Timestamp: Fall 30, 514 AV Location: The Mortal Solace Time of Day: 12th bell, Midday Harkon was not thrilled with his current situation. He was meant to be inspecting the Morealis fence line for any damages, for the slaves had reported a wild animal of some sort on the property. But instead of doing just that, he was on glorified babysitting duty for one of the many Morealis "men". This one's name was Gerard or Gerald or something, a young lad with a lot more enthusiasm than sense. And he just wouldn't shut up. Harkon was grateful for the patience instilled in him by his father, and the obedience expected from the Freeborn toward the Dynasts, because every time he tightened his grip on his axe, he wondered, 'Maybe I can get away with it.' But he wouldn't attack a young boy like this for young reason, especially one who probably hadn't even bedded his first lass yet. That and the world of trouble it might bring. The lad kept prattling on, talking about how his father won't let him go hunting in the swamp, how he got a shiny new gold sword, and how he'd heard that Lorak women's lady parts go sideways. Utter nonsense, especially that last bit, but Harkon nodded and agreed, like a good Freeborn employee. His eyes were trailing the fence, when he saw the very clear signs that something had dug and forced its way beneath the fence line. Walking over to it, he crouched down, gesturing to the boy to join him. The half tunnel was quite wide, indicating a wide animal of sorts, maybe two feet across. There deep grooves in the dirt and small indentations in the wood. Harkon couldn't figure out what in the world had broken in. Then he heard the snort from behind the nearby apple tree. And that is when he knew. Petch. "Don't move. Don't look at it." He knew without looking that it was a boar, and he guessed the grooves were tusk marks. Still crouched down, not wishing to antagonize the pig, he saw tracks in the mud, oval with a slit in the middle, with two smaller divots at the back. If they survived, he would remember these tracks. His eyes glanced over, without moving his head. The boar was there, stamping a foot, trying to intimidate them. It wasn't an especially large boar, its tusks at the height of his knees, but he knew it would still be incredibly dangerous. They could cripple you, gore you, and if they got you on the ground, break your neck. Harkon relaxed the grip on his axe, prepping for the impending attack. Thankfully, the weapon he had with him would do well against a stout creature such as this. Then the idiot boy's enthusiasm took over. "Look! A boar! I've never seen one alive before!" Double petch. The boy had inadvertently accepted the boar's challenge. The boar bellowed and charged toward him, Harkon immediately standing and turning. Then the boy made his worst mistake yet. He ran away from Harkon, separating them. The boy ran, and the boar gave chase, catching up quickly. The idiot wasn't even running for a tree, just more open space. Harkon chased after the pair, arms pumping fiercely, his long legs working to cover the distance as quickly as he could. The boar had caught up to the boy, and was running parallel to him, when he snapped his head to the left, slapping his tusks hard into the boy's thigh. Even from several feet away, Harkon heard the crack of bone, the boy screaming in agony as he fell face first. The boar kept going, then turning to finish the boy off, just as Harkon reached the injured lad. He'd seen how the boar attacked, and assumed it would do the same again. It charged at Harkon now, who had placed himself between it and the boy. Harkon waited, muscles coiling, preparing to move as the distance between them closed. The boar began veering to the side for another tusk slap, when Harkon pivoted away on the foot away from the boar, and swung his axe down hard. Shunk. His axe embedded itself between the ribs of the boar deeply, and the critter fell to the ground, right next to the crying boy. The creature was wheezing, for Harkon assumed he'd hit a lung. He dislodged his axe, and chopped once more, this time at the neck, putting the creature out of its misery. The screams of the boy had attracted a few slaves and their overseeing mercenary. Harkon barked out orders, "Get the doctor, he's been injured!" The mercenary shook his head, "Doc is sick, never came to the plantation today. You'll have to take him into town." Harkon swore up and down in his native Shiber, before crouching down by the young man. He could see the man's thigh bone was at an unnatural angle, and there was a deep groove from the tusk cutting the flesh as well. "Make sure there's a ferry ready. I'll take him myself." Then turning to the slaves, "Take this pig to the main house and have it prepared for dinner tonight. This lad will want to eat when he returns." The mercenary and slaves began fulfilling his orders as he removed his white work shirt. He knew nothing about fixing the kid up, but he could slow the bleeding. "Look at me Gerard. I'm tying my shirt around your leg. It will hurt, terribly. But you suck it up. This was your first, successful hunt, so be proud of your war wound." The tearful boy nodded as Harkon slipped his shirt beneath the leg, and ignored the boys cries as he tied and tightened it. One shirt ruined wasn't so bad if the boy lived, though he didn't expect him to die. He then slipped an arm beneath the boys knees, and another behind his shoulder blades. Exhaling as he hefted, he picked the boy up, and began walking southbound toward the Kenash River. He made his way to the ferry, where the boys parents met them, the mother in hysterics, the father surprisingly proud. "Son, I hear you bagged a boar. Well done!" He handed Harkon a bag of coins to take with him to the clinic to pay the doctor whatever was needed, deciding to stay behind themselves. The mother wasn't happy about it, but the father said his son needed to preserve his honor and dignity, and insisted that Harkon take him. A long ferry ride and another back breaking carrying of the boy later, and he found himself standing in front of the closed glass doors. He asked Gerard to open it, and the boy weak from pain, managed. Carrying him inside, "We need a doctor, fast. He was attacked by a boar." Harkon knew to keep his voice calm for the young lad, to not further scare him. |