Knight & Squire: Unwilling

     “Stop, thief!” Lisha shouted as she dashed after a little Green Ogrin. She had to get it back. She had to! That Wand of Ultranova had been hers for as long as she could remember. It was as much a part of her as her ears.

     “Can’t catch me, Four Eyes!” taunted the thief. He clutched the Wand of Ultranova in his right hand as he wove through the crowded street of Meridell’s overstuffed central market. Good thing the people were out in full force. It made it that much easier to disappear. The Ogrin grinned smugly to himself, “Easy as Meerca Pie.” He melted into a narrow back alley, stowing his prize in his satchel.

     Lisha had continued her pursuit despite an armful of turnips nestled in the crook of her left arm and a Healing Potion III in her right. She had been doing quite well until the treacherous turnips began to jiggle around. Not now! she mentally pleaded. Unfortunately, her bad luck lingered as she tripped over her own feet. That’s when the veggies began to make their escape.

     “My turnips!” she exclaimed mid-fall.

     The thought of potentially soiled vegetables evaporated as she felt gravel dig into her knees and scrap against her palms. She gritted her teeth as she surveyed the domestic wreckage around her. The turnips were in an inadvertent race to see who could scatter amongst the crowd fastest. Some had already been trampled underfoot. Meanwhile, there was nothing left of the Healing Potion III. Just some sad fragments of glass and a loose cork.

     Don’t cry, she told herself. You can always come back for more turnips, and Kayla will understand once you explain what happened. Too late. She sniffled as the tears began to trickle down her face. “Jeran!” she cried.

     “What a loser,” the Ogrin said to himself. “No one can beat Rowan Sticky Fingers.”

     He had just begun to strut when he bumped his head against something solid. Something muscular. Ignoring the erect hair on the back of his neck, Rowan gazed upward to see an azure-furred Lupe frowning at him. The Lupe wore a dull, brown-red tunic with muted beige highlights on the shoulders and bottom. Dark brown pants hung loosely on his legs, almost dusting the ground. His arms were crossed, resembling a disappointed father who had just caught his son stealing from the candy jar.

     Rowan’s eyes widened for a second before he regained his composure. He’d never been caught before. “How–?”

     “You think you’re the only one who knows these alleys?” Jeran cut him off. “A knight’s job is to be ever watchful, and I saw you snatch the wand from her bag before the chase began.” His hooded gaze narrowed even further. The alley’s shadows cast patches on his face, making his lemon-yellow eyes almost glow. “Rowan, was it?” Jeran questioned sternly. He uncrossed his arms and held out his hand expectantly. “Give me the Wand of Ultranova back.”

     Rowan looked the Lupe up and down. So, this meathead was a knight? Rowan snorted contemptuously. Of course. It was in the way he stood as if looking down his snout at the dirty street rat. And it was in his gaze as if expecting something shiny or valuable to be handed to him. Literally, in this case. He probably thought he was the best thing to grace Fyora’s Neopia.

     He narrowed his eyes in turn as the corners of his mouth perked into a scornful smirk, “No can do. It’s not my fault she can’t keep up with her things.”

     Jeran shook his head, “That doesn’t belong to you; it’s my sister’s. Please give it to me.”

     Rowan’s face tensed, forehead crinkling in agitation. His nostrils flared slightly, “I said ‘no.’ Four Eyes doesn’t deserve it since she let it get stolen. Besides, you can’t make me return it.” He clutched his satchel closer to his body.

     Ignoring the derogatory nickname for his little sister, Jeran sighed. Why was he being so snarky? Weren’t children supposed to be wide-eyed and filled with wonder? A brief memory of playing with Lisha in their much younger years flashed through his mind. Grabbing the Ogrin’s right wrist in a gentle but firm grip, the older Lupe began to pull Rowan towards him.

     “Hey! Get your dirty hands off me, Mr. Perfect!” Rowan shouted indignantly.

     Mr. Perfect. Unfortunately, Jeran was familiar with that one. It was one of the many names his seemingly endless, adoring fangirls gave him. Others included Dreamboat, Future Husband, Blueberry, and Jeri to name a few more. However, this was the first time “Mr. Perfect” had been directed at him with such sarcasm.

      Jeran internally shrugged. There was a first time for everything. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you,” he countered calmly. “Just give me Lisha’s wand back, and all will be forgiven.”

     Rowan clenched his jaw in irritation. Stupid knight. Using the fact he was older and bigger to get what he wanted. Suddenly, Rowan’s amber eyes gleamed. Mr. Perfect may have been stronger, but being small had its perks, too.

     A jack-o’-lantern grin spread across his face.

     Jeran quirked his left eyebrow, disconcerted. “Just what are you sche—?” His question was cut short when Rowan stomped on his right foot as hard as he could. Jeran’s eyes widened in pain. He swore he felt something crack. The knight crouched to check his injured foot when Rowan delivered a swift uppercut to his jaw. “Gah!” he exclaimed as he hunched over, letting the wave of pain wash over him. Just what had he done to deserve this?

     “Later, meathead!” Rowan taunted as he scurried away. That had been more difficult than he’d anticipated, but he’d won in the end. Easy, he thought. Probably never going to see Four Eyes or Mr. Perfect again. Unfortunately, he had been too busy basking in his victory to notice a Blue Wocky perusing the market stalls. Thump. Rowan’s head collided with its second object of the day, something cold and metallic.

     “Whoa, there!” the Wocky started as the little Ogrin almost slammed into his chest plate. He placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Watch where you’re going, little guy. Where are your parents? You lost?”

     “Not again!” Rowan exclaimed as looked at the other knight. “Hands off! That wand is mine, you hear? Mine!” He began throwing punches, arms swinging wildly.

     “What’s your name?” the Wocky questioned.

     “None of your business!” Rowan shot back.

     “Calm down,” he ordered. Taking a step back, the Wocky took his hand from Rowan’s shoulder and placed it on his head between his ears. He frowned as he watched the belligerent boy. What was his problem? “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep it up, kid,” he warned. “I’m not an enemy, and you’re not in trouble.”

     “No, he’s in trouble,” a voice interjected. Jeran hobbled toward the Blue Wocky, rubbing his jaw gently as he did. “Your timing couldn’t have been better, Danner.”

     A small smile spread across his face, “Eh, this little rascal kind of ran into me—”

     “Who are you calling ‘little’?!” Rowan interrupted angrily.

     “But I’ll take the compliment,” Danner finished. He frowned at his fellow knight. “What happened to you? Why are you limping?”

     Jeran sighed again, rubbing his jaw for the second time. “That ‘little rascal’,” he began, “stole Lisha’s Wand of Ultranova. I was trying to get him to return it when he stomped on my foot and punched me in the jaw.

     Danner’s eyes broadened for a moment before he brought his free hand to his mouth, barely smothering a chuckle.

     “So, Sir Jeran Borodere, Champion of Meridell and victorious commander of her two wars, was bested by an unarmed shrimp?”

     “Shrimp?!” Rowan screamed.

     Ignoring the Green Ogrin’s protests, Danner brought his hand to his mouth again, “Heh… Heh, heh.” He looked away from Jeran, trying to hide his bubbling mirth. “Ha, ha, ha!” his eyes screwed shut as he let his laughter overflow. Making sure to keep a firm grip on Rowan’s head, Danner continued to laugh at the Lupe’s expense.

     Jeran’s frowned in disapproval at the Wocky, “It’s not that funny, Danner, really.”

     Danner was crying with laughter now, drawing stares from the shoppers. A nearby Red Zafara with her daughter stared at the emotionally incapacitated knight briefly before hurrying along.

     “If you’re done, Danner, I could use some help,” Jeran’s frown deepened. “I’ve lost sight of Lisha, and something needs to be done with…” He gestured at the still-punching Rowan as tried to find a polite word for the child who had caused him so much grief, “…this troublemaker.”

     The Wocky mopped his eyes and exhaled loudly, “Wooooo!” He sniffed, “Okay, I’m all done.” He continued to hold Rowan by the head. The Ogrin’s punches had lost their vigour, his arms swaying. “Jeran, what are you saying? We can’t just throw a child into the dungeon.”

     “I never said that,” Jeran replied as he hobbled over to Rowan’s satchel. A few seconds later, he found the Wand of Ultranova.

     “Hey!” Rowan shouted. “That’s mine!”

     “No, it isn’t,” Jeran responded in a clipped tone. He turned his attention back to Danner, “He needs to be disciplined in some way; he tried to steal something valuable. That’s not even counting my throbbing foot and jaw.”

     The Wocky looked at the Green Ogrin, who had apparently accepted his fate. Rowan’s head hung low, refusing to make eye contact with either knight. “I guess some discipline wouldn’t hurt too much, especially if it prevents him from becoming a bandit,” Danner acknowledged.

     Jeran narrowed his eyes at the Wocky, “That was my point, which you seem to have missed.”

      Danner held his free hand up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. I think this guy has wounded your pride more than anything.” He scratched his chin, then looked down at the rags Rowan was wearing. The Green Ogrin’s shirt and pants seemed to be hanging by threads. “I’ll see if I can find his family if he has one,” Danner told the Lupe. “In the meantime, we can put him in one of the holding cells. You know, where we usually keep people who have had too much.” He winked at Jeran.

     Jeran sighed for the third time that day, “Thank you, Danner. Turns out, you’re not half bad at your job, Lord Sheriff of Meridell.”

     Danner gave his friend a half-smile, “I’m choosing to only listen to your words and not your tone.” He removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt, carefully tightening them on the Green Ogrin’s wrists. “Come on. Let’s find Lisha and get you patched up.” Danner began walking towards the castle but not before placing a sympathetic hand on Jeran’s shoulder. “With any luck, you’ll never see this rascal again. He’ll be disciplined and move on.”

     Jeran glanced at Rowan, who still refused to make eye contact. “I should only be so lucky,” he huffed.

To be continued…