Otto squinted as a ray of light pierced into his eyes. A bustle of activity around him made Otto’s jaw tighten.
The bright sunny day reflected on the faces of every villager. If he dropped the sacks of goods he carried, he could easily knock out ten of the villagers in as many seconds. How satisfying it would be to wipe those stupid grins off their faces. And peace…oh, he’d have an end to their incessant chatter. But, like stomping through a collection of clucking hens, their high-pitched crooning only grew louder when you disturbed them. Besides, knocking customers and trading partners on their fat asses generally wasn’t good for business.
A little statue of an angel stood over a pool of water, hemmed in by a short circular wall of bricks. This marked the center of the square. Around it stood tables of all shapes and sizes, covered with food, cloth, and all the necessities of daily life.
Otto’s fists clenched around the sacks slung over each shoulder. Beside him the uneven step and laboured breathing made him glance down.
Ondreeal struggled to keep her hold on the sack. Unlike most girls her age, she wore simple grey pants with a shirt, sensible clothing for farm work. Ondreeal huffed and puffed until a potato popped out, making her stop in her tracks.
“It’s just too heavy poppa.” Ondreeal collapsed with the sack on the dry dirt path, letting several more spuds escape.
She scurried to collect them, only looking up at Otto with a fearful gaze once all the potatoes were returned to the sack and she held it closed between her small hands.
Otto let out a deep sigh. “You swore you could do this, to earn your keep.”
Ondreeal nodded vigorously.
Otto kneeled down. “Without me, you’d have nothing. Not long from now, you’d be tossed into a whorehouse if you didn’t have me to watch out for you.”
“But I’m only nine,” Ondreeal whispered.
“This world is harsh and cruel, Al. You best remember that.” Otto stood and walked on.
Rose’s wrinkled smile greeted them as she scurried past. “Good Morn, Otto. Same to you, pretty one.”
Ondreeal matched everyone’s happy mood, even as she continued to struggle with the sack. Otto rolled his eyes. Couldn’t she try to be more like him: miserable? He’d done nothing to raise such a happy girl. Clearly, he needed to be meaner.
They approached Franco, who proudly wore a square grey chef’s hat covering his hair and ears. His dark moustache widened when he saw them coming.
“Ondreeal, look how big you’ve gotten. Why, I think you’ve grown at least half an inch since last Saturday.” He laughed and knelt down next to her.
Ondreeal’s face lit up with a giggle. “I’m still the same, I think.” She glanced at Otto, looking for confirmation.
Otto raised an eyebrow. “Count out the vegetables. Hurry up.”
Ondreeal pulled the sack closer to Franco’s table, stacked high with loaves of bread. She pulled out four big and two smaller spuds, lining them up along the edge of the table.
Franco examined them. “Excellent. This will buy you twelve weeks.”
Otto scowled. “Fourteen.”
Franco’s smile faded. “One sack, twelve weeks. That’s how it is.”
“There’s more packed in there.” Otto raised his voice. “Look at the kid—she’s exhausted from carrying it.”
Franco met his gaze for a long moment then looked down to Ondreeal and his smile returned. “I can’t say no to you, Ondreeal. Fourteen weeks it is.”
A woman’s voice shrieked out, “Stop! What are you doing?”
Otto’s head snapped around, honing in on the noise. Talia struggled with two men who they pulled at her young daughter, about the same age as Ondreeal. Talia’s flower cart lay overturned, scattering blossoms over the dirt square. Her long, blue dress ripped, and her daughter’s yellow dress was already covered in dirt from the struggle.
Scared onlookers stood in frozen horror. The village square lay silent except for the sounds of the fight.
Both men wore black and white clothing with golden embroidery around the shirt and pant cuffs. Typical dress for anyone out of the south, no doubt they came from the dark wizard’s land, Zairoc’s kingdom.
“Just let us have a look at the girl,” one of the men said. He pushed Talia to the ground, though she stared at him with the fury of a mother.
The second man took off his white hat with a wide brim. He pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, kneeling down in front of the girl. He held up the paper next to her face. It had a black and white sketch of a girl: the exact image of Ondreeal at the age of five.
Aleenda shone like the light of Atlantia, a benevolent wizard that once ruled the middling nation—north of Zairoc’s lands and south of Sir Francis’s.
Aleenda understood that the dark wizard would never stop looking for Ondreeal. If Otto turned and ran with her, they’d only give chase. If he killed them, the whole town would see he was much more than a simple farmer. Rumors like that would only bring more men looking for Ondreeal.
The second man stood. “It isn’t her. None of them are.”
The first spotted Ondreeal. “Hello. One we haven’t had a good look at yet.”
They marched over.
Otto dropped both sacks and they landed with a dull thud. He stood in front of Ondreeal, clenching his fists.
Both men stopped, staring up at Otto with cold eyes. They looked like wolves deciding if they could take down a larger animal. Hunger would take that decision away and wolves would do things that would risk their lives for a good meal. These men had that hunger.
“Step aside, if you value life,” the first man threatened.
The second man raised his eyebrows and added, “We operate under the authority of the great and powerful wizard, Zairoc. You don’t want to anger him.”
Otto kept his voice cool and steady when he said, “Your authority means shit in the north. These lands are protected by the wizard Sir Francis.”
The first man crossed his arms, examining Otto. “It’s said that Aleenda’s daughter was five when she disappeared, that would make her nine now. How old is your girl?”
“She’s ten, a little runty for her age,” Otto lied.
The second man looked around Otto at Ondreeal. “It’s also said that she would have a protector with her. Someone Aleenda, the kind wizard of Atlantia, would trust implicitly.”
The first man smiled at Otto. “Now you can let us take a look at her. Or you can fight us right here. That will only prove us right.”
Otto could knock them out, make it look sloppy, to hide his fighting skills. Then dispose of them with the help of the villagers. But these were good people that couldn’t stomach such things and it would still bring suspicion onto Ondreeal. It would only be a matter of time before Zairoc came looking for his missing men. Villagers fearing for their own lives would simply point him in the direction of Otto and Ondreeal.
“You want to have a look, go ahead.” Otto reached back, grabbed Ondreeal, and tossed her onto the dirt. “Not much to see.”
The two men looked her over, comparing her face to the sketch. They moved closer, kneeling down on either side. Ondreeal held herself tight, staring at Otto with wide eyes.
The first one smiled. “Maybe it’s her.”
The second man grabbed Ondreeal’s chin. “Hard to tell.”
Otto broke into laughter. “They think Ondreeal is the long-lost daughter of Aleenda. You two are more stupid than you look.”
The villagers observing in stunned silence smiled, agreeing with Otto’s assessment.
The first man stood straightened with clenched fists. “You insult servants of Zairoc—.”
“What’s insulting is thinking you can pass this farm rat off as some kind of royalty. What do you think Zairoc will do to you when you bring her to him?”
The second man stood. “We’ll be reward—”
“For being idiots?” Otto dug into them.
The villagers melted into mocking chuckles.
“You really think Aleenda would let her only child be raised on a shitty farm by someone like me?” Otto took two steps closer to them.
The villagers laughed at Otto’s self-mockery.
Otto spoke low so only the men could hear. “I’ve been stuck with this ungrateful little leach since her mother died in childbirth. She’s slow, lazy, and isn’t worth the clothes she wears. Nothing special about this one except what a pain in the ass she can be. You want her? Then you pay me. It’s worth more than what I’ll get out of her working as a farmhand.”
The two men quickly turned and left the town square, making the village erupt with a roar of laughter.
But, when Otto looked down at Ondreeal, the tears in her eyes told him she heard every single word.
***
Ondreeal rushed through the old farmhouse and slammed her door made of old, dried wooden planks. Otto clomped over, stopping at the entrance to her room.
“Why did you say those things, Poppa?” Ondreeal called through the door.
To protect her, he needed to stay sharp, distant. If he had followed that practice, then no one could catch him off guard the way those men did at the market.
“Don’t call me Poppa. Never again. You call me Otto,” he demanded.
“I remember I had a mother. We lived in a big stone house,” Ondreeal called out.
Otto yelled at the door, “You shut up about that! You’re just a girl. Nothing special about you. Do you hear me? You need to shut up and do what I tell you to.”
Ondreeal’s soft sobs carried through the door. Otto put his hand on the knob then closed his eyes and turned away. He hurried to sit at the table, staring at Ondreeal’s tiny room.
Her whispers carried through the door. “Mother, I remember you, your green dress, and your smile. I’ll never forget you. Never, never. Please come back. Please come back to me.”
“I love you, Al.” Otto’s soft words barely escaped his lips.
He made a promise to protect her and he would. More than a father, he needed to be a good soldier. Mistakes like today could never happen again. He wouldn’t let it.
Her gentle sobbing hadn’t let up. He’d failed to make her tough, strong. She’d need to be, to survive in this world.
And he wouldn’t let her down again.