High Class in the Forest

Page 1

Murillo woke up, his head ached, he couldn't feel his fingers, or his wrists for that matter. Only the stench of urine and sweat made him open his eyes, well one of his eyes, it seemed one was swollen shut, and he couldn't touch it as his hands were in manacles that were set deep into the brick wall behind him. As he looked around, memories flooded back to him. He had left the Merchant Brand's son's fencing lessons, what a waste, and was going down the hall and went in the wrong door, leading to where the Merchant's twin daughters were bathing. Forgetting they were younger than 18, he soon joined them in the large tub, by their invitation he swore as their fun was interrupted by the Merchant's wife and her guards. The beatings he took until the constable came were understandable, but it seemed Murillo had impugned the constable's wife, daughter or niece, he wasn't clear which, the beating continued until Murillo had blacked out.

HE stretched his fingers, relieved to find neither hand was broken, although the rest of his body felt bruised and sore. His memories were interrupted by the stinking face of the constable, "You highborn, always thinking you can do the fuck you want, well we will see how a few months in the mines will do you, your pretty face and hands wont save you, though some of the other prisoners might take a fancy to you" the giant man said through green teeth.

"just in time for the monthly callout too" his deputy cackled as the pulled Murillo from the cell and marched him out into the courtyard. Several convicts were already chained together, pair by pair were attached together much like a snake.

"We saved you for last, it wouldn't be right for you to march to the mines with just anyone, " the constable said, nearly dragging Murillo up to the last convict in line. "We think she killed her captain for being handsy" the man laughed, "I am taking wagers that you will live to the mines, let alone to start that menial work".

Murillo looked at the woman, clearly, she was a warrior, her clothes clearly undergarments for the armor worn by the King's army. He opened his mouth, but the deputy elbowed him in the stomach, "no making friends here" as the fencing master was shackled to the warrior.

The prison compound doors were opened to a mighty cheer, the infamous walk from the prison to the city walls was perilous for convicts, Murillo shook his head at the impossibility of it all as they were lead to the city streets.

This woman was indeed stripped of armor. But the slip she wore was ill-fitted. Far too baggy for a woman's body. Those grey eyes like daggers when met by this newcomer and that Pig. Had Murillo not stood there and she not in chains she most likely would have jumped the deputy.

Not only this but she was the only woman in this line being marched out into the city. This woman ever as silent as the onlooking crowd groaned in disapproval and whispers.

Murillo looked out at the crowd, noticing how quiet they were as he and the warrior walked past them, the furor dying down, he knew it wasn't about him, though assuredly he had one eye and felt the blood on his face and beard. "Get on there" the constable cracked his whip until the procession neared the city gates.