"They're just rotten fruits, and it's rude for us to display all that for our mighty, hard-working guild," Kyren said, voice steady despite the knot in his gut. The market's air was thick, heavy with the crowd's held breath.
Hiro, behind him, froze, jaw slack. What's he talking about? His heart thudded, palms sweaty. The crate had fresh fruits… I hid 'em myself. He shot Cora a look, her wide eyes mirroring his panic. The knights wouldn't buy such a flimsy lie.
The lead knight sneered, unimpressed, his scarred cheek twitching. "You think I'm stupid?" he growled, shoving Kyren hard. Kyren hit the dirt with a thud, breath knocked out, dust stinging his eyes. The knight unsheathed his sword in one slick motion, slashing the crate open. Splinters flew, wood cracking like bones.
Hiro's heart stopped. We're done. He braced for the reveal of fresh peaches. But a sour, rancid stench hit instead. Rotten fruits spilled onto the cobblestones, oozing, speckled with mold.
"What…?" Hiro muttered, voice barely a whisper, his head spinning. How? He'd checked those crates—fresh, ripe, perfect. Now they were a decayed mess. Kyren switched 'em? When?
Cora gasped, clutching her apron, stepping back like she'd seen a ghost. Her hands shook, eyes darting from the mess to Kyren.
The knight, poised to accuse, faltered, nose wrinkling at the stench. "You think this is funny?" he barked, glancing at his men. Another knight stepped up, eyeing Kyren with a squint, suspicion sharp in his rough voice. "First time I seen you here. You a recruit?"
Kyren, still on the ground, met his gaze, forcing a calm nod despite the ache in his ribs. "Yeah," he said, standing, brushing dirt off his pants like it was nothing. "Just helping out."
The knight who slashed the crate muttered, low and sour, then reached into his pouch. He tossed a handful of silver coins at Kyren's feet, the metal clinking on stone. "For the crate I broke," he grumbled, begrudging.
Kyren bent to scoop them up, nodding thanks, his mind racing, the girl's voice—my sweet heart—flickering like a bad dream. The knights turned, mounting their horses, hooves clacking as they marched out. The market's tension unraveled, a collective exhale rippling through.
"Kid, you alright?" Cora rushed over, voice wobbling, her weathered hands hovering like she wanted to check him for bruises.
Hiro stared at the rotten pile, mind tangled. "What just happened?" he asked, shaking his head. "Those were fresh. I know they were. How…?"
Kyren wiped his forehead, breath still uneven, a faint smirk tugging his lips. "I switched 'em," he said, voice low, satisfied. "Saw the knights coming, swapped the fresh ones with the rotten pile in the back."
Hiro's eyes widened. "When? I was right there! Didn't see a thing."
Kyren shrugged, casual, but his hands twitched, betraying the adrenaline. "Got lucky. Knew they'd never buy a full crate of rot, so I left some fresh ones out, hid the rest. They slashed the bad one."
Hiro gaped, half-awed, half-stunned. "You're somethin' else, Kyren," he said, a grin breaking through his shock.
Cora sighed, relief heavy, but her eyes stayed worried. "You didn't need to risk it," she said, voice soft, frayed. "Next time, they might hurt you for standing' up."
Kyren nodded, quieter now. "Yeah."
The market calmed, stalls quieter, the morning's weight lingering. Cora insisted Kyren and Hiro take a break. They found a spot at the park—a patchy grass clearing with a creaky children's swing, overlooking the square's fading bustle. The air smelled of dust and baked bread, a faint breeze cutting the heat.
Kyren bit into his sandwich, the bread tough, and cut straight to it. "Why do the townsfolk let those knights take their stuff?" His voice was blunt, eyes fixed on Hiro, the knight's shove still stinging his pride.
Hiro paused, chewing slowly, like he was buying time. "Ain't what it looks like," he said, trying for optimism, but his shoulders sagged. "Long history here."
Kyren stayed quiet, his stare pushing for more, the girl's voice echoing faintly, unsettling him.
"Years back, this town was in deep trouble," Hiro said, wiping crumbs on his pants. "Raiders, invaders, you name it. Then knights from a guild showed up. Fought for us, saved the place from bein' wiped out." He smiled, faint, like he could see the old stories. "Folks felt they owed 'em everything. So, the deal was, knights could take what they needed—food, supplies, whatever. No one minded then. They were heroes."
Kyren's brow furrowed, jaw tight. "So they just take whatever, forever?"
Hiro nodded, smile fading. "Yeah, been that way years. A kinda gratitude thing. But…" He hesitated, voice dropping. "Things changed when the guild got bigger."
Kyren's eyes narrowed, waiting.
"New recruits ain't like the old knights," Hiro said, sighing. "The ones who saved us don't come no more. These new guys, they take too much, more than they need. And nobody stops 'em."
Kyren's expression darkened. "Using the guild's name to grab free food…"
"Yeah," Hiro admitted, dropping the upbeat act. "But folks don't fight back 'cause they remember the good the guild did. It's messy, y'know?"
Kyren shook his head, voice low. "That ain't tradition, Hiro. That's abuse."
Hiro frowned, the truth sinking in. "Guess you're right," he said, softer. "But what can we do? Town's stuck, holdin' onto old debts."
Kyren stared across the square, the injustice gnawing at him like a bad tooth. "Trapped in a cycle from years ago, and these recruits just milk it. Like some twisted story."
Hiro nodded, feeling the weight. "Sad, but that's how it is. Not all guilds are bad, though! Some help without takin' nothin'."
Kyren didn't answer right away, his mind churning, the knight's suspicion—first time I seen you—mixing with the girl's voice. After a beat, he shifted gears. "Hiro, what's your deal? Your dream, I mean. You really see yourself stuck here, lettin' this be your life?"
Hiro's eyes lit up, like Kyren had flipped a switch. He sat up, grinning wide. "Easy! I wanna join the Sacred Selection Guild."
Kyren's eyebrow arched. "Sacred Selection Guild? What's that?"
Hiro leaned forward, hands waving like he could paint the dream. "It's legendary, Kyren! Top guild in the land, maybe beyond. Best warriors, magicians, skills you can't even dream of."
"Magicians?" Kyren's mind sparked, questions piling up. Magic here too? "Go on."
"It's more than a guild," Hiro said, voice buzzing. "It's honor, skill, the peak of everything. They fight the worst threats—stuff regular folks don't even know about. To join, you gotta be the best. Train hard, prove yourself, understand the world's deep secrets."
Kyren listened, caught by Hiro's fire. "What makes 'em so strong?"
Hiro scratched his head, a flicker of doubt. "Heard it's their artifacts—old weapons, tools, passed down. Not sure on details." He grinned, sheepish. "Saw 'em at the Triumph Tournament. They're unreal. Maybe they're born stronger, or train harder."
Kyren caught the uncertainty. "Artifacts, huh? Sounds like you're guessing."
Hiro laughed, easy. "Mostly from tournaments and town talk. Lots of rumors, y'know? But they're respected everywhere. Keep the world's balance."
Kyren leaned back, Hiro's dream sinking in—big, untouchable. "You think you can make it?"
Hiro's grin held firm. "Gotta try, right? It's all I want. Work hard, I'll get there."
Kyren admired the spark, untouched by the town's rot. "That's a hell of a goal, Hiro. Hope you do it."
Hiro stood, stretching, the sky dimming to dusk. "Thanks, man! Gettin' dark. Let's head home 'fore we're stuck out here. Wanna hear more about the Sacred Selection on the way?"
Kyren nodded, standing, dusting off his pants. "Yeah, I'm in." His voice was steady, but the girl's whisper lingered, a shadow trailing them as they left the park.