Thunderlight

(Cont.) Meet Lenny

"Only if you have your monthly dues."

"Begging pardon, ma'am, but we paid our dues yesterday," Lenny says, his expression scrunching up with confusion.

"Can someone please let me down," Montgomery says.

Lenny talks right over him. "We weren't missing any of it, were we?"

From her bag, she whips out a paper scribbled with numbers and names. Clearing her throat, she says, "You're missing half of what you owe."

"Can someone please let me down."

"Half?! My apologies, ma'am, I thought for sure we paid the full two-hundred gold..."

Two-hundred gold? For this measly, dying plot of land? They're getting ripped off.

"The lord has changed what you owe," she informs, pocketting the paper. "You are now expected to pay four-hundred a month."

Montgomery and Lenny share an incredulous look, thinking the exact same thing. It isn't his favorite moment. Still, it would take a fool not to reach the same conclusion they both did.

"Begging pardon, ma'am, we're getting cheated as is," Lenny argues, his face donning a pleading expression. She doesn't seem moved. "You and I both know two-hundred ain't right for this size of property, but we paid it honest because the lord keeps us safe from Zekrom. But four-hundred..."

"Is what you owe," she interrupts, cold.

"We don't have it," Lenny says, helplessly. "We barely scraped together the two-hundred for this month."

The look of displeasure on her face is clear. But she quickly sweeps it away to say, "No matter, the lord will simply have to reclaim your property. Please vacate the premises by tomorrow; we'll be demolishing the site then."

"What? But, ma'am—!"

"How about you just accept what you've been given and leave?" Montgomery demands, impatient. The longer this goes on, the longer he stays up here, okay? Plus, he hates that he has to wiggle a bit to keep from being turned around again. "You're lucky you're even getting two-hundred for this shoddy piece of land."

"How about you mind your own business?" The tax collector sneers, her words sending his blood into a boil. "Aristocratic affairs are no place for a disowned and disgraced child, wouldn't you agree? Or should my Lord Florian come down himself and beat some manners into you—again?"

With a strength Montgomery didn't know he had, he lunges up and rips the white thread binding his ankles to shreds.

He hits the ground, hard, but he can't be bothered to care. The tax collector staggers back and squawks indignantly, as if offended that he had the gall to break himself free. He stands, ready to give her a piece of his mind, but she opens her wings in a sharp motion and shoots a jet of sharp air at him.

Before the move can make contact, it's extinguished by a barrage of leaves. The moves cancel each other out. Just in time, too, because it looked like Lenny was exhausting himself with that one attack alone. With that, Montgomery marches right up to the tax collector.

"All right, I wasn't about to start a fight, but you wanted one, so here it is!" He snarls, power rushing into the scalchops he grips in his hands. At the sight of the water blades, the tax collector makes another screech of dismay. Hurriedly, she flaps her wings, taking to the air.

"I'll be back next month, Mr. Mirthwood!" She vows. "You better have that money!"

She flies away before Montgomery can even think to shoot a Water Gun at her.

Still seething, he reluctantly sheathes his scalchops. Her words are still burning under his skin, festering and blistering. Is that what the aristocratic world thinks of him now? An unwanted, idiot son who can be treated like dirt? Mere days ago, she wouldn't have dared to say those things to him.

A 'thump' behind him distracts him from his thoughts. He turns to see Lenny has leapt off the roof, bouncing over to him. That annoyingly cheerful smile is back on his face.

At least it makes that gnawing feeling from before go away. Just a little.

"Mott, that was amazing! You drove her off as easy as anything," he praises, as if he's seen an act of a great warrior. Montgomery can't help the way his chest puffs out a little bit. "You must be awfully strong."

"I am," he responds, pleased. Then, he realizes he should probably thank Lenny for neutralizing that attack. Right?

Before he can even muster up the shamelessness to thank a commoner, Lenny continues, "We made a pretty good team back there. You oughta take me to go beat Zekrom!"

Montgomery makes a face. "No."

"Oh. In that case, you should probably go back to bed."

What the hell? Is Lenny seriously leveraging his freedom as a bargaining chip?!

"No," he repeats, determined. He just drove off that tax collector; Lenny should think twice before challenging him. Standing a little straighter, he declares, "I'm leaving now. You're not going to follow me, and you're not going to try and convince me to stay. Understand?"

Lenny stares at him, almost bewildered. Maybe even offended.

A beat of silence passes them by.

"Also, my name's not Mott."

He's immediately covered head to toe in String Shot.