The Beggar Alchemist

"Why the long face?"

Rade looked up at Andrei laying down on his side in front of him. They both were sent to the barracks after the triumphant speech given by Lord Hatchet, and the pair were assigned two beds facing each other. In reality, these "beds" were simple wooden planks with a soiled cloth, but to Andrei it felt luxurious to have a place to lie down that was not cold stone and warm piss. In Lolûne, Lina and him had nowhere to sleep; a few times they had tried to build a small shanty with pieces of wood and whatever they could find useful, but it was destroyed over and over by thieves pursuing any material to sell or utilise for their own benefit. They gave up after many attempts, and often found warmth in corners of houses where excrements were disposed of. The wooden bench was more than Andrei could have asked for.

"I have a lot on my mind," admitted Rade with a soft voice. "But we made it through, so we can at least relax for tonight," he looked back down, not wanting to interact any more.

Noises echoed on the stone halls, men playfully hurling, perhaps playing a card game. There were many of them crammed between those walls, and the foul smell of sweat lingered on the walls of this unsanitary place. The barracks were built underground, where thousands of men shared their daily life from meals to showers, and morning 'til nights. Light barely made it to these packed rooms; it was not so much a necessity, as they would spend most of their time outside patrolling or training, depending on the day.

"You have a grim look on your face, Rade," Andrei pointed out. Hearing his name, he lifted his eyes to him, his face conflicted. Rade was rubbing his hands together, clearly disturbed, and Andrei wondered why he felt suddenly uneasy after the speech. Something wasn't right.

A lot of thoughts have crossed the young man's mind since the afternoon passed. Blurry memories had surfaced the moment he set eyes on Lord Eóganán and his brother Raghnall. Echoes of a past he wanted long gone, but inevitably kept finding its way back to him; green trees under a bright spring sun, laughs resonating in the air - he was just a kid back then, just a child when he saw the tragedy that shattered him. Back then, Raghnall could still walk...

Andrei sat up inspecting Rade's face, who bore a distressed look on his face.

"It always seemed strange to me," Andrei began with a suspicious voice. "How you always seem to know all the names of the houses, their lords, their sons and daughters. Even I, who had the chance to study, do not know any of this. Because this knowledge is only acquired by tutors or priests- "

Panic flashed in Rade's eyes.

"-Who are only hired by Lords and men of power. However despite all this, you are a murderer. You killed before, and you are ready to do it again if need be. And I am just left to wonder... Who are you?"

Rade looked down at his shoes, refusing to talk. He knew Andrei was observant, but promised himself to never reveal to anyone the reason for his actions. Visions of his mother, agonising, holding her belly tight. She was gripping on curtains, hurling in pain as a man was pulling back her hair, cursing her out.

"Who are you, Rade?" asked Andrei again, pushing him to speak.

Screams echoed in Rade's mind. He was playing with Raghnall and Eóganán long ago, in the middle of a forest he could not remember; the day was bright and they were running from each other, racing towards the top of a hill. His mind blurred, and suddenly heard screams of pain arising from the bottom of a ravine.

"How do you know the Hatchets?" Andrei's voice felt far away, echoing from a distant place.

Rade felt scared when he looked up at Eóganán. There was nothing else but a smile forming on his lips, and his eyes shone with a twisted joy.

"Rade?"

"Stop!" he screamed out, his face twisted in anger. Andrei jolted back, startled by the sudden noise. Men turned to see the commotion, curious. He could see Rade's wrath and rage, and regretted putting him into that state.

"Listen I'm sorry-"

"Shut up," Rade barked. He stood up with haste and walked away from him without turning back, leaving Andrei in disarray.

It was his own fault, and brought this upon himself. However, he did not regret asking those questions; there was something he did not know, and he hated being left in the dark. Though now was certainly not the time for disagreements, and if Rade refused to help him further, then he shall find that damn artifact himself. As much as Andrei respected his travelling companion, he certainly did not want to waste precious time in consoling someone refusing to open up, when he could get ahead of his plans. But schemes could wait until the sun arose, and so Andrei did not wait for Rade that night. After devouring a warm bowl of porridge, he laid down to sleep hoping tomorrow would bring some clarity.

---------

"Thou shouldst not leave that damn room!"

Lord Hatchet spat with anger. He glared at his brother, seemingly unbothered by his outrage. Camly chewing on a piece of meat, Raghnall was more focused on eating his dinner than engaging with a man he bore no respect for. Eóganán was fuming since he came back from the speech, and his brother knew that his presence irritated him dearly. The Lord came to his room while he was having dinner and paced around like a lost dog looking for a treat. Raghnall did not exactly care about the Lord's emotions or burst of rage, but more about how foolish Lord Eóganán was risking the lives of very young men all in the pursuit of power.

When Eóganán rose to power, he had no goal in mind and was a simple lad who was cherished and cared for all his life. He never questioned their father's blatant favouritism, and only assumed he was simply better than his brother. Their age did not differ much, however their personalities were completely opposite; when Raghnall was lost in books and arcane scriptures, Eóganán was training and fighting to become successor.

Young Raghnall had no will to become next in line, as he wanted to live peacefully at the very least, and maybe become a hermit, if his father allowed. But when tragedy struck him, he became nothing more than a man who was looked down upon with pitiful looks.

"Doth thou hear me?" shouted Eóganán once more.

"I do, brother," calmly answered Raghnall.

"So what do you say? You could apologise for the ridiculous scene you caused at the very least," he retorted.

Raghnall put down the utensils he was using, and gawked at his brother.

"Will you stop whining like a little child? Could you at least have the decency to act like an adult for once? What I did didn't break any laws and did not tarnish the house's reputation."

Lord Hatchet marched to him in fury and grabbed his long ginger hair, pulling it upwards. Raghnall shrieked in pain, trying to reach the large hands of his brother, but the pain was too great and his hands too far. Eóganán kept pulling until his brother could not touch the ground, kicking away his wooden wheelchair. He cried in pain, asking his Lord brother to stop, to no avail.

Raghnall's butler threw himself at the Lord's feet, begging for the release of his master, but Eóganán ignored him; he was watching his brother's distress with hungry eyes, agitating his arms to try and get away from his grasp.

Finally, Lord Hatchet released the hair he was holding, letting Raghnall fall on the ground heavily, holding his head. The pain was insufferable, tormenting the young man on the floor grinding his teeth.

"Get up," the Lord commanded.

Raghnall slowly scowled at his brother, his face mixed with pain and fury. Eóganán looked down at him with disgust.

"Get up," he repeated, impatient.

Raghnall looked around, and having found where his wheelchair ended up, started crawling towards it. His butler begged again for mercy, but received nothing but a glare and a spit in his face. Eóganán walked next to his brother crawling, whimpering in pain. As they got closer to the chair, the Lord went ahead of his brother and took the wheelchair and threw it across the room once more, breaking one of its wheels. Raghnall watched in horror as his brother crouched next to him, his eyes cold and impassive.

"We are sticking to a plan. I win this war through your schemes, and I give you your freedom. Is that clear?"

Eóganán calmly asked.

Raghnall looked down, distraught. It was his only way to buy freedom, his only way to get out of this place.

"Yes, Lord brother," he replied murmuring.

Lord Hatchet smiled and got up, looking over at the mess he had caused.

"What a nasty room," he exclaimed. "You really are clumsy these days brother. You should clean while you can."

The Lord laughed and left the room, leaving Raghnall on the floor holding onto his aching head and desperation in his eyes.