Not more dangerous. It was hard because the man started crying. It was pitiful. Tor almost wanted to quit, to let the man go and just tell him to fix his ways. But really, it was too late for that wasn't it? He'd just get a healing device and fix the damage. Then he'd be back. Or he'd abuse that boy. Going deeper, having roused from those depth by the action a bit, he made his decision.
Grimly, Tor moved in and kicked the man in the back of the head, over and over again, until he didn't move any more. Then he rolled him over and sighed.
“Goodbye Baron Diddles.” Tor said, not bothering to be quiet about it.
Then he started stomping on the man’s throat. It took… forever. Ten minutes or more, for the man to finally die. It was hideous. More horrible than he could bare, nearly. He already heard the man, standing behind him, laughing.
“Think you won? You just set off a chain of events you can't even imagine fool!” The voice chortled at him.
Tor just stood, mind ready, chest heaving, gasping for breath.
Waiting.
This probably didn't make sense to anyone else, but it did to him. If the man still had life in him, a healing device might just save him. By waiting like this, standing over him, not leaving the field, Tor was ensuring that option was off the table. The beating he'd somehow managed to deliver to the monster in front of him was severe, but it was this, just standing like he was, that was the actual murder. The seconds stretched out, turning to minutes.
The stench of death filled him then, worse than he'd ever encountered before, he ignored it. It would be around for a while after all.
About ten minutes later, maybe less, Rolph walked out onto the stone and slowly put a hand on his shoulder.
“Tor? Are you all right?” The words were ponderous, slow and almost unrecognizable as words at all.
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his thoughts and let himself start to come towards the surface. He nodded but didn't explain why he stood, just waiting. This was something that he could talk about later, if need be. Maybe. No one would be able to understand though, would they? It wasn't just about protecting himself. If that had been the case, then he would have healed the man minutes ago himself and left already. Even if it meant being challenged again later by the guy.
But he hurt children. Tor nodded slightly then, knowing that he had to actually say something to his friend. Even if it didn't seem kind or good.
“We need to stay here for a few minutes and not let anyone else get to the body. Healing device…” He whispered the words, and his friend, looking scared, relaxed.
“Right.” Rolph turned and raised his right hand, there was no smile on his face, but his posture shifted, straightened and looked commanding suddenly.
“Royal physician, attend please?” He said loudly enough that everyone could hear.
Oddly enough the tiny dark woman that ran out in a white tunic and trousers, carrying a bag by her side, was Abbie, his great niece. She literally was a doctor, probably one of the best around even. Tor could see a trap there then. What if she insisted, as was her right and calling, on helping the man?
She did, of course.
For nearly an hour. Then she sighed and stood back, head bowed.
“He has passed and cannot be helped. I'm sorry.” She bowed, to Rolph first, then to Tor, who she took a step back from.
Tor got it.
He'd not only killed someone in front of her, but meant it. They didn't have violence in Afrak and before that point, she didn't really believe that her “Great-Uncle the Court Jester” could take a life. Then, he hadn't believed it himself. Not really. Not like this.
A minute later the King came forward and stood by him, the crowd had largely wondered off, except for the Baron’s military squad, who still stood nervously, as if waiting to attack. Finally Lady Priscilla walked over, the black haired boy, who looked about seven, and a twenty-something woman holding his hand, in tow.
“See Connor? He won't ever hurt you again, not ever.” Priscilla shook, but her words were firm. Tears moved down her face, the other woman’s too. The boy nudged the count with his foot.
Then he kicked the corps hard. It didn’t move.
Tor didn't have a problem with it, but the King looked at the boy, disproving.
“We should perhaps, not bait the Baron’s forces.” He said softly, looking at the three lines of blue clad men, who stiffened at the blow.
They didn't move though, a stirring coming from the far side of the square. Tor's side. He looked back to see what it was, his mind not quite making sense of it at first.
It was around two hundred people dressed in green and brown, holding force lances on the barons men. Tor had to look again though, because it wasn't just one side of the square, it was everyone, all around. It wasn't a few hundred, it was closer to a thousand, two thousand. The crowd had been a lot larger than he'd realized then, because most of them really had already just left.
Sighing Tor bowed in each direction, low and humble.
“It's fine. No need for violence. Give these men safe passage home please?” He said it loudly, but no one could hear him, not really, not until the King repeated it. Then it worked just fine.
Good.
No need to get anyone else killed that day. The Baron's forces probably didn't know why their old leader had to die that day. They'd come to see a dust-up, a giant fighting a little man, who they'd been told probably deserved the beating. Instead they'd witnessed this…
It left them at loose ends, no doubt.
Tor didn't know what to do next, not at all, but luckily for him, Rolph did. It involved whisking him away to the palace in a fast carriage. Tor didn't understand it all yet, his mind too deep still. Everything had started to move faster at least. Well, to him. It was still deadly slow, half speed it seemed, even as he crawled his way back up, fought to return to himself. For a few minutes he really wondered if he should. Life might just be easier if he stayed at the bottom of himself. No feelings, no desire to do anything…
But that couldn’t be. Tor had things to do. Like find who was trying to kill him so very hard, and why.
Finally, just as they landed in back of the palace itself, Tor came back to himself. The world reeked, but that was all right. He sighed. Rolph nodded at him, but didn't make him speak yet.
“I… Tor, what was that?” He said softly, after they settled to the ground, still sitting inside the carriage. “It wasn't… I don't know, it wasn't you. I didn't know you could move like that. Are you… Count Lairdgren?”
Tor blinked and shook his head.
“Nope, all me, unfortunately.” He took a huge shuddering breath. It tasted foul, of course. The scent of rot had infected his taste buds already.
Yummy.
“I have no clue where Burks is or I would have sent him instead, trust me… Did I… look strange?” It wasn't anything he'd thought of before. Still, he hadn't spoken or anything at first, had he?
“You know, Lyn offered to make herself look like me and fight him instead. She made a device to copy me. It's a solid work.” He was rambling but Rolph didn't stop him.
“He was going to… He said that Smythe and I forgot to ask if he liked little boys. He said he was going to rape that kid, when he was done killing me. I…” He shook his head.
“I couldn't risk it. He had to die.”
“The man was dead regardless Tor. Don't get me wrong, but if you'd lost, he wouldn't have walked out of that square alive. Did you see the look on his forces faces when everyone turned on them? Those people weren't armed like that to keep the peace. We may have to scramble to explain that many civilians with military weapons and shields though. I wonder how it happened?” His friend chuckled.
“Still, I doubt anyone will be challenging you to a fist fight any time soon. I nearly wet myself you know. Try not to scare me like that in the future will you?”
“Got it. Of course, if he let me pull out, or even run away, this wouldn't have happened.”
Then again, Tor knew, if he'd killed the man the first time, or even asked the right questions, Connor wouldn't
