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<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> AS short walk took them to where a wagon waited for them. The say in the back as the horse pulling the wagon made its way along. No one spoke. Their first notice of their destination was the smell. It was a rancid smell of raw sewage and rank, rotting that filled the air. Nothing they did could block out the smell.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> The wagon stopped suddenly next to a low mound of large size.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> "Out!" Misha ordered.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> He waited silently as they got out. He handed each one a simple wooden medallion on a string. "Put that on. It will protect you from any foul disease. As for the smell. Well, get used to it." Misha handed them each a shovel. "The job is simple. Shovel the crap from the large mound into one of the small ones or into a wagon when needed.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> "Why a wagon Roderick asked.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> "For fertilizer," Misha explained. "It makes some of the finest fertilizer around. Plants love the stuff."</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> An older woman walked up t them. Smelling a lot worse than the midden (if that was possible. "Are these my two helpers for the week?"</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> "They are Janet," Misha responded.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> "Do as I tell you and we'll get along, And dont mind the smell. You'll get used to it." the woman said. she pointed to a wagon. "Fill that up with the manure."</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> "Now start shoveling!" The fox ordered.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> Reluctantly the two got to work and slowly shoveled.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false">*************</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> The got time for lunch around noon but were understandably not hungry. The rest of the day passed slowly but smellily. When it was time to quit for the day the two smelled rank and in spite of their best efforts manure clung to various parts of their clothing. Misha collected them and took them off to one side. There they stripped off their clothes and washed in cool but clean water. He gave each of them a shirt and pants to wear. The rest of the night was spent in a small but warm hut, thankfully upwind of the midden.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> Work started at dawn the next day and the day went by slowly in the smell.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> On day three Misha seemed to get grow a bit more friendly. He took their old medallions away and gave them ew, bronze ones. "You've earned these."</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"> They were a vast improvement. Besides stopping and disease it got rid of the smell.</div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false"><br></div><div><br></div>
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On Friday, October 27, 2023 at 11:24:37 PM EDT, Rimme the Weasel <ontherimme@gmail.com> wrote:
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The harsh glare and piercing words had an immediate effect on Nathan,
who paled and stepped back against the wall, but Rodrick stood up
straight and looked him in the eye with a thin smile. "So you are Misha
Brightleaf. I knew it from the moment I saw that black axe. Whisper, you
call it? Almost as famous as you are."<br><br>From the moment Rodrick
started speaking, Misha stared at him with eyes cold enough to have
frozen Oblineth. Roderick could only smile. Finally, a challenger worthy
of conversation. With the great Misha Brightleaf! Goading Jerrod was a
fun hobby, and Reed had his share of secrets to unearth, but none of his
companions had any true willpower for a test of wills. The stone-faced
Misha was a mere cobblestone road to him, daring him to keep on talking,
to test the resolve of the legendary fox-man.<br><br>After Rodrick
finished his short speech, Misha's glower deepened. "Consider yourselves
lucky that you are not on her receiving end."<br><br>Rodrick tilted his
nose up a smidge. "She seems to be a runic weapon, isn't she? Quite
rare. Three thousand years old, if I'm not mistaken. It must be quite an
honor to wie--"<br><br>There was a sudden black blur, and the magic
barrier exploded. It happened so quickly, with such volume and
brightness, that Rodrick couldn't stop himself from flinching. Weakness!
Rodrick quickly tried to recover, but was halted by the sharp edge of
the black axe, less than an inch from his eyeballs, where Misha had
swung it straight through what had been his invisible cell wall.<br><br>"You
attacked innocent people of Metamor," Misha hissed. "If any of them had
died, your head would be a smear on that wall right now. You have no
right to speak to me as an equal. You are under my protection now. And I
can easily rescind that. Do I make myself clear?"<br><br>Rodrick opened
his mouth and felt it quiver. Stop losing! Stop losing! But whatever
witty rejoinder he could have made, died on his throat. Never had he
been at the mercy of someone so clearly skilled in combat, with so heavy
an advantage, so unmoved by his attempts at flattery.<br><br>Would
Misha seriously kill him? There was no official death penalty in
Metamor, as far as he knew. But this was Misha Brightleaf, hero of a
thousand tales. He might get away with it.<br><br>In any case, there was
nothing to be gained by aggravating him. Sometimes survival was more
important than pride. Rodrick swallowed, forcing some color back onto
his face. He lifted his eyes to Misha's chin, but no higher. "Yes,
milord," he croaked.<br><br>The fox's gray eyes remained fixed on him
for several long seconds... or was it minutes? Finally, he looked aside,
body motionless, to the cell guards who had been staring from the exit.
"My compliments to the mage who built these cells. Very solid
construction. I'll see that the mage is reimbursed to replace it."<br><br>"Uh, yes, Misha," the woman stammered.<br><br>"I believe you were going to shackle them?"<br><br>The
winged horse clopped a salute and entered Rodrick's cell, carefully
stooping under the axe to take Rodrick's motionless hands.<br><br>"Foolish words for a thug to make! And to Misha Brightleaf, whose enemies tremble and..."<br><br>"Give me a break," Rodrick whispered with the slightest of eyerolls.<br><br>The
horse gripped his wrists a bit tighter as he clapped the manacles on.
"Mercy only comes to those who seek her grace. Remember your crimes have
brought you to this place."<br><br>The chains sagged on Rodrick's
wrists as the winged horse released him. The weight was unexpected; they
should have been much lighter from the way the horse had held them. As
they swayed, Rodrick tried to get a feel for their weight. He imagined
swinging them at the horse, and pivoting on his heel so that the chains
slammed upon the famous axe that could cleave metal. The weight suddenly
deepened, breaking Rodrick's thoughts. Moments later, the weight lifted
as if suddenly immersed in water. Magic! Of course. Metamor was not
short on magic. All it would take is a passive aura reading and a shift
in elemental temperament to create such weight-shifting chains. Curses!
If only he had the talent for magic, instead of merely hearing about it
from others.<br><br>Nathan had already stepped out from his cell by now,
hands bound, face contrite, knees shaking. Weakness! But it was fine
for Nathan to be weak, for he had enough strength to keep his mouth
shut. Rodrick cursed himself again, and twenty times more, for flinching
before the axe. Was he no better than a child to flinch from a weapon?
He should have been ready for it. This Misha was more dangerous than
he'd been led to believe.<br><br>"Heh, you certainly shut him up!" The
female guard laughed. "You should have heard him earlier, Misha. That
man's been ripping on animal morphs since this morning."<br><br>Misha
stood there casually with his axe, yet appraised both prisoners with a
fine eye, hand still firmly on Whisper, waiting for a sudden movement.
Truly, there was not a single part of his body not under total control!<br><br>"Both
of you are heading to middens duty in Euper," Misha said. "I advise
against running. It will do you no good. There are even fouler places
where you could be headed." He focused his eyes on Rodrick. "You'll both
be working for at least a week, or until I am satisfied by your change
of heart. Do you both understand?"<br><br>"Yessir," Nathan said promptly.<br><br>"I
do," Rodrick said. "Sir," he quickly added at Misha's stare. Weakness!
He wasn't used to showing humility. Unless some viable means of escape
presented itself, there was nothing to do but go along with this
punishment. He had to earn this fox-man's respect. He had to be
stronger! All he had to do was endure a bit of humiliation.<br><br>"One
last thing," Misha said, raising an arm. The horse quickly reached
behind the exit to fetch a short coil of rope. "Just to make sure you
don't get funny ideas." With the armed guards still watching Rodrick,
Misha bent down over Nathan and tied one end around the manacles.<br><br>"Don't be mad at him," Nathan murmured. "He ain't bad people. 'e's just independent."<br><br>Misha made no response. He stood and pulled the free end through Rodrick's manacles. "Now let's get going."<br><br>Misha
started off, pulling Nathan along and forcing Rodrick along with them.
Curses! Did he really have a week to spend like this?
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