Chapter 67. Minor Dispute.

  “I thought I seen a used-up shit-leaf float by.” A childish taunt echoed from one of the rooms.

  “Andric.” Lief whispered the name. It was such a dirty name—right up there with Alex. His mind was already a mess, and he was even more irritated Andric had just pulled him from such a comforting place.

  Lief turned around. Beck too. Both were looking at the chubby boy leaning against the door frame. He couldn’t have been much older than Lief.

  Then all three watched while a chicken casually strolled from the room, like it owned the hallways—yup it was one of them bright orange and yellow, fire clucking chickens, like the one the singer in the yards carried.

  Andric grabbed the bird. Got a good grip around its neck and legs and pumped a few eggs out. There was no grace in his motions either. The boy was raw with the bird. Really ruffling those feathers with each jerk. It had to of been emotionally traumatizing for the bird—honestly, I’m not even sure if I can be talking about it.

  The thing doodled with a beak-full of embers while Andric’s fat hand stroked along with a choking hold—like I said the boy had no chemistry and he nearly caught his hat on fire while the thing clucked embers. Even poorly handle things release in time. Those eggs popped out from underneath somewhere.

  -Pop-Pop-Pop-

  Andric dropped the chicken and collected his eggs. Still hot to his sensitive hands and he juggled them slightly.

  Smoke curled from the poor chicken’s beak. Eyes half lidded. It even walked dazed and haphazard circles. Clucking tiredly.

  That greasy dipshit smiled at his eggs before he punted the bird back into the room. Warm feathers burst free while the rest went squawking.

  This boy he had a thick face—and a thicker skull in Lief’s opinion.

  “I thought I told you to take the outside staircase, I don’t want my hallways smelling like a used-up shit-leaf.” He snicker.

  Cracking the shell. Grubby fingers peeled hastily.

  He had soft curly golden locks of hair, gently resting on his protruding brows. Eyes full of dumb thoughts each producing an unintelligent hue—however, they were a very pretty topaz color.

  Sitting on his greasy face is a round red nose. Just below was the biggest small mouth anyone had ever seen or heard—next to Lief’s that is. I don’t know it may have been a minor dispute between the two.

  “I’m just bringing Beck up for a pipe of tobacco, his hammer is too heavy for the planks outside.” Lief wanted to grab his quill and notebook but wasn’t sure if he could write fast enough.

  Andric was already walking over. Cracking an egg against the wall. The crack pierced the empty corridor with a skin tingling chill—oh how intimidating children can be at times.

  “Hmph, yeah I think I will some tobacco thank you, Lief.” Beck said, acknowledging the pipe remark—cheeky guy.

  Beck was now watching how Andric’s neck would shake as he walked. Faster.

  Beck was also a little confused at their bickering, but who was he to judge. He didn’t know how kids played; him and his thirteen brothers just punched each other in the belly or played toss the rock.

  Toss the rock was much like it sounded too. 1st Find a good hand fitting rock. 2nd Give said rock a fun and wonder filled toss. 3rd Start shouting your dreams and hopes at it. Rumors say if you recite what you want before it hits the ground, the gods will grace one with such requests—no it wasn’t true, it was more so a game of morals teaching the drive of determination. Children don’t really understand that though.

  “Andric don’t!” Lief warned reaching a hand behind his hip.

  Andric was now cruising down the hall. That heavy neck completely subtracting his chin, it was just a delightful jiggle. The boy also had a thick body to match. All of such was bouncing with the motion of his—I guess we can call it running.

  Lief reached for the quill from his vest, ripping the small leather notebook from his back pocket. He licked the quill tip, causing his eyes to dull like ink all over again.

  The feather charged. Racing against the chubby boy running for him. Flickering with simple words that would humor only Lief.

  Before he could put the final period to his sentence. Andric rammed his gut with a heavy and single thrust, knocking Lief to the ground.

  His book and quill fall just at his sides. Hands clapping against the flat stones of the hallway flooring. Ink eyes could only follow the Phantom Quill of Envy. That quill was of all the importance in the world to him—well that and a few other sentimental items.

  Meet Andric Phamhus.

  He was a chunky, spoiled little shit—but I suppose that’s what’s to be expected from the children of very successful adventurers.

  Lief looked up at Andric. Then at Beck who was rolling with laughter.

  “Ahhh hahaha hahahahahaha.”

  His gruff belly laugh echoed the corridor. This was the horse play he was used to. He took a breath a gave another deep belly roll. Before brushing a joyous tear from one of those dramatic eyebrows—amazing he could see through those.

  Giving Andric a glance over, Beck admired the tailoring. Not enough admiration to lift them scruffy brows but, he could see through fine enough to appreciate the marvelous threads before him.

  The boy might have practiced stars in Spoiled. No question about those in Fortunate. And he definitely knew about the set in Privileged. Whatever the hell stars he was counting it showed.

  Because hot damn, did that chunky little shit have style. Gods forbid anything else but fashion on the boy. He always had finely put together linens—no, they weren’t even linens at this point. Don’t ask me how but the kid wore suits and tuxedos. Perhaps he had stars in Trendy-Threads.

  The jacket and trousers he wore today was a prodigious royal plum color. With a delicious dark chocolate shirt, and a scrumptious brown waistcoat. His jacket button—barely clutched—it too was a precisely cut, tasty little topaz matching the color of his eyes and cufflinks.

  Cufflinks flashed with indulging taste indeed while he cracked his final egg. Not just cracked but started the process on Lief’s head.

  He stayed on the floor. Knowing if he stood Andric would only push him down again. Or worse, …make him eat another one of his boogers—and that greasy nose put out some unadulterated hogs. Each of them so sour with humiliation.

  Lief flipped for a page—he didn’t mind the bullying. The rude slurs. The egg cracking. Andric will be getting his here in two flicks on the candle stick—I don’t know, Lief says some weird shit, I think it may be his version of in just a moment.

  Beck looked at Andric’s footwear. They were actual polished and pressed, shape formed leather dress shoes—just like the ones your thinking of, except his were that same smooth brown, pairing his waistcoat.

  Andric gave a mean glare over to Beck. “And what’s so funny, you thick midget.” It was a solid verbal jab. He then adjusted his top hat, pulling on the ribbon bow. Keeping it fit and tight.

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  Yeah, to top it all off, the little brat even wore a top hat. A grand top hat—honestly thinking it made him taller. Taller meant older. Older meant he could play the game.

  It was of the same plum color. Around the base was a delectable dark chocolate ribbon, it had been tied with a classy bow.

  Andric was most definitely graced with stars in Family-Fortune. Both his parents and grandmother are adventurers. All of whom still travel around Guulatikore—yeah, I guess stars are hereditary, …I didn’t know that either. Just kidding, I know everything, I’ll be answering questions later.

  His mother, father, and grandmother, all rotate turns of visiting the boy. Once a season. One of the three would return and spend a few nights with Andric—it actually worked amazingly because there were only the three seasons. Frost. Melt. And Sun, ….I know what you’re thinking ‘three? Frost? Melt? Sun?’ just wait I’ll get to it, times are very simple here, relax on a candle stick or whatever the fuck Lief says.

  Lief frowned at his scribble. Looked up at Andric and tried again.

  Beck’s face tightened up. No longer chuckling at the belly-slam—even if it was a good one.

  His bushy brows however, lifted just enough for his green eyes to peer into Andric’s dull topaz sheen—again I hear you ‘dull, sheen?’ Which is it, well let me put it simply without being too over the top.

  The kid had pretty, dipshit eyes, …. like most children did. I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about too. The blatant stupidity hiding behind innocence. No, I don’t hate children, …. kids are just dumb without even meaning to be, and everybody accepts it because well, …they’re kids they don’t know any better. I personally think it’s because the gods are manipulative like that. Then again, I don’t think the mountains are real so….

  No Andric wasn’t completely alone. His grandfather stayed down the hall—well I guess his room would be right about here now.

  Gramps would only check in on the boy whenever it was that Andric stopped in too—but how often would a spoiled child need anything from an old man, especially when he had a living space to himself.

  A door opened. In the opening an older man stood. Fiddling with a turquoise tied in his beard. Looking at Andric. Then peered over onto Beck. All paying no attention to little Lief, still on the ground, still growling at his notes.

  “Who you are talking with Andric.”

  The older fellow wore a wide fraying straw hat wrapped with a blue ribbon. He cast a tired face, with a more exhausted expression.

  He had thick sentinel green hair falling from under his hat. A clean combed beard that blended with the strands draping. Some of that facial hair had been decorated with jade and turquoise—the man loved his facial hair it was obvious from the jewelry it wore.

  He wore a fine silk shirt. It was forest green. Plaid with silver and gold stitching. Comfortable looking trousers held up by a set of fine aged leather suspenders. The man was barefoot—bold move old man.

  Andric glowed with a greasy grin.

  That’s all it was though. A greasy grin.

  Beck held pressure. His face was cooking—no really you could smell that beard, …. or maybe it was Andric.

  The little shit looked up at the old man in the doorway. His grandfather. He answered in such a charming tone.

  “Just helping this simple dwarf along. The little one was lost, grandfather.” Somebody get this boy some stars in Bullshit.

  “That’s a good lad.” The old guy smiled. So proud of his grandson. Such a charming young man. He stepped back to his room.

  Beck had half a mind to strike the stars from this child—and then some. Calling him little one—oh of all the nerve.

  Beck will bend your arm behind your thick bacon-back, boy. Make you eat some dirt while he pulls your momma down for a sloppy smooch—the little shit. One. Just one smack. Right there. Right on those plump cheeks. He was about old enough for a good one. One grease curling smack.

  Becks lips vibrated while he muttered the things he would do to Andric’s momma.

  Andric smiled at the door until he heard the wood plank slide across, baring shut the door. Then cast those duh eyes upon Lief.

  “So, is it true, shit-leaf?” Andric asked, taking a bite from the egg. The soft yolk spilled over his lips and dripped from chin to chin—what a slob.

  Lief only scribbled harder. Practically tearing the parchment, he wrote.

  “Is it true your mother was a disgusting troglodyte.” He took the rest of the egg in a single bite. Sucking his fingers clean.

  Lief was so confused. He had asked the quill for Andric to eat his clothes, but nothing was happening.

  “She was a Rodentulus if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” Lief replied calmly.

  The quill danced to a scratchy tune, but the horrid performance never released—what the hell was wrong with this thing.

  The tips of Becks ears and shiny dome were angry red now. Burned over from Andric’s remarks. First off, he was a Dwarf not a Midget—and he was still considering giving him a smack for the ‘little one’ comment. And for Secondly his family were Mountain Dwarves they all lived in caves and burrows, so he didn’t care for the troglodyte slur.

  “What’s that you’re writing?” Andric snatched the book and read aloud the new command—behind a mouthful of egg at that.

  “I Lief Suvalitol wish to see Andric Phamhus choke on a forgotten shell of egg. Then it would be even much more humorous to also watch him vomit into his own hat, before drinking it back.” Andric glanced at him from behind the book.

  “What is this shit, Lief? More of your rules? Lief reading sucks. People want pictures. Draw some boobies or something. I bet people would want your books if you put some titties in them.”

  Then the brightest idea Andric have had in long time crashed into him—literally you could see the thought flicker to life in those eyes.

  “Oh, I know. Draw your mother.”

  Those pretty dipshit eyes peered over the books edge. “Give me that quill. I’ll help you get stared.”

  “I can draw really big boobs.” The dwarf nodded proudly, like a contest was about to unfold.

  “Andric stop it!”

  “Give me the quill. I’m going to put your mother on the cover.”

  Andric now wrestled Lief for the quill—well a quill. What you think a smart kid like Lief walked around with only one writing utensil—get out.

  Beck chuckled at the two. Such great friends these two must be. Just look at them roll around—oh that’s okay Lief you’ll win a match one of these days.

  “Alright.” Lief gasped from underneath the chub. “Okay, Alright, I’ll give you the quill. Just get off me so I can reach it.”

  Andric gave a satisfied chuckle and rolled off of Lief. Earning another forced wheeze from the boy.

  Taking a normal quill, Andric stood. He quickly leaned the notebook against a wall. Then the quill began to scratch. It was a very crude triangle faced mouse. Then he gave it boobs. Then he wrote ‘Lief’s Mother’ with an arrow pointing at it—as if it weren’t obvious.

  He looked so proud of himself while he studied the picture. “Lief you’re a freak.”

  He laughed at the drawing and tossed the notebook for Lief’s face.

  The thick binding clapped against his cheek before he could catch it. Lief was oh so flustered. Why would the quill work against Monte, but couldn’t bend Andric.

  “Your mother was a rat, and your growing up to be one.” He was so mean to Lief, most everyone was, even some of the grown-ups.

  “Scurry along shit-leaf, I don’t want you stinking up my corridor.” He said before turning around, noticing the chicken walkout from his room again.

  “Get back here you stupid chicken!” Andric—dashed I guess? He was trying to do that, ….run again—fat kids are funny.

  Just to be sure Lief tried one more time. And again nothing happened. He even went back and dotted the periods along his sentences. Checked all his letters for imperfection. It was fine. His eyes narrowed before Beck’s gruff voice broke the silence.

  “Friend of yours.” And he offered him a lifting hand for support.

  Taking the heavy hand Lief gave the floor a dumbfounded look hearing these words.

  “Uhh yeah, I pushed him down earlier and made fun of his mother, told him I admire a strong woman. Because anyone who could have birthed a boy his size must have had a hoo-haa like a Terroranaquill beak.”

  Terroranaquill? Remember that abomination Sid was going to fight at the river. The thing that scared the beavers. The thing that was eaten by a Venocoil. That spider-urchin-peacock looking thing. Terroranaquill.

  “HA haaaa, atta boy., I like a strong hoo-haa too.” He clapped Lief so hard on the back he fell to the ground again. “Oops.”

  Beck grabbed him around his sides and lifted him up right—well he attempt to, Lief was rather irritated with everything and squirmed around until he was let go.

  “Thank you, Beck, I’m alright.” Lief snapped, shooing the hand brushing the dust off from him. Lief tucked his book away in his back pocket. His eyes faded from black. Not quite full of that innocent spark, but not glassy black either—no never mind they were still pretty black.

  Sighing, he looked at the quill before putting it away in his vest.

  “Come on let’s go up to my room, it’s just up the stairs here.” Lief turned and led the walk again.

  Taking the final step of stairs, Lief noticed the door to his room was ajar. This was odd, because nobody ever climbed this high into the tower. Nobody. The only other who would climb up here was Andric. It obviously wasn’t him either. He could still be heard down the stairs chasing his chicken.

  No, actually there was one who climbed up frequently. A tobacco merchant named Colebrax. Colebrax would trade parchment and leather-bound books or dried ink slate. Lief, in exchange gave fresh tobacco or drying tea or lotus leaf.

  However, he traded with Colebrax just a few moons earlier. There should be no reason the merchant should be back, or even in his room for that matter.

  “Wait right there, Beck.” Lief stuttered looking between his room and the Dwarf. “My room is a bit cluttered and I want to make a decent impression for you.”

  His empty cheeks concave while he smiled, showing his menacing dimples.

  “That quite alright Lief, my family are burrowers I’m used to a bit of dust and dirt, if you’d like I can help you tidy up.” Oh Beck you prideful moron.

  Lief pushed the door enough so that he could see in the room. There he seen the soft blue flicker of two Embryx laying in the center of the floor, behind them at the window, smelling the tea plants was the Mystic.

  “No Beck!” He snapped a one-eighty pulling the door shut behind him.

  He pushed Beck back into the hallway. The dwarf was trying to peer inside the room. Beck thought he seen something.

  “I have delicate plants inside, I don’t want you getting in the way or accidentally destroying one of them.” Lief said something half true. Than hastily re-entered his room. Then he poked his head from behind the door, and smiled at Beck. “Just give me a two flicks of a candle stick.”

  It sounds way better when Lief says it.

  “Hmph, yeah alright, I don’t want to be a burden take your time Lief, I’m not going anywh—” The door shut midsentence. Beck stood in the hallway, his mouth slight agape holding that perfect look of confusion.