Fears Realized

Bird wiped down a table spilled with more than he could identify. Not the most noble work, but it had to be done. Despite the inglorious role he now endured, he still wore his leather armor. It was something to hide under, to conceal what he was from the dozens of customers that ebbed and flowed through the tavern.

He tried not to think about how he still stood out.

Returning to the bar, he nodded to Alphonse. “Table nine is clean, you can send that party over when they get here.”

“Thankee,” Alphonse said, wiping down a glass. “How are you holding up?”

Bird shrugged. “Still wish being a medic worked out.”

“I know kid, I’m sorry. People still find trust tough.”

Bird shook his head, glancing out at the evening crowd. “Can’t really blame them, I guess. It’s no secret that something’s wrong with me.”

Alphonse paused in his work and looked pointedly at Bird. “You quit that kind of talk. Yrsa wouldn’t have vouched for you if she thought something was wrong with you.”

“Even if being around me is unsettling?”

“They’ll get used to it like I have.”

“I’m not so sure.” Bird glanced out at the tables. A bit busy, but not a rush.

Alphonse started wiping down the glass again. “They’ll come around. You’re a good lad. Give them time to see that. We don’t get outsiders much, that’s all.”

“If you say so.”

“You might find more welcome if you didn’t wear that mask.”

Bird scoffed, his fear amused by the suggestion. “I very much doubt that. If I took this off, it’d be over for me.”

“Yrsa said she’s seen your face.”

“Yeah, exception to the rule.”

“Why are you so afraid of being seen without it?”

“If you knew what was under it,” Bird said, “you wouldn’t be asking me that.”

Bird hefted up his carry tray of dirty dishes and other cleaning products, about to head to the kitchen to drop them off, when he saw Alphonse’s expression shift as he looked past Bird.

Glancing behind him to see what Alphonse saw, Bird sighed.

“Those two again? Don’t they know Yrsa trespassed them?”

“Oh, they know,” Alphonse said, setting the glass down and crossing his arms with a scowl. “They just don’t care.”

Two men, dressed in wealthy, pompous garb, had entered the tavern. Bird’s bones prickled with irritation, remembering the last time he’d crossed their paths. It still irked him they didn’t get in trouble for harassing Yrsa or for trying to leave without paying if Bird hadn’t stepped in.

That day, he’d been a mercenary for all those snobbish buffoons knew. Somehow, Bird doubted the two would still fear him after seeing his new job as a busboy.

“I’ll go tell Yrsa,” Bird said. Stepping into the kitchen, Bird placed his carry tray down and turned back to re-enter the dining room. As he stepped to the door, it swung open, and Bird halted in his step.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bird grit his teeth, recognizing the man in his way.

“Benedict.”

Benedict had the nerve to smile as he moved to block the exit. “So, you do remember us. Isn’t that nice, Deagal?”

Deagal appeared beside Benedict in the doorway, smirking as he leaned on the frame. “I don’t know, Benedict. After all, he is the help. It’s his job to know who he serves.”

“True, true.”

Bird tried to duck around the two as they chatted, but was shoved back by Deagal.

“Leaving so soon?”

“You never even answered my question,” Benedict said. “Where are you off to?”

“Somewhere far away from you two,” Bird said, a glowering look in his strange eyes.

“You hurt my feelings,” Benedict said, shaking his head.

“Good.”

“Rumor has it that you survived a stab through the heart,” Deagal said. “Another says you’re undead.”

Bird clenched his fists. Even though the magistrate had dropped the case, it burned that he couldn’t hide the incident with the guard. Whispers followed him. Eyes would linger on him only to dart away when he cast his glance in their direction. Others would cross the street to avoid him or keep him at arm’s length. His attempts at setting up a medical career here died before they began. Leading to spilled drinks and dirty dishes.

“I don’t care what rumors you’ve heard,” Bird said, his frustration augmented by the rumors plaguing his life. “Now move, I have tables to clear.”

“I don’t think we will be doing that,” Benedict said, chuckling.

“Then I’ll go through you.” Bird pushed past the two men only to be grabbed by the forearm.

“Not so fast,” Deagal said, pulling Bird back with a yank.

Unable to overpower the man, Bird let the intensity of his presence build. Fear. Unease. Fright. These things Bird always emanated, despite his best efforts. Regardless of what he did, his presence was unsettling. Yet though he could not rid himself of it, he could make it greater. Louder. Pressing out any desire to be near him. Press on the trembling hearts of those nearest to him with terror and discomfort.

Deagal wavered, then flinched, letting Bird pull free.

Turning his back to the men, believing them cowed, Bird walked the last step to the door.

A shove from behind as sent Bird crashing into the nearest table, its occupants gasping in startled fright as they jumped back or fell out of their chairs. One woman froze, another snatching her drink out of the way.

“Nice trick,” Benedict said, walking over and grabbing Bird again, this time by the collar of his shirt. “But you won’t spook us twice.” Bird grabbed Benedict’s wrist, twisting and prying,  but the man had a solid grip on his shirt as he forced Bird to stand.

“Can’t believe we ever fled from you,” Deagal said with a shake of his head. “When it comes to a fight, you’re pathetic.”

Bird stomped Deagal’s nearby toes, and felt a satisfied smirk cross his face as the man swore and hopped back.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Benedict said. He reached for Bird’s mask, his tone mocking. “Heard you talking to the bartender. You afraid of losing a little strip of leather?”

“Don’t!” Bird’s smirk vanished to fright the instant before his face disappeared completely, revealing the charred skull beneath as Benedict tore away the enchanted mask.

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere?!” Yrsa hurried into the tavern, sleeves still rolled up from the laundry she’d been doing for the inn.

Benedict dropped the mask and shoved Bird away from him as his eyes trembled, taking in the skeleton’s charred bones.

“Someone get the guards!” Deagal called out, fear in the high quaver of his voice.

Stares turned to frightened gasps and horrified faces. Disgust and fear was all Bird could see, regardless of the direction he turned. He backed away into another table, which was abandoned with gasps of terror.

Bird trembled, assailed from all sides by the eyes of those around him, panic no longer restrained.

 “Stop looking at me!” Bird shouted. “All of you!” He turned and swept his eye sockets about the room; a cornered animal filled with terror.

Fear breathed in every direction Bird faced. People were jumping to their feet, or freezing where they sat. Utensils were dropped or grabbed, and the nest of hornets of the general public was riled. Escalating.

“Get away!”

“Necromancer!”

“Skeleton!”

“Monster!”

“I’m not—” A glass hit Bird’s skull, a scream followed. “Ow- Stop!”

A stein struck Bird next, causing him to stagger as its weight slammed against his shoulder. Raising his arms in defense, Bird stumbled back, covering his head. “Stop! Please!”

“Oi! Leave ‘im be!”

Bird saw as Yrsa tried to reach him, but the frenzy had only begun. Bird felt yet another improvised projectile pelt his back and he fell forward, hands outstretched as he tripped over his own feet.

“Yrsa, you knew that he was that thing!?” Bird felt torn as Alphonse’s voice carried over the cacophony.

“He is not a thing!”

“You said he wasn’t a monster!”

“He ain’t!”

Bird ducked under a table, seeking shelter, only to have a guard’s hand drag him out again. His light weight proved his undoing, and his hands were pulled behind him into cuffs.

“How did you get here so fast?” Bird asked the guard as he was pulled to his feet with a rough yank.

The guard didn’t answer him, instead turning to talk to Benedict and Deagal. A smirk was on his arrogant face.

“Good work boys.”

“It was a delight to avenge ourselves, no gratitude required,” Benedict said with a bow.

“I don’t understand,” Bird said.

The guard looked at Bird, disgust curling his lip.

“Simply put,” the man said, “ever since I stabbed you through, I knew you were something despicable. You should’ve run along and not looked back.”

“You set me up?” Bird looked at the guard with shock in the red glow of his eye sockets. “Why? I’ve done nothing!”

“Magistrate made a mistake to let you roam free,” the guard said, pulling Bird to his feet. “You shouldn’t exist.”

“I didn’t choose to exist.”

“Well, you can exist behind bars, with the other things not fit to be in society.”

Bird hung his head as he was taken away, listening to Yrsa rant against Alphonse for holding her back.

The rest of the tavern?

They cheered.