"Fuck!"

  I twist my head just before the fist connects, narrowly avoiding the blow. Instinct drives me to pull away, but his grip on my tunic is ironclad. "Nowhere to run little brigand," he growls, his breath hot with anger.

  He swings again, and this time I catch his wrist, my fingers clamping down as we struggle for control. I’m taller, but he’s built like a warhorse, thick, solid muscle against my wiry frame. The strength difference is apparent. He wrenches free, overpowering me with sheer force, and I barely register the movement before I'm slammed onto the cold, unyielding stone floor.

  Pain jolts through me, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. His boot crashes down, aiming for my skull. I roll just in time, feeling the impact shudder through the ground beside me. Gritting my teeth, I push off the floor, springing back to my feet, but he’s already closing in.

  "Motherfuck-"

  His fists come in hard and fast, untrained, but plenty experienced. Pain lingers in my ribs, the remnants of the kick he used to rouse me. My body protests, but I force my hands up to meet his.

  I dodge, barely. His knuckles graze my jaw, a warning of what’s to come if I slow down. I counter with a punch, aiming for his ribs, but he takes it without flinching, his muscular frame absorbing the blow like a stone wall. Before I can retreat, his fist crashes into my side, sending me sprawling to the cold stone floor.

  I seize a handful of straw and fling it into his face, he closes his eyes, cursing. The moment he does, I launch myself forward, feet first, slamming both boots into his chest with all the force I can muster. The impact sends him reeling, his footing lost as he stumbles backward, straight over the corpse of our third cellmate. With a strangled groan, he crashes onto the cold stone floor.

  I don’t hesitate. I’m on him in an instant, straddling his chest, my fists hammering into his face mercilessly. His arms come up to shield him, the thick limbs soaking up my blows. Then, with a hard shove he throws me off. I tumble backward but roll to my feet before he can even sit up.

  Wasting no time, I lunge forward and drive my foot into his temple with a vicious kick. He topples but catches himself, landing on his hands before pushing off the ground in a swift, practiced motion. Blood streaks his face, but his eyes remain locked onto me, wary now. His body tenses, every muscle coiled as he readies himself to strike again.

  We both take a moment to catch our breath, my first real chance since being jolted awake. The morning light spills through the small window, illuminating him in fractured beams. His skin is dark, darker than is ordinary. His hair is cropped short, almost shaved, suggesting he hasn’t been here long.

  "The hells are you two doing?" William yawns, stretching as he sits up. "The gaoler will beat the piss out of both you pricks if you keep making this much noise."

  The muscular man glances at William, then back at me, his expression hard. "Heard the gaoler talking at dawn. I'll not share a cell with a fucking brigand.”

  I lower my guard, meeting his glare with one of my own. "I’m no brigand. The guard captain made a mistake."

  He lets out a humorless laugh, his eyes still locked onto mine. "Prisoner claiming innocence? Never heard that before."

  He lunges, fists raised, but he’s already lost the advantage. There's space between us, and now I’m fully awake. I lash out with a swift kick. He jerks back, dodging the first strike, then barrels forward to close the gap. But my leg halts mid-motion, reversing into a sharp arc that slams into his ribs with a satisfying crack.

  The height difference works in my favor. He can’t get close. I tower over him by nearly a foot and a half, and though he may be stronger, it’s not a distance he can close easily.

  I kick again, but this time, he takes the hit head-on, gritting his teeth as he powers through the pain. Before I can adjust, he crashes into me, locking me in a grapple.

  "Argh-!" My body twists, pain flaring in my ribs as he forces me back. But I refuse to give up control. I seize him in return, yanking him in even closer.... then drive my skull forward, slamming my head into his. Not forehead to forehead, but rather into his nose.

  "Hnngh-"

  Blood spurts down his face as his grip weakens. He staggers, eyes squeezed shut, tears welling from the impact. Wasting no time, I grab a fistful of his tunic, muscles straining as I heave him off his feet. With a grunt, I hurl him down onto the hard stone floor.

  He lands with a brutal thud, a groan ripping from his throat. Writhing, he struggles for a moment... then stills, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "Finally..." I rub my forehead, there's a minor ache from heabutting him so hard, but nothing major. My ribs hurt more from when he woke me. It's been a long time since I've been in a proper fight.

  William whistles and I turn my attention to him. "Yer pretty good, eh Seven? Didn't think anyone here could take Big Hamza in a fight." I warily look at the big man as he struggles to his knees.

  "Fucking brigand-Gaaahh!!" Hamza's curse is cut short as my boot crashes into his abdomen, sending him rolling across the cell floor.

  "I'm not a brigand, goat-fucker," I snap, my voice low and sharp. "I won’t tell you again."

  William sighs from the corner, watching with mild amusement. "Ah, come off it, Hamza. If this giant bastard were a brigand, he’d have caved yer skull in by now. Leave it be."

  Hamza breathes heavily, propping himself against the cold stone wall. His muscles remain tense, his pride still bruised, but he doesn’t lunge again. "...Hmph. Yes... perhaps there is some truth in what you say..."

  He shuts his eyes, leaning back against the wall in reluctant defeat.

  "Good. Glad that's settled." I sigh, sinking down to sit, though I make sure to keep my distance, settling against the far wall.

  "Ah, don’t mind him, Seven," William says offhandedly. "His da was cut down by brigands. Ain’t been able to stomach the sight of 'em since."

  "Will! Keep your mouth shut!" Hamza barks, his voice raw with irritation.

  William just shrugs, unbothered. "Eh? We’re rottin’ in this pisshole together, might as well know who we’re dyin’ with." Hamza grimaces at the reminder of our shared fate, looking down at the stone floor.

  "His da was a mercenary, travelled all across the kingdom. Came by my cabin now and then, a good sort, fair and honest. But last fall, some brigands set upon him on the road. Outnumbered him. took all he had, then left him dead." Will speaks solemnly, while Hamza wipes the blood from his face, refusing to comment on the story. Though, from the look in his eye, it appears to cut him deeply.

  "Sorry to hear that. My... mother, also died, little more than a month ago." Hamza looks up, a flicker of sympathy in his gaze. William too nods in understanding. "Got a da?" I shake my head, leaning back against the cold wall. "Heh, figures. Guess we're all a bunch of orphans then."

  Hamza looks to William with regret. "We do not know this, Will. Your mother… perhaps she is still…”

  Will cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Nah, the way she was? She’s gone. Best I can hope is they let me out to put her in the ground before the crows get to her."

  The silence lingers for a while longer. But despite everything, William recovers quickly. Before long, conversation resumes, small talk, word games, anything to pass the time. There's little else to do in this miserable cell, after all, aside from sitting in silence and watching the faint light flicker through the narrow slit in the wall they call a window. Eventually, night falls, the air grows even colder, we try to distract ourselves from it best we can.

  "They got it right, you are a fucking criminal." William sighs.

  "Too bad for you, I win. Now give me the stones, goat-kisser." Hamza declares triumphantly. William and I both groan and toss the small pebbles we collected at Hamza, our precious 'wealth' all gone.

  "Speaking of criminals, you never told me Hamza, what did you do to get in here?" I ask curiously as he hordes the pile of rocks.

  "Hm? Ah, I was keeping eye for Will. Ran to shield him when that great beast of a woman came storming in... only to have my backside tanned alongside this scrawny fool. In the end, the guards dragged me off just the same." Hamza says with a sigh, though he doesn't seem to bare William any ill will.

  "In short, it's all my fault." William shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, though guilt is evident on his face.

  "It was for your mother. I cannot be angry for that, Will." Hamza smiles at the thin man, who offers a brief smile back.

  "You must be pretty close, to do this for him." I say to Hamza.

  He just shrugs. "We’ve known one another since we were but children. Was always my duty to keep him from mischief. And his mother, may she be blessed, took me in as one of her own… I owed her that much, truly."

  I nod in understanding. "Brotherhood is a wonderful thing. I... envy the two of you."

  Both Hamza and William exchange glances, their brows raised in curiosity. They don’t comment at first, but after a moment, William speaks up.

  "Oi, Seven, you grow up 'round nobles or somethin’? Don’t look like one, but you sure talk like ‘em."

  I shake my head. "No. But my mother insisted I learn to read and write. My education was probably more rigorous than most.... at least compared to other lowborn."

  William studies me for a moment, then smirks. "Aye, you’ve got some big words on you. Never heard a brigand talk like that. Aught not have much trouble convincin’ the mayor you ain't one of 'em. He ain't near as thick-headed as his son." He smiles reassuringly, but then grimaces. "As for the two of us, we’ll likely lose a hand each, if we don’t starve first. Do us a favor, will ya, and remind 'im we’re down here?" He sighs, rubbing his stomach. "Ain’t had a bite to eat in near a week."

  "Quit yer complaining!!" A voice echoes down the corridor, followed by footsteps. Two sets of footsteps.

  "Is that... oh fuck, it is!" Both William and Hamza back up pressing themselves into the corner of their respective cells, retreating into the shadows as their eyes lock onto the gaoler's guest.

  A towering woman strides in, taller even than me and far more muscular. Her skin is dark, but not the warm brown hue of the southerners, no, hers is a deep grey, like that of stone.

  Her long, dark hair is tied back, framing a weathered face, with a jaw powerfully defined for a woman, clenched in annoyance. She glares at me, her eyes a deep red, much like my own.

  "Zaenith..." I mutter, staring down the imposing woman as she approaches my cell, stopping a few feet in front of it. The gaoler is just behind her, glancing nervously between me and her.

  "Seven."

  She utters my 'name' with derision, her crimson eyes narrowing as they rake over me from head to toe. They then flicker to my accommodations and Hamza, glaring from the corner.

  "So this is how you return to me. Pathetic."

  Results

  +1 Skill

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