The Rat Boy

Features such as gold hair, fair skin, and green eyes would be somewhat of a rarity in the land of Xerul. Though these features mostly pointed to one nationality of ancestry… the Willokians. They were a group that believed themselves superior to all humanoid beings, their empire being one of the largest growing nations known. At first, it was just gaining some land, now they believe it being their divine right set down by their god-emperor to conquer all the other cultures and force their will on them. Their prejudice and belief in their superiority causing them to believe all who are born without fair skin, gray eyes, and golden hair are weak and inferior. Unfortunately this foolish racism has spread causing people to believe all Willoks to be evil and will grow up only to be racist themselves.

The boy’s parents originally fled to Xerul seeking safety after publicly protesting the foolishness of the alleged Willok “superiority” arguing that all humans and all equal. This led the boy’s family into exile where they fled into Xerul. The king and the royal Vizier to take the family under their protection as friends to the nation. However one day a year ago a noble family, thinking a Willok scheme hired an assassin to slaughter the entire family. Only the boy escaped and was forced to live on the streets where he was only half-noticed.

The boy only had one friend his entire life in Xerul, a rat. He feed it food he stole and it actually paid gave him some degree of love and affection. Still, was it really right to speak out against the empire? Was speaking for the “right thing” really worth dyeing and leaving the boy all alone in the world worth it? While pondering this he cried a lot and came to the conclusion that no was the answer, that these people who treat him so poorly really weren’t worth dyeing for.

“The Rat Boy” they called him many times due to his companion. No one dare ask his real name so they shoved that nickname onto him. Many times he had to run from marketplace, as people would throw stones at him or attack him for being a “racist Willok” unaware, or uncaring of the truth that they were being the very racists they were speaking against. The rat was his only friend, the only thing that gave any sort of compassion to him, secretly he thought it an angel sent from the heavens as some small hint of mercy. Whether it was a mere animal looking for a meal ticket, or a genuine messenger of divine mercy, it was still something that looked at him and saw more than just another Willok.

He thought of returning to the castle seeking the Vizier’s protection, but for all he knew the Vizier may have been the one secretly planning to slaughter the family. He hated Xerul, he hated the desert heat and sun, and he hated the people who treated him like some kind of monster. He wanted to go back to the Willok Empire with the hopes of actually being treated fairly there.

One day among the bazaar so cramped and overloaded with shops he decided to do his usual thing to steal food. With all the hustle and bustle this was the best time for him to steal a bite to eat, as he would be less likely to be noticed. He saw a fruit vendor hawking some apples from Lyril, the thought of the red, sweet, and juicy round things made his mouth water, as he hadn’t eaten in three days. He crept up to the stall like some invisible thing unnoticed by the crowd. Urchins on the street were playing at being guides for a silver coin or two while the Rat Boy stayed quiet in his chance for a meal.

Silently he palmed three apples that should at least feed him for today. He was not a picky eater as he had little choice but to eat only what he could steal. He crept into a dark alley where he could eat in piece. He took a bite off and pulled another piece off for the rat. It ate happily and he smiled at his only friend in the world. When he was eating two older boys probably in their teens showed up.

The larger one said “Well if it isn’t the Rat Boy. What did you steal for us this time?” he said with a laugh.

The Rat Boy sat back scared saying “What? Please d-don’t hurt me.” He held out an apple in the hopes they’ll take it and leave him alone.

“What, don’t hurt you? I think we have a lesson to teach this runt.” Said the smaller one cracking his knuckles. These two were the worst, a pair of bullies who targeted him for being different and weak. They never fought anyone who they believed might actually be able to fight back but some weak little Willokian boy of six years had no chance.

The smaller one grabbed him from behind while the larger punched him in the stomach and the face. The boys laughed and taunted him as he cried out in pain. He was eventually thrown down to the ground as he was bruised and bloody, one apple with only a few bites taken out of it and two more that were otherwise left alone. The two thugs took all three with the larger turning around and saying, “Feh, you’re lucky we were nice enough to let you have a taste.” The larger bully said taking a bite out of one of the apples.

He searched his person and the ground around him for the rat… it was nowhere to be found. In a case of increasing panic as his friend was not near him. He searched for several minutes until he saw the rat.

What he saw unfortunately was not what he wanted to find. He saw the rat dead, apparently stepped on during the course of the boy’s beating. He tried not to cry but the sight of his now dead pet, his only source of mercy was dead on in the alley. The hot tears rolled down his face as he was once more alone, maybe it was always that way but at least he could tell himself he wasn’t with the rat.

He trailed the bullies from that day on, for a month he sought them and where they lived, giving no heed to what would happen thereafter. If he could kill one of them
he would be satisfied for what remained of his life he thought. They lived in an abandoned warehouse with other punk kids in their teens. They beat those weaker than they for food or money to pay for gambling, booze, or some other vice.

He thought about it and he knew that at most he could kill the leader before the others tore him apart, but that suited him just fine so at least he could take the leader who beat him and robbed him for most of his lonely life in Xerul will die with him.

Upon further investigation he saw something strange. A noble, or someone dressed like one approaching the warehouse with bodyguards. The man wore clothes of red colored cotton. Though what struck him as strange is that with the bodyguards he could have very easily afforded better, more stylish clothes. At his side was a rapier, a strange weapon for a Xeruli to keep as armament. Such a weapon was known more to the high elves of Lyril assuming one could convince them to talk.

The man also had a turban on his head, with dark eyes peering from his face that seemed to have a gentle aura to them. He stood demanding to the thugs “Where is the boy? How long do I have to ask?”

“W-we haven’t seen him for a month.” Said their leader cowering. Trying to steer the agitation of the noble away from him.

“That boys family has asked for the protection of Xerul. They stood against the very prejudice we say we stand against and how are they rewarded? Their son exiled to wander the streets alone, his parents slain and where not one person wants to help him.” Said the noble furiously.

“ Those Willoks are all fools who could die and burn in hell for all I care… unless there’s something in it for me.” He said greedily.

The noble, obviously disgusted said “Look, I will reward you for finding him, assuming he is unharmed. If he is…”

“Yes we understand Vizier.” The Rat Boy didn’t believe the words he heard. The royal Vizier Hemmar was looking for him. Though he had not known why he turned away and maybe follow the Vizier. Revenge could come later and maybe he could convince the man to have the thugs arrested.

When he tried to run off one of the other gangsters blocked his path. The boy fell down and the bully looked down upon him. He smiled a sadistic grin saying, “Hey, I know you Rat Boy. I think we need to talk to you.”

Soon the gang was upon him with saps in hand. They all grinned menacingly, they were told to bring the boy under the Vizier’s protection unharmed but they had no intention of that. To be fair, they had no intention of bringing the boy to the Vizier at all. They closed on the boy as he screamed for mercy. Amidst the pain of that hopeless situation his vision blackened out. His thoughts before that were that he was finally going to die. He was afraid at first but he then felt relieved in that he won’t have to suffer anymore.

His vision returned, his eyes opened looking around, he saw that he was not dead at all but was merely knocked unconscious and tied up. The gang had captured him and was forcing him to walk towards the port away from the castle. It was still dark out so at most he was probably unconscious for several hours.

When they saw him awaken the put him down and forced him to walk. Kicking the poor boy if he slowed down. Why were they doing this?  Why were they forcing him to walk to the port when they could have easily scored plenty of money helping the Vizier? Something was wrong but he had naught an idea why.

When they reached the port the boy was tired, sore, and hungry while still grieving the loss of his friend. He was hoping this would be the end of his misery one way or another. In the pass of one fateful month he lost any remaining reason to live. Any life beyond now may very well be nothing but pain.

One of the gangsters commented, “You know, this Willok boy has green eyes. I thought they all had gray eyes.”

The leader replied “All of the pure blooded ones that is. This ones a mongrel, still that sea capn’ ‘ill pay quite a bit for this here runt.”

So that’s what it was, they were hired by someone else to capture and turn the boy over. He had no more tears to shed now. They were useless and he knew that by now, he is just too weak and feeble have anything better than being used by others.

They forced him to walk to one ship. It was unlike anything in Xerul, to be exact it was a Willokian ship. There was some hope that brightened his eyes, maybe if he could go back to the empire he could live a decent life, instead of stealing at the bazaar just to get a few scraps of food. He might even have a family to love and care for him again.

At the ship the Willok captain said “Soooo this is the boy huh? Well I don’t exactly say his mother had the best of taste judging by her son.” He said mocking the boy.

“Hurry up and give us the reward!” the gang leader demanded trying to sound intimidating.

“Oh right I forgot.” Said the sea captain. He motioned to one of his subordinates who went to where there seemed to be a treasure vault in the ship. A few minutes later the mate returned with a small bag.

The gang leader yelled “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!!!”
“Just what you earned.” Said the captain as the mate sheathed a knife concealed in the bag. Unable to act the gang leader was stabbed in the stomach. A painful burning sensation surged from his gut upward as he was seemingly paralyzed in terrible agony.

The gang in a rage attacked the ships crew without organization or tactics. Rushing stupidly into the jaws of death driven by a mad wrath brought on by betrayal. The crew drew their swords and engaged the more numerous but unarmed, unarmored, and chaotic mob.

Some of the mob picked up rocks and threw them at the crew. Some hit members who were not aboard the ship and some while on it. The crew slashed at the gang members who had come on rushing trusting their strength and numbers to bring the crew down, but the Willoks were just too skilled for such a strategy to work. They cut down the Xeruli ruffians left and right like chaff. The crew hardened by months to years of fighting brave and skilled enemies met the brainless rush of thugs with a simple stab to the chest or a shot from a crossbow on board the ship. The captain, grabbing a cutlass in each hand was swirling both blades like a dance of both grace and fury, slicing down foes as they came onward to their deaths.

After only a minute and a half only a quarter of the eighty-man gang was able to fight and they tried in vain to run. Their flight was cut short by a hail of crossbow bolts from the deck of the ship. The captain turned to his first mate and ordered, “How many have we lost?”

“Only five sir? Those punks did better than we expected I’ll give em’ credit for that.” The First Mate said with a slight hint of dark humor.

“That’s five we don’t have now get the boy onto the ship. There’s no doubt that someone heard that so we have to leave immediately.” He barked “Now get moving or you’ll be keelhauled for yer sloth you hear me?!”

The boy walked onto the ship saying “Where are we going?” unsure of whether this captain would be his savior or just another person who would hurt him. His gut telling him that this was yet another villain in his life but in desperation for some kind of relief from this personal hell he ignored that feeling.

The captain said, “To your death, your parents have made a humiliation of us Willoks and so have to pay. Since they are already dead you will have to take their place.” He said smiling.

The boy’s eyes widened, suddenly the bruises no longer hurt and he tried to run with all he had. Unfortunately the captain grabbed him saying “Don’t blame me, your parents fled the law and died for these beasts. It’s only fair if you got to join them in hell.” He laughed almost smelling the boy’s somehow newfound fear in the captain’s eyes that seemed to glow red like some kind of demon.

The captain’s strength was unnatural, and now that the Rat Boy thought of it, so was his agility. He had gone from the streets into Hell itself it seemed and now he was going to see what fate his parents have earned him. He loathed his parents even more, yet they were the only ones who ever loved him, or even bothered to know his name.

The sea captain grabbed the boy by the hair and was dragging him onto the ship. The sea captain seemed to give an unnatural, horrifying aura of evil that made the boy try to think of a means to get away. The First Mate was no different in that he seemed to have the same aura of evil, though not as strong. There seemed to be some kind of guilt in the first mate’s eyes as he looked back at the corpses of the Xeruli bullies, it was obvious he hadn’t wanted them slain, nor had he wanted to have the boy captured.

In desperation the boy said, “I’m no Willok! Look my eyes are green!” it was some last ditch effort to get away but it didn’t work.

“Well then we’ll have to change that.” The cruel Sea Captain said grabbing the boy and forcing him to the ground. He pulled out a dagger and said, “If your eyes will save you then we can’t have that.” The dagger started to inch towards the boy’s right eye.

When the boy almost had the knife in his eye, the First Mate punched the Captain with enough force to knock some teeth out and send him reeling off of the boy. The first mate then took the dagger and cut the ropes off of him yelling “Run Gaius!”

That was the first time in over a year someone had spoken the boy’s name. He wanted to know more of why he knew the boy’s name but he had no time to ask. As the first mate had commanded Gaius had obey. While the crew was still confused the boy had gotten away.

While the two Willoks fought some of the other crewmen tried to detail the First Mate. In the melee four crewmen grabbed the First Mate. In the melee he head butted one knocking him unconscious and grabbed a sword out of the sheath of another one. While drawing the sword he struck a second one in the temple strongly enough to have him sprawled across the ship deck with blood seeping from the blow. He then turned the sword with its bladed tip facing him and used it to stab a third Willok behind him, the blade entering the side of his ribs as it made its way into one of his lungs. The stabbed Willok fell on the ground gagging from the blood in his lungs. The fourth and last of the Willok crewmen who sought to detain him had walked away knowing that attempt to capture them man would only result in death. The rest of the crew had backed as they already had two men dead and one unconscious to the First Mate alone, how many more would die before he was finally neutralized?

The Captain yelled “Traitor! You will place our entire empire in jeopardy! If we don’t slay him now our emperor will fall.”

The First Mate replied calmly, without any hint of madness or rage saying, “I know, our lord has seen ten who may challenge and defeat him. Yet, I believed, that if our emperor must have a mere child slain just to stay in power then he needs to fall.” Afterwards the red glow in his eyes faded and a dark mist had appeared and faded from the first mate.

The Captain smiled and said “First you betray the crown, then you give up the very power that our lord has mercifully given you to protect him? You have gone mad and for that you must die.”

The first mate said nothing as the two foes raised their swords and charged at each other. Their swords making movements, swinging, blocking, and countering that only a man who lived their whole lives for war would make. These two were no ordinary sailors; they were monsters in their own right without the power that made them something beyond human might. Their presence meant this was more than a headhunt for a common criminal. They were looking for someone who the emperor himself saw as a potential threat in years to come.

Gaius ran through the streets of Xerul city. Not knowing where but as long as it was away from the port he would have been satisfied for now at least. As he ran he stumbled and sprained his ankle as he fell down. He heard the cries of battle die down and he knew that if he were caught no one would help him. He got up and tried to limp away, going almost entirely by will he had gone faster than what he had expected with a sprained ankle. Food, water, and rest were sparse this last month and that toughened him up and gave the boy an incredible will to survive.

Soon a cloaked figure came to him. The boy tried to limp away but a hand caught his arm. The boy tried to fight but he was too weak to stand a chance so a voice from under the hood of the cloak said, “Peace friend, I am here to help, though I am aware you have had a certain lack of it.” The voice seemed calm and caring, though somewhat familiar to the boy’s ears.

“Who are you?” Gaius said with a suspicious tone of voice.

The man simply took the hood off of his head, revealing the man underneath. The man was Vizier Hemmar apparently thinking he could infiltrate the boat and steal the boy from the enemy by himself. “I seem to be in the nick of time. Though if I knew anything of those praetorians-“ the Vizier’s speech was interrupted by a bloody see captainwho was now missing an eye came charging after the boy “it’s that they don’t know when to give up.”

The boy heard the words right, Praetorians. He had heard the word before; the praetorians were the finest soldiers in the Willok Empire. Their normal martial prowess alone made them count for ten to twenty men on the battlefield alone, each of them possessed by a demon granting them strength, skill, and fearlessness of ten men more.

The wounds made the praetorian sea captain slightly sluggish in comparison to before but he was still beyond any normal mans ability to defeat. With his eyes glowing red he tried to chop at the boy and kill him there but the Vizier pushed him out of the way. The Vizier drew his rapier, and took a threatening stance towards the praetorian. He was hoping he could simply hold his opponent at bay while the boy escaped but that was not possible. Either he would succeed in killing the praetorian or both he and the boy would die.

Hemmar made a desperate stab at his foes throat, trusting all of his speed, skill, and luck into that thrust but the praetorian parried the attack with ease. With a vile grin he slashed mercilessly at Hemmar. In a nick of time Hemmar dodged the attack but not without getting a slight scratch on his chest. Hoping to avoid detection all the better Hemmar chose to not wear his armor, now he cursed himself for this act of foolishness as it may cost him his head.

The fight continued, each attack by Hemmar parried and each attack by the Captain dodged with some small scratch or wound. Hemmar though he still had a chance, he knew he had a chance as the wounds from the first mate were taking their toll on the praetorian’s fighting ability. Though one thing was for sure for the Vizier, this next attack had to be decisive or else both him and Gaius will die.

Hemmar took another gamble; he had another desperate stab at the throat, trusting that the one strike will finish his opponent. The Praetorian smirked and said “You foreign fools never learn do you.” While moving to parry again, in that instant Hemmar’s rapier changed from his right hand to his left, and though he was not so skilled with his left hand the rapier sank deep into the groin of the praetorian, right under his opponents guard.

Hemmar said, “Yes, we do learn.” Before pulling out his rapier and finally, successfully pulling his rapier out of the pain stunned foe stabbing him in the jugular artery of his neck, shortly afterward several guards had appeared to which Hemmar simply said “Two street fights, over eighty deaths in the port and NOW you arrive!?” obviously more than a little annoyed.

The guard stood at attention and said, “Forgive our tardiness sir but we were kept busy elsewhere. The man responsible for conspiring against the king leading to the assassination of two Willok exiles has been detained and arrested. Where are your bodyguards Vizier?”

Hemmar furled his eyebrows and said “It’s about time you found the man responsible for hiring those assassins. I would have brought my bodyguards if I had the time. I had to kill this praetorian to finally find him so I could escort the boy to the castle beforehand as well. I’m sure that once the other Willoks sent to kill or retrieve the boy find out their leader is dead they won’t have the morale to pursue him further.”

Then another miracle had come to the boy, the vizier bent down and observed the sprained ankle saying “Hmm, this boy need someone to carry him back to the castle; he’s sprained his ankle and is doubtlessly exhausted. Boy what is you name?” he asked to the boy’s surprise.

The boy, slightly stunned with and with weariness setting in could only say one thing in response “I-,” he yawned before finishing with “I’m Gaius.” At the end of those two words Gaius fell asleep in the arms of a guard while they carried him to the castle… to shelter, food, and care, three things he had been too long without.