Spoiler! :
The two young men strode through the alley, speaking in hushed voices. There was a distinct sense of purpose in their movements.
"Are you sure this will work the way that you intend it to?" asked the taller of the duo, a young man with black hair who appeared to be around nineteen years old. His friend, a fellow of roughly the same age, smiled carelessly and grinned, his dark eyes shining out from behind a curtain of shaggy blond hair.
"Don't worry yourself in the least. I've done this several times before, and each time it's turned out exactly the way I planned. Leave it to me. Now, do you remember what I instructed you to do?"
The black-haired fellow nodded.
"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Here we are at the tavern. Wait outside. I'm sure I will be out within a few moments." And with that, the blond-haired boy dashed through the crudely hewn door of the dingy tavern and disappeared.
Standing outside, the black-haired fellow strained to hear what was happening within. At first, he heard only the normal sounds of a saloon: the clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversation, and an occasional rough laugh accompanied by the slamming of mugs on tables. Then, he heard his comrade's voice, speaking arrogantly to an unknown person. He listened as the voice was met by another far rougher one that grew progressively louder, swelling until it was quite easy to hear. The voices began arguing, growing increasingly more fervent, until at last the tavern door was hurled open and his friend emerged, followed quite closely by an incredibly infuriated sailor.
"Ye'd best watch yer manners, boy," snarled the red-faced sailor as he cracked his knuckles. "Ye've got no sense pickin' a fight wit' a man twice yer size and strength."
"Perhaps," answered the young man he was speaking to. "But I suppose we'll just have to see."
"We won't have to see a blasted thing!" roared the sailor. "Tisn't a man in this 'ere crowd that could knock me down, and ye think ye can! Fool! You'll pay! Let's see how purty face of yers looks after me fist has had its way with it!"
"My good man, I welcome you to try. But I doubt that it will be as easy as you think it is."
The brawny sailor spouted curses at the boy, bristling with rage. Standing calmly, the lad smiled out at the man from beneath bushy brown brows, his eyes snapping with mischief. His light, muscular frame appeared a paltry match for the massive sailor's body, but he seemed strangely unconcerned.
Meanwhile, the black-haired lad had overturned a pail he'd found in the alley and was standing atop it, surrounded by a crowd of ruffians that had emerged from the tavern.
"Men, shall we make this match a bit more interesting? Is anybody willing to place wagers?" The sailors cheered raucously, and the lad was nearly toppled off of his bucket as the throng moved towards him, digging in their pockets for a few coins with which to bet on the fight.
Surrounded by the crowd of cheering ruffians, the blond-haired fellow and the sailor began to pace, keeping their eyes on each other as they circled. Even the boy's formerly relaxed frame had grown slightly tense, but he still kept his cheerful composure, smirking as he moved. His opponent, on the other hand, was anything but jolly. His already unpleasant features had grown even worse as his face contorted with anger. How could this mere lad, this fellow who barely seemed to have twenty years under his belt, expect to win? It was slightly uncanny, the way the boy didn't seem to be afraid, but the sailor brushed it off. He would teach this arrogant lad a lesson.
The boy was aware of his opponent's strength. It didn't matter to him. He knew this type of man. They had hot tempers and slow fists. As long as the man didn't get a hold of him, he would emerge the victor. He needed money, and his share of the wagers would buy him what he wished: passage on a ship out of town. Nothing would stand in his way.
"Start the bloody fight already!" yelled one of the grubby onlookers. And so, it began.
The gigantic sailor charged. Sidestepping swiftly and smoothly, as if avoiding the man's thunderous blows wasn't at all difficult, the boy moved out of the sailor's path. The sailor whirled, his chunky fists clenched, and aimed a blow at the boy's face. Grinning, the boy ducked.
"Is that the best you can do, old man?" he asked.
The sailor swore and swung again, but the boy dodged the blow and moved behind the sailor before the sailor had understood what was happening. Grinning broadly, the boy swept an open hand across the sailor's head, further maddening him.
"I'll get at ye, I swear I will!" the sailor cried, attempting to hit the boy only to have his blows returned by the boy moving quickly out of the way.
The boy laughed. It was time to put the sailor out of his misery.
The next time that the sailor swung at the boy, the boy dodged, but, instead of moving out of the man's reach, he pulled back and drove a fist into the man's face, stunning him. The boy's fists hit the sailor's face again and again, and, seconds later, the sailor toppled to the ground, his face slamming into the dusty cobblestones.
The crowd fell into a hushed silence as the boy picked up his worn jacket and, donning it, walked lightly over to the table where the wagers had been placed. Gathering his share of the winnings and tucking it into his pockets, the boy smiled, bowed gracefully to the crowd, and made his way out onto the street. The men watched him quietly as he left.
Inhaling a deep breath of salty sea air, the lad sighed happily and walked off down the street. Moments later, he was joined by his comrade, and the two boys, grinning from ear to ear, headed off to the docks.
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