Down Trodden

Prologue

Inside of an unnamed tavern, several drunkards speak of rumors and news.

"Have you heard? There's talk of a rebellion brewing."

"A rebellion? Such a thing, only misfortune awaits."

"The Lord of Valler has already fallen. This might be our chance."

"Lord Valler? I heard his son took over in his place. Rumors say he's controlled by a witch."

"A witch? Troll's bones! This may be our chance!"

"Aye!"

Their cheers filled the air as drinks began to be served at a faster pace. Everyone was thrilled by the new development.

"Death to the Mad King!"

"Death!"

"Glory to the people!"

"Glory!"

It didn't have to be said out loud. The king's tyrannical rule was being threatened. Only oracles knew what would happen now.

The good atmosphere was something nobody wanted to ruin. All stood up and danced as the bard sang songs.

Yet, at the corner of the tavern, a single figure sat with his face down. Ignored by everyone as he bit the flavorless meat and drank a simple cup of water.

His eyes dimmed as he looked at the dancing people around him. Unknowingly biting the fork in his hand until it bent.

He couldn't stand the place. Grabbing a hold of his sword before standing to walk out of the shop.

But fortune never came to him easily, as a single young man who noticed him suddenly shouted. His finger pointing at the leaving man's figure.

"Hey, I know him! That's one of Valler's knights!"

"Aye! Sir Morgan Buoyant!"

The knight turned a slow eye to the ones looking at him.

They were excited. Not a single one was fearful of the so called "Knight." All of them knew him and his "curse."

The man recognized those eyes, but he couldn't do anything.

"Get him!"

He tried to rush out the door. Stopping when he saw three individuals standing there with weapons drawn.

"Guards." He muttered with a gruff voice. Watching them as cold smiles worked their way up their faces. "Shit."

He held his sword tightly as they grabbed onto his shirt. Throwing him to the ground and kicking his face.

He grit his teeth as the entire crowd joined in. Keeping the thin sword close to his chest as they beat him.

He felt everything, all the boots kicking at his back or chest. The breaking of bones. He vomited when someone kicked the back of his head.

He couldn't do much aside from lay in a fetal position. Covering his face and trying not to fall unconscious.

When the beatings ended, a couple of hands picked him up before throwing him out into the street.

Some poured drinks on him, others threw food. The worst went to shovel the horseshit under their horses to cover him in it. All laughing when they stared at his ragged figure.

This is the story of such a knight. A man who was beaten, shamed, and shit on by people he had never even met.