Time to begin; open

He never knew how he got into these situations.

Really he didn’t.

He had just been enjoying a quiet night by himself in Itia – hadn’t even been in the city a full night yet – and now he found himself rolling around, covered in mud, and sporting what was sure to become one hell of a black eye. All because he had been chatting up one of the waitresses. Harmlessly! Honestly, he hadn’t meant anything by it. And yet here he was, struggling against her husband who had not taken kindly to Talen’s attentions to the young woman. Why did all the girls here have to be so intoxicatingly gorgeous?!

The man held Talen firmly by the front of his shirt, and delivered a devastating blow to his jaw. The sound of cartilage cracking resonated through his skull and a searing pain spread up the left side of his face. Talen had done a fairly good job of holding the man off until that point, especially given that the older man had at least thirty pounds of pure muscle on him. Brawling was not one of Talen’s fortes – especially bare handed.

Finally he managed to slip out of the man’s grip and scrambled to his feet, one hand cradling his throbbing jaw. It was only then that he noticed the size of the crowd that had gathered. He had heard the noise of them when he had been on the ground, but only in that odd, distant way that accompanies a sudden rush of adrenaline. It was a wonder he could hear anything over the sound of his own blood pumping loudly in his hears.

“Listen, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I mean if I’d have known I certainly wouldn’t have – “ The man rushed at Talen with a garbled, furious yell. The young man quickly ducked under his grasping hands, escaping by less than an inch. The older man was built like an anvil! He certainly hit like a hammer in any case. Talen really just wanted to get out of here with as much dignity as he could muster.

As he swung around to the other side of the man he noticed a flash of silver in the crowd. They were betting? Of course they were. This sort of thing always drew out the worst kind of onlooker. Talen had no delusions on who was the favourite to win this skirmish. He wouldn’t have bet on himself. The merchant scowled darkly; when had this become some sort of spectator sport?

The crowd began to shout and holler and the man took another swing at Talen, catching him in the cheek and splitting his lip. A coppery taste flooded his mouth as the blood dribbled onto his tongue. Talen spat a glob of red fluid onto the muddy, churned up ground at his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Alright. Enough was enough.

There was no chance of him winning this one, but at least he could take it like a man…though there was a really persistent voice in the back of his mind telling him to run away like a frightened little boy. He steeled himself, ready to attempt to dodge the next hit.

For what must have been the hundredth time that night, he cursed his big mouth.

The big brute of a man glared down at Talen as the city watch began to disperse the crowd. The malice in his eye promised much more pain in Talen’s immediate future should the two ever run into each other again – a meeting Talen was going to actively avoid. As the thug was forced away the young man inwardly sighed in relief. It may not have been the impressively masculine showing he would have hoped for, but at least he wasn’t lying unconscious on the cobblestones. Sometimes he had to be grateful for the little things.

He was dimly aware of the young woman who walked over to his would-be saviour, but he was too busy trying to catch his breath to really pay her any mind. No longer caring how filthy he was, Talen sat back into the mud, resting his elbows on his knees and tried to steady the world once more. His head lolled listlessly as he took deep gulps of air in an attempt to regain the use of his lungs again.

The unknown woman’s snide comment drifted over to him, causing him to look up reproachfully – he hadn’t needed saving. He hadn’t been particularly well off, but he had neither asked, nor wanted someone else to step in on his behalf. He was certainly no damsel in distress.

A dark scowl covered his face as he looked up at the other young man who now stood over him. Talen stared at the proffered hand for a moment, wondering how much more humiliation his damaged ego could take. Grudgingly he accepted the help, stumbling to his feet as his entire body throbbed in protestation. “Just don’t expect me to curtsy,” he grumbled.

For the most part it seemed like his injuries, though painful, were nothing too serious. A few of his teeth near the back of his jaw felt a little looser than before, his left eye fought against the swelling to stay open, and his lungs felt like they were being squeezed by a large steel band, but other than that he should probably count himself lucky. He spat onto the ground once more, clearing the last of the congealed blood out of his mouth. “I should live,” he grimaced. “How about you? It looked like he got you pretty good.” He paused for a moment, touching a few tentative fingers to his swollen jaw. “You really didn’t have to step in,” he said, trying not to sound too ungracious, “I would have been fine.” What he would have been was beaten to a fine pulp, but he didn’t have the humility to admit it.

“I don’t know how to repay you,” he admitted. “Best I can do is buy you and your –“ Wife? Betrothed? Sister? “- friend a drink.” Truth was Talen wouldn’t mind a bit of ale himself, at least it might stop the pounding in his head. “Er…not here of course,” he looked back at the tavern where he suspected the woman who had caused all this trouble was still working. It’d be a long while before he’d set foot in there again.