Clover hissed behind me, but I didn’t turn. My focus was locked on the axe-wielding psychopath stalking closer.

  He towered over me, long auburn hair styled in—of all things—a mullet. His tattered clothing barely counted as fabric anymore, but he didn’t seem to care about his near nudity. His muscles coiled, ready to strike again.

  I snapped. “Are you insane?! We’re in town!”

  His manic grin didn’t waver. “Don’t care. Let’s fight!”

  He lunged.

  I barely dodged, the axe slicing through the air so close I felt the wind between my eyes. Staggering back, I kept an eye on the gathering crowd, trying to steer the fight away from them. “I don’t even know you! Why are you attacking me?”

  A nagging suspicion clawed at my mind. Was he an agent of the king? There’d been no word of the dragon’s whereabouts, but Lazuris had plenty of other resources to pull from.

  He shook his head, grip tightening on the massive dual-sided axe. “You look tough, and I’ve been itching for a good brawl. Now quit yapping—raise your sword!”

  So he was just an idiot then…

  He swung again, this time embedding his axe into one of the wooden posts lining the street. Mutters of outrage rippled through the growing crowd. I grimaced, waving them back. “Move! Get away!”

  They didn’t listen. Instead, they glared at the brute like he was some common drunkard causing a ruckus. He studied his stuck axe for a second, then slammed a foot against the post, wrenching it free with raw strength.

  His eyes lit with glee as he faced me again.

  Then, without warning, he blurred forward, swinging in a wide arc—too wide.

  He didn’t see the child.

  The same boy who had clung to my leg earlier stood frozen in the shadows. The axe’s blade whistled toward him, so close he had no time to run. His eyes went wide—

  I moved faster.

  Bolster surged through me as I launched forward, my sword flashing in the light. The brute’s face flickered with surprise as I slid between him and the boy, my blade clashing against his axe and shoving it aside.

  A frightened whimper rose behind me. I didn’t look back.

  He wanted a fight so badly he was willing to endanger an innocent–a child? Fine. I’d give him one he wouldn’t forget.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Something in my face must have changed, because his grin widened. He lifted his axe. “Ha! Now you’re taking this seriously—”

  I slammed the hilt of my sword between his eyes.

  His head snapped back, his weapon flailing as he staggered.

  Adrenaline and fury surged through me, shoving aside the exhaustion still clawing at my limbs. Before he could recover, I seized his face, stepped forward, and drove him into the stone street with everything I had.

  The impact sent his axe skittering across the ground, well out of reach. I planted a knee into his diaphragm, pressing down hard. He wheezed, dazed, as I snarled:

  “I told you to stop. You almost killed a child over your stupid brawl.”

  Blinking through the haze, the battle-lust in his eyes dulled. Like a switch had flipped, his grin faded into a frown. “A… kid?”

  His crystal-blue eyes darted past me. The soft, uneven sniffles confirmed what he saw.

  “Oh.”

  All the energy bled from him.

  Slowly, I eased back, releasing his face but staying ready. If he so much as twitched toward the boy, I’d drive his skull into the street until he learned some common sense.

  He sat up, expression crumpling into something between regret and shame. He started to stand—

  The boy flinched.

  The man froze. His brows furrowed, pinching together before he sank back into a crouch.

  “My bad.” His voice was quieter now, rough with remorse. “I wouldn’t hurt a tike. Not on purpose.”

  He extended a hand toward the boy—

  The kid squeaked and bolted behind me, latching onto my leg in a trembling grip.

  The man deflated completely. I rested a hand on the boy’s back, rubbing slow, calming circles. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you.”

  The words were meant for the child, but my gaze stayed locked on the man. His eyes darted away in shame.

  “I only wanted to fight you,” he muttered.

  No anger, no excuses—just regret. I sighed. “My armor’s already messed up. I can’t afford to wreck it more, especially since I’ll be heading out soon to get supplies for the refugees. If you want a friendly spar, wait until things are settled.”

  I eyed the damaged post where his axe had lodged earlier. “And be careful where you pick fights. Towns are cramped. Even if you don’t hurt someone, you can still wreck their home.”

  His gaze followed mine, and he winced. “I’ll help fix it.”

  “Good.”

  I stepped back, letting him stand. The boy sniffled again, still clinging to my leg. I ruffled his hair. “Why don’t you go play or rest? You’ve had a long day.”

  I half-expected him to argue, but he just nodded. Rubbing his tear-streaked face, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, which immediately closed around him.

  Once he was gone, I faced the man again. “Now then—”

  The town hall doors slammed open.

  Clover stormed out, eyes blazing with fury.

  Before I could react, she raised her staff and brought it crashing down over the man’s skull.

  “Damn right you’ll help fix it, you oaf!”

  …I really should have seen that coming.