“He’s running away–get him!” A knight shouted as Augustus weaved through the crowd, bouncing from leg to leg with the spring-loaded power of his legs.

  Augustus was surprised at how light he felt on his feet. Klacoch weighed as much as a child.

  Rebounding against the cobblestoned road and feeling the ensuing knights on his tail, he quickly exited into an alleyway between a tall, four-storied casino, and a hotel. Puddles from last night’s rain splashed as he ran through, soaking his leather boots.

  “Can you put me down, please? You’re being rather rude,” Klocach said, poking Augustus in the side.

  “Can you stop poking me!” Augustus snapped at him in anger.

  “Maybe if you stop holding me so tightly I will stop,” Klocach pointed out.

  Augustus tsked in annoyance before he let go of the tension in his hands. It was a habit of his.

  Just as the 3 juvenile knights came around the corner, he exited into the neighbouring street and made a dash to the nearest alleyway. Faster and more agile than the knights, Augustus outpaced them. The burden upon their bodies wasn’t necessarily more than the other party’s.

  The 3 knights were wearing full-plate armour, while Augustus was carrying an entire extra person.

  However, Augustus, having trained intensely every day for the past several years, had far greater endurance than the three young knights, only a few years older than him.

  After several minutes of running at a full sprint, the 3 knights gassed and were left panting on the ground. Meanwhile, Augustus continued on for another few minutes before he slowed down and moved with the crowd.

  At some point, Augustus put Klacoch down and they walked down the road together. The chains linking their wrists were an odd sight but people minded their own business–apart from the staring.

  With Augustus leading the way, Klacoch followed behind him. The two didn’t say a single word to each other. Though the expressions on their faces were telling. Augustus had a heavy grimace, whereas Klocach remained nonchalant and unaffected.

  Wracking his mind for how to get rid of this chain, he lifted up his hand and looked at the blue, illusory chain that was attached to his wrist. He had hopelessly tugged against the chain to–unsurprisingly–no avail.

  And Klacoch, presumably thinking it was some kind of game, pulled back every time.

  Once again, Augustus gave his almost habitual tug of the chain just for the sake of it. But this time, the tug he received from Klacoch was like that of a bear. It was so overwhelmingly powerful that he couldn’t even find the power in his legs to resist.

  He fell against the floor hard. And it ached.

  Augustus growled, scrunching his nose, “What the fuck was that for?”

  “I can tell you have been on the road for the past 4 days now. You’re such a wreck you can’t even escape these flimsy chains of mine.”

  Augustus jumped to his feet and curled his fists into the collar of Klacoch’s woolly robes.

  “Just get me out of these chains already. I need to be somewhere and you are getting in the way. If I don’t do this thing right now I’m going to…”

  Augustus spied the knife at the nearby stall of a butcher, sitting just behind the first row of meat at the chopping board.

  Walking over and dragging along Klacoch in his stead, he walked over. For a brief instant, Klacoch smiled. Augustus ignored the greeting of the butcher at the stall, reached over the slanted wooden display box with all the meats arranged in it, and to the knife left on the chopping board.

  “I’m going to cut off your arm!” Augustus declared.

  Klocach laughed, “Ok. Do it then. Cut off my arm.”

  Augustus stared into Klocach’s eyes, his gaze unfaltering as he gripped the blade in hand.

  He did this for a few moments until he was finally confronted by the stall owner, flipped over the blade, and handed it back to them. After apologising, he tsked, fuming in rage that his empty threat had been seen through.

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  “Tsk, tsk. You do that plenty, don’t you?” Klocach imitated him.

  “Shut up!” Augustus yelled back instantly.

  Klocach did.

  “Why are you trying to act so sneaky? No one’s looking for you,” Klocach yawned as Augustus looked around the corner of the alleyway, spying 2 knights standing at a street intersection, their hands held at their waist as they chatted away, surveying the surroundings every so often.

  Augustus told him to shut up, ignoring his deceiving words.

  This was the street that led into the city’s inner district (aka: where all the rich people lived)

  “You don’t think I’m telling the truth, do you?” Klocach inquired.

  Augustus stepped back, looked back one more time to make sure no one was nearby, and replied.

  “Of course, I don’t. Who would? I mean, you’ve allowed me to walk around like this,” Augustus lifted up the chain and jiggled it around–and it made a sound, that he didn’t know was possible, “I don’t know what you are trying to do, but I’m going to escape before you even realise it.”

  Augustus didn’t blink. Klocach smirked.

  Suddenly an uncomfortably heavy hand landed on the top of Augustus’s shoulder.

  “Evening Klocach,” A charming knight with rich golden hair greeted him with a nod and gave Augustus a side glance.

  Before Klocach could reply, Augustus had ducked below his arm, swung behind him, and thrown the loose chain around his neck.

  That did not happen. It is what he tried to do, however, and instead, he choked air and a metal-plated fist shot straight into his nose, sending him to the ground.

  “Fuck!” Augustus swore as a yet heavier leather boot planted itself into his stomach, stopping him from standing.

  “Everything under control, I assume?” The knight asked.

  This time, Augustus believed it was an actual knight. Not just that, but a distinguished one; one with a bloodline.

  “Indeed,” Klacoch confirmed.

  “I would argue that statement but I will hold my tongue. So everything went according to plan?” The knight asked in a sarcastic tone.

  From beneath the knight’s boot, Augustus spied the insignia of the church on his chest plate.

  “Correct,” Klacoch said.

  “Then what happened to subduing him and bringing him back to our church? What caused you to go off and do your own thing,” The knight demanded to know as he frowned.

  Klacoch shrugged, “I sensed that it would’ve been bad karma.”

  “Bad karma? To offend the children of Anyel is bad karma,” The knight furrowed his eyebrows.

  “So if you’re done playing your game, you may follow me to the church,” The knight said firmly.

  Klocach replied, “Lead the way.”

  And so he did.

  As for Augustus, he was put in his place and was left unable to fight back.

  I can’t believe I got caught, and by an old coot no less, Augustus admitted, his face sunken and shoulders slumped.

  The three men shuffled into the street and with the odd collection of characters before them, everyone was staring. A youth linked up in chains with an old man, and a dashing knight from the church walking alongside them.

  Though the knight had a sour attitude towards Klocach, the knight started up a conversation.

  “Klocach, I hear you’re a wine connoisseur, having tasted wine from all across the world. Is this really true?” The knight inquired.

  “Aye, plenty of them. From the first time I first tasted wine at the age of twelve, I have never not been infatuated with it. It is one of the only things left I truly enjoy. From the Warrens of the East, all the way to The Empire in the east, I have tasted nearly all wine there is to taste.”

  Augustus couldn’t believe it anymore. They were talking about wine now. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  ‘Augustus, just try it!’

  Augustus remembered a collection of memories involving his eldest brother, Andres, offering him to drink wine. He refused, however.

  He had tried it once, when he first turned nine and, when he did, he vomited.

  He tried it several more times after that but found that the hangovers he experienced heavily interfered with his training. If he had even one glass, the next day’s training could be described in one word: slow.

  It was as if one part of his brain had already swung the sword, and then had to wait for the other side of the brain to swing it too. This was with every movement too. By the next day, he would recover, but he didn’t care if it was “only one day.”

  To be frank, Augustus believed that people who thought like that were just stupid. In fact, it angered him when he saw his family drinking too. It is what separated him from them. They would stay weak while he only grew stronger. He knew it all from a young age.

  And so when his family attempted to rope him to drink at parties, events, and Sunday dinners, he would purposely get black-out drunk and make a fool of himself. He didn’t care what other people thought of him–or his reputation–he just wanted to get out of there.

  The first time it happened his father was furious. He had beaten him in front of the entire family.

  Yet he remained persistent, just as he did with everything else in life.

  It happened six more times until his father finally gave up and allowed him to stay home while the rest of the family went out.

  ‘I couldn’t stop myself! Even one drop sends me into an uncontrollable fever!’ He would say to his father, pleading.

  At this point, Augustus had already earned himself the reputation as the Drunken Bastard of the Light Family and any more incidents would continue to taint their prestigious name.

  Yet, somewhere along the conversation in which Klacoch went into detail about his wine-tasting adventures, the knight, whom he now knew as Gladway, asked, “Klacoch, have you heard of the Yachting Vinery?”

  Klocach nodded, “Aye. Back when I still woke up with the morning sun and my bones didn’t ache, I had managed to acquire two bottles of their best wine after I slayed a werewolf that had killed one of their workers. I could tell from just the look of them that they were beauties. It was only five months later, after travelling to an idyllic range of mountains up north of Vitclaw that I shared the two bottles amongst myself and 3 other friends.”

  “I see you remember it well,” Gladway smiled.

  Klocach reminisced for a moment and then further added, “If I could have just another sip of that wine, I would be willing to do anything.”

  Augustus was speechless and came to a stop in his steps.

  Gladway’s face froze. His eyes turned wide.

  “Klocach, you know who I am…right?” Augustus asked, a plan forming in his head.

  “No, who are you?” Klocach answered, shaking his head.

  “My name is Augustus Light. I am the second son of Philip Light, the owner of the Yashtin Vinery,” Augustus stated.

  Klacoch’s mouth slowly widened across his face, growing wider and wider until he erupted in boisterous laughter.

  “What are you two thinking?” Gladway asked, not at all amused by how the situation was currently developing.

  After an entire minute of laughing, Klacoch calmed down and addressed Augustus, ignoring a dark-faced Gladway who was ready to draw his sword.

  “Promise me a bottle of your best wine and I’ll let you go,” Klacoch offered.

  Augustus gave a glowing smile.

  Not a moment later either, did Klacoch find a blade resting against the side of his neck, Gladway staring daggers into him. Klacoch didn’t flinch and remained still, looking at Augustus for an answer.

  Augustus didn’t hesitate to answer in his mind, but his body was stunned and breathless, in disbelief that this was happening.

  “That’s a deal. But hold Gladway back while I get away. Is that fine?” Augustus asked.

  Klacoch said no more.

  All at once, the chains disappeared and Gladway sprung into action.

  “Traitor!” He screamed as his blade swung straight for Klacoch’s neck.

  What he didn’t expect however was for him to stop it with his bare hands. A swing of his sword which he had invested the entirety of his body’s strength into, had been stopped… by a hand.

  Gladway readjusted his perception of the man and quickly glanced at the old man’s hands. They were calloused and thick, and each of his fingers was as large as a sausage.

  Gladway attempted to pull away his sword, but Klacoch had it in a firm grip.

  Anyel, of what material did God create this man with? Gladway thought in disbelief as he gritted his teeth and let go of the sword.

  Augustus remained his priority. The boy was making a getaway!

  And here he was, faced against Klacoch “The Abomination”, a century-old freak of magic and nature.

  Anyel’s light was not shining upon him today.