Ryckel followed Pri through the winding, stilted streets of Lilliebore, weaving through the thick crowd with practiced ease. Pri glanced back at the boy, a crooked smirk playing on his lips.
"Those murderous eyes are gone already," Pri noted, his tone impressed. "A good skill to have, kid. Keeping people guessing."
Ryckel remained silent, his gaze scanning the environment. He noticed something.
People in normal cloth tunics and trousers or gowns looked at Pri with disdain or ignored him entirely, while those dressed in layers of leather and woven leaves, greeted him with familiar nods and warm smiles.
Suddenly, a large man stepped directly into their path. He wore standard linen tunics and balanced a long yoke with heavy buckets across his broad shoulders.
"Well, well, well… if it isn't Pri?" the man sneered. "What are you doing on this side of town, leaf-eater?"
Pri let out a tired sigh. "Can't a man just get hammered on sweet rice wine once in a while, Michael?"
"I thought your kind didn't like mixing with us," Michael mocked, stepping closer. "Oh, what am I saying? Your wenches are the best we've got, and you all work for us anyway."
Ryckel felt his muscles tense, his hands curling into fists.
Michael's gaze shifted to him. "When did you get another kid?"
"And when are you going to move?" Pri countered, his voice losing its playful edge. "Aren't you tired of doing this every day?"
Michael scoffed, spitting into the mud. "People? Anyone who humps trees and dirt isn't human."
"Oh-ho..." A young man with slick back hair watched from a distance while a small boy was right beside him.
The air grew thick with a different kind of rot, hatred. Ryckel could feel the eyes of the Nōh people nearby fixating on the interaction and likewise, the townspeople in normal clothes slowed their pace, waiting for the spark.
"For the last time, my friend," Pri said softly, "we don't do that."
The silence lasted only as long as a heartbeat. Then, Michael's buckets hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Michael swung a meaty fist, catching Pri square in the jaw. Ryckel instinctively stepped back. Part of him wanted to intervene, but a cold logic held him in place.
I don't know this man. I'm not obligated to save him. If I show my strength now, I'll be branded a threat before I even find a bed.
Pri punched back, his movements surprisingly fluid for a man who had been stumbling moments ago.
He waved a hand frantically at Ryckel, shouting, "Stay back!"
The street erupted. What started as a spat turned into a full-scale riot. Normal-clothed townspeople and the Nōh began brawling in the muck. Ryckel backed into an alleyway, watching the chaos with a detached, grim fascination.
It wasn't his town, and it wasn't his fight.
---The End of Chapter 23---