Night 30 of Spring 516 A.V.
Shimoje knew he had to save his money. He needed it for food and various expenses that this new lifestyle would leave him. He hated having to deal with responsibilities now, but such is the way of living. He clutched to the wood shavings in his hand and sighed.
“Even the most basic of things can be part of a larger, grander purpose” he said after neatly placing the shavings in his pack.
It was a cloudy night, and despite the spring weather he suddenly got the goosebumps on his arms and legs. He didn’t have a lot of body hair, so there wasn’t much to stand up from it. Regardless, he threw his arms across his chest and started to rub his arms tenaciously. He didn’t mind the cold, in fact he preferred it compared to the heat.
From the distance he heard the metal clacking of what sounded like horse hoofs on the stone ground. Five, no six, was heard coming in from outside of the city. Shimoje looked toward the city and saw men clad in steel. Some with bow, some with sword and shield. They looked lively enough and were galloping in while talking and laughing amongst each other. Their duty must be over, but they still seemed to have a rather somber look to them in the eyes of Shimoje.
“I don’t envy them.” he muttered under his breath as taking note of the knight’s mark of the tree. He wasn’t sure what type of a tree it was exactly, but it was clad on one of the shields, it looked like an oak tree. He had his doubts though.
Deep down like every boy would he wished he could have that sort of excitement and sense of pride. He looked down at his feet and started into thought while rubbing his left eyebrow.
Would I risk life and limb to protect others? Perhaps I would, but right now my life has other plans. I need to find information and I have my own quests and goals to follow. Their armor is neat, but I doubt my body would fit in anything they have. I wish I was stronger.
I wish I was stronger.
Stronger.
For what? You never know what you may come across in this world, and my father obviously died from something. What if that something can kill me too? What if all the muscles in the world isn’t enough to beat it. I wish I was smarter.
I wish I was smarter.
Smarter.A sparkle lay on the stone he was looking at, remnants of some rock that was probably crushed revealing a lighter stone. He needed more material for his crafts. Anything would work really. He was lost in thought when suddenly something bumps into him and send him on his butt.
Hiccup
“wha’ the. Oh, a wee boy. Sor’ for that. I was car’ing these boxes an’ couldn’t see!” said a fat man.
“It is ok sir. I can take that small one on top there if you want.” Shimoje responded as dusting himself off and standing up.
With a laugh
“her’ yahs go! Fol’lo me, shaint be long now.” The fat man responded.
Shimoje took note that this man also seemed to be bald.
“What is your name sir?” Shimoje grunted almost out of breath already. The box was heavier than he expected!
“Yargul Munderitcher, wha’ is you’s boy?” “My name is Shimoje, Sir. So where are we headed?” He responded grunting inbetween the words.
“Tuh the fightin’ pits o’course! You know anything about fighting? You are a scrawny one aren’t you?”
“I’ve never cared to fight, sir. Though it does seem like an interesting concept. Intrinsically though, I feel like I would always get my butt churned.” Shimoje tried laughing, but it ended with just a chuckle as he almost lost his footing and then regained it just in the knick of the time. A yell was heard from the distance.
“I didn’t know you could slave ants!”
“Oi, Ceryl, I bumped int’o this one. Lit’rally!” responded the bald man.
With a bit of disgrunt Shimoje remembered something he observed “Ants can lift twice their body weight it seems. That is obviously not me, sir.”
They all laughed as they sat down the boxes. Ceryl walked over and punched Yargul in the chest.
“What do you got there?” Ceryl questioned.
“This her’ is a box of used weapons from th’ ord’r. The un’ ove’ there is our dinn’r for tonight. Nice big round.” Replied the fat man.
Shimoje was literally hauling around a raw piece of meat. Probably to be cooked up and eaten. It seemed a bit late for dinner, but judging by this guy’s size it looked like he didn’t ever go a fortnight without eating. He took a look around the area. The dirt ground had the occasional pad on it, probably for softer combat, and there were weapons racks scattered about. Most of the weapons on them looked like they were used far too much. As he stood there and observed he noticed Ceryl take out a spit and was preparing a rod for use, probably to impale the meat on and cook it. Shimoje took the initiative and saw a small hole in the corner right of the courtyard. He took out his wood shaving from his bag, literally shaking them onto the ground into the pit and began striking on his flint and steel to create a small fire. It probably took a good 2 minutes before some smoke began to appear.
“Have you some larger wood, sirs?” He yelled across the courtyard to the two men.
“oi, loo’ at that Ceryl, tha’ boy started our fire fo’ us!” he said “Ye’ here” The man stood up and started chucking wood at the boy, throwing it rather hard. Shimoje’s eyes widened and he laid down on the ground to create the least amount of chance of getting hit. He probably only threw about 4 pieces of wood, but with the splinter he got earlier he rather not deal with a larger one impaling him like that chunk of meat.
Shimoje picked up the pieces and arranged them in a triangle. They started off slow and then embers took place on the wood. A large crack was heard from the fire and then the flame finally started to get a bit hot. Hot enough to start the cooking of course. Ceryl walked over with meat and placed two Y frame stakes to the left and right of the fire then placed the meat on those frames above the fire. Yargul walked over carrying three larger pieces of wood. They must have been heavy cause he dropped them down and they made a rather large thud sound.
“Fo’ your seat boy, you can eat with us if you want!” Yargul said as arranging the primitive furniture.
“So what is tha’ thing in your pack the’r boy?” “Oh, an invention, I suppose. I plan to turn it into a working screw. It can easily drill into things and make holes. Of course it has other applications too, and is fairly sharp!” Shimoje declared.
The meat began to crisp up and juices started falling into the fire, which only caused the occasional flare up.
“You’ un’ of those awkward fella’s?”
“He’s a bright un’ alright. His head is even shinier than yours!” Ceryl joked
“he must be from another city, I haven’t seen him before.”“You are most certainly correct.” Shimoje responded as he walked over to the weapons rack and observed the weapons. There stood swords, handles with balls on them, a shield, and a few spears. He walked away from them just about as fast as he walked over to them and sat down back on his piece of wood. Another man was heard from the distance walking up
“You know how to fight kid? I saw you eying that spear over there!” “I doubt he could lift the thing Gerard!” yelled out Ceryl once again. He was getting to be obnoxious.
“Oh, you have meat cooking. Great, I will join you!” said Gerard
“so baldy, do you know how to fight?” Shimoje looked around if anyone else would answer, but the other bald man was occupied rotating his meat on the stake and wasn’t paying too much attention.
“No, I prefer the scholars, but I am always looking to improve myself. I would probably regret it if I didn’t learn something while here. Why do you ask?” “Oh, I am always looking for someone new to spar with, is all. Not many can beat me, and when I find a challenge I just train that much harder to be sure I strike them to the ground!” confidently declared the long haired warrior. He seemed sweaty as if just arriving from doing something physical. Gerard took a seat next to the boy and started to eye the meat.
“I can spar with you boy.” Shimoje didn’t know what to think of that. A grown man, almost twice his size, asking him to spar. Shimoje has never quarreled with anyone and he didn’t really want to, but he thought to himself. Why not?
