Aching pain burned in her feet as she walked through the town. In her opinion, one should not have to spend so much time standing on their feet as she found guardsmen of the town had to. If you asked her, Nettie would say it was inhumane and cruel, although she would probably only say that in that moment for her feet hurt so much. The uniform she wore felt heavy and uncomfortable on her shoulders, but she had not had time to take it off and store it away where it would be safe. Instead, she felt the strong urge to drink and forget about her aching feet as she walked through the small town. Suddenly she stopped, running into the petite frame and stumbling backwards. Groaning slightly, she looked to the woman. Of course she knew the neatly groomed red hair and fancily dressed woman, “What do you want Ava?”
“Ye ran into me, what do you want Nettie,” Ava narrowed her eyes as a chunk of her bright red bangs fell over her face.
“You got in my way,” Nettie stepped forward to push past the girl, but Ava stopped her by grabbing her arm.
“Yer a bitch, ye know that right?” Ava snapped at Nettie.
Yanking her arm away, Nettie rolled her eyes, “What did I do this time to piss you off?”
“What? You think yer so much better than the rest of us? Hm? How many men do ye bed? Do they pay ye or something? Ye think tha’ makes ye better than us who are actually decent women?” Ava sneared.
“Leave me alone,” Nettie tried to pull away again and walk off, but Ava grabbed her again.
“Yer just a f-” Ava’s voice was cut off as Nettie whirled around and shoved the girl to the ground. Then hastily Nettie rushed off putting as much distance between her and the fallen Ava.
Trestlebridge, even more now in its burnt state, had always been a small town. Moving from one end to the other took a short time. But now as most people’s homes burnt down and refugees came more, the ‘tavern’ area always seemed more crowded with many patrons drinking the low quality ale served within the burnt out building. It smelt, in Nettie’s opinion, of piss and other bodily fluids always making her want to gag a little when she walked in. The ale now days were whatever they could get for cheap, often tasting of piss itself. Nettie mused that perhaps the acrid ale was the reason the entire tavern smelt of piss, although the thought always cut short at the sight of a man actually pissing. Stepping in, she slipped her large helm under her arm as she eyed the area to spot the large shouldered man drinking a pint near the bar. A frown deepened on her features.
Pushing her way to him, she stood lifting her chin, angling her shoulders to stand broad, and puffed out her chest. Although despite her attempts, she was still a short young girl with freckled cheeks and messy hair. “You owe me still,” she said trying to drop her voice to be deeper.
The man turns and looks to Nettie before rolling his eyes. "Oh bugger off," he said. "The deal was with Jonty, not you kid."
"I own Jonty's finances and flock now,” Nettie responded as her eyes narrow on the man. She never knew what the deal fully was, just that he owed her father and he was intent on getting the money due back. She extended her hand out to him and continued saying, “So the deal translates to me. You lost the bet. Pay up."
The man turned fully to look down at Nettie. His eyes met her stern gaze with a vague of amusement. "Look, you're a cute kid. So I'll leave you be. But Jonty's dead so the deal died with him. Now bugger off brat."
Silence lingered between Nettie and the man for a moment before, almost at random, her knee shot up and struck between the man’s leg. His tankard fell to the ground with a clang and the pissy ale pooled out around their feet as the man doubled over in pain. Groans escaped him, now gaining the attention fully of his friend.
"Pay up, Aiken,” Nettie snapped out.
Aiken slowly rose again, now his hand is drawn back before swinging and punching her in the face. In the moment, everything seemed to move so slowly in those few seconds. His arm swung out and she blinked. A single blink before the loud thud echoed chaotically in her head. Immediately Nettie heard the ringing in her ears and things dimmed for a brief moment until she stumbled. She could hear Aiken’s voice break through, "Damned kid, get lost you damn brat.”
She felt the warm blood drip onto her hand from the punch, but that didn’t seem to set the girl back. No, in fact it caused a surge of energy to pierce through her as she, on instinct, stepped forward towards the man instead of away. Her hand slammed into the man’s stomach, squishing in a bit. The man was large and beneath the tunic she could feel his strength. Without hesitation, Aiken’s hand swung around to slap across her cheek. Stumbling over a bit, her hands felt on the ground to feel the cool metal of her helm that had fallen in the scuffle. Quickly she curled her fingers along the edge and stood back up, swinging her hands out to smash the helm into the side of the man’s head. She could hear the thud of metal impacting with his skull and he fell to the side, falling against a charred post. Curses escaped him and he swung back around, grabbing Nettie by the collar of her hauberk and dragging her to her toes so roughly that the helm flew out of Nettie’s hand and hit the ground with a loud clang.
In the commotion, people began to stir more in the bar area and pull away from the two fighting. Barmaids stood back and watched. Everyone watched just the two as Aiken drew his hand back. Before he could release his fist to impact with the young girl’s already bloodied face, a cry of pain escaped him and he fell to the floor. Everyone let out a gasp. Stumbling to her feet, Nettie looked down wide eyed at the arrow sticking from the man’s leg as his friend hurried to pull Aiken back to his feet.
"What the bloody heck?" the man glares at Nettie as if somehow she magically had spit out the arrow from her mouth or something.
Quickly Nettie’s hands flung to the air as she exclaimed, "It wasn't me!"
"Let's get out of here Aiken," the man growled as he gripped his friend. “Before the brat turns the town against you or some shit.
Spinning around, Nettie tried to grab onto the men, but they pulled away from her and ducked out of the tavern area. In their flight, Nettie called out as loud as she could, "You still owe me you bastard!"
People began to disperse unnervingly and flee the tavern in fear of the flying arrows. Nettie breathed out and rubbed her forehead before out of the corner of her eye she noticed the familiar face of the, what it appeared to her, crazed southerner with a bow. Turning a bit, she looked at the woman somewhat wide eyed before collecting her helm and rushing closer, “Did you shoot him?"
"Aye. They take you more seriously when you don't play with them,” the woman said as she slung the bow back onto her shoulder.
“I…” Nettie stopped in confusion as she eyes the woman, using her leather gauntlet to wipe at the blood still stained on her face. “Right… I need a drink.”
Turning her head, Nettie reached out to wave towards a bartender as the southerner spoke again, “Where do they live? I'll break their doors down for you."
Nettie hesitated as she eyed the woman, "No, I can handle my own affairs." She then turned to the barmaid, "Hey, get me an ale."
"Oh yes,” the southerner said sarcastically, “because you handled him so well."
Snatching the tankard away from the barmaid, Nettie looked to the woman and felt a bristle of annoyance poking down her spine. Tensing her jaw, she narrowed her eyes, "To be honest, I should arrest you for shooting the man." She then let a slight breath out before saying in a more pouty voice, "I wasn't entirely losing the fight."
“Next time I will let him slap you around." The southerner said with a straighter posture, a finger pointing at Nettie, "You have a bloody nose and bruises forming. I probably saved you from his friend jumping in on the fun."
Letting her helmet rest at her feet, Nettie raised a brow and lifted her head a bit, pushing two fingers to her nose in order to try and clog some of the blood. "Donald's a pussy,” she spoke with a slightly higher pitched voice from her nose being blocked, “I doubt he'd get involved. If it was Oliver, I'd be concerned."
"Now, I am offering to help you get whatever you are owed,” the southerner continued. “They may not be nice next time, unless you show them that you are not a pushover.”
Nettie narrowed as she says, "It would be unlawful for me to acquire such help."
"Alright,” the southerner shrugged. “Have it your way.” Then the woman waved her hand down to a barmaid as she calls out, "Another ale, please!"
“Me too,” Nettie calls out to the barmaid before looking back to the southerner. She then stands straighter, saying in a harsher tone, "By the way, don't go shooting more folk."
"I will not get involved into your laws then," the southerner grunted back.
Nettie began to speak, “You probably shouldn’t….” she pauses as she turns her head, recognising a man walking into the tavern and feeling her heart drop a little.
Her voice trails off as the southerner speaks up, "Next time, I'll let you get beat up in front of the town."
Nettie quickly tries to wipe the blood away completely from her face as she snaps her gaze back to the southerner, "Oi! I wasn't getting beaten up."
"It looked otherwise,” the woman snorted.
Suddenly Corrben’s voice came from beside Nettie, causing her to jump, “Who’s getting beat up?”
As quickly as she could, Nettie lifted the tankard up to drink from as an attempt to cover up her face as she speaks, "No one is getting beaten up." She then slowly lowered the tankard from her lips as she wipes her nose again. Sharp pain shot through her head as she agitated the already sore skin, but she resited the urge to wince, "Ms... er.... southerner woman and I were just talking here."
The woman let out a laugh as she bowed her head and turned to move away from the two, “Excuse me for a moment…”
Watching the woman go, Nettie swallowed softly as Corrben crossed his arms, "What happened?"
"Nothing, Corrben,” Nettie muttered out.
His hand reached out to gently touch under her nose. Pulling it back, Nettie could still see the soft glimmer of light touching the moist blood on the tips of his fingers. She let out a sharp breath as she pulled away from the man, muttering out, "Just an argument. The southerner lass got involved and helped me."
Corrben’s eyes widened ever so slightly, "An argument. How'd you get the black eye that's starting to swell and the bloody nose? Who was it?"
Looking over her shoulder, an enormous man entered Nettie’s line of vision causing her to tense up more. A massive man he was, towering over everyone in the tavern area. The sort of men Nettie would imagine hearing in fairy tales meant to scare children away from forests and dangerous lands. Nettie never could believe a giant was a real thing, but watching the giant man caused her to tense up and catch her breath in her throat. Finally she snapped her gaze back to Corrben and let the breath out, "Don't worry about it, Corrben."
Corrben simply frowned at her, "Fine, I'm going to wash up and change, when I come back we'll talk a bit more."
He then turned and walked off leaving Nettie to let a breath out, feeling her shoulders and spine only tense up more. Turning, her eyes find another barmaid as she calls out, “Another, please.”
The night passed on and became hazier in Nettie’s memory with each passing moment. After a while, her mind falls blank without remembering entirely what happened. When she awoke the next morning, her face felt sore from the bruise that swelled around her eye and her head spun as if she was thrown in a circle the entire evening. She felt sore, tired, and nauseous before she rolled over and fell back asleep through the next day.
