A Simple Gesture

“Calm down my young lord, well get this all sorted out. I’ve already sent a group to investigate the area. They took the hounds, we will find whoever is responsible. Not much else you can do now, just try and breathe deep to calm down. Here’s a cup of water, looks like you could use it, calm the nerves.” The captain said, passing a reasonably clean mug of water to the shaking man across the table.

The man grasped the cup with both hands bringing it up to his lips and slurping down the cool contents. Placing it back down staring into his reflection in the little liquid that remained. His silk doublet was stained with mud and drink clung to his slender trembling form as he cleared his throat and stammered trying to speak. He coughed hard into the sleeve of the ruined dress coat he sheltered within. Clearing his throat, eyes raising to meet the captains.

“I don’t know where to begin. Did this actually happen or is this… some sort of bad dream? My head hurts, I can't focus, everything so blurry.” The young nobleman said trailing off slightly.

“That might just be from your cups tonight young lord, but unfortunately something did happen and we are seeing to it. You are safe here though. Take your time and when you are ready we can discuss what you saw. Rest assured I have my best on it.” The captain assured him, patting the young man gently on the shoulder. The young man took a deep breath and steadied himself, sitting back in the chair before speaking.

“You’re Captain Sanderson, correct? I recall seeing you at the estate prior. My fathers spoke of you before. Quite highly as I remember it, for matters of discretion. You know my family.” He said relaxing notably.

“Yes lord, I have served in the guard since before you were born. I know your father and the parents of your compatriots as well, trust me when I say I shall bring justice to those who have wronged you, but I need your help to understand what happened.” Sanderson replied.

“Then you are aware of my fathers… temperament towards maintaining our family name.” The young noble said shifting uncomfortably, eyeing Sanderson.

“Yes, lord Cailt. You have my absolute discretion, any sordid details need be heard by none but yourself and I. You have my word.” Sanderson replied, saluting using the gesture of his house.

“My father, our lord would not be approving of how this came about, he knows some of our group's proclivities but lets them slide as long as we are discreet… but ohh god. How did this happen, it was a night like a thousand others. This must be some sort of bad dream. It can’t be real, I must have imagined it.” He said face into his palms, sweating profusely.

“I’m sorry but this isn’t a dream, I need to know what happened. It will help me hunt down those who would dare attack you and the other noble lords. They must be made to pay. Examples must be made.” Sanderson stated with cold resolve.

“Very well, I shall tell you what happened if it will help you capture and punish those responsible!” Cailt said standing and slamming his hands into the table with renewed vigor, before swaying and flopping back into his chair unexpectedly. Rubbing his temples he turned to Sanderson.

“Have you heard from Ladrick or was I the only one to make it? Come to think of it, how did I get here, I recall running down several alleys and then nothing, until I was here.”

“There has been no sign of lord Ladrick or Felkton as of yet. A patrol came across you a couple of blocks from the slums, you were speaking erratically of an attack before passing out. They brought you here immediately for medical treatment fearing you might be injured.” Sanderson replied.

“Ahh I see. That makes sense.” He sighed heavily. Felkton... I don’t think you are going to find him. Ladrick might still be out there though, we were separated...” He said pinching the bridge of his nose trying to sharpen his memory.

“The night started out like many before it. The summer air had a restless feel to it and Felkton suggested we take some “diversions” to alleviate the boredom. I probably don’t have to explain to you what he meant by that, but it involved visiting places....below us. I’m not an advocate for such things but Felkton has a fierce streak to him and what he says tends to go.

Their family is also in much higher regard than my own and keeping on their good side was best for everybody. My father made this explicitly clear since I was a boy. So Ladrick and myself found our way down to the lower district with him.

I’ll be blunt, we went slumming. This wasn’t the first time by any means. It happened quite often but everyone aware of it pretended not to know.

Felkton loved it, absolutely loved it. In upper town he’s notable but in the lower districts, the three of us may as well have been gods. Nobody would dare cross us, our birth assured that and it went to our heads. Felkton especially, but I cannot play innocent either. It's intoxicating having that much power and once the drinks started flowing we rarely hesitated to use it. The brothers and I would make a habit of slumming it. We each had our own vices to indulge.

Felkton has a violent tendency if he gets into the liquor and Ladricks a lusty one. I’m more into the games of chance. But that gave us plenty of reason to visit the lower town to partake in those activities a little too sultry for our status. As Ladrick liked to say ‘The lower girls can’t say no’ and Felkton liked to start fights, knowing full well nobody would dare actually touch him. To injure him was to bring an avalanche of problems down onto you and your family. There were times early on when we first went that we brought guards with us and the locals quickly learned the folly of overstepping their place around us. After a while the guards where no longer necessary, once we became known to the usual crowd.

The usual patrons were poor and as I gambled there was no risk of losing actual money. What I considered paltry they viewed as a fortune, so I could practice my cards skills without risk to my actual wealth and without my family noticing any losses should they occur. It was about the thrill of the win, not the money for me.

We were untouchable or at least we should have been…

There were incidents before but they were more exhilarating than actually dangerous.

One such incident jumps to mind. Felkton had been in his cups one night and a beggar made the mistake of approaching us directly. The perfumed scents wafting from our group, mixed the song of coin jangling in our pouches attracted the beggars as moths to flame.

I had mentioned Felkton had a mean streak when drinking, I may have not mentioned he also had an active distaste for the unclean bordering on hatred. I’ll spare you the details of that encounter but that was the last time any beggar ever attempted to approach him. He had to throw away his clothes afterward as the stains wouldn’t quite come out. It seemed funny at the time, but now. In hindsight, It was unnecessary and brutal.

Cailt said suddenly aware of how dry his throat had become, aware of the reality of where he was and what he was doing.

“More water…” Cailt rasped, Sanderson, fetched another mug.

Cailt downed in a single swig, regaining his composure, shaking away the thoughts of the previous beggar encounter.

It was late afternoon when we sauntered into the tavern. A traveling minstrel was in house and the place was bustling! I had not seen it this lively in recent memory, we also hadn’t been around in some time so we were all feeling a little overdue for the return to our fiefdom. We sang and danced and the drinks flowed freely. The taste of the ale was foul but we missed the rough edge. It was going to be a hell of a night. I recall Felkton boasting to some group of patrons about his exploits slaying a manticore or some other ridiculous story he was prone to take out as an excuse to brandish the needlessly ornate sword he kept on him for dramatic effect. He had some sword training, but it was mostly ceremonial. If he had slain a manticore with it then I’m a frost giant. Ladrick was being Ladrick and well let's use the term courting a couple of particularly vivacious women, who I am not fully convinced were umm available so to speak. Wedding rings and all, but Ladrick isn’t the most observant type when it suits him, and a band of metal doesn’t slow him down. No is not a word any of us are accustomed to in the lower districts. They were doing what they did best and so was I.

I don’t recall how many drinks I Imbibed, I was too focused on the table. The cards favored me tonight, and I was cleaning house. Much to the chagrin of the others at the table. It was glorious. I couldn’t care less about the money it was about the win.

He said leaning back and momentarily a smile stretched across his face.

I was in such a good mood I paid the rounds for most of the tavern and even gave back a good portion of my winnings. This of course made us rather popular! The rest of the time in the tavern is a bit fuzzy, there was a lot of singing and dancing and somehow Felkton still managed to get into a brief fistfight with a man who failed to provide the popper amount of respect to Ladrick. It was broken up almost immediately once the poor fellow whose wife Ladrick had been “courting” was informed who they were by a couple of regulars dedicated to keeping the peace.

The night was a whirlwind and the details get hazy until the small hours.

I recall the cool night air on my face, kissing the skin gently. It helped sober me up, I had stepped out to relieve myself before the others. Before you look at me like that, it's the slums it already smells of piss, and not like I’m the only person to do that. Hell, I’m not the only person to do it that night and I was having too great a time to care!

This is when it got weird. Swallowing hard, he continued. I see that now in hindsight.

I was out before the others but I could hear them coming up from behind. Aside from the noise emanating from the tavern, it was a quiet night and there was almost nobody else around.

Just the ever-present beggars hiding quietly and scattering from our approach like roaches from the light. Felkton's past actions had made it clear to all the beggars, we were to be avoided if you valued your health.

I finished relieving myself on the side of a wall and looked over to see the figure of a person sitting slouched against the wall beside me. I was startled. I didn’t notice them before and swore aloud. I must have mistaken them for a pile of refuse or something in my state. They didn’t react aside from turning their head towards me and outstretching their hand. I couldn’t see the face beneath the hood but what I could see was covered in bandages and strips of cloth, their hand covered in a worn mitten marked with small holes, their entire outfit was a menagerie of various clothing pieces and scraps. I remember being repulsed initially, but after hearing my companions approaching from behind I recalled the last incident with a beggar. They just sat there hand outstretched in silence. I felt the weight of some of my winnings in my pocket and without hesitation handed it to the beggar telling them to please go before the others saw them. “Take it all just don’t approach them; it won’t end well.” I turned to see the others come out of the pub and when I looked back the beggar was gone.

Cailt sat up and shuddered visibly. If only we’d taken the long way home…

Felkton and Lardrick stumbled out along with three women whose names I failed to put to memory, but I believe one of them was the wife of the man Felkton had beaten earlier. The dejected uncomfortable look was memorable, I had that feeling dealing with the brothers in their stuporous states before. They called over and we grouped up and started our way back towards high town. There’s a little place Ladrick had set up for us to sleep off the booze and indulge indiscretions on the edge between the two districts. The path there took us down a couple of narrow streets out of the sight of the general populace, which was good for deniability if we needed to be discrete.

Felkton was galavanting and acting out some sort of swordplay with one woman under his free arm, flailing the blade around with the other. We all laughed and gave him a wide berth, it was a good night after all. When we turned a corner into an empty residential street. I tripped on a protruded cobblestone and fell onto my knees, I was too drunk to feel much of the impact. While bent down I saw a bunch of chalk drawings on the cobblestones. Kids drawings of some sort of one-eyed man playing with a bunch of what I think we're kids and knights. I got up and dusted myself off and that’s when I saw it just ahead of us and my heart dropped in my chest.

Outlined by the glow of a hanging lantern just passed it. A beggar, moreover It looked like the same beggar I had seen before. Wrapped in the cobbled rags. Dead ahead of us, the path was narrow here and there was no way the other wouldn’t notice them even in their current states. This is the moment all the luck I had at the tables felt the need to even the balance again.

Felkton spotted the beggar and the cocktail of bravado, drink, and ego surging through his veins took firm hold and his mean streak emerged thrashing.

“Get out of my way you filthy wretch, do you not know whose path you block? Your stench offends us. Apologize and begone. I am in a good mood and shall allow you such courtesy due to my lovely company.” Felkton said brandishing his sword and gesturing at the sitting figure, with a needless clumsy flourish added for the effect of his audience.

Ladrick laughed out loud, echoed by half-hearted nervous giggles from the woman under his arms. The woman beside Felkton, edging back from under his arm and feigning distress.

The figure didn’t move. It remained motionless until Felkton took another step forward.

The beggar shifted suddenly putting its head down and raising out its gloved hand palm face up.

Chills shot up my spine and fear made my heart begin racing. I could taste something in the air that wasn’t right and my body went into a panic. The haze of drink vanished suddenly as I looked onwards. I tried to speak but my tongue stuck in my mouth.

Felkton reared back and laughed. “The gall!? You want something from me? Know your betters lest I teach you a lesson.” Ladrick, who had been hanging between two of the women, took this opportunity to pipe up and step forward away from them, deciding to get in on the drama.

“Well, don't be rude brother! I say we give them something, after all, we are generous are we not?! How about this? It’s from a silver tongue.” he said grinning and spat directly onto the beggar.

“We are magnanimous my brother, are we not? I shall give them the gift of a thrashing then!” Felkton echoed bringing his blade down stopping it an inch away from the beggar's head.

I felt my stomach churn, and a wave of revulsion ran through me. I recall seeing the women have a similar reaction as they all took several steps back.

A few tense seconds passed, Felkton and the figure remained motionless. Then it slowly closed its hand and retracted its arm.

“Good, know your place,” Felkton said, turning the blade sideways and swinging at the beggar with the flat edge, striking it in the side of the head with a sickening thunk. I cringed and tensed.

For a moment we all remained breathless and the night was completely silent. The sound clung to the air for a moment somehow among the silence still.

The figure didn’t crumple as we all expected. It barely moved at all.

Then I swear I heard laughter, children's laughter from around us but somehow emanating from the sitting figure at the same time.

It slowly removed the mitten covering its palm, the hand was. ohh god it shifted and whirled some miasma of colors and patterns but maintained the shape of a hand.

It lashed out and grasped directly onto Felktons face while still sitting. The beggar slowly started to rise, but the proportions were all wrong. The arm grasping Felkton was too long and when it rose it did so slowly, the body seemed to contort to fit the arm. It was far taller than it should have been judging from its sitting position. It grew taller and taller until it stood upright holding Felkton a foot off the ground by his face. Felkton screamed and swung the blade frantically, cutting gashes into the clothed arm and head of the figure. Ladrick screamed and grabbed the woman nearest him flinging her towards the figure and running back down the street.

The poor woman stumbled and yelled as she fell towards the figure. She fell at its feet, screaming as she looked up, shielding herself from the figure. It ignored her completely.

The two other women stood shaking, gripped by fear frozen in place. They started to scream for help. The beggar raised its other hand and snapped its fingers, the screams stopped as the two standing women fell to the ground motionless, the only movement their rhythmic breathing.

The woman at its feet looked up and then suddenly passed out.

The beggar still holding Felkton by the face as he flailed wildly. The beggar turned its head briefly in the direction of Ladrick as he fled. Ladrick glanced back in this direction for only a moment.

I remember it vividly, I could smell ozone as he staggered and clutched his head, clawing at his temples and scalp in a frenzy. Yelling “Shut up! Shut up! Get out of there, leave me alone! No! No! Ahhh Get out!!” Even at this distance, I could see him grip with enough force to rip out hair as he once again took off running down the street and out of sight.

I remained prone, still unable to move paralyzed by fear. Engrossed in the scene before me.

Felkton hacked away impudently at the figure. I can still see the look in his eyes between those shifting ghastly fingers, a mixture of fury and terror I'd never witnessed before. Utter helplessness, I could almost taste it and felt the bile in my stomach rise. He swung again and again, then suddenly stopped his eye transfixed with that of the figure before him and he went limp. The sword dropped from his hand and clanged onto the ground.

Once again the street was silent aside from the shallow breath of Felkton and the thunderous booming of my heart.

The whisper of laughter blew by as if carried by the breeze itself.

The color drained from Felktons skin as it started to crack and split, or rather shattered slowly, sloughing away in chunks. The figure released its grip as Felktons form fell to the earth, crumbling into shards that reduced to dust upon impacting the ground.

A moment later all that was left of Felkton was the pile of clothes and a mound of oddly colored dust. The figure returned its arms to its side and bent down to the pile of clothes.

It sifted through the pile that was once Felkton and picked up one of his boots. It seemed to inspect it holding it every which way rotating it around and feeling it all over. Then its arms extended and it placed it over its foot, which was covered with what I could swear was a coin purse before. It stood up again and I don’t know how I could tell, maybe it was its posture but it seemed happy. Like a child with a new toy. That’s when it shifted towards me.

I looked away and tensed up but still couldn't move, I was about to die. I was sure of it. My arms ached and trembled, but I refused to look up at it. That was the longest moment of my life, but I decided if I was going to die I should face it with some degree of dignity.

I raised my head slightly and could see its freshly booted foot. It hadn't moved.

Slowly I looked upwards as it stood there looking down upon me, my limbs loosening as I went.

Perhaps I could run, I had a chance. I snapped up suddenly jumping to my feet and then we caught eyes or eye I should say.

It had a single eye shining out, the rest of the face covered in cloth. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. No gems of this world could possibly compare to the vivid colors inside that iris, the pupil shifted and changed shape in a kaleidoscope of shapes, colors, and patterns, twirling and shifting as if dancing to some whimsical sonata. My senses were inflamed by euphoria and shifting suddenly to horror and back again, in flux so rapid I lost control of my body. It overwhelmed my senses and my skin felt as if it was on fire. I started laughing. That's all I could do, this compulsion continued and I laughed harder than I had ever laughed before. I couldn’t see its mouth or even tell if it had one but I knew this thing was smiling at me. I laughed maniacally harder and harder until my sides hurt and my stomach ached.

It took its gaze from me, gave a little nod, and walked past me and the sleeping women in the direction Ladrick had fled. As it brushed past me, it was once again the size of a man.

The compulsion to laughter increased and gave command to my feet to flee! I ran laughing maniacally to the end of the street. I don’t know why but I stopped and looked back.

It stood at the other end and stopped as well. Turned to me and then it… it…did something I did not expect. It gave a wave goodbye. I could feel it smiling as it vanished into the gloom of the small hours.

I think my mind snapped then, it’s all a blur of color and laughter. I don’t remember anything after that or even how I came to be here… and that’s all of it.

Cailts eyes tearing up as he faced Sanderson.

As I said I don’t expect you will find Felkton...Ladrick might be out there, but god help him if he’s not already dead.

That monster. That horrible creature killed my friend. Felkton was an ass sure, but he didn’t deserve to die like that! It was all just good fun. He sputtered sobbing emphatically.

What sort of world is this where a creature like that can roam the streets! Why does such a thing exist!? Cailt screamed, balling and slamming his fist into the oaken table.

I demand you hunt down and exterminate it! Avenge my friend… I don’t care if you have to burn down the entire district!

Sanderson put a reassuring hand on Cailts shoulder.

“Thank you for your bravery my lord, this information will be invaluable. You’ve been through an ordeal tonight please allow my men to escort you home. I will see to it this event doesn’t reach the ears of the gossips and apprise you of any developments.”

“Yes, yes good idea. I need rest, take me home immediately.” Cailt, commanded, the fervor giving way to reason once again.

“Of course my lord,” Sanderson replied, standing and walking to the door knocking twice. Two armed men, garbed in chainmail entered, escorting Cailt out of the room.

"See to it our lord makes it home safely, take the main street and a few extra men.”

“Yes sir,” they replied in unison.

Sanderson returned to the table and sat, hands folding before him in contemplation.

Staring into the low burning fire in the hearth as it battled the chill of the early morning. He collected his thoughts, gathering a quill and ink from a nearby table he sat and began writing his report.

Several minutes later his focus was shattered by a knock at the door.

“Sir, it’s Archer. I’ve returned from the slums.”

“Enter, I hope you have something tangible. The lord's story was a bit of a mess, let's call it spirited. Hard to tell how much of it was the drunk sod's imagination.” Sanderson replied.

A man in his mid-twenties entered carrying a rucksack.

“Sorry sir, don’t have any good news. Haven’t been able to locate either of the missing men. Still have others out looking and canvassing the area but I’m doubtful the locals will be of any help.

They tend to look the other way when anything goes on around there, you know how it is. Didn’t you grow up around there? You know what it’s like.”

“That I did, that was a long time ago now. It hasn’t changed much, that was one reason I joined the guard. To escape and see if I couldn’t do a little bit to help those who couldn’t.

I highly suspect this was a mugging gone wrong, somebody unfamiliar with who the group just saw a bunch of drunks in flashy clothes, easy prey.”

“Yeah, shame though this is going to bring all sorts of hell down on those folks. The noble families are not going to take this lying down, collective punishment is a favorite of theirs.

They shared an uncomfortable silence as Sanderson continued to scribble onto the paper.

“This will be a shit show. So what did you find? I assume you came back here for a reason.”

“Sir, now this might be a good sign but I’ll leave that up to you, it might mean the men are still alive but it's rather strange. We didn’t find any blood or signs of violence in the blocks around the tavern but get this. We found two piles of fancy silk clothing, jewelry as well untouched lying in the streets. Covered in some sort of chalk dust and they wreak of cheap ale. There was a sword with one pair, blunted and bent but no traces of blood or anything. Strange that nobody tried to take anything, but it’s possible nobody else found it before us at this hour.

So maybe can you imagine it, two of the young lords drunk out of their minds running around the slums naked at this hour! Would make for quite the spectacle. I can only imagine what sort of night may have led to that. Maybe they weren’t attacked and they are off somewhere sleeping it off.

Tried to get the hounds to follow the scent but the weirdest thing after smelling the clothes they outright refused no matter what I did to try and coax them into it. Strange eh?

Sanderson's hand stopped writing and his shoulders tensed visibly.

“Piles of clothes you say….” He put the quill down beside the paper, rising to face Archer.

“These piles of clothes…did they include boots by any chance.” Sanderson inquired hesitantly.

“Well yeah there are boots,” Archer said, pulling a boot out of the sack he brought with him.

Oh, wait, actually boot. Only the one. Aside from that, it looks like a full outfit. Might be more in the other bag. So haha just imagine them running out there in their skivvies with one boot on. The look of embarrassment would be golden.” He said chuckling.

“Archer,” Sanderson said coldly, rolling up the paper he had been writing on.

“Do you have all the clothes?”

“Umm yes Sir,” Archer replied taken back at the sudden severity in Sanderson's tone.

Sanderson stood silently as he fed the rolled paper into the hungry flame of the hearth.

“Sir..?” Archer inquired, taking a slow single step backward.

Sanderson proceeded to a nearby shelf sliding a stack of papers aside revealing a bottle of murky brown liquor. Grasping it firmly in one hand pouring the contents into his mug and then into the empty mug left by Cailt previously.

“Sit, and have a drink with me.” Said Sanderson gesturing to the empty chair.

Archer nodded and cautiously followed the command.

“Sir…I don’t understand.” Archer said, brow furled.

“You grew up around here too, didn’t you Archer?”

“Umm yes sir.. Since I was born, the only home I've ever known.”

“Do you remember the tales we were told at bedtime when we were young?”

“Yes, some of them for sure. Spooky stories about goblins and monsters to scare us into behaving and not going out at night. Keep us in line and out of mischief. I tell them to my kids too. Why?” Archer asked an incredulous look creeping into his expression.

Sanderson sloshed the content of his cup back and forth staring into the fire, slowly putting it down before turning to Archer with a small wiry smile.

“Ever hear the one about the raggedy?” He said, slowly taking his gaze from Archer back to the fire.

“Yeah, that’s the one about the….” Archer trailed off, color draining from his face.

They sat without speaking, the only sound the crackle of the fire as they both finished their drinks. The last of the reports form giving a flicker of warmth to a cold realization.

Sanderson cleared his throat. “Take the clothes and burn them, all of them. Throw the sword in the river near the bridge. We never found anything. The men must have drunk too much and fallen in the river. Nobody to blame but themselves.”

Archer nodded.

“That is clearly what happened, no other possible explanation”.

“There are some things best left untouched,” Sanderson said.

They shared a long look, a long drink, a long silence, and a secret they would take to their graves.

---

Thanks for reading my story. Hope you found it entertaining. If you did please check out my other short stories.

Remember, a small act can have big effects. Be kind and beware.

A.M