Future Glories - Part 12

From the anger in many of their faces, and more than a few clenched fists, many were no doubt thinking how they would have pounded the man to death if only they'd been a few years older.

It was not long ago that Vol had been in the same position himself, so he could sympathize.

"Axe," Vol said, grabbing the man's shoulder and pulling him back.

The man frowned at him, confusion written on his face, seeming disoriented by his sudden spin back around.

"No, 'tis mine," the man said.

"Axe," Vol said again, more firmly this time. He'd thought with his poor charisma, and a little bit of intimidation, the man would relent, but the alcohol must have acted as some sort of film that blocked what was obvious to his eyes. That, or the man simply could not sense the danger he was in.

"No, I already told ya, piss off now," the man said, pulling away. Vol's fist came with him. It hit the side of the man's jaw like a hammer, dropping him as quickly as gravity could carry him. Vol wrenched the axe from the man's grip, and spun it in his hand.

He groaned on the ground as Vol stood over him. Vol had made sure to take most of the sting off his punch. He was fairly certain that if he'd wanted to, he could have shattered the man's jaw.

"Mister..?" The boy came trotting up, unsure, as he held out his hand for his axe.

"Can I buy it off you?" Vol asked.

The boy stepped back, intimidated. Vol's lacking charisma did not help. His size, and the axe at his hip did not help either. Nor did the way he'd easily swatted the drunk to the floor. The kid sensed danger, and seemed ready to give up on his weapon, far more quickly than he had when it was in the hands of the drunk.

If not for the other children gathering around him, Vol expected that he would have run. But there was strength in numbers, and the child felt it, enough to hold his ground, at least for now.

"Give 'im his axe back!" A little girl shouted crossly.

"You can have your axe back, or I can give you a silver for it," Vol said, doing his best to dull the natural harshness of his tone. "A copper coin each, what d'ya say? That's a good bit of coin for all you, isn't it?"

Vol remembered the few occasions he'd been given a copper coin by a benevolent passer as a child. More than once, it had been his own brother, coming back from a raid, as the townsfolk practically worshipped him. He'd given Vol three coppers as though it was nothing to him, and Vol had hardly ever been more proud.

He doubted that this scrap of wood they called an axe could even be sold for a copper. Maybe as a pair, an axe and a sword together, he could see some wealthier housewives handing over the coin for it… but not for something as old and tired as the one Vol was holding.

The boy was suspicious of him, but his friends were pushing him now, and whispering, their faces betraying their delight. A whole copper for each of them? That wasn't something that could turn down – nor would they even lose out for it. It wasn't their axe, after all, it was their friend's.

"You says a silver, but then you says a copper each. What d'ya mean by that?" One of the younger boys asked.

"There's ten of you," Vol replied.

"So?"

"Ten coppers is a silver, dummy," came an older voice, punching the kid in his arm for his lack of knowledge. "D'ya got the money, really? Why's you looking to give so much away for an axe?"

"You are a raider?" Another one butted in. That inspired more excited whispers. He knew that feeling as well. As a child, the most interesting thing in the world to him had been the raiders, and the warriors.

"I am – a rich one at that. I fancy your wooden axe to play around with. What do you say?" Vol said, returning the question to the axe owner.

With his friends pressing him, and the excited noises over the fact that Vol was a raider, the boy seemed very close to agreeing to it. He looked to the drunk, who was just getting up off the cold floor. The man spared an angry glance in their direction, but then thought better of trying them, and proceeded to walk off, further towards the docks, stumbling as he went, bottle in hand. That seemed to convince the boy. It was a choice between losing his axe to a drunk, or getting a whole coin in exchange for it. "Show that you've got the money then."

Vol reached into his pocket, pleased that he had plenty of coppers loose. His total coin was once more over six silvers. He'd regained plenty upon selling his mule, and then had spent some more securing some food for himself. At the moment, he had coin to play with.

He let ten copper spread out over his large hands, and then he held them out for the children to see, like holding grain to a flock of chickens. They craned their necks for a better look, and their excitement increased.

From the looks in the eyes of a few of the aggressive-looking ones, they were more than considering robbing him. Considering it, weighing the chances of succeeding… and then ultimately deciding against it. They were too young, but the raiding spirit was in them too. He smiled at that. That was what Yarmdon children should be like.

"Well?" He pressed the child.

"Alright," the boy said. He didn't really have much of a choice. Both boons were in Vol's hands, and they'd have to fight him to take them. Just like the drunk, he could have walked off, and they'd have no chance of fighting back against them.