June, 370

Oct 23 2016

The boy couldn’t read. That’s why they turned him away. Literacy within the ranks of the Reeves was an essential imperative that the Lady Justiciar enforced with little mercy; pragmatic to her very core, it seemed. The boy hated her for this, although he had never even seen her. He had heard all the good that she had done for the city, for the Kingdom, but this perceived rejection struck him deeply and rocked him to his very core. He would make Rimilde von Rievirkrintz suffer. He swore it in his own blood.

As he walked down Church Street East, the Cityguard Headquarters growing more and more distant, he drew his knife and examined the dull blade. Captain Downe had given it to him a few years before: a once finely crested hilt of bone lay base to a cold, six inch, iron-infused shark tooth. Captain Downe said it was a rare practice, to mix such drastically different materials, but he would have done anything for the lad. He would have sunk the entire ship if it meant saving the boy’s life. And the boy knew, especially now.

He pricked the fingertip of his pinky, and sucked on the trickle of blood, just for the taste. He wondered if the Lady Justiciar’s would be sweeter.

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