It Snarls at Your Back as You Flee...
Aennin sat quietly at the bar where he was left for the better part of an hour in tense silence. He was pestered a few times while he awaited word of his sister's fate by the sort of people who would frequent a seedy pub before lunch time. The first, a drunken worker with sunken eyes, merely seemed to be looking for a conversation. Unfortunately, Aennin could not focus on the stranger's lecture about unearthed art pieces no matter how hard he tried. The second was a wizened old man with a scraggly beard who mistook him for a girl. His irritation with this particular encounter was enough to allow him to forget his anxiety for a moment. This was a maddeningly frequent experience for him.
After telling this second stranger off, Aennin stared moodily into the bar counter. Moments later, another man, this one with a shaved head that reminded the boy of Nazan sat on the stool next to him. He wore a friendly smile as he caught Aennin's eye.
"I know this is your first time here, and I'm not even going to ask how old you are, but this isn't the best place to go scaring off long time customers."
So disarmed was he by the man's gentle tone, Aennin responded without thinking. "He needs to get his eyes checked."
The man chuckled and shook his head. "That may be true, but I don't think that's the reason he thought you were a woman. I wasn't completely sure you weren't myself until Goric decided to take a swing at you."
Aennin narrowed his eyes at the man and briefly considered a retort before swallowing it. He knew from many experiences at Bronze Academy that getting defensive about his feminine appearance never ended well for him. It only served to give people more of a reason to torture him for his looks, which he happened to otherwise appreciate. Sometimes he would look into a mirror and find that it would only take a minimal effort to make himself look like his mother from the neck up. He usually looked upon this idea with some interest but as he reflected it then while sitting beside a stranger in a bar for the first time in his life, he could only conjure an image of his mother dying. Could this be one of the men who helped to kill her?
The stranger continued. "Something tells me that people make the same mistake all the time."
Aennin nodded halfheartedly. "Not all the time, but more often than I care to admit."
"Well, either way, you're quite the looker," the man said with a wide smirk. "You should take it as a compliment. Goric likes to pretend he's a man of taste."
Aennin couldn't think of a response to this that wouldn't risk provoking the man. Thankfully, or perhaps dreadfully, he was spared this effort by the return of Katim, who was wearing a giddy expression.
"Landah, go to the back and check out the new hire," the pub owner said with a cold, smooth tone. "I want her ready in time for dinner.
The man who had been sitting beside Aennin clicked his tongue. "You got it, boss! Just give me a couple of minutes, will you?"
Katim slapped Landah in the back of his head. "Now, Landah! I need to have a few words with our new friend here. The new hire's worth tearing your eyes away from this one anyway. Go!"
Landah glanced to Aennin with a friendly expression as he stood up. As he walked away, he said, "In that case, I'm expecting a real beauty back there, Katim!"
Katim and Aennin watched the bald elf walk away until he disappeared behind the door. When he was gone, Katim vaulted over the bar and picked up a pair of mugs, which he began to fill with a light, amber-colored ale. Aennin shook his head when one of these mugs was placed in front of him, but Katim narrowed his eyes.
"I insist!" He said in a forceful, but not distinctly aggressive tone. "We've got a lot to talk about, Aennin."
Aennin reluctantly picked up his mug, his hand shaking as the sound of his own name in this monster's voice froze his veins. He took a sip of the ale, but didn't even taste it. Seeing the impatient look in the face of the man who'd served the drink, he took a deeper gulp and nearly gagged on the taste.
"Listen, kid. I was planning to give you the sweet sales pitch until I found out who you were from your sister," Katim said coolly. "Do you understand why I don't see the need to bother now?"
"My family still owes you money," Aennin said immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in conversation with this man than he needed to.
Katim nodded with approval to Aennin. "You are smarter than your father, at least. Now, your father has worked up a pretty sizable debt with me before he ducked his head and fled the city. I'm long past expecting him to pay me back now. Normally, I would threaten the lives of his family to get what I want out of him, but who knows where that piece of shit coward is now?"
Aennin gulped, once again at a loss for words. He hadn't heard that Morrin had fled the city, but he was far beyond surprise. He had never held the highest esteem for his father but, with everything he had learned about him lately, this sounded entirely feasible even coming from a thug like Katim.
Katim sighed heavily and continued. "Now, this isn't the sort of business I like to do, but I'm out a lot of money on this loan and I'm in a bind. So I'm going to have to threaten the lives of your worthless father's family to get the money from you, instead."
Aennin looked down and said, "Now that my father's gone, I can get you your money! With full control of the shop, I'll make a lot more money there anyway."
Katim clicked his tongue three times. "Fuck that old shop! You could sell the premises for a fifth of your debt right now and you'll make a lot more money working with me."
Aennin shook his head and murmured. "Look Katim, I love that shop, and I'd like for it to still be around once you have all the money you need from us."
Katim growled and slammed his palms on the bar. "Your father's payment plan would have had him paying me back over the next ten years. I was willing to accept this arrangement in good faith, but I'm finding it a little hard to trust the people who owe me these days. You can bury this a lot more quickly with what you can do with your legs than what you do with your hands."
"I see your point, but I'm not really interested in doing anything illegal or--"
"I don't give a fuck what you're interested in!" Katim snapped. "Your daddy isn't here to stop me from altering the terms of our contract, so I have a the new rule. You and your sister now have three years to pay off your family's debt. You'll never make it selling clocks, so you'd better be ready to do whatever I damn well tell you to do."
Aennin hung his head and nodded resignedly. As much as the thought of working directly for Katim sickened him, he knew he didn't have any choice. He thought back to the image of his mother dying on the floor, than pictured his face in the mirror, covered with blood and bruises just like hers. Perhaps if he cooperated, he could at least cut ties with this man sooner.
"The most important lesson anyone who works with me can learn is never to argue with me," Katim growled with a malevolent smirk. "I'm glad you decided to learn that before I had to hurt you. Now, here's what you're going to do. I want you to go home and get the Elders to clean up the mess we made in your apartment. When they ask you who you think was there, what will you tell them?"
"I don't know," Aennin mumbled.
Katim ruffled Aennin's hair and chuckled innocently. "You're on the right track, but you might want to work on a convincing lie. Make it good. Your sister's not going to be able to work off this debt on her own."
"I'll think of something," Aennin replied listlessly.
"You'd better. When everything's worked out, come back. If you're not back by nightfall, I'll be sending someone to get you. Now go."
Katim swaggered into the back room after shooing Aennin away. With a heavy sigh and a quickened pulse, Aennin left the bar, once again making for home.
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