A man’s shout made Janis look up in time to see a stone sail out from one of the deserted stalls on the other side of the market. It struck a soldier in the chest, crashing against his breastplate. The squad came to a halt, bunching around their lord. The man who had been struck advanced on the stall, drawing his sword.
As he drew within ten meters, another projectile flew out from the adjacent stall. This was no stone though. Janis had been in the royal cavalry long enough to know exactly where that stinking bit of filth had come from. The soldiers raised their shields or moved out of the way, but they were not the target. Instead, the mess splattered against the legs of their cloaked lord.
An indistinct shout came from beneath the hood and the soldiers fanned out towards the stalls. All eyes were turned away from Janis and his side of the market. As the soldiers advanced, a flicker of movement caught his eye to the left. Janis looked but saw nothing.
Then a small, scrawny boy bounded out of an alley, the same space where Janis had seen movement, and closed in on the noble. The warrior watched in amazement as the boy snuck right up and cut a small leather bag from the noble’s belt. His purse, Janis realized. The boy started to sneak away, turning to look back, to see if he had been spotted.
And tripped over the stone that had started the incident.
The boy tumbled to the ground in a heap, spilling coins across the cobbles. Everyone in the market was suddenly focused on him. Janis cursed under his breath. He had been rooting for the crafty youth.
The street urchins were the first to react. They pounced, screaming with glee, scooping up a few shiny coins and scurrying away. The thief struggled to his feet, trying to get away. But the soldiers were too quick. One grabbed his wrist and hauled him back while another ripped the purse full of gold away. The noble watched impassively as the thief was subdued. The guards clustered around the boy, two of them holding him by his upper arms, preventing his escape.
The noble pushed back the hood of his cloak. Janis did not recognize the man’s face, but he did recognize him for a fool. He had the haughty, self-important look of the clueless rich. Janis sneered in disapproval, taking a long pull of his drink.
Janis did not hear who gave the order, but he did hear the sound of a mailed fist slamming into the child’s stomach. And he heard the pained cry the blow elicited. Janis slammed his mug down, scowling. He watched as one soldier struck again and again, landing blows on the boy’s chest and head. The thief tried to protect himself, but he was held fast. The soldier showed no signs of letting up.
By now Janis was in a thoroughly foul mood. First the ambitious thief had been caught. Now he was being punished severely, too severely in Janis’ opinion. Janis eyed the soldiers, evaluating them. They weren’t professionals. He could tell. They wouldn’t have fought in the war. They would have stayed home with their arrogant master, guarding his wealth while the kingdom burned. Janis finished the last of his beer and rose suddenly, knocking his chair over and marching towards the cluster of men.
The others were so intent on the thief that they did not notice Janis. As he drew closer, Janis noticed the boy was now covered in angry red welts, with a deep cut under one eye. He wore only a tattered tunic that stretched to just above his knees, belted with a length of rope. His feet were bare and dirt encrusted, his brown hair long and unkempt. The boy raised his head, shaking off another blow and Janis saw his eyes.
The boy’s eyes were bright green, flecked with gold. Intense, intelligent eyes. Eyes that burned with a fevered desperation, and flashed with anger. Janis had only seen those eyes in one other person in all of his life. He told himself he was imagining things, that he was drunk, that there was no reason to help this boy.
But Janis was itching for a fight. And whether or not he had interpreted those fierce eyes accurately, he wanted to save this plucky, clumsy thief.
As the lead soldier drew back his arm for another punch, Janis grabbed hold of his wrist and yanked back, throwing the guard down in the dirt. Immediately, the other guards turned on him, all five of them. They did not advance though, unsure of who exactly the new player was.
Janis did advance though. He started with the two guards pinning the thief’s arms. He jabbed one in the stomach with his right fist, then elbowed the guard in the side of his head, stunning him. The guard fell, his armor crashing against the cobbles. Janis had already moved on though, bringing his booted foot down on the next man’s left instep. The second guard howled and bounced comically on his good leg, stumbling backwards. The thief, now freed, backed away warily.
Janis turned to the remaining guards. The one who had been beating the thief was on his feet again, as well as the three Janis had not yet attacked. The two who had been holding the thief were still down, and would be a little while longer by the look of things.
Janis reached down and scooped up the nobleman’s purse from beside the guard he had stunned. He hesitated, then tossed it to the noble, who barely managed to catch it.
“There’s your gold. Now get out of here.”
The noble spluttered
