Annoyed

‘Seize him!’

‘Yes, Sir!’

The frightened man was brought in front of the Sergeant and dropped like a sack of grain at his feet. The Sergeant looked at him apprehensible, taking in what made the man who he was: his ragged clothes, his disheveled graying hair, the brown loose skin hanging awkwardly wherever two different body parts met. He found the sight to be lacking something.

Disgusting! he thought to himself.

‘What are you doing here… Sir?’ he said, stressing the last word.

The address had the desired effect and the man pulled himself inwards even more, as if working really hard to look as small and insignificant as possible.

‘Nothing, your Excellence, I was just out to gather some wood for the fire!’ the degree of fright the Sergeant felt in the man’s voice was satisfactory. He smiled at himself as one would give a pat on the back for a job well done.

This filth is as boring as rain, no bark and no bite in him whatsoever. How can he live with himself?

‘Why are you gathering wood in the middle of winter… Sir? What have you been doing until now? Were you idle?’ he continued his interrogation.

‘No, no, no, your Excellence. It’s just that, the roof of the wood shed collapsed in the snowstorm and all the wood is frozen through. I… I went out to gather some to last us while we fix the roof and dig the wood out. I haven’t been idle, your Excellence, I’ve never been idle in my life. I swear this!’

The Sergeant looked upon the man’s insolence with a frown, he was definitely lacking.

‘What is your name… Sir?’

‘Piotr, your Excellence!’

‘And where do you hail from… Mr. Piotr?’

‘Duft, your Excellence!’

‘Duft, you say? And where is this… Duft… Mr. Piotr?’

‘Over the ridge there, your Excellence, no more than a stone throw’s away!’

‘Good! Mr. Piotr… tell me, by any chance did you see any stranger come into Duft recently?’

‘Not with the snowstorm, your Excellence, that’s five days now and even before that. Who would be foolish enough to venture out into that, your Excellence?!’

The Sergeant’s eyebrow twitched a quarter of an inch. He fixed the man in front of him with his ice like eyes and decided to bore a hole into the man’s soul. Piotr flinched at this and his hands clutched at his tattered hat. Fear grasped him unforgivingly and a sudden urge to relieve himself almost overcame him.

‘Indeed! Who would be foolish enough… Mr. Piotr?’

Filthy!

‘Mr. Piotr… tell me something!’

‘Yes, your Excellence!’

‘Why did your roof collapse if your hands are not idle?’

Piotr felt his bladder’s need to burst violently and struggled to control himself in despair.

‘Hmmmm… tell me… Mr. Piotr! Your hands aren’t idle but is your mind sharp?’

‘Nnno, your Excellence, I mean, yes, your Excellence!’

‘It is or it isn’t, Mr. Piotr!’

‘Yyyess, your Excellence!’

‘It is? Good! And did the coming of the winter escape this sharpness of your mind, Mr. Piotr!’ a slight edge had entered the Sergeant’s tone and at once the men around him felt their backs stiffen in expectation.

‘Nnno, your Excellence, how could it, your Excellence!’

‘My point exactly, Mr. Piotr.’ said the Sergeant, honing in on its target, ‘how is it that, although you knew the impending approach of winter, with all of its snowstorms, how is it that the first one managed to cripple your need for heat? Hmmm, tell me, Mr. Piotr?’

‘I didn’t…’

‘You didn’t what, Mr. Piotr? You didn’t think perhaps? Or maybe you weren’t aware of what a winter might entice? Enlighten me, Mr. Piotr!’

‘I.. I…’

‘Yes, Mr. Piotr. It’s you I’m talking about! You and the off chance that you’re just an idle tool in the hands of our nation. What is it, Mr. Piotr?’

Panic had overcome Piotr’s senses and his jaw had clenched shut, his lips trembling, the clutching of his hat no longer a voluntary action. Piotr was no longer present in mind as an avalanche of images rushed in front of his eyes depicting the fate of all that was idle in their great illustrious nation. He felt a sudden need to vomit the morning’s cold meal.

‘Speak, Mr. Piotr! Are you… idle?!’

‘Nnnnnnnnn…’

And at that moment the need for relief overcome the tenseness of his muscles and Piotr soiled himself. Steam began lifting from the yellowed snow. Upon seeing this, the Sergeant’s eyes went wide and, in a blink, narrowed violently on poor Piotr.

Filthy cur!

‘No, I think you’re just stupid!’ and turned to the men that had dragged Piotr in front of him. ‘Take him away and give him five lashes! Be fast about it!’

Relief washed over Piotr as he heard the command and allowed himself to be pulled away by the soldiers.

The Sergeant turned towards one of his men and barked his command.

‘Mr. Anders!’

‘Yes, Sir!’

‘Once we reach this… Duft, you and two of the men will join me in paying a visit to the Foreman. The rest are to fan out at the outskirts of the village and look for signs of the fugitive. He can’t be far now!’

‘Yes, Sir!’

Anders gathered the soldiers and issued the orders accordingly. With the last crack of the whip, the two escorting Piotr returned as well. Splatters of blood shun in the afternoon sky here and there on their tight black uniforms. The men mounted up and proceeded towards where Piotr had gestured, they would find the village.

Five minutes later, just as they passed the ridge, the village appeared. Anders gave the last of his orders and upon their descent, with the exception of him, the Sergeant and the two that had carried out Piotr’s punishment, the men had departed left and right near the edge of the forest surrounding Duft. Every hundred meters one would break away from the group and head inward, horse in tow.

A man came to greet the Sergeant and his small company just as they reached the first houses.

‘Good afternoon, Sirs!’ he was burly, covered in leathers and furs with a small embroidery on his chest, signaling the district he served in.

‘Is this Duft?’ the Sergeant asked sharply.

‘It is indeed, Sirs! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’

‘Are you the Foreman of Duft?’

‘Yes, Sir! Foreman Ilin, at your orders, Sir!’ sensing the sharpness in the Sergeant’s voice, Ilin decided to tone down his joyous nature. ‘Foreman of Duft, County of Burrick, 2nd District,’ and upon finishing the elegy, he raised his clenched fist to the emblem resting on his chest. As the Sergeant’s horse passed him, Ilin fell in alongside him struggling not to break stride.

‘How many people are you presiding over, Foreman?’

‘Forty people, Sir, twelve families!’

‘Good! Have them all gathered in the central square. I assume you have a central square in Duft, Foreman.’

‘As it would benefit the nation, Sir! Right away, Sir!’

Ilin hurried away towards the village center and Anders signaled the soldiers to follow him. The two spurred their horses after the Foreman and Anders deemed it a good time to join his superior.

‘Do you think we’ll find him here, Sir?’

‘He couldn’t have gotten far, Mr. Anders. Not with the raging storm that fell in the area. If he isn’t here, he surely passed through here. Someone will know something!’

‘As you say, Sir!’

The village bell rang sharply ahead of them and just as it did the people of the village started scurrying towards its unholy cry. Just as the Sergeant and Anders were entering the square, Piotr, the last of the villagers to come, made his way into the throng. Upon seeing him, a wave of anxiousness overcame the gathering and a haunted murmur arose from the crowd.

‘Here they are, Sir!’ said the Foreman and fell to the side of the gathering, between the two forces. The Sergeant stated the following:

‘Three days ago, a fugitive, being transported in a caravan through the forest of Burrick, to the east of your village, escaped. This fugitive is of the idle hands captured at the battle of Dorcher last month and is of a disputant ideology as well as a dangerous temperament.’ He stopped to survey the gathering, measuring the effect of his words. He found them all lacking.

‘We have tracked this fugitive to your village and I expect those of you that have seen anything to come forward and relay their information.’ A sullen silence enveloped the crowd and everyone suddenly became interested in their feet.

‘Sir, nobody has come through here in the past week or so, not with the snowstorm that raged here,’ the Foreman announced. A gruntle of approvement raised from the crowd.

The Sergeant surveyed the crowd, each ragged face and tattered piece of clothing. The sunken eyes and grizzled heads and found them all lacking. To the side, Anders was conversing with a soldier that had approached them from behind one of the houses. Upon finishing his report, the soldier departed and Anders approached the Sergeant.

‘He was here, Sir!’ Anders whispered earnestly.

‘I would like to remind everyone that any attempt to help and protect a fugitive of the nation will be punished diligently!’ the Sergeant announced. ‘Foreman!’

‘Yes, Sir!’

‘Who is missing from the gathering?’

‘What do you mean, Sir?’

The Sergeant’s stare froze him in place.

‘I see only thirty-nine people gathered here… Foreman Ilin. If I’m not mistaken you said you’re presiding over forty people. Who is missing?’

‘Aaaaaah!’

‘Is your mind idle… Sir?!’

‘Nnnnnno, Sir! Right away, Sir!’ and scurried among the villagers pushing them this way and that as would a hound his herd.

The Sergeant waited impatiently for the Foreman to finish.

‘There’s one missing, Sir!’ the Foreman declared approaching the Sergeant.

The Sergeant rolled his eyes forebodingly.

‘A young woman, Darya. Lives alone, at the edge of the village!’

‘Why is a young woman living alone in your village, Foreman Ilin?’

‘Her parents passed away… there was no time for processing…’ the Foreman began to stutter nervously.

‘We shall talk about that later! Take me there!’

‘Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!’ and scurried away towards the north of the village with the Sergeant and Anders in tow.

As they approached the house, they could sense something was amiss. There was a thin wisp of smoke reaching towards the sky from the house’s chimney. Aside from this there was no other movement.

‘Darya! Darya, come out here! Didn’t you hear the bell, Darya?!’ the Foreman cried his voice shaking.

No answer came. At the Sergeant’s signal, Anders braced against the front door. Being of a big sturdy build, the door offered little resistance. Inside, they found Darya at the foot of the bed all bound and gagged. The Foreman splashed some water on her face and she came to her senses. Seeing the two men all clad in black she let out a small whimper and huddled up besides the bed post expecting the worst.

‘Speak child!’ said the Sergeant, ‘what happened here?’

Hearing the gruff voice Darya’s defenses collapsed and she started sobbing desperately.

‘Forgive me, your Excellence, I thought I could capture him for you! Please forgive me, Excellence!’

‘What do you mean by that, child?’

‘The stranger, your Excellence! He came two nights past, through the storm.’ the sobbing became erratic.

‘Go on!’

‘He came a knocking in the middle of the night scaring the living breath out of me. He was bleeding profusely, Excellence, I thought he must have come from the war, lost himself in the storm or some such. When I asked about his district, I sensed unease in him, Excellence! I knew right away he was of idle hands! I’m so sorry, Excellence!’ and another bout of sobbing overcame her.

‘Go on, child! Stop wasting our time!’

‘I pretended to help treat his wound, Excellence, and gave him milk of the poppy! He should’ve been out for days, Excellence! He came through just as I was tying him up, though! He overcame me, and left me bound like a dog, Excellence! Please forgive me, Excellence, I thought I could keep him here until the snow passed. I knew you would be along shortly! You and the might of the nation!’

‘Hmmmm! You say he was bleeding heavily?’

‘Yes, your Excellence!’ her sobbing receding a bit.

The men sent out to scout were returning one by one and Anders had gone out to hear their reports. The Sergeant surveyed the house looking at the tossed furniture and the scattered belongings of the girl. The place had a feverish feel to it. On the kitchen table beside an overturned bowl the remaining milk of the poppy had coalesced and was trickling down.

‘Sir!’

‘Yes, Anders!’

‘Some men have found droplets of blood leading westward!’

‘Hmmm! How far is the nearest village, Foreman Ilin?’

‘Two days away, Sir! There’s nothing but dense forest and wolves that way, Sir!’

‘Good! Anders!’

‘Yes, Sir!’

‘Have the men put the town to the torch!’ the Foreman went white upon hearing this and his jaw dropped. ‘Find a horse for the girl and keep her bound, she will be useful on our way back to the Central District.’

‘Yes, Sir!’ Anders hoisted the now fainted Darya atop his shoulders. ‘What of the fugitive, Sir?’

‘The wolves are waiting for that one, Mr. Anders!’ and turned towards the door. ‘Come now, I find this whole place lacking.’

…………….

The winter wind was billowing the fire, spreading ash in the evening sky and as the dark blanket of smoke started to turn grey amidst the chorus of haunted cries, a man was running across the forests snowy floor. He spotted a cherry tree and just as the yelps and growls came into snapping distance, he grabbed a branch and pulled himself upwards.

A trickle of blood fell on the snow bellow and the Alpha licked at it hungrily. He found it somewhat lacking.