The tavern was loud as usual. Snarls, growls, and laughter that sounded like gravel grinding echoed. The tables were filled with fiends, with a few corrupted humans sitting alone.
Tankards struck tables; metal spoons and knives clashed. The air was filled with the smell of ale and meat. Now and then, a bone was cracked as a few fiends sparred. Sometimes, a severed limb would fly in the air before the troublemakers were escorted out.
Aegis was carrying a tray filled with tankards of ale. No space was left on it, as he approached a large table made with two small tables. He carefully manoeuvred, doing his best to balance the tray.
Under his breath, he muttered a few words, "Not now, not now." The words sounded desperate; his eyes wide open.
Aegis controlled his breath as he concentrated on the tavern. He kept remembering every detail of the tavern. Every crack and crevice. But his attempt kept failing, as fog slowly crept into his vision.
The red carpet of the tavern was now blanketed with fog, fog that didn't react when Aegis passed through it.
Kluck!
Aegis looked at his right hand; a small cut wound was on his index finger. But his hands were holding a tray.
Pain. All he needed was a tiny bit of pain. The cut wound had been opened many times by him. Now, it stopped healing.
He hurried toward the table while balancing the tray. The table was not far; it few steps away from Aegis.
But the groaning wood beneath Aegis's foot disappeared slowly. Something hard and cold pressed against his foot. He knew what it was; he knew what would happen if he looked down.
So without looking at the floor, Aegis kept walking. The tavern's sight was still present.
Thank the devil.
Finally, he reached the table and gently placed the tray on the table. However, when he looked up. Eyes stared him down, but not the ones that sat in the tavern.
Instead, Neg, Ryne, and the other bandits stared him down with plain expressions. A dry knot went down his throat.
Slowly, he placed the tankards in front of each bandit. The visages in front of him kept piercing his face, as if begging for help. Aegis didn't know if the bandits died or lived. But the images created a fear in him.
His heart picked up pace, each beat sounding like a drum. The tavern walls were slowly fading; the lit stone walls turned dark. Polished lanterns ashened.
At last, he served every one of them while maintaining his facade. Without any delay, he pressed his wound with his thumb.
Pain. Stinging pain shot up in his finger. All his senses went numb for a second and then returned.
"Ackk!" he muttered under his breath.
Aegis's heart finally calmed. The sight of the tavern walls and the faces of the customers crept back into his vision. The fog, however, remained in the corner. Like a predator.
He dismissed it as a mere coincidence. The tables had hot, sizzling meat on them. It was normal for wisps of smoke to linger.
Though there was something he couldn't dismiss. The fiends he served now looked at him with their infernal eyes.
What?
Aegis was perplexed, but he couldn't speak his thoughts out without being warranted. He could only bow as an apology.
But it was not the bow they were looking for. One of them in a red shirt spoke as he laid his eyes on Aegis's face. "What's your age, bastard?"
Aegis was dumb founded for a second before answering. "Uh, fifteen, sir."
The fiends turned back to the table; a group of fiends sat around it. Men and women sat with him. All of them were looking at the fiend as if he were about to say something.
"About the same age." He said.
The rest of the table took a look at Aegis and turned toward their friend. One of them replied, "You said they were a foot shorter than you."
The red shirt fiend replied as he took a sip from the tankard. "I did, so what?"
His friend pointed his finger at Aegis, "This bastard is at least three feet shorter than you."
Another one of them joined the banter, "How can you be proud of slaughtering someone like him? He barely has any meat on his body!"
The red shirt one slammed the tankard on the table, "Iron Thorn younglings are not like these low-life filth. They are born to fight, and raised on Meat."
He paused, taking another sip. A short sword hung from his belt.
"None of you wimps fought, only I did. You are jealous of my glory."
Many of the fiends around him scoffed, annoyance visible on his face. The red shirt one did not care; he kept sipping ale.
One of them spoke; his words formed a question. "Were they strong?"
The red one placed the tankard down, wiping his mouth. "Yes. I was in between them, half a dozen beheaded. Bodies piled as the heads rolled."
He paused for a moment.
"Yet. An Ironling, barely reached my shoulder, stood in heavy armour. He screamed across the field." He took a sip. "I will cleanse this world of your kin, he blabbered in anger."
"The heads of his kin riled the little filth up; he charged me. A lance in his hand, and shield in another." The red-shirted fiend said as he looked at everyone.
"I bashed him as he reached me; he fell and lay on his back. I pressed my sword on his neck, but his eyes still pierced mine. Not an ounce of fear." Everyone at the table locked eyes with him.
"They were the best among the mortals I fought; it felt good to slaughter their kin. Even their infants and women had a sharp gaze that pierced you." The red shirt one turned back, looking at Aegis.
"Unlike these bastards."
The table burst into a mocking laughter. Each one of them at the table looked at Aegis with a grin on their faces.
The red shirt had more to say to Aegis, "Tell me, slave, how does it feel to hear the tales of foolish bravery knowing you and your kin lack?"
"I was there when your Kin begged for help from Arch Devils. You could have fought the mortals like courageous fools, and died." The red-shirted one's gaze had more humility than his words. "But you chose a life of slavery to us, we who raped your mortal mothers. Pathetic half-bloods."
Aegis stood, bearing all the words he was hurled at. His mind was blank; nothing was born, or nothing died in his thought. Just his eyes fixed on the fiend's mouth and his arms crossed.
The rest of his friends joined in, mirroring his words. "They are only a lesser being, unlike the other mortals. What possibly could they know of glory and courage?"
Laughter grew as they mocked cambions.
"All they know is to cover in fear and suck our phallus as payment. I remember a female bastard offering herself as payment for clothes in my shop." A green shirt fiend said, and then added. "It felt like an insult!"
"What did you do to that whore?" A female fiend sitting across the table spoke.
"I killed her and fed her body to my hounds." The green shirt replied.
All of them at the table laughed but one. The red-shirted one still had his gaze fixed at Aegis.
Aegis's face was still, like water in a river. Not a single muscle moved on his face as he kept hearing these insults. His eyes looked down at the floor.
The red-shirted fiend's face turned ugly with anger. His voice silenced the laughter in the tavern. "What are you, boy?"
Aegis turned his burning red eyes to him. His infernal gaze locked with the red-shirted one. His unwavering voice echoed as he spoke. "Pardon me, Sir?"
Aegis knew what he did; he asked a question without asking it.
The red-shirted fiend's face tightened even more. His fists squeezed the handle of the tankard. "What are you?" He asked again, this time emphasising his words.
Aegis did not move his gaze away; he began speaking. "Bas-"
But before he could finish the word, the main door of the tavern burst open. A tall fiend girl with dark red skin entered the tavern and shouted. "Aegis!"
Everyone in the room turned toward the entrance, even the red-shirted fiend and his company. Aegis was the last one to turn. The tightened shoulders of his loosened. The knot in his stomach unformed. It's been a week since anyone called him by his name.