Stomping, running, pushing, and screaming erupted. The masses of people shoving each other aside like flooding water. Panicking people tripping over one another in such a frenzy, blood began to flow not from bullets. Charles could hear the gunshot being fired just up ahead, only a couple yards away before the still unseen gunman walks into view. In the face of danger, he immediately turned around, legs muscles twitching to begin the run. Then his body halted in place not by his own will.
*beat, beat, beat*.
(MOVE, come on move!)
The rapid pace of his beating heart only fueled the panic in his chest. Charles screamed in his head for his body to start moving. The whispers from his dreams begin to come infecting his mind in daylight now, telling him to stay, watch, and he'll be safe. He wanted to move, he forced movement to happen, but it was ultimately futile as hundreds of invisible hands held him in place.
"Why aren't you running, master?!".
Edward, tugged at Charles hard.
"Move or we both die!".
Charles's eyes locked forward and kept looking forward. People are bumping into him rapidly.
"Get out the way now punk".
A random fleeing civilian cursed him as she passed by. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist in surprising force. His body being drugged to the side out the thinning stampeding crowd.
"By the mother, your heavy master".
Somehow the butler mustered enough strength to lead him out the way. A twitch pinged the sides of his lips. Then the twitch dropped once the expression of the butler turned to horror over his shoulder. A cold metal barrel pressed against his head. Both men froze and stood still, the beating of hearts ringed their ears. The distinct click of the hammer being pulled back stabbed through the beating.
"Ya should've ran like the common bloks. Hand over your valuables, NOW! I won't ask you twice".
…silence.
"What did I say about repeating myself".
*BANG*
Charles closed his eyes shut to the deafening discharge of the gun. Tears dripped down his cheeks slowly… though there was no pain, no blood seeping down his head. Confusion set in. The invisible force holding him in place lifted subtly. Charles' feet lifted off the ground suddenly, his view going up. He found himself behind one of the stands. Turning his head to the left was the panting butler, most likely having pushed him down to hide.
"Bloody let me go. You disgraces have no right to stop me".
Peeking over the top of the stand, Charles could see the gun being held high up. A familiar officer in dark blue holding the gunman's wrist. Other blue guards surround the shaggy looking man.
"Stay, watch, see, and observe".
The whispering starts up again. The forces from earlier compelling Charles. The sting of his eyes drying out from being held open.
The officer gripping the wrist of the gunman ripped the revolver out the grasp of the man. The now de-armed man swung his right fist toward the officer holding him. That fist was also caught by another blue guard. Other blue guards start circling. Expressions steeled from emotions.
The man kicked and screamed to be let go. He was getting more aggressive by the second. The blue guard held him tighter. A split second later that same man dropped to the ground, standing over him, was head of the blue guards, fist still in the same position it had landed.
"Cuff him".
Another blue guard approached with handcuffs, grabbing the man's wrist, twisting it behind to clasp on. They pull the gunman up before dragging him off. One of the officers however stayed behind to record the scene. Their pencil scribbling down notes before bagging up the dropped firearm.
Staring in astonishment, Charles felt like this world's law enforcement worked faster than his previous one. Never would he have expected them to show up in under minutes. A ping of admiration coursed through him slightly.
"I'll have to properly give my sincerest thanks to them eventually".
"So master, are you still up for fish"?
Charles jumped a little, having forgotten his butler was still right next to him. Then chuckled out a response.
"You think some of the fishermen would lower their prices even more now? After this whole ordeal".
"Maybe we could get lucky if they do so, but I'm a bit skeptical as to if they will lower prices, master. We'll most likely have to bargain for tuna".
"Why tuna of all fishes"?
"Simple, master Hawthorne. Tuna is quite common to catch, so sell at a lower price, though what sells the deal is the amount of fish you get. Tuna are a large species. We'd most likely be eating well for quite awhile.
Charles nodded in agreement to that logic. If it meant he could eat, then there was no reason to doubt it.
"We should probably head there before the owner of this stall returns to find us using it as a hiding spot. Allow me to assist you up, master".
They slowly peaked over to survey if it was clear to leave. Having seen nothing or no one left in the area, Charles and the butler walked out from their hiding spot back to the street. The butler walked ahead slowly, though Charles took one more look at the stall they were just at.
(Ah, potatoes and peppers huh. No one's around to see. I guess I could borrow a few of them).
Charles looked around a couple more times before slipping in a couple potatoes into an inner coat pocket, then some peppers into his pants. The butler turned around to see what his master was up to. Charles immediately placed his hands into the pockets of his long coat in hopes of looking innocent.
"Master".
"Yes"?
Charles tries to feign innocence with red hands.
"There's no one around yet, take a couple more, master".
Shock ran through Charles before getting giddy. He hadn't expected to be encouraged to 'borrow' produce before. Grabbing more potatoes to stuff into his pockets. Charles walked over back to the butler in a hurry to make it to the fish stand at the port.
Edward smugly raised an eyebrow.
"I'd thought you'd grab more than that, it seems master has more morals then my original thought".
"Ahh…yes, right. I can't take too much. Vendors still need to make a living after all".
Charles placed his hands back into his pockets. He would've grabbed more but his pockets were full, so went along with what the butler said to seem less scummy. His fingers fidgeted in the pockets, unexpectedly the middle right finger slipped through a hidden hole in the pocket. Not wanting to bear more trouble for the butler, he kept the hole of the picket to himself.
"How much longer until we reach the port"?
"Mmm, I'd say about approximately four minutes before reaching there, master Hawthorne".
Master this, master that. Charles felt it was too formal. He was never one for formalities. Stopping suddenly, Charles turned to the butler.
"Edward, could you by any chance drop the formalities and just call me by my first name"?
"I do apologize, master, but it's only proper for a servant to address their superiors as such. Dropping titles for casual talk could draw unwanted criticism from traditional practice. It'd be better to stick with what we already have".
"Thats not the point! Being called a master is a difficult feeling to grasp. It feels unfair for you to constantly address me as so. I'm begging, just call me by my first name".
"We can't, it's a social class. To break structure could cause us trouble".
"Then is there any compromise we can both agree upon"?
Pausing for a moment, Edward thought of different possibilities for what situations a first name basis could work. Knowing full well if they get caught, it would mean scrutiny from highly traditional nobility. Though such a request from his master couldn't be refused by a servant as himself.
"…I suppose our safest option would be when we're secluded from the public. It'll be a struggle to stop old habits when done for so long".
"Let me hear it once. Call me by my first name".
"…Cedric".
A soft smile spreads across his face to hear his name that wasn't even his. Simple and honest words felt more impactful to him than anything else.
"Thank you for saying it".
"My pleasure, mas… I mean Cedric".
*laughing*
"You were right about it being a habit. I won't force you to remember our compromise".
Edward puffed out his cheeks in a joking pout. Feigning offense to such childish teasing. The jokes went on between the two until they finally made it to the fish market at the canal port. Surprisingly there were still some fishermen still operating their stands even after the earlier incident.
"We're looking for tuna, right"?
Looking over at least six remaining stalls, Charles surveyed only one of them was selling tuna. A man with a thick coated beard.
"Prepare yourself. Bargaining with sellers is the most difficult part of these exchanges, Cedric".
Steeling themselves, before strutting. Charles made the first move. Putting on a leisurely voice.
"Good sir, may I inquire as to how much you're selling these tuna for"?
"Lad, these fishes go for twelve shillings a fish".
Hearing the price, Charles looked back to Edward. Silently asking with his eyes if it was a reasonable offer.
"Master, we only carry three pounds with us. It's a bit much on our budget. I'd recommend going cheaper".
*nod*
"As my butler says, could we go for anything lower? Maybe by four shinglings".
"Lad, price is set where it's at. I won't go lower even if you beg me".
Hearing the adamant response of the fish seller, Charles took a step back to reevaluate his approach. Looking over, he noticed the seller had an ornate pendant around the neck. A small vigil of a woman holding planets in her arms.
(A religious fellow huh. Maybe I could use that to my advantage, but which deities' names to call upon).
Thinking back, that clown from earlier had mentioned the locals worship the mother of creation, Charles thought. That'd be the most likely answer to his conundrum.
Clasping his hands together, while going on one knee. Charles began the pity act.
"Please good sir, won't you have a little pity on a poor soul. By the mother, I promise to pay you back for your kindness in the future. Find it in your heart for a little kindness".
The fisherman narrowed his eyes at the pitiful display, then to the butler who was now further away to the side. The butler had a look of grimace, even slightly shivering.
"What act are you trying to pull, lad. Playing with my faith won't get you anywhere besides a broken jaw".
Charles, now slightly sweating from such a threat, awkwardly smiled with his unnaturally white teeth. In hopes to look even more pitiful, he got onto both knees. The clasped hands now closer to his heart to act more sincere to the fisherman.
"My good sir. By my life and by the will of the mother, I meant no ill intent. I humbly ask for some pity, not a handout".
"Lad, I'll give you a count to ten to leave my sight. If you're not gone by then, then I'll personally cave your skull in".
Such a threat rang silently in the breeze. The fisherman's calm tone while making a threat felt more real than a violent outburst. Charles felt a hand on his shoulder. The butler nudged him to move quickly.
Ignoring the nudge, Charles locked himself in place and waited for the fisherman to reach zero. Determined to see this through. He looked into the fisherman's eyes when he reached the final number.
"Young blokes like you can't seem to get a bloody threat even if it kills you".
Rushing around his stall, the fisherman grabbed Charles' neck tightly with left arm. His right arm winding back a fist in shaky anger. Charles realizing that the man meant a legitimate danger, began to wiggle slightly to loosen the hold on himself. Looking back up, he saw a fist crashing forward. In a natural reaction, he closed his eyes shut tightly, ready to feel the impact make landing. But instead felt the grip around his neck leave.
"Lad, you're all skin and bones. Your neck is practically a straw. Now I see why you're trying to hustle for a cheaper price. I'll be nice today and give you a good deal. Two tuna for a pound. That should give you plenty to eat. What are your thoughts"?
"Yes, yes. You got yourself a deal sir. I'd be most happy to give you that pound".
Charles began fidgeting through his pockets, looking for his money. His pockets were still full of potatoes and peppers, so looking over to the butler to hand over the pound to the fisherman.
The butler in disbelief as to how the pity worked at the end was successful. Slowly pulling out a pound bill from his pocket, handed it to the fisherman. With the fee paid, the fisherman descaled the fish before wrapping it in cloth tightly, then used string to keep the wrapping in place.
"Alright, your two tuna, lad. Fresh as could be and pleasure doing business. Don't get your hopes up about hustling other sellers. They won't be as lenient. Though you can come back to my stall anytime with the deal we made in mind. I kinda respect your determination".
Bowing slightly, Charles thanked the fisherman for his generosity and for not decking him over the face.
"Bless you sir".
"Yeah yeah, get outa here lad".
"Hail the mother".
"Hail the mother, lad".
The fishermen retorted back.
Waving goodbye, Charles walked off with cold fish in his hands. His butler walked alongside in lingering astonishment. For Charles, he felt like a lowlife for trying to con a hard working man out of money's worth. The two tuna fish he was given were the size of his upper torso, but even fattier by the width.
(I'm so scummy. My need for food has led me to most despicable behavior. I can't face that man again. He only pitted me because I'm too skinny. I should be grateful for this gift, no matter how guilty I feel. Most people wouldn't even give me this opportunity in this world).
"Truly blessing on you, sir".
[Clock strikes 3, When the moon bleeds].