tied up for the first time since he first came to. "And... What are you going to do with me now...?" Brendas wondered with uncertainty. Both questions struck Akalgan a little hard, as he had started to have doubts in using the boy as he originally intended. The story probably would not have actually induced any guilt in him, were it a tale of any other plight that he was not personally familiar with and even more-so if the boy did not interest him as much as he currently did. What was most unlike Akalgan at the moment was how... Affectionate he was of Brendas. It was not an easy feeling to bear, and he was not very comfortable possessing the feeling. "Akalgan?" Brendas mentioned, urging for an answer. Akalgan glanced to the door as he made his decision. "Well. I promised a new friend of mine that I would regale him with some of my tales over a few drinks. So as it were, I will set you free, and then you can join us if you like." Akalgan suggested. He then looked the boy over, but stilled any thoughts of desire. "You should probably have a bath, while you have the chance. Afterwards, I can't keep you. I think you've been through enough." He finally answered. Brendas was surprised by the sudden compassion, but now that he felt a sort of attachment to the kind Dragonian, he was indecisive about whether or not he wanted to leave him. Akalgan would not hear any more and instead held up the bowl once more, urging the boy to finish his meal. Once Brendas swallowed the last spoon's worth of stew, Akalgan leaned over and undid the boy's bonds as carefully as he had tied them up earlier in the day. Brendas rubbed his wrists a little once they slipped free of his bindings, and moved to stand when Akalgan did. However, all that time spent trapped on the bed and being fed his dinner had made him forget that he was wearing nothing, and suddenly Brendas felt conscious about it. He hastily picked up the ragged cover of the bed and pulled it up to cover himself. Akalgan snorted with amusement and shrugged. "Here, let me get you some clothes then. I threw away your rags from before since I didn't think you needed them." He mentioned. Akalgan then pulled out one of the drawers and took out enough clothes for Brendas, passing them over to the nervous lad. "Here, these should fit. I doubt the barkeeper expected the patronage of a giant like me." Akalgan remarked. Brendas nodded in thanks upon catching the clothes, and used them instead of the blanket to cover his privates. It seemed silly to Akalgan, but he knew that most races felt embarrassed to be without clothing. He shrugged once more and pulled Brendas along to the bathroom. "Here, the water should probably warm rather than boiling by now." Akalgan noted. Brendas glanced at him, but before he asked, Akalgan responded. "I'll be right here until you're done. Don't take too long." He added. Brendas finally nodded, and stepped into the bathroom to get himself washed and clean. Akalgan leaned against the wall and simply waited as he said he would. After a few moments, he sighed heavily. Sometimes I really just need to be stopped.