The God's Game

chapter 2- Remel

When Remel jabbed the key to the back door of her boutique that morning, the doorknob came loose and rolled off the doorstep.

"Not again"

She muttered to herself, hands on her hips. Looking up at the second floor through the rim of her hat, she narrowed her eyes.

"Can you believe this?" pointing at the decorative door ajar, she complained. "At least they didn't break in through the windows this time!"

Ten out of ten times her shop was robbed in the past, Remel had to replace the windows on top of the loss, adding insult to the injury.

Though the display glasses were intact, the door needed repairing. That would cost a small fortune. Remel sighed wearily and surveyed around to find bloody footprints going in, but none coming out.

"I know, I know" Remel swatted her hand, looking around for something to defend herself with. "But rent is cheap here, you know this."

The sun was already out and shining, but people in this part of Frostgate did not start their day until noon. They drank until wee hours, went home to beat their women and children, and slept until lunch. On their way home they broke into unsuspecting shops, mugged passersby, or stabbed someone to death.

After a few minutes of scavenging, Remel settled for a glass wine bottle she found abandoned on the street. There was a wide range of those to choose from, casted aside after they ran empty. The entire back alley smelled like soured wine, rotten sick, and pee.

Remel gathered her black skirt in one hand, and swung the bottle into a wall, full force. The bottom shattered with an air splitting crack. Glass shards rained against cobble stone, collided, and crushed.

"That will do" she nodded to herself, inspecting the glass fangs. Clutching the bottle neck, she stomped over to the door, determined to dig them into whoever had enough audacity to lounge around after breaking in. She gave the wooden door a gentle push, and it opened with a loud creak that sent her teeth on edge.

The makeshift weapon poised over her head, Remel took a cautious step inside. The boutique smelled of dust and linen. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, making her awkward wooden mannequins draped in fabric look hauntingly alive.

Her eyes darted around, trying to find the culprit. Nothing was stolen or damaged.

Then she paused, like a cat hearing the footsteps of a mouse.

"What? What did you say?" Remel looked to her right, her eyes widened. Taking a step back she bent down, looking under her table. "Where?"

She narrowed her eyes. Wasn't that a mannequin? She grabbed a thin leg and felt the soft flesh sink under her grip.

It wasn't.

"Kiddo!" She grunted, poking the sleeping figure with her finger. "Get up and leave before I call the guards on you!"

There was indeed a pale looking kid curled under the table, asleep or unconscious. Judging by her long hair and petite frame she could not have been older than fifteen.

Remel scrunched up her face at the sight of the runt. There was a stab wound on her midriff, causing blood to soak deep into the rug. The blade had not gone through a vital organ it seemed, but she had bled for a while now.

There were four large kingdoms and this brat had to bleed so dramatically on her new rug. That is going to be another month's worth of food, wasted on cleaning.

"What do you mean she is dead?" Remel quipped, crawling from under the table. She dusted her skirt in dismay. Her eyes ballooned again. "That's a boy?"

She sighed in exasperation. Drunk robbery is one thing. A dead body is another.