ACHIM
Sitting in the shadows of a lush lawn, Achim sighed a long sigh. He scratched the dust out of his overgrown afro before raising a piece of paper to his face. As he read the faded parchment, Achim was reminded of what he already knew: A man only known as The Sire sought protection.
He was supposed to be a high profile merchant. One known throughout the distant city-states along the Atlantic coast. Achim had never heard of him though and he had been wandering from city to sparsely dotted city for years. It did not matter though. This Sire was rich, therefore, he was a target. His request for protection made sense and, should Achim perform the work well, his resources would be an asset to any personal endeavor. Alas, Achim was not the only one who thought so. Beyond the dark corner Achim occupied was an estate filled and dangerous characters, mercenaries, all waiting for their employer to appear.
The cobbled path that cut through the garden led to an elevated deck on the side of the home. This deck was like a royal rise, but it was vacant. The Sire was not present, but his pretty servants could be seen working from below. Their presence completed the illusion of paradise, but an illusion was all it was. Behind the thick green trees that surrounded the entire property stood a tall cement wall that completely enclosed the estate. The only entry and exit point was a gate, and what lay beyond that was a ruin that oozed rancid air.
The stench of roses and rot was strong, and Achim struggled to count the seconds while enduring the stench. The rich host was hours late now, but the sudden bang of a rifle broke the boredom. The bullet that had been fired shattered against an open gate. Screaming followed. Achim looked up and saw children. Street Urchins, if the roads they wandered could even be called that. They stacked on top of one another to get a glimpse of the estate they had only seen from the outside, but the children had inadvertently become targets at the end of a firing line. The bullet from the shot grazed one of them. It was a small wound, but the threat caused the kid to cry and sent the rest scattering into the wind. Some attempted to help their companion, but Achim furled a brow at the compassion.
While the children who stayed did their best to soothe their companion and make their escape, the bored mercenary that fired the first shot reloaded his rifle, took aim...BANG! Dirt flew up as the bullet hit the ground. The children were saved by the rifleman's haste. In response, the shooter assumed a proper stance and slowly found his footing. Achim could see the deadly desire in his eyes and yet he made no motion to stop him. No one did. The wanderers only turned their gazes in idle anticipation of the next shot.
"Oh, my stars," said a voice from the deck. "Look! Look Derrick! One of the men we hired is attempting to shoot at those children!"
Achim, the shooter, and the rest of the mercenaries turned toward the high deck and saw a large man wearing nothing but a bathrobe. He stood next to a smaller, younger man with a collared shirt and a thick stack of papers in hand. As the band of mercenaries looked up at their host, the children saw an opening and took it. At the site of their fearful flight, The Sire simply laughed.
"Splendid! Just absolutely splendid. I like this band of gentlemen already. Tell me that you agree with me, Derrick."
"I agree, Sire," said the assistant.
"Good on you, assistant! Now where are those servant girls? I could use a good drink to celebrate such a capable group of men...and women by the looks of it." The Sire shouted at the nearest maid. "Fetch me a drink." The Sire made his demand and did so in a crude manner. When she fulfilled his request, he drank his beverage with one long inhale and relished the flavor. "I do love a good tall glass of orange juice. It really replenishes the reserves. Right, Derrick!" The Sire slapped his assistant on the back and the young man nearly fell off the deck. The large lord laughed upon noticing and let his assistant recover only out of some bullish amusement.
"I-I understand, Sire. But it's Eric. Not Derrick," he mumbled.
"What," said The Sire.
"Nothing, Sire," said the assistant. "I...I was just going to begin counting the attendees that passed our vetting process. We will begin preparations to leave afterwards."
"Ah! Very good, Derrick," said the Sire.
Achim watched from afar as the assistant scanned the yard for the people on his list. Once found, he nodded, flipped the page, and began again. The assistant was meek but meticulous, and Achim watched as he made a notes while The Sire simply loomed over the crowd like a child at a zoo. The large man then saw Achim and spat out his drink.
"What the –Derrick! What did I say about employing children," said The Sire.
"What?! What child, Sire," said the assistant.
"Over there, Derrick! That sheep-headed kid in the corner," said The Sire.
"Sheep-headed? Oh, I see him now," said the assistant.
"Tsk tsk. The merchants in The Wilds may not care whether or not I employ children, but those in the city-states constantly heckle me about their pesky regulations. Why do you think I chose to live outside the city walls, Derrick?"
"I'm sorry, Sire," said the assistant.
"Well, I suppose it is not an absolute failure. He does not look to be from York, at least not the interior. I can probably slip a ruin wandering urchin boy between the cracks if I work my magic. Easier still if he truly hails from The Wilds since those in the interior do their best to ignore the goings on outside of the wall. Now if he had been a fair maiden from the city interior then we would have a problem. As things stand, No real harm done, but best be careful next time, Derrick."
"Yes, Sire. Sorry, Sire," said the assistant. "I am curious though."
"Oh? What about?"
"His presence," said the assistant. "We're going to be traveling across The Wilds for your business meetings, and that can be a dangerous journey for anyone, to say nothing of a prominent and affluent figure such as yourself."
"Tell me something I don't know," said the grinning lord. "But about the boy. Even if he fancies himself a menacing mercenary, he should not have passed my tests. They were meant to filter only the finest specimens."
"F-forgive me, Sire, but that is what I was thinking. I'm still looking for his file. It should be in here or the servants would not have let him in." The assistant quickly flipped through the pages. "...There it is."
"Let me see that," said The Sire. He snatched the document and viewed Achim's file. The Sire's eyes went wide, but then he smiled. "If these results are to be believed, Derrick, that boy is a rare beast that I will make mine before we leave."
After perusing the page of the mysterious youth, The Sire employed a rather rudimentary scheme. He would single out Achim and reel him in with the promise of riches. It was not a complicated plan, and perhaps it did not have to be when one was drowning in their own wealth. The Sire had enough money to stake most claims with a word. The assistant urged a more patient approach to winning Achim's service, but who he was - a servant - next to a sire. Unbeknownst to both of them, Achim heard their plans from afar as if he was standing in front of them. What was stated was what Achim wanted.
A servant girl was sent to summon Achim to the royal rise. A summons that he answered. The request had been as reasonably discrete as it could've been, but, as Achim walked across the garden, he witnessed the envious eyes of his cohorts. To avoid a confrontation, he hurried up the stairs where he found The Sire sitting on a garden throne with his assistant at his side and a line of girlish servants at their back. Once Achim took his place before the large lord, the servant girl that fetched him rushed toward the line-up. The Sire nodded with pleasure before beckoning Achim closer.
"Welcome, my boy. Would you like to try one of our delicious treats? Your paltry palate may take some time to adjust, but it will surely be the best thing you've ingested in your life. I guarantee it," said The Sire.
Achim raised a brow. He heard the man speak from afar, but to be at the receiving end of such brazen condescend only agitated him. "...Paltry? What do you mean by that," said Achim.
The Sire burst with laughter. It took him a moment, but he regained his pseudo-regal poise "Why it means you have most likely had a limited, but one-of-a-kind experience. In any case, do not concern yourself with vocabulary, my boy. Of course, I will be happy to educate you after we talk business Mr..." The Sire trailed off before looking to his assistant. The assistant quickly responded by looking to the paper in hand.
"Achim." The boy said the name himself.
The Sire scoffed and spoke under his breath as of disgusted. He then cleared his throat and spoke aloud. "Quite the interesting name, my boy. But how about I simply call you Arnold. It will be easier for me to pronounce and it is quite proper sounding," said The Sire.
Achim lifted his scarred brow. "Arnold is easier to pronounce than Achim?"
"It sounds proper too. Do not forget that part, my boy," said The Sire.
"Right. No thanks," said Achim.
The boy's blatant refusal left everyone on the deck holding their breath. All eyes then trailed to The Sire and the surprise that sat on his jowls. Achim noticed their unspoken angst and curled a curious brow before sighing. He took the time to consider the importance of his endeavors, but then The Sire exploded with laughter.
"Quite the funny one, you are," said The Sire. "I will let it slide since you are new here. The devolved minds of those who live in The Wilds make you slow to learn, but I assure you that I am quite the gracious man. Simply indulge me, Arnold."
Achim's face pinched completely, but, in time, he relented. "Fine. Arnold it is."
"Simply Superb. Now that nomenclature is out of the way. I wanted to give you an opportunity. Just by looking into your eyes now, I can tell that you are an exceedingly rare breed, Arnold. The results depicted in your file only reinforced my accurate assumptions. Needless to say, the journey before us will be perfectly suitable for you to prove your prowess one last time. There will be stiff competition, and deadly encounters, but do well, Arnold, and I am willing to employ you as my personal guard. But why wait?!"
The Sire paused and looked for the interest in Achim's gaze. There was little to be found, but that fact only emboldened the large lord on his sell. He cleared his throat and, to energize his theatrics, stood up and spread his arms in wonder.
"Look before you now, my son. Upon my lavished balcony, my decorated estate, my pocket of paradise. Instead of waiting to obtain the fruits of my labor after months of exerting your own, you can have all the money and all the fair maidens a man of your vigor could want in mere moments. All you have to do is make a vow to protect me when I ask and dispose of my enemies when I request it. What do you say, Arnold?"
"Okay," said Achim. His answer was quick and certain.
"Absolutely splendid! I knew you were a smart" --
"But only on one condition," said Achim. Once again the balcony air went thick with fearful anticipation. Achim could taste the intensity, but he continued even as The Sire sharpened his gaze. Achim paused and considered his words, if only to spare the large lords small ego. "Look. You can call me whatever you want and I'll do whatever you ask, but I need you to agree to something before we move forward. Sort of like a written agreement. You strike me as the kind of guy who likes those."
The Sire scoffed. "You are not as wild as your disheveled hair would have me believe." He then set himself upon his garden throne and assessed Achim's value. "My good man, you can do whatever you want as long as it has my seal of approval. Just be sure to check with me first. The finer things don't come for free after all," said The Sire. "Now then, tell me what you want. I am positive that I will be able to easily provide any luxury you crave."
"It isn't a luxury. It's my brother," said Achim. The boy took a breath, his swagger seeping away as he told the truth. "I want to use whatever you're willing to give to help me search for him." With that request, Achim bowed completely. "Please."
The Sire gave a satisfied grin. "A sibling, eh?" The Sire rubbed his jowls. "Tell me. Exactly how long has your brother been gone?"
Achim's shame bled to the surface of his face. "S-some years now."
The Sire spat his surprise. "What?! F-forgive my surprise, my boy, but this brother of yours would certainly be lost to the lands after only a few days."
Achim had no rebuttal. "...I know, but – I-I have nothing else."
With a look that just might have been considered heavy hearted, The Sire peered at the prostrated boy. His silence was considered. "...I have dealt with all forms of merchants in The Wilds, Arnold. Nothing moves the old buck like an able body. If your brother is still alive, he may have eked out some quiet existence amid the squalor. But it is far more likely, if he lives, that he is locked away in some despot's den or a slaver's hidden quarry. Needless to say, you're better off leaving behind whatever hopes you still have of finding him. The truth of what might have become of him may prove far more haunting than whatever is compelling you to search after all this time."
"...I don't care," Achim quietly declared. He then deepened his bow until he fell upon hands and knees. "Just help me do this."
The Sire pressed a hand against his chin, and paced. His carefree demeanor had become stern, and, with a heavy sigh, the large lord dared to deny him . "No," said The Sire.
"What? But"--
"No buts, Arnold. It may seem to be quite the cruel decision, but trust that I only seek to spare my newest charge further hardship. After all, what I offer in wealth will be far more fulfilling in the long term. And if it is not wealth but purpose that you seek, then find it in me, my son. After all, I am a most generous man and that means"--
"S-sire," said the assistant.
"What did I tell you about interrupting me, Derrick!? Why if you were a mere servant woman, I'd – Wait. Where's Arnold," said The Sire.
"My apologies, Sire"--
"Don't apologize, just answer me," The Sire spat.
"H-he went down the stairs, Sire. I-I think he is leaving," said the assistant.
Those who remained on the garden deck watched with wonder and fear as Achim walked through the yard toward the gate. The Sire though, looking at Achim's shrinking silhouette, was livid.
"He dare refuse me, that filth!" The Sire growled beneath his breath. He bagged his fists on his he railing, hurting his tender hand in the process. Then, as he rubbed his injured limb, The Sire concocted a malicious plan.
"Heed me, my adventurous warriors! A Traitor sits in your midst!" The Sire directed all attention to Achim with a pointed finger. "That boy demanded that I take him as my personal guard in exchange for the job you all have worked so hard to qualify for. I refused such a self-centered offer out of respect for your efforts, but he made a most dangerous dare and vowed to take what is rightfully yours by force! He may look as though he is leaving now, but do not let his departure fool you. That greedy brat promised to prove his worth by hunting you, one-by-one, during our excursion! Will you stand by now and let him kill you in utter disgrace?! Kill him now, and not just for me, but for the sake of your own survival! Do it, and the one who brings me his body will be paid double their promised share!
The entire estate stopped to hear The Sire's words. No one with real sense believed the lies he spewed, but no one had to when the reward was enough. That was all it took for the dangerous dregs to surround the mysterious boy, but Achim was undaunted in his departure. Many stood in his way as he walked through the yard, but their intimidating efforts seemed less so when Achim walked around them. It took a full five bodies to force Achim to stop, but, when he finally looked at the instigative bunch, he met them with eyes like cold moonlight.
. . .
Thank You for Reading The First Chapter.
I have been planning this story since I was a kid and my dream, to this day, is to publish and finish it. I have been writing it for years, but, believe it or not, I've been drawing the characters for a lot longer. Here is the first art piece of many.