The two made their way outside where the sky had grown darker with the sun barely lingering above the horizon. The area was full of sounds, such as of birds moving about in the trees and the soft rustling of leaves in the cool night breeze. Underneath the sounds of nature at work was an underlying moan.
“Over there,” Kre said, pointing in the general direction of the odd sound out.
The Ranger nodded and waved the boy forward. “Let’s hurry this up. My stomach is rumbling for some stew.”
They moved through the brush following a trail of broken branches that appeared to have been made by a drunk, fat hog blindly crashing through the woods. It took less than a minute, but they found poor Braun curled up alongside a mossy rock, hugging it for dear life.
“Just leave me to die,” he moaned.
“You’re not dying,” Kre offered in return, kneeling down next to the clerk. He felt Braun’s forehead and almost immediately pulled his hand back as if bitten by something. “He’s burning up. We need to get him inside and to Mr. Marxin.”
Ranger Petriv didn’t make a move towards the pair but instead just shrugged. “You carry him. I’m not touching that man.”
Kre sighed and pulled one of Braun’s arms over his own shoulder. Thankfully, Braun was as small in stature as his ego was large. Even so, all that dead weight was hard to lift but Kre finally managed to get him in a roughly standing position. He turned the two of them back towards the makeshift trail and noticed that Petriv was nowhere to be seen.
“Figures he’d abandon us. In all fairness to him though, you do stink.”
There was no response from Braun, the poor man was simply sagging in Kre’s arms and allowing his head to roll from side to side as soft pitiful moans escaped his lips. He barely walked, preferring instead to lean heavily on Kre and letting his feet drag along the ground.
“…ank…sss…” Braun seemed to gasp in between sounds of agony.
Kre paused as he readjusted the older man’s weight to be more supported by his own legs. “What was that?”
“Blessed Saints,” came the soft mutter of a reply. “Don’t make… repeat.”
Kre nodded and attempted to also shrug in response, but the groan he elicited in response was a reminder of the nearly lifeless body he carried. “Sorry. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you give any indication of gratitude before. Ever.”
Instead of the usual whimper of pain, Braun sighed. If his body could sag any lower, he likely would have done so. “You people treated me like… like an outsider. Always. Never gave me reason… reason to be thankful.”
He intended to argue that point, to point the finger back at the man that wielded his authority and civil powers like a drunk dictator. The people of Mintas tried to welcome him, tried to offer him home cooked meals and invite him to events.
The newly appointed Magistrate not only refused all offers, but also made a point of informing the townsfolk that attempts at bribing or otherwise attempting to influence the affairs of the Magistrate’s Office will result in charges being filed. The message was quite clear, and the wall was swiftly built to separate the townsfolk from their new administrative official. If anyone made Braun an outside, it was Braun himself.
But he couldn’t hear that. He wouldn’t be able to understand and accept that truth. And so Kre, in a rare act of maturity, acts that were becoming less rare these last few days, resolved to say nothing. As Lowil had said just a few hours prior, debating with someone who argues from a position of emotion is a fruitless task. Instead, he trudged ahead, half-carrying and half-dragging the pathetic little man back to the cabin.