Corrupted blood lord

A week later, Kolma had mostly recovered from the initial shock.

The broken stalls were being repaired. The churned mud in the square had to be shoveled away and packed down again. The last of the festival banners were taken down, their bright colors folded and stored; at least some were still intact. But they still had a lot of community work left to do.

People... people were very angry.

Teclos felt it the moment he stepped outside every day.

Eyes lingered on him for a long time. Whispers followed him like a second skin. Somewhere down the street, someone snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "look there’s one of them, bloody rascals."

Younger kids were teasing him and calling him names from far away.

He held his head down and kept walking.

His body still ached. Yellow and blue bruises bloomed along his ribs and shoulders, reminders of the poor decisions he had made that night. His head was finally clear again—but the memories were not kind.

He went to meet up with Gillard and Ralph behind the guild hall, the agreed meeting spot so that they could start working, and Ralph was already there.

He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an expression of exaggerated boredom. The massive, faintly yellow handprint still lingered on the side of his head like a badge of honor.

The moment he saw Teclos, his grin stretched wide.

"Well well," Ralph said. "The legendary Water Bull Slayer arrived at last."

"Oh, shut it, man," Teclos said. "Like you were any better that night..."

Ralph laughed. "Hah! Better than you, most certainly. When I saw you walk in all banged up, I almost pissed my pants."

Teclos smirked. "Yeah? I also have to say that the handprint is looking good on your face."

Gillard arrived a moment later, walking stiffly. His clothes were repaired now, but poorly—patched seams and mismatched thread made it obvious he had fixed them himself. His expression was calm, but his eyes carried a tired look, still full of embarrassment.

They stood there for a second in awkward silence once they saw him.

Then Ralph broke it.

"So," he said brightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Anyone else still grounded?"

Gillard sighed. "I’m not allowed near the forge for another three days."

Teclos rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m on double chores for the rest of the month. And I’m banned from festivals until I’m an adult."

Ralph blinked. "Wait—all festivals?"

"Yes."

Ralph winced. "Damn. That one’s harsh."

"You’re one to talk," Teclos said flatly. "Your father almost kicked you out."

Ralph shrugged. "If you ask me, it was worth it."

It hadn’t felt "worth it" at all.

Teclos still remembered being dragged out of the chief’s house by the ear. Saldia’s grip was unrelenting, and her face was like the calm before the storm. He’d survived the chief’s yelling and even that, barely. But Mom? Her fury was a new trauma he would like to forget.

Besides, he had not survived Saldia yet; that storm was a gift that just kept on giving.

A flash of memory surfaced uninvited.

Gillard, swaying slightly, pointing at the pasture and slurring, "heyy, look it’s our ride!...w-whoever stays on the cow the longest wins."

Ralph halfway over the fence and stuck, but still laughing like a madman.

The ground shaking beneath him as he rode one of the cows. More than thirty terrified cows surging forward.

He clung to its horns, screaming something heroic like he was riding into battle. Stalls collapsed and people dove for cover all around them.

Teclos exhaled sharply.

"Huff,"

"What?" Ralph asked.

"Nothing," Teclos said. "Just...I remembered some things."

Gillard folded his arms. "The challenges got out of hand."

Teclos turned toward him. "You don’t say..."

"Ah, whatever, it was fun, and when we are old it’s going to be a funny story," Ralph said cheerfully.

Teclos glanced at him. "You started this mess, man."

Ralph didn’t deny it.

"At first it was harmless," Gillard continued. "Whoever has the best dance moves, who can drink more, who could pull a girl to dance."

"And then," Teclos said dryly, "we decided to prove who was the better hunter while drunk."

Ralph beamed. "Yeah, that was awesome."

Teclos shot him a look. "Dude, I almost died challenging that water bull with a knife."

"Hah! Yeah, that was legendary," Ralph repeated.

"I got blasted into a tree."

"That part was less legendary..."

Teclos snorted, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips.

People passed by the alley entrance, some slowing just enough to stare. A group of younger teens whispered openly, one of them pointing.

"See?" Ralph said under his breath. "We became famous overnight."

"Infamous, you mean," Gillard corrected.

Then a pair of hunters walked past, one of them smirking.

"Hey," the man called. "Look, it’s the Mud Riders."

They even got a nickname now.

Ralph pushed off the wall. "So. Grounded or not, we’re still us. Nothing is really going to change that, and after a while everyone will forget about this."

Gillard nodded slowly. "But next time... no liquor, Ralph, or I swear to God I’m going to punch you."

Teclos raised an eyebrow. "Next time?"

Ralph laughed. "Oh come on. You don’t nearly die to a water bull and not do something stupid again eventually."

Teclos shook his head.

"...Next time," he said, "I’m drinking less."

Ralph clapped him on the shoulder. "We’ll see about that, haha."

They stood there lingering for a while longer before they started working.

They were the village’s black sheep now, but at least they were in this together, and... it wasn’t going to be boring going forward; they were sure of it.

They went on to the grounds where all the chaos happened. They had work to do, repairs to do.

It looked worse than they remembered—ripped-up soil, destroyed patches of grass, broken fence posts, and wide streaks of dried mud mixed with cow droppings. The ground was uneven where hooves had torn it apart, shallow ruts crisscrossing the whole area like scars.

Ralph stared at it, hands on his hips.

"...So," he said slowly, "hear me out. We start with something easy."

Gillard turned to him. "No."

Ralph scowled. "I haven’t even said what I had in mind yet."

"You were about to say banners, sweeping, or something that lets you lean on a shovel for half the time," Gillard replied.

Ralph opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Okay, rude. But accurate."

Teclos looked between them and then to the destroyed land.

Ralph gestured at the ground. "Look at this. That’s a full day of misery. We could do something lighter first, warm up, ease into it."

"And then what?" Gillard asked. "We’re exhausted, fed up, and then we still have this shit waiting for us?"

Ralph shrugged. "No...we could do this tomorrow, you know?"

Gillard rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That’s not how this works."

They both turned to Teclos.

"Well?" Ralph pressed. "You’re the tie-breaker."

Teclos exhaled and glanced back at the mess.

"Gillard’s right," he said.

Ralph groaned loudly. "Of course you side with him."

Teclos ignored him. "If we do the hard work first, then once we’re tired and sick of it, only the easy tasks will be left. If we follow your "plan," we’ll end up stuck doing the worst part when we’re dead tired."

Ralph grimaced. "You know, I hate your logic."

"We also already handled most of the banners this week," Teclos added. "That was the light work."

Gillard nodded. "And that was while we were still hungover."

Teclos smirked faintly. "Now that we’re all good again, it’ll be more efficient."

Ralph stared at them both, then looked back at the ground.

"...I hate you guys."

Gillard tapped him on the shoulder. "Grow a pair and let’s go."

Teclos lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "And stop whining already, it’s gonna be a fun memory."

"Don’t touch me," Ralph muttered.

They fetched a cart from the storage shed, the wooden wheels creaking in protest as they dragged it out. It was full of tools, prepared for the cleanup work.

The work was exactly as awful as it looked.

They shoveled dried mud, clumps of trampled earth, and far too much cow waste into the cart, scraping and leveling the ground inch by inch. The smell was god-awful. Sweat soaked into their clothes quickly under the sun, dirt clinging to their boots and hands.

Ralph complained the entire time.

"I would prefer fighting a monster," he grumbled, shoveling half-heartedly.

"Yeah, yeah, just shut up and work," Gillard said, not looking up.

Teclos just snorted.

Ralph straightened, leaning on his shovel. "You’re both heartless. Absolutely cruel."

"You’re still talking," Gillard replied. "That means you have enough energy to carry this bag full of shit into the cart...go."

Ralph sighed dramatically and went back to work.

Hours passed slowly.

They spoke less as the day wore on, saving air for the work. Once the cart was filled, it was pushed away to the waste pits beyond the village and unloaded, then brought back again. By the time the sun dipped lower, they’d managed to clear and level about half the area.

Ralph dropped his shovel and bent over, hands on his knees.

"I’m done," he said. "Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally."

"You’re right," Teclos said. "For today, that is."

Ralph looked up. "Wait, really?"

Gillard wiped sweat from his brow and nodded. "That’s enough for today."

Ralph collapsed onto the ground. "Finally! Some goddamn rest!"

"You’ll survive," Teclos said. "Unfortunately, that means your mouth will too."

They cleaned the tools, rinsing mud and filth from the blades, then returned the cart to the storage shed.

The last task was pushing the collected waste to the designated disposal pits outside the village, where it would be used later.

When they finally parted ways, the sun was low and their bodies exhausted and heavy.

Ralph stretched as he walked off. "Tomorrow better be easier."

Gillard glanced back at the half-cleared ground. "Well... it probably won’t be."

By the time Teclos reached home, the sky had already begun to darken.

The house was quiet in the way that made his shoulders tense the moment he stepped inside.

Saldia stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands moving methodically as she worked. The scent of herbs and warm broth hung in the air. At the table, Talmir sat with his back straight, a cloth in one hand and his sword resting across his knees as he cleaned it with care.

Teclos swallowed.

"...I’m back," he said.

But no one answered.

The silence stretched long enough to be uncomfortable.

Saldia didn’t look at him when she spoke.

"You’ll clean the herbal room," she said evenly. "Everything I used today will be cleaned spotless. After that, eat and go to your room."

Teclos opened his mouth. "I already worked all day, I—"

He stopped mid-sentence as Saldia turned her head.

There was no yelling, nor did she raise her voice.

Just a look was enough for Teclos to shut his mouth immediately.

"...Yes, ma’am," he said.

She turned back to the stove as if the matter was settled.

Teclos slipped past them and into the herbal room, exhaustion tugging at his body.

The space was a mess too—shelves lined with opened jars, bundles of dried leaves hanging from hooks, the workbench cluttered with open containers, ampules, and scattered herbs.

He sighed quietly and got to work.

He washed every container, wiped down the bench, re-corked ampules, and sorted the herbs with care. He even went a step further—organizing everything alphabetically, labels turned outward, stacks neat and even.

If he was going to be punished, he might as well earn some mercy points.

By the time he finished, his hands ached and his back screamed in protest.

The door closed behind him suddenly, and Teclos stiffened.

Talmir stood there, arms crossed.

"Boy," he began, voice calm but heavy, "you start making it up to her."

Teclos lowered his gaze.

"I can forgive a lot," Talmir continued. "But Saldia isn’t so lenient."

He stepped closer, resting a hand against the shelf.

"First," he said, "that was one of our last bottles from our wedding. Her father gave it to us. She guarded that liquor like a hellhound, for special occasions."

Teclos felt his stomach drop.

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.

"Second," Talmir went on, "you drank before your coming-of-age ceremony."

Teclos winced.

"And last," Talmir said quietly, "you brought shame to our house."

Teclos turned toward him, voice low. "I’m sorry. I truly am."

Talmir studied him for a moment, then sighed.

"Like I said, you’ll have to make it up to her," he said. "And no—community work isn’t going to cut it."

Teclos nodded slowly.

"I always told you that actions have consequences," Talmir continued. "I get it. You’re young. You’re stupid right now."

Teclos almost smiled at that—almost.

"But you have to set your mistakes straight," Talmir said firmly. "You own them. If you don’t... you become scum in this world. And that," he added, "is something that would truly disappoint me, son."

"I understand," Teclos said.

Talmir gave a short nod and opened the door. "Go eat."

Dinner passed quietly.

Teclos ate while watching Saldia from the corner of his eye. She moved with the same steady efficiency as always, but the warmth was gone. Every idea he came up with to make it up to her fell flat.

Nothing could replace his grandfather’s wedding gift he thought.

When he finished, he cleaned his plate and retreated to his room.

He laid back in his bed, staring at the ceiling, mind churning and thinking of new ideas.

He was ashamed.

And fully aware that fixing this would take more than just words, so he’ll take action just like Talmir told him to.