Secrat Copé and Brutus Ess found Taison and the Wagon. Brutus didn't say very much on the travel to find him. Mostly grunts of agony and grumbles of discomfort. Taison even looked enthused to see them. A day's worth of solitude likely made for a very ho-hum morning for the Red Flux novice. His eyes went from excitement to worry upon sight of Ess' battered predicament. The blood no longer flooded out of his stomach like civilians out Italina would when the Aer Festival ended. Brutus would live but would most likely be sitting out the rest of the Festival.
“What happened!?” Taison asked, like a nervous child, looking around worried as if he anticipated a fleet of Italinian Knights were on their way to kill him.
Samuel Syi kept the basics in medical supplies. Copé thumbed through the crates, rifling through the contents. Meanwhile, Taison awkwardly assisted Brutus Ess into the wagon, where he leaned against the walls, no longer letting out groans, but instead, quietly suffering, “This fucking idiot got me stabbed by some woman!” Or, something like quietly suffering, thought Secrat. Secrat snatched up a bottle of alcohol to disinfect Brutus Ess' wound (and fill his flask), however, once retrieving it, Ess made a grab for it. It would've been too far out of reach had Copé not offered an assist. It did no good having Brutus exert himself and make it worse.
Brutus held it in his hands with a smile like he was holding his newborn son or something, and took a swig out of the bottle, drinking a quarter of it in a single gulp. “Disgusting,” Ess said afterward, with a sour expression, but, nevertheless, he went for a second mouthful.
“Don't drink all of that, you'll need it,” Copé said. But Brutus didn't listen.
Secrat took his knife and ripped up the articles of clothing on-hand for the occasion, Brutus' shirt. “Is that the knife she stabbed me with?” Ess inquired.
“No,” Copé lied. “This is my knife, the knife she had was her own and was dropped somewhere in the Wilderness.”
“The bitch,” Brutus barked. “Shouldn't have got in the way.” That last sentence was directed at Secrat, who he stared at with a piercing glare.
“You shoulder made me aware of your intentions beforehand,” Copé fired back. “Here,” Secrat dropped to one knee, “Lean forward.” Brutus obliged, letting Secrat wrap the shredded shirt around his stomach and tying it in a knot. Secrat would have to buy Brutus a new shirt at the Aer Festival, but, otherwise, everything would be alright. The wound was superficial, although, from Taison's face, Ess might as well already have been dead.
“Is … is …. are we safe?” Taison stammered. His face looked bright-red and his hands nervously shook like tree branches attacked by the wind.
Copé stared at him, serious-faced: “They're coming for us, Taison.”
Taison's expression went from dark-red to something even more mortified.
“And, it's said that Italina Knights feed on stupid, chubby children. Wait, can you hear that?” Copé stopped for a moment. “….Taison, … Taaaaaaison…,” trying his best to sound like a ghost or spirit. “Oh no, Brutus, I think they know we're harboring a stupid, chubby child,” Secrat spoke, feigning fear.
“Sorry, Taison, I think we might have to let them take you,” Brutus said, laughing, although, still with a wincing pain, “You know what they do to pretty boys like me in a prison cell?” Ess smiled largely, rubbing the makeshift bandage on his large stomach.
From mortified, Taison went a different shade of red, a brighter, more embarrassed, red. “You guys are assholes,” he said.
“You're right,” Secrat said, “That's what we are, but we're successful assholes,” The Thief bowed his head over to the chariot.
A priceless statue of Livius Reid was now in The Red Flux's possession.
The Red Flux & the Wunderkind THief
Chapter One (1 - 2 - 3)