CROWNS I: Of Desolate Hope | ✔

11. Pat's Frustration

Pat sat impatiently on the corner of Mule and Goose. It was well past midnight but inside the taverns, the real drinking had only just begun. At this time, the whores were waiting in the streets, the thieves and murderers in the alleys and soldiers were drowning their unhappiness in endless pints of beer and ale. It was an ordinary night in the Southern District of the city.

"This place stinks of shit," he mumbled to himself as he watched a man get hacked to pieces in the alley across the street. "That makes three," he noted, in a conserved horror, "What the hell is wrong with people here?" He continued to watch the activities of the seemingly endless alley. 

For four days, Pat had been living in what, as he soon learned, was commonly referred to as Redstone. He hadn't told anyone where he was and had insisted on travelling alone from Goodwood. "A most dangerous business," the professor, back at Greenthorn had said but Pat had continued regardless.

Nearly an hour later, a woman with short, dirty blonde hair burst out of the Old Mill Inn, singing the last two verses of The Stones of Fortitude.

Well, that's hideous, thought Pat as she got a little closer, Please go away...

"Have you heard? Have you heard?" she cried out, after her horrible rendition. The woman stumbled towards Pat, her barely visible blonde hair covering her face, as she joined him.

"You smell. Please leave me alone," he said, bluntly.

"Nice to meet you too, hun!" she said, pausing to pull the largest grin Pat had ever seen, "Well, have you heard? Do you know?"

Great, she's not going to go away now, thought Pat as he finally got a glimpse of her rosy cheeks. "Okay woman," he said, "What haven't I heard?"

The woman looked left, then to the right. She leaned in close. "I know who the Adder of Castland is," she whispered, giggling before suddenly grabbing his head.

Pat pushed her away before looking her up and down. The young woman had mud and wine stains on her tattered blue dress.

"And I don't care," he replied, with a hint of arrogance.

The drunk lady obviously had no intention of leaving the corner and instead shrugged her shoulders and smiled strangely at him. "Sure, hun," she said grinning as she dumped herself next to Pat.

They sat in silence gazing at the stars. If this place wasn't such a shithole, I might not have minded this, he thought.

The young lady shuffled uncomfortably and eventually opted to just lie down. "Do you ever look up and wonder how many millions or maybe even billions of people are looking at the same thing?" she asked, as if in a trance, "There's a big wide world waiting to be discovered, you know. Different creatures, different people, different...things."

It was only now that Pat started to notice a distinct smell - a mixture of roses and lemons and dewy grass. "You're not just drunk, are you?" he asked, staring into the woman's pale yellow, dilated pupils.

"No, sir. No, I am not," she said, poking his nose. "What you doing here anyway? I can tell that you're a rich one. A little lordling maybe..." she continued, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone like that, you know. Is that you...or is it me?"

You've got to be kidding me, he thought, despairingly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Thea," he mumbled.

"That's me!" she exclaimed, "Wake me in an hour."

"No! No! No!" said Pat, frustrated, "I've been waiting for you for nearly an hour. Stop wasting time!"

Thea wasn't listening. Her eyelids dropped faster than Pat leaving his friends to find her a day earlier. Before Pat knew what was happening, her head was already resting on his lap.

"Please, get the hell off me," he said, slapping her cheek but there was no response. Pat checked that she was still breathing, which she was. So much for being the best, this half of Castland, he thought, disappointedly.

Pat passed some time by watching a huge brawl that had quickly ensued on the street after Thea had decided to take a break. The parties involved seemed to be drunk but Pat decided he'd rather watch them do things they'd regret than break it up.

"Come 'ere you little shit!" the man with the fiery-orange beard had screamed at the brown-haired lad. Soon afterwards, it seemed as if the whole tavern had poured out onto the streets to participate in the social activity.

The few street lanterns were bright enough for Pat to see a sword drawn as well as a couple of daggers and a small blade revealed. The next thing he had seen was a couple of broken bones but the clash was still raging on. Peculiarly, the lad seemed familiar to him.

"Sweet Vara! What's going on here?" asked Thea, suddenly alive again. She arose rapidly and saw the violent crowd just as the ringing in her ears stopped. "Ah, a prime opportunity!" she exclaimed, tripping over her feet as she stumbled toward the onlookers. "That one: bald, tall, huge black beard. He needs to die. Now." She gestured, shakily, at the man who was hammering his foes in all directions.

"Wait, what? You'll be hanged!" exclaimed Pat, panic beginning to surface, "You can't do that!"

"Oh yes...I definitely can and I most certainly will," she replied, agitatedly, "If you want to act like a baby, go back to Greenthorn and suck your mother's breasts."

"You little-" started Pat, realising that Thea was already amongst the rabble, knife in hand.

What is she doing! he thought as he chased after her.

As he grew nearer, he saw that the sword belonged to a Capital Guard. "Thea!" he called out, catching a glimpse of her weaving between bodies and ducking under arms. Pat watched in horror as she snuck up behind him and sliced the back of his knees, crippling him. With one swift movement, the knife was plunged through the back of his throat.

Pat's teeth chattered as a fist connected with his chin.

"Take that!" shouted Thom Percy, wildly flailing his arms as Pat fell to his knees. He sluggishly fiddled with his aching jaw. The world began to flicker and fade. The faces became distorted and voices, faint. His head hit the ground with a gentle thud.

Shit. Wait, wait...wait.