The Chronicles of Krarshe: The Hearts of Men, Volume 1
Chapter 10

Krarshe made his way through the quiet stone courtyard of the school toward the entrance. He found it drew less attention if he snuck into the training area before anyone else showed up, so he had been arriving before the morning fog cleared. As he made his way across the barren stone pavement, he felt someone grab the back of his jacket collar and pull him back.

“This is when you’ve been getting here!? Curses, you made this difficult. I had to wake up WAY earlier than I would have liked,” said a voice he recognized.

Still being held by his jacket, he managed to turn around slightly to see Bri standing there. She didn’t look happy. Rather, she looked tired, based on the bags under her eyes and drained face. “Oh. H-hey Bri...” Krarshe said sheepishly, giving a small wave.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you dreg. What, in Teva’s name, have you been doing!?”

She’s definitely upset. “W-what do you mean?” Krarshe let out a nervous chuckle.

“You know damn well what I mean!” She released Krarshe’s clothes. “You haven’t been to class in nearly a cycle! You sneak onto the grounds every morning at this unholy hour, and then sneak into the store every damned afternoon! You don’t think Tibault and I see you in there every day!?”

Krarshe just stood there, his eyes lowered to stare at the stone pavement gloomily. He had no answer that wouldn’t just make her more upset.

“Karshe. No. Kr- Krashe. Shit.” She breathed deeply before trying again, enunciating each syllable slowly, carefully. “Kr-a-r-she.”

Krarshe looked up. She still looked very angry, but he was kind of happy she managed to say his name right, even if it was laboriously.

“Krarshe,” she said again, more smoothly. “Why have you been avoiding us?”

Krarshe averted his gaze. Remembering his conversation with Na’kika the day prior, he realized how ridiculous his reasoning would sound were he to say it aloud. “I don’t know...”

Bri grabbed him by the collar of his robe again and yanked him toward her, staring right at him but a foot from his face. “Answer me.” Her large brown eyes were bloodshot from sleepiness, but full of rage. Going roundabout with non-answers wasn’t going to work.

“It’s just...” he started, under his breath. He had never been engaged like this, and wasn’t sure how to handle it. It was such a departure from the Bri he knew to that point, and that put him even more off-balance. He decided to just be candid with her, she deserved that at least. “I saw how you both looked after that day. I figured you both wouldn’t want to talk to me. Too afraid to-”

Bri yanked his robe again, forcing him to turn and face her. “That?! Maddener rob you, for all your idiocy!” She shoved him backwards. Krarshe tripped over a stone jutting from the pavement and fell backwards, landing hard on the mist-dampened stones. “I can’t believe you...”

Krarshe recovered, pushing himself up onto an outstretched arm. “Bri, I-”

“Kar-” she caught herself. “Kr-arshe. Are we friends?”

“I mean, I think-”

“Are we friends?” she interrupted, asking more insistently.

Krarshe looked down. “Y-yes...” he stammered, quietly.

He looked up to see Bri smiling softly now. “Yes. We are friends.” She reached out a hand. “Why would we be afraid of you?”

Krarshe took her hand as she pulled him to his feet. “I mean, the force of that spell-”

“Was incredible,” she interjected. “Krarshe, we knew you were powerful. Maybe not that powerful... But that’s no reason to be afraid of a friend. It’s not like you turned the spell on us.”

“I guess not...”

“Besides, the look on professor Owyn’s face was amazing,” Bri laughed. “He basically stood there staring at the sky the rest of the day.”

The thought of Owyn’s face frozen in awe, hair standing on end, brought a smile to Krarshe’s face. “Yeah, I wish I could have enjoyed it longer.”

Bri and Krarshe both laughed.

After they settled down, Bri turned to Krarshe. “If we feared anything, it would be that you’d be leaving the class already...”

“What do you mean? Why would I leave?” Krarshe asked.

“Are you serious? Perhaps the Maddener already took your wits...” Bri said, covering her face with her palm, shaking her head disappointingly. “Krarshe,” she started, more serious than she had been but a moment ago, “that level of power gets noticed. I can all but guarantee you that your name is already circulating amongst the Council of Mages.” Bri turned and took a few steps away from Krarshe before stopping and looking up toward the sky, clasping her hands together behind her. “If they took notice of you, they could have you pulled from the school and into the mage corps, sent to the front lines of the war. It could very easily be the last time we saw you... We were actually worried that might have happened...” She paused for a moment before turning back to him. “Well, before we saw you sitting in the store trying to balance a wand on your nose,” she said with a smile.

“Uhh... I don’t want to talk about that... I was really, reaaally bored,” Krarshe explained, his face reddening slightly.

Bri laughed for a bit before going quiet again. She made her way slowly across the stones of the courtyard, keeping a fixed distance from him, eyes fixated on the ground. She stopped after a few paces and turned slightly to look at him. “Krarshe, will you come back to class? Tibault and I both wish you’d come back.” She paused before adding, “If for nothing else than to joke about how weird Owyn’s eyebrows are.” Bri gave the biggest smile Krarshe had ever seen as the sun spilled out over the horizon behind her, bathing her in the morning light.

Na’kika was right. I was being foolish. Apparently, I still don’t understand people well. Krarshe smiled. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Krarshe walked back to The Easy Lute that night, a slight spring in his step. He felt a lot better after talking with Bri and Tibault, who stopped into the store after classes had concluded. Bri had explained what had transpired that morning when she cornered him. Tibault, like Bri, just harped on Krarshe’s stupidity and complete lack of ability to judge people. “A friendship is not so shallow,” he had said. The three of them had caught up for a bit before Owyn, the teacher assigned with closing the shop that day, had come in and told them to leave. Krarshe was actually looking forward to going to class the next day.

As he approached the inn, he noticed that it was past the point of crowded tonight, with a throng of people clustered outside the entrance. There might not even be a table available. Krarshe pushed his way through, having to squeeze himself between two men who smelled like stale sweat and stumbled into the dining hall.

Sure enough, a lot of people had congregated in the inn. Looking toward Henry’s usual spot, there was a third person now, a dwarf, playing a golden harp. He wasn’t sure who it was, but he seemed to be an acquaintance of Giselle’s, based on how well he played off her beat. Or, maybe he was just an experienced bard. Either way, the three of them were drawing a very big crowd, which was great for the inn’s business, but was disheartening for Krarshe’s stomach.

“Probably no fish stew left,” he muttered.

“Oh, Karshe!” Valerie yelled, cutting through the crowd while trying to balance a tray over her head. “Over here! We-” she paused as she squeezed between two customers, “have a table over in the back for you.”

“Quite a crowd tonight,” Krarshe said in a quiet yell, trying to be audible.

“Yeah. A friend of Giselle was in town, and she managed to get him to come play,” she said, looking toward the dwarf. Despite his thick fingers, he plucked the strings of the harp swiftly, never missing a note. “It’s great, but this is exhausting. I hope Na’kika’s all right.”

“On her own tonight?”

“Yeah,” Valerie said, tightening the ribbon that held her dark brown hair up in a ponytail. “I made sure to put her closer to the kitchen. It’s the section you’re in,” she said with a smirk.

So it was her call to have Na’kika serve me every day, Krarshe thought. “Okay, so in the corner by the kitchen?”

“Yeah, you’ll see it. Sorry that it’s kind of a makeshift table, but at least you can sit somewhere. We like to make sure that, no matter how busy, we accommodate those who are staying here long-term. Good luck getting there though.” Valerie laughed as she lifted the tray over her head again and plunged into the sea of customers.

Krarshe stood there, watching the mob of people, trying to replace an opening. When it was clear that there wouldn’t be one, Krarshe dove in as Valerie had, pushing his way through. The whole place reeked of booze and sweat. The clinking of bottles and clomping of mugs was nonstop. A few people were cheering, others were jeering, and a few were arguing, though all of it was indecipherable through the din of the rest. Eventually, as he made his way further back, he managed to claw his way out into a less crowded area in the back corner. Looking around, it was apparent that the entrance and near the musicians was where the throng was thickest. In the back, it was still busy, but you could at least walk around.

Krarshe stopped for a minute, taking a breath of fresher air while he looked around for his table. He spotted Na’kika carrying a tray of food. When she saw Krarshe, she smiled and pointed her tail toward a crate and a small stool in the back corner. “Makeshift indeed,” Krarshe noted.

He made his way over to it and sat down. Na’kika came over almost immediately and leaned in close, trying to hear his order over the noise.

“I’m not picky today, so whatever the chef has available,” Krarshe said into the white-tipped ear. He didn’t want to stress out the chef if he could avoid it.

Na’kika nodded and dashed toward the kitchen.

Krarshe sat and listened to the music. It somehow managed to ring out over the clamor of the crowd. It was good. Very good. He couldn’t make out the lyrics, something about some heroic captain or something. He was never keen on songs like this, not knowing the tale took away from his enjoyment. Despite this, the tune was quite exhilarating and the instruments all harmonized perfectly. He could understand why so many customers came to hear them, the three together were way better than just Henry alone.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a loud, obnoxious laugh from the customer at a nearby table. It was the large man from the day before, the one who had made a pass at Valerie. The man had to be an adventurer, just based on his leather armor and his sheer size. The muscles of his arms were as defined as his square, stubbled jaw. His hair appeared to be slicked back, but it could have just been incredibly greasy. Adventurers didn’t seem to prioritize cleanliness. At least, from Krarshe’s limited experience with them. The man gulped down his ale, slammed it down on the table, and laughed with the other men at his table.

Krarshe just leaned on his makeshift table and rested his head on his hand. He closed his eyes and listened to the music, trying his best to cut through the noise. Despite how loud the room was, gradually the melody was gently shepherding him to sleep. That is, until he heard the crash of mugs and bottles.

He awoke with a jolt and looked around the room. He saw a bunch of mugs and bottles on the ground at the table with the adventurers. The brawny one was gripping Na’kika by the wrists as she struggled as he and the rest of the adventurers were laughing. Na’kika’s ears were back and tail rigid. She was clearly struggling, twisting and pulling in an attempt to free herself of his grasp.

Krarshe looked around, but there were no other staff in sight. Valerie was lost in the sea of patrons, and wasn’t here to put them in their place again. Seeing Na’kika fight in vain against the adventurer, Krarshe knew he had to help her. He stood up and immediately hurried over to them. As he approached, the assailant’s friends looked at Krarshe. He could feel his heart begin to race, his palms began to sweat with nervousness, but he couldn’t just let them do this to her. Standing before them, he swallowed and said, “R-release her.”

The man holding Na’kika stopped laughing and looked over at Krarshe, still firmly grasping the catfolk girl as she continued to struggle. His face was a bit flushed, and his breath stank almost as bad as the whole crowd combined. How many drinks has he had? He looked Krarshe up and down appraisingly, before laughing again, along with his party of friends. “We’re jus’ havin’ shum fun, *hic* right boys?” They all laughed even harder.

Krarshe looked at Na’kika, who was looking at him, panicked, and pleading with her eyes. The man yanked her again, pulling her focus back to the struggle.

More firmly, Krarshe spoke again. “She doesn’t like that. Please stop.”

“If she don’t like it, she could jus’ ssshay sho,” he laughed, slurring his words. “Go a-head. All you hafta say is ‘shtop’.”

Na’kika’s flailing continued, trying to pull away from him. The men laughed again.

Krarshe continued to stand there, his vibrant blue eyes glaring straight at the man. Eventually, the adventurer stopped laughing and turned to look Krarshe straight in the eye. “Look, kid. Gedda fuck outta here ‘fore we hurt you. You’re ruinin’ mah fun, get it?”

His friends stood up from their chairs. Krarshe’s gaze shifted for a moment. He noticed in his periphery that one of the men was sliding to the side. He was going to be surrounded. It was four versus one. Not good odds. Krarshe wasn’t looking for a fight. In his years since setting out from home, he had never once fought anyone. The adventurers, however, undoubtedly had plenty of experience. Even one-on-one, he didn’t stand a chance. The truth was clear: this wouldn’t be a fight, it would be a slaughter. He looked at Na’kika; her face was filled with desperation, her chin quivering. He felt a pang of guilt hit him as he looked into her eyes, but he was out of options.

Gritting his teeth, he turned back toward his table. He heard the men start laughing again and the clatter of chairs as they all sat back down. Krarshe took one step before stopping.

Why had he taken this form? Wasn’t he frustrated at being unable to do anything? As an old man, he couldn’t help anyone. He always ran. But Na’kika was a friend. He hadn’t realized it until now, but it was true. Their friendship was only built upon simple conversations, and they were no longer just merchant and customer. Seeing Na’kika in trouble, seeing her begging for help, the odds weren’t important. Not now.

Krarshe felt anger welling up within him. His fingers curled into a fist. His weight shifted. In one swift motion, he spun around, sending his clenched fist flying, catching the adventurer squarely in the jaw. Krarshe could feel the crunching of bones, though he wasn’t sure whose.

The man tumbled back off the chair and onto the floor. Na’kika managed to wrench herself free as her assailant toppled. She stood there, surprised to see the man on the ground. She turned to Krarshe with the same shocked expression. The adventurer’s friends reacted the same way, taken aback by seeing their friend flung to the ground by this scrawny elf boy. Nearby members of the mob quieted and turned to watch.

Krarshe stood over the adventurer splayed out on the ground. He could feel his hand begin to throb, but he didn’t care. “I said, leave her alone, krun.”

After a triumphant moment, Krarshe felt something hard impact him on the side of the head, catching him just off his cheekbone and sending a jolt of pain through his head and eye as he tumbled to the wooden floor. As he looked up, he saw one of the other adventurers standing over him. The other two quickly joined their friend and proceeded to kick and stomp on him. Krarshe curled himself into a ball, protecting his head with his arms, as he felt each leather boot come down on him hard. One kick managed to catch him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Another stomp came crashing down just behind the guard of his elbow, a sharp pain shooting through his side.

“Hey! Hey!”

“Hold him!”

“Argh!”

Eventually the beating stopped. Krarshe looked up from behind the shield he made with his arm. He could see a few of the other customers had jumped in and were pulling the adventurers off of him. He hadn’t initially realized it, but the music had stopped, and the entire mob was watching the fight.

“Five curses! Get them out of here!”

Krarshe turned to see the innkeeper had come out from the back and was barking orders to the people holding back the adventurers. The crowd parted and made way for the men dragging the adventurers out as they twisted and squirmed, trying to get free from the mob’s grasp. The man Krarshe had punched was walking out on his own. He turned to look back at Krarshe with a sneer and spit some blood in his direction. He made his way out, being shoved and jostled by the crowd as he did.

Krarshe felt a gentle hand on his back and helped pull him up into a seated position. He winced in pain as he turned to see Na’kika kneeling beside him, her face twisted with concern, tears welling up in her amber eyes.

Krarshe breathed deeply, trying to regain composure, but he felt the sharp pain in his side again, causing him to cough. No blood, luckily, he thought, inspecting the hand he coughed into. “I’m okay,” he choked out to Na’kika. It must not have been very convincing as a tear streamed down her cheek.

“Karshe! Curses, what happened?!” Valerie came running from the throng of patrons.

He took a labored breath again, making sure to not breathe too deeply this time. “Just some assholes... I took care of them,” he said, forcing a smile.

Na’kika took his hand and looked directly into his eyes. She then rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand a few times, letting it rest there for a bit.

“Seems she’s thankful,” Valerie said with a smile. “I don’t know what happened, but it seems you helped her out.” She looked around at the overturned table and chairs and the drops of blood on the ground. “You have my thanks too.”

The innkeeper came out with a small pail and cloth. As he looked toward the innkeeper, Krarshe realized that his right eye was beginning to swell, obstructing his vision a bit. He heard the sloshing of the pail as it was set down next to Na’kika. A moment later, he felt a cold, wet sensation touching his cheek. It stung for a second, but quickly changed to a soothing coolness. He could feel Na’kika still supporting him.

Valerie chuckled. “Seems someone’s attached. Well, I’ll just leave you two alone then,” she said, grinning devilishly. She turned back toward the mass of onlookers, still watching and murmuring to themselves. “Okay, okay, go back to your business, everyone. Nothing to see here,” she said, dispersing the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight.

Krarshe just sat there, Na’kika tending to his injuries. It had hurt immensely, and he’d most certainly have to take it easy for a while. But, as he rested in Na’kika’s embrace, sensing what he could only describe as purring, he didn’t regret it for a second.