II: Rat

A blanket of clouds covered the sky as the pair rode east. A wind that hinted at the beginning of winter cut through the trees surrounding the two hunched figures. Rat adjusted the black leather hat atop his head, the chill barely hitting him as he trotted along the dirt road. When few locks of his dirty blonde hair escaped from underneath, he pushed them away. Next to him, Jett blew air into his hands and pulled his hood further down, almost managing to hide his thin features and bright orange hair, but the wind soon blew it back.

“Damn this cold,” he complained, the wind making his wool cloak flap. Rat barely gave his companion so much as a look. “How much further? I need a hot bath and a roof over my head. We should also look into finding a place to hold up in for the cold months.”

“Winter won’t be here for ages yet,” Rat said. For a moment, the back of his gloved hand tingled uncomfortably; he shook it a little and the sensation went away. “Besides, if we start heading south, we can avoid the cold for longer.”

“We won’t be going anywhere without enough Han for food,” he told him. “Which reminds me, I’m starving.” Jett clutched his stomach. By the gods, stop fucking complaining. Rat had often wondered why he allowed the other man to fight and ride with him. At the same time, however, abandoning him was something he just could not bring himself to do.

“We’ll be at Lorohein by midday,” he told him. “Have the rest of the cheese. We’ll be able to afford more soon enough.” There wasn’t much left when Jett pulled the last of their food from Rat’s saddlebag anyway. The last place they managed to find on the road from Polo’s Wrath to Lorohein that sold any food was a pathetic little inn. The keeper had so few customers, he had to charge them so much for the food that they weren’t able to pay the extortionate price for a room. Had Rat not been there to stop him, Jett may have robbed the innkeeper because of the food alone.

As he was chewing away at the last of their food, Jett’s spirits seemed to lift. “So, I have to ask,” he said. “We’ve been riding together, what, a year by now? Year n’ a bit?”—Rat nodded silently.—“You’ve never told me why you have that name. I mean, why Rat? Your mother not like the look of you, or something?”

Rat hesitated for a moment. “That’s the name they gave me,” he snapped. “Let’s leave it at that. I don’t need you pryin’ into my personal life any more than you need me pryin’ into yours.” ''I’m Rat. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just Rat.''

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Amatera, you’re being short today.” They rode on for a few more hours, silent save for the trotting of their horses and the wind coming from the north. Soon enough, they crested the top of a large hill and in the distance, they could make out the town of Lorohein. It was nestled in the corner of land formed by the river that sprung from the Tiny Sea and lead all the way south, opening up to the Boiling Ocean. It was fairly large, by Rat’s standards, though he had never been to places like High-Mountain or Ytterbron. Its walls were carved stone at least three men high—he could even make out the armour of the guards keeping watch near the gates or the towers that were evenly distributed along the top.

“You think we’ll be able to find work?” Jett asked, finally breaking the silence.

“We’d best hope so,” he told him, not looking away. He found himself gazing across the Tiny Sea. Even from that far, he could just make out the land on the other side. The mountain-like mound to the north-east. ''Not a mountain. Bones.'' He squinted, trying to get a good look at Dell-Bone Village from across the water, the site of the last known dragon to have lived.

“Come on, R,” Jett called. He had already begun to descend the hill. “I need to get my ass off this saddle and a mug of ale into my hand.” Another cold gust of wind blew over the mountain, this time managing to cut through the layers of Rat’s clothes. He quickly caught up and the two made their way down the hill.

As Rat had predicted, they reached the walls of Lorohein at around midday. By then, the clouds had parted and the sun shone above their heads. At the gates, fully armoured guards watched as they passed through. The symbol of house Dan Forest—a wooden boat with several lines running through it—was painted on the breastplate. ''Tradelines. Hopefully not the only money that can be made here.'' They deposited their horses at the stables kept just inside the walls, reluctantly paying the keeper five Han each.

“How much is left?” Jett asked as they walked further into the city, the smell of the food from the nearest market filled their noses. The roads on the outskirts were packed dirt, though Rat suspected that the closer to the docks they went, the more paved ground they would find. They both grabbed their coin purses and emptied them into their hands, counting out each Han. On each coin, a printing of Rellan Din Trellis’ face stared back at them.

“I got fourteen, now,” Rat told him, sliding them back into the purse.

“Ten,” Jett sighed. “So, what’re you thinking? I thought I’d find an inn and see if there’s anyone needs help with something. You could try the docks and—”

Rat stopped him, “So you can shit away the last few Hans you have left on some whore?” he said. The back of his hand itched, but he ignored it this time. “No, you go to the docks, I’ll try an inn.” Besides, I need a drink. “Try not to get yourself into trouble. If you get arrested, I won’t be breaking you out. Not this time, anyway.” Jett sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem to have the strength to argue.

Once on his own, Rat began searching the streets for a busy looking inn. Anything with enough people that at least one of them has a job that needs doing. The streets were filled with people. So many that their voices had collectively become so loud that Rat could barely think without the din of the crowd overpowering his ears. He started following the smell of food, of bread, fish, and fruits. It led him to a large market square, wooden stalls covered with goods surrounded a large stone statue. Whoever’s face it was supposed to be, it had been weathered away long ago. At the edge of the square was a large U-shaped building made of dark brown wood. As Rat approached, he noticed the sign above the double doors that named the building The Horseshoe Inn. Perfect.

Inside was a large room that stretched the whole of the bottom floor. Most of the tables that were filled were the ones closest to the large hearths dotted along the walls and the bar area near the entrance. Rat was unperturbed by the various looks he was given as he came in. He was used to it at this point. Sometimes though, he wondered what it was that disturbed them the most, the various small scars that marked his face like a battleground, or the two steel daggers strapped to his chest in an X shape.

“What do you got?” Rat asked the innkeeper, placing a coin on the table and sitting down on a stool. The man—forty-something with a bald head and a short brown beard—looked at the coin with displeasure.

“For that, the best you’ll get is probably…”—he poked his head behind the door behind him for a moment—“some ale I got from Brenck. It’s not the best, but I heard Scorched Lands malt is…something else.” Rat grunted, pushing the coin to him. ''Fucking Brenck. Never been to a worse place, except maybe…''

The coin was swapped for a glass of mud brown ale. He took a sip and cringed at its bitter taste.

“Yeah, that’s something else, alright,” Rat coughed. The innkeeper grunted a laugh.

“So what’s someone with so little coin doing at the Horseshoe?” he asked, polishing off the coin and adding it to a small bag hanging around the front of his waist. “You definitely don’t look like no musician with a lute ‘bout to start busking.” He eyed the daggers across Rat’s chest for a moment. The handles were pointed downwards, held into their scabbards by a metal clip that would only release the blades when he pushed against it for a moment and then pulled them out. ''He’s seen them now. Wonder how long it’ll take him to figure it out.'' He waited a moment, but if the innkeeper figured him out, he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m here lookin’ for work,” he told him, taking another sip of the ale and leaning forward on the table. The men next to him watched Rat with uneasy looks. “Preferably something…physical. Something that best fits a skilled fighter such as myself.” The innkeeper looked him up and down once more.

“You a Derra-Han?” Ah, the mug is finally filled. Rat nodded politely and the man shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“You happen to know anyone that needs a service such as mine?” he asked, taking a third, and definitely final, sip from his ale. I think I would rather actually be in Brenck than drink this swill.

“Afraid not, sir,” the innkeeper shook his head and Rat’s heart sank just a little. “Usually there’s a few that asks around for help with things. You know, carrying shit, standing around looking hard as steel, things like that. Never anything as serious as hired swords, though.” ''Damn it. Hope Jett finds better luck at the docks.'' He sighed, leaning back on his stool.

“You hear that? This one’s a Derra-Han,” a man’s slurred voice said from behind him. He twisted around and saw three men glaring at Rat. The closest, a short, bald man, took a step closer. “I always thought Derra-Hans was supposed to be tough as shit. This one don’t look like he could beat a merman in a desert.” The two other men snickered like children. Something about these men grated against Rat’s brain and filled him with some irrational anger. What the fuck do these want?

“Gentlemen,” Rat said with so much fake politeness he worried his face may become frozen in place. “Are any of you in need of my service?”

“No,” the one next to the bald one told him. His face was gnarled and his nose had obviously been broken multiple times. “In fact, don’t think no-one needs you round here. Think you should go play swords wherever you done come from.” The back of Rat’s hand tingled again. They’re just looking for a fight. He held up his hands, feigning defeat.

“Alright, lads,” Rat laughed, but something inside of him wanted to crack all three men in the jaw. “The inn’s yours. I’ll find work somewhere else.” With that, he pushed himself away from the three men.

“Yeah, that’s right,” the third man—tall, with so few teeth, it was a wonder he could talk at all—claimed his stool as he walked away. “Go on, fucking shitface.” Rat shook away the tingling on his hand just as he saw Jett coming through the front doors.

“Rat, there you are,” he said when he saw him. “Been looking all around the city—”

“Hang on a fucking moment!” the bald one called from the bar, his voice full of laughter. “What kind of name is Rat!” the other two men started giggling along with him. Rat whirled around and saw all three of them, red-faced with laughter. “Ain’t that the kind of shit people name their—”

He didn’t bother listening to them finish their sentence before Rat began pushing chairs aside, the wood scraped along the floor loudly and made heads turn in his direction. The man with about three teeth reacted immediately, pushing off the stool in an instant. He was too slow. Rat kicked him in the chest before his feet hit the ground and he fell to the floor wheezing. Before the other two could react, Rat grabbed the hilts of his daggers and pushed in. They made an audible click and he pulled them from their scabbards. They flew to the two men’s throat in an instant, pushing against their flesh. Broken-Nose let out a small yelp, but Bald stayed silent.

“Rat!” Jett’s voice called from behind him. It almost calmed him. Almost. “Rat, don’t.” he felt a hand on his shoulder. “They aren’t worth it. You know that.” ''It would feel good, though. By Amatera, it would feel good.'' But the anger wasn’t there anymore. The rage he had felt in that moment had passed as fast swiftly as it had come. The next moment, the daggers were back in their scabbards, another click told him they were secure. He picked up his hat off from the floor—in his anger, it must have flown off his head—and the two of them made to leave the inn.

“You’re gonna regret that, Derra-Han!” Bald’s voice called behind them. “You’re gonna fuckin’ die!”

*

The two of them decided to share a room rather than pay for two; at only five Han each, they were relatively cheap, but with no success in finding jobs from either of them, saving coin had to be a priority. The room was small, consisting of two single beds with scratchy covers and a small fireplace against one of the walls. It took them all of five seconds to tuck away what little they had into a small chest between the beds. Through a small window, the sun’s last few rays poked into the sky, withdrawing behind the horizon rapidly.

Rat sighed, taking off his hat and placing it next to him as he laid back in the bed. The mattress was firm and the wooden frame creaked every time he moved. Jett took off his cloak, folded it up neatly, and placed it at the foot of his bed. He then sat and looked at Rat intently. For a moment, he ignored him. He was getting used to ignoring Jett. Ignoring his voice, ignoring his bright orange hair, ignoring his very presence.

The back of his hand itched.

“What the fuck do you want?” Rat asked finally, the other man’s brilliant blue eyes felt like they were boring into his head. Jett leaned back, his face unreadable. ''That’s different. Something’s serious about him.''

“What happened back there?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, R. I’m not a fool,” Jett’s voice didn’t raise, but it was the firmest and most commanding it had been since Rat had met him. “We both know what that asshole was about to say. Why would you react like that?”

“What was he about to say, Jett?” Rat sat up, anger bubbling up once more. “Tell me. Go on.” ''I’m Rat. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just Rat.'' “My name. It’s the sort of thing people name their…” Jett’s jaw clenched for a moment.

“Rat, I—”

The itching was too much. Rat took off his glove and threw it to the floor. He held up the back of his hand, facing it towards him. The burn scar was still there. It would always be there. Over the twenty-three years Rat had lived, the large ‘S’ branded onto the back of his hand had hurt the most. Perhaps it was just because it had been so long he had forgotten how it actually felt. Perhaps it was just because he was only five when the hot iron had been pressed onto his skin. Perhaps it really was just that painful.

“You wanted to know why my name’s Rat?” he asked. “I was a slave since I was a child. I’ve known no other name.” Jett looked at the mark with horror.

“R, I…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” ''It don’t matter. He was gonna find out sooner or later.'' Rat pulled the glove back on and grabbed his hat.

“I’m going to find some bathhouse,” he announced, avoiding his eyes. “We’ve been on the road too long. You coming?” Jett blinked slowly.

“I uh…yeah,” they didn’t talk as they left the inn they found after the incident at the Horseshoe. The innkeeper, a tall man not much older than Rat, gave them directions to a bathhouse a few streets away.

“Careful, though, sirs,” he told them. “Streets is dangerous at night.” Rat gave the man a nod and they headed out. The roads were significantly quieter now that the sun had fallen. The occasional lantern lit the way, but most of the streets were bathed in black. They walked on for a few minutes, ignoring the guard patrols and the odd clumps of people minding their own business until they could see a large building at the end of the road. Steam poured out from the front doors and the giant chimney poking out of the roof.

“If we can’t find any work tomorrow, we’re may have to look into stealing our way into some coin,” Rat told Jett as they walked towards the bathhouse.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he replied. “I think maybe we could—”

“Look at this, boys!” a familiar voice yelled behind them. “It’s those fucking Derra-Hans!” Rat stopped. This time, Bald, Broken-Nose, and Three-Teeth were armed. Broken-Nose and Three-Teeth both held spiked clubs in their hands, but Bald actually had a sword strapped to his waist. When he pulled it from its sheath, the steel barely looked sharp and spots of rust fringed at its hilt.

“They haven’t got nowhere to run this time,” Three-Teeth managed, pointing his chin over Rat and Jett’s shoulders. Behind them, four more people baring weapons blocked their path. ''They must have followed us to the inn. Been waiting for us to leave.''

“Good gentlemen,” Jett said, giving Rat a quick look. “We don’t want no trouble, now. We just want a nice, hot bath. This doesn’t have to end with—”

“Will you shut the fuck up, you ginger prick!” Bald yelled. The seven men began approaching them slowly and Jett let out a small sigh.

“Guess we have to kill them,” he said, looking at Rat.

“We ain’t even getting paid for it,” he sighed. With that, Jett wrenched his sword from its scabbard and Rat pulled his daggers from his chest. Despite his best efforts, he actually began to feel a little excited. Haven’t had a good fight in ages. The two stood back to back, Rat facing the three men from earlier, daggers in hand.

Broken-Nose came at him first, his club raised high and yelling like an idiot. If the situation wasn’t life or death, he would have rolled his eyes. As Broken-Nose swung down, Rat dodged to the left and dropped to the floor. He kicked the man’s feet from under him, sending him crashing onto the cobbled ground. Rat got back up in an instant, avoiding a swing of Bald’s sword and kicking him in the groin. The sound of the man’s cry filled him with glee as Three-Teeth charged almost exactly as Broken-Nose. Fucking idiot. This time, he didn’t bother trying to kick him to the floor. As he swung wildly, Rat dodged and swiped at Three-Teeth’s throat. Blood spurted from the gash as he fell to the floor, clutching the side of his neck with both hands. Broken-Nose, now back on his feet, watched in horror as his friend stopped moving. Then, he let out a cry of anger and swiped with his club.

“Bastard!” Rat jumped backwards, the spikes missing him by just a few inches. Bald then appeared on his left as if from nowhere, thrusting the tip of his sword at him. Shit. He leapt over Three-Teeth’s corpse and took a few steps back to catch his breath. Behind the two men’s shoulders, Jett had already taken down two of the four men but was also bleeding from some wound. Got to end this quick, then. Bald made a swipe with his sword, cutting across, but with too much power. The weight of the steel made him lose balance for a moment and Rat used the opportunity to charge at him and stick a knife in his stomach. He spun, wrenching the dagger free and narrowly missed Broken-Nose’s club. Bald took a few steps back, his hand feeling at the wound in his belly. Broken-Nose swung at him once again, but Rat was too slow this time. It struck him on his left arm, making him drop his dagger. The moment it connected with his arm, some invisible hand seemed to hit Broken-Nose in the chest. He flew back suddenly and hit the ground. What the fuck?

“You there! Stop this at once!” A voice from behind him called. Broken-Nose charged, his face scraped from his earlier fall, and swung downwards. Rat leapt aside, spinning, and grabbed the man’s coat with his free hand. He pulled him closer and thrust the dagger into Broken-Nose’s chest. The man’s face was of pure shock as the dagger cut in between his ribs and into his heart. Rat wrenched it free and he fell to the ground. Where the fuck’s the bald one? He looked around, hearing the armoured footsteps of the guards behind him. Panting, Jett appeared next to him. His shirt was cut to pieces and multiple shallow cuts adorned his chest.

“Rat, we have a problem,” he nodded over his shoulder. A group of guards, swords and spears ready, approached them.

“By Polo, don’t fucking move!” one of them said. Rat looked at Jett, who raised an eyebrow. There’s no way we’re getting out of this one. He shook his head and dropped the dagger, holding his hands up.

Shit.

Trivia

 * First appearance of Rat
 * First appearance of Jett
 * First (and last) appearance of Bald
 * First (and last) appearance of Broken-Nose
 * First (and last) appearance of Three-Teeth
 * First mention of Dell-Bone Village
 * First mention of Ytterbron
 * This is the first chapter that takes place in a POV that isn't from house Din Trellis