Death of a Child

The death of a child; it came as quite a shock to the simple and proud people of San D’Oria. A child was dead, killed, and no one was entirely sure what happened. People were interviewed, family members consoled, yet no one seemed to understand why a child would go beyond the safety of the walls to wander on the dangerous plains of East Ronfaure. Some said that he was a strange child; others said he was just lonely; and still others wondered why a boy as bright as this child would wander so far for no reason, to risk life for what? No one knew and no one understood.

The last two who saw him were the brothers, Gallijaux and Joulet, at the port. The elder, Gallijaux, said that they saw the boy the day he disappeared, sitting on the dock by himself, fishing. He sat there for a long time, casting in and out of the water. Others stopped and asked if he needed help, but he simply shook his head and smiled, saying that he just needed to find the right place and the fishing would improve. People shrugged and let the boy do as he wished. Joulet told the guards that they saw the boy leave just around mid afternoon. He did not seemed disappointed, he had been there since dawn and had caught nothing, but determined, walking with the confidence only a child could hold. When asked if they saw the boy again that day, the brothers simply shook their heads sadly. Thanking them, the guard moved to the next witness while the brothers told them to send their best to the family of the boy. The guards did not listen; there were other things to deal with.

They wandered along the streets of the city. People were going out, doing the things that needed to be done and nothing more. No one wanted to talk or think about the accident. Traveling into the main square, they found the son of a former warrior, Ailbeche. They asked the child if he saw the boy that day and Ailbeche nodded, saying the boy had stopped and talk to him for a time about fishing. He said the boy seemed confident and happy and that they talked for about an hour. The son of the knight said the boy looked at the sun and said that he had to leave, that he had important business to take care of and left, promising that they would have to fish together some time. Alibeche looked said as the guards asked him in what direction the boy went off to. South the son said, south, but I wanted to fish with him. Why did this have to happen? But the guards did not respond, they moved on leaving the son of the knight alone in the square.

Southern San D’Oria was always busy with the presence of the auction house and the guards searched for many hours looking for someone who recognized the boy. When they found someone, Lanqueron by the main door, he said the boy headed east after asking for directions to the man who sold bait. Few at the auction house seemed willing to talk about the matter and most went along with their jobs, foreigners avoiding eye contact with the guards. Sighing heavily, the guards moved on, looking for the last known person to see the boy.

The man that sold bait and rods, Lusine, seemed so sadden by the accident, he said that the boy was the reason he had the money to eat; that the boy would come every other day and bought a dozen of each bait. He said that the boy came and asked for the usual, but looked very excited and anxious. When asked why he was acting the way the boy smiled and said that he knew where the fish hid and he was going to find them. Lusine said he just smiled at the boy, gave him his bait, and told him that he would do his best no matter if he caught a fish or not. The boy smiled and marched off. The man who sold bait said he turned to talk to someone and when he turned back, the boy was gone.

The next few hours were lost in a fog, no one saw the boy leave and no one heard the screams. The men who stood at the gate offered their lives to the family, but the family declined, saying that there was to be no more bloodshed. Exploring the murder scene and examining the details, the guards began to put a clear picture together.

The boy somehow managed to sneak past the guards at the time that they changed post. He must have studied them for a long time to know that small window where he could get through. He then took off into the plains and forest of Eastern Ronfure, running along the river. The wild rabbits left him be and he found a place high above ground and any pugil swimming nearby could not reach him. There, by a waterfall deep and hidden in the woods, he sat and began to fish. No one seemed to notice him there, sitting and blending in with the surroundings, he looked just like a TaruTaru and no one paid him any heed.

In a moment where no one was passing by the boy must have looked up to see a large, armored creature carrying an axe coming towards him. The boy dropped his fishing pole, it fell to the rocks a few feet lower and snapped in two, the creature, judging the by scales left behind on the body, was an orc scout. Standing and trying to back away, the boy was frightened. The orc looked like that of the beastmen from the Great War. Judging from everything else, the guards at the battle scene said the boy had no time to scream. The orc attacked with his axe, making a fatal wound across the boy’s chest and abdomen. Stumbling backwards from the blow, the boy tripped and fell, falling into the river and rocks below, breaking his back. There he lay until he died, they guessed only moments later. Blood stained the riverbed near the boy and sent crimson lines through the crystal water. A group of adventures from Bastock were there and saw the blood. Walking upstream along the river, they found the body of the boy. Mouth and eyes open in a silent scream of terror and pain, his fishing pole lying near by hand like a broken weapon, and the bait falling from the pockets of his clothes, making all of the fish he dreamed about catching gather around the body. And in the depths of his hair, they found the orcish mail saying who their culprit was.

Now he, the one who figured out every gruesome detail, stood near the entrance of West Ronfure, arms crossed and looking at the exit as more and more foreigners and new recruits came and went, building their skills and making themselves stronger.

“Endracion?”

The commander turned and saw soldier standing before him.

“Sir, there are some new recruits here looking for missions, what should we have them do?”

The commander stood and looked at his hands. They were pink from the blood of the boy, the blood of the murder scene, the blood of innocence.

“They want a mission that will help their homeland? We’ll let them out to slay any Orcish Scouts they can find. They’ll bring me back an axe to prove that they did this and . . . I will give that axe to the parents of the slain boy. Send them to me.” The soldier nodded and Endracion made himself stand tall and proud as the small band of new recruits formed around him, eyes begging for adventure. The commander could only think of the boy’s eyes, so young, so lifeless, and he wanted more than anything to rid the plains of Ronfaure of those vile beasts. Smiling slightly to himself, he began to explain what they were to do.

-06/03/04