Wrinkles etched themselves from Jorel's eyes down to his upper lip as his eyelids parted.
"You!" Jorel's voice scorned, a venomous hiss as he fully unsheathed his sword. His steps quickened, each one gaining momentum as he charged towards Isan.
Tch! It's probably him! I mean… He has every reason to!
I just want to leave! He's ruining everything!
SWISHH—CLUNG!
Bits of wood chips exploded into the air, as if time itself had momentarily fractured. Jorel twisted his fierce face to the left.
"Oh no…" Dorl sighed, his grip on Tina loosening. The peasants, fewer now, watched in silent dread.
"Why are you attacking me? Aren't you a noble?!" Isan smirked, flying backward.
Jorel's throat remained silent, but his anger roared. He dashed towards Isan once more, this time with a swift, aggressive thrust.
"Woah!" Isan barely managed to dodge, stumbling, losing his balance, and tumbling into the mud.
CLUMP!
Jorel's sword cut through the wind---but not Isan's gut! Jorel's teeth gnashed, his grip on the sword hilt tightening until his knuckles turned white.
"All this because of what, a horse?" Isan chuckled, crawling in the mud.
"For a noble, you sure are petty!" He snarled.
"..." Jorel stared down at Isan, the sun suddenly breaking through the clouds overhead, bathing them in light.
When did I ever mention anything about looking for my horse?!
Which could only mean… It's him!
He did this!
"Where is my damn horse?!" Jorel shouted, purposely digging his sword into the mud beside Isan, sending a spray of muck.
"I don't know!" Isan barked back, clinging to the mud, his legs kicking frantically like a tadpole.
"Hrgnh!" Jorel's throat vibrated, a low growl, as Isan on the ground gripped more mud in his hands. Isan swiftly hurled a handful of mud towards
Jorel aimed or his eyes. He was quick, raising his sword to his face, deflecting the attack.
SCHLOP!
The mud hit the cold steel and slid off harmlessly. Isan, still struggling for footing, tried to stand and run from Jorel. Dorl and Tina scrambled closer, the remaining peasants huddled behind them.
"Where?"
"Is?"
"My?"
"Horse?!" Jorel kicked Isan's heel as he finally stood up.
CLUMP!
Isan fell right back into the mud.
This is what he deserves---for making me touch mud!
How could he first disgrace me! And now steal from me?! A peasant?!
Jorel raised his sword high, ready to drive it down into Isan, who looked up, his eyes watery, his mouth quivering as he held out his right hand.
At this point, I do not care anymore.
He could even be pretending.
As if that'll make a difference.
Jorel shifted his stance, the sword now held upwards, the sun glinting off the blade and onto Isan's pitiful face.
"No!" Dorl shouted, lunging forward, Tina stumbling right behind him, her face heavy with dread.
A quick silence fell, followed by a ringing sound. Only the people's eyes spoke for them as Dorl extended his hand forward---his pupils dilated with fear.
SWWIISH—SSSHLP!
The sword slashed downwards. Isan's right hand flew clean off, twisting and turning in the air as blood spewed, splashing onto Jorel's face and clothing. Isan's severed hand hit the ground, landing in the mud, painting the brown a ghastly red.
Jorel's once gleaming blade was now stained crimson.
"AAHHHHHHHH!" Isan's irritating scream tore through the entire street as he clutched the mangled stump of his right hand, blood gushing out.
Jorel's gaze remained fixed above him.
He should've deserved more…
His inner voice whispered, cynical and cold.
"Isan…" Dorl fell to the mud, staring at Isan. His hands trembled as he continued to move towards him, his steps dragging.
"U-Uncle… Isan…?" Tina's voice fractured, her once gleeful face now streaked with tears. She moved closer, resting her head on Dorl's body.
The peasants recoiled, their eyes fixed on Isan, who writhed in the mud, bleeding out.
Jorel reached into his satchel for his cloth, carefully wiping the streaks of blood from his face and sword. When done, he sheathed his sword, fastening it securely to his waist.
"Hey, Kumigara!" His voice deepened as he directly faced Dorl.
It's about enough now…
"Hmm?" Dorl's body jolted, his head snapping towards Jorel.
"I want to leave, and not waste a second longer. Do something about it." Jorel stared directly into his soul, and Dorl looked back, speechless.
Everyone remained silent, their eyes watching Isan rolling in the mud, bleeding.
Or was he deaf when I spoke?
"Now!" Jorel spoke slowly, but with a sharp edge, leaning in slightly.
"Y-Yes, S-Sir…" Tina's continuous cries drowned out Dorl's stammers and Isan's screams.
"Someone please help! Help… Help…!" Dorl shouted, his voice, though weak, finally prevailing against Isan's agony and Tina's wails. He gently held Tina's head to his leg, and they both rushed off somewhere.
Oh good heavens. At least I won't hear that brat's awful voice anymore.
The clouds parted, and some sunbeams shone directly onto the road as birds flew under the light. Jorel stood there, his eyes lost on Isan.
Wait… Did I---I actually just cut off someone's hand… Me?
He bent his head down, his golden-brown hair falling to cover his eyes.
---The end of chapter 17---