FORGOTTEN SPELLS

The young constable's footsteps drew closer, the sound of his polished boots on the cobblestones growing louder with each step. Lena's heart sank as she realized there would be no avoiding the confrontation.

And then he came into view—constable Garet, or Roderick as they knew him, approached with a swagger, placing himself directly in front of them. 

His presence was oppressive, his uniform pristine and polished, contrasting with the earthy tones of the market.The dark blue of his uniform gleamed under the morning sun, the silver trim catching the light with an almost arrogant glint. His boots were highly polished, Roderick's hat was perched at a precise angle, and the insignia on his right arm was a clear mark of the country—a detailed emblem representing the kingdom's crest. The insignia featured a golden lion rampant on a field of blue, encircled by intricate patterns. In addition to the "Lion's Crest," a rare emblem worn by only a few high-ranking constables, he bore another distinctive badge on the left side of the chest, a badge that set him apart from the lower-ranking constables. This second badge was bronze in color with an intricate design, signaling his rank just below the highest echelons.

In the hierarchy of the Arathor officers:

Gold Badge: Worn by the highest-ranking officers, such as Commanders, denoting supreme authority.

Silver Badge: Worn by senior officers, such as Captains, signifying high status and responsibility.

Bronze Badge: Worn by mid-ranking officers, like Roderick, indicating a significant but less prestigious role.

No Badge: Worn by the lower-ranking guards, representing the entry-level ranks with limited authority.

In the small town of Eldhaven, there were no officers above the bronze badge rank. The hierarchy was condensed due to the town's size, meaning the silver and gold badges were reserved for higher-ranking officers in larger cities or more central locations.

 The merchant stood to the side, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face, clearly pleased with the turn of events. 

As Roderick approached, his lips curled into a smirk that made Lena's skin crawl. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Roderick's voice dripped with arrogance, his gaze lingering on Lena far too long. "Shouldn't you be selling your little trinkets instead of causing trouble?"

Lena's heart raced as Roderick's mocking words hung in the air. She opened her mouth to respond, determined to explain the injustice they were facing, but before she could get a word out, Jarin stepped forward, cutting her off. His voice was steady, but Lena could see the tension in his posture, the barely restrained anger simmering beneath the surface.

"There's no trouble here, Roderick," Jarin said, his tone controlled but firm. "We just want what's rightfully ours. This stall was supposed to be for us." His gaze shifted pointedly to the merchant as he said the last bit and then back at Roderick. The merchant, still standing smugly to the side, met Jarin's glare with an indifferent shrug, as if the matter was of little consequence to him.

Lena glanced at Jarin, knowing exactly how much he disliked Roderick—and she didn't blame him. Their disdain for the constable went back years, rooted in childhood memories that still stung. Roderick had always been a bully, throwing his weight around even as a boy. He'd never let Lena play with the boys when they pretended to be soldiers, mocking her for wanting to wield a wooden sword or a fake gun. It was always the same excuse: she was just a girl, and girls didn't belong in battles.

Those memories made Lena's skin crawl, but Jarin had never forgotten them either. He'd hated Roderick back then, and that hatred had only grown over the years. Now, as Roderick stood before them with that smug smirk, Lena could see the same loathing reflected in Jarin's eyes.

Roderick's smirk only deepened as he looked at them, clearly enjoying the power he held. "Your stall?" he said, with exaggerated surprise. "Looks to me like it belongs to someone else now."

As he stepped closer to Jarin, his presence became even more imposing. The closer he got, the more menacing his demeanour felt, the air crackling with the tension between them.

Jarin, his jaw clenched, stepped forward as well, closing the distance between himself and Roderick. The slight difference in their heights made the confrontation even more intense—Jarin, shorter but with a defiant stance, looked up at Roderick, whose imposing figure towered over him. His eyes were hard, his anger barely contained. "This is your doing, is it not?" Jarin demanded, his voice low but fierce.

Roderick's smirk widened, clearly relishing the confrontation. "What if it is?" he replied, a taunting edge to his voice.

Jarin's anger seemed to boil over, not just from the unfairness of the situation but from a deeper, more personal frustration. Lena knew that Jarin's rage was not solely directed at Roderick. Beneath the surface, he was deeply concerned about his elderly mother, who was waiting for him at home.

She was suffering from a mysterious illness that the town's healers could not identify or treat effectively. Her symptoms were severe: persistent coughing that left her breathless, a high fever that fluctuates unpredictably, and a debilitating weakness that made even simple tasks exhausting. The illness had progressed over the months, and her condition had worsened recently, making her more bedridden and frail. The money they had hoped to earn from their stall would have gone a long way in affording treatment in the city of Eldoria, where more advanced medical knowledge and resources might offer some hope.

Winter was approaching, and traveling to Eldoria would become increasingly difficult as the cold set in, with the roads becoming treacherous and the journey arduous. This loss of income was more than just a setback—it was a critical blow to their plans and hopes for her care, jeopardising the possibility of getting her the help she desperately needed before the harsh season made it nearly impossible to travel.

Without warning, Jarin's fist shot out, connecting with Roderick's jaw with a resounding thud. The constable stumbled back, his surprise evident as he clutched his face. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, the shock of the sudden violence spreading through the onlookers like wildfire. Lena watched in stunned silence, the market around them momentarily frozen in disbelief at Jarin's outburst.

Roderick, his anger ignited, didn't hold back. He lunged forward, retaliating with a vicious blow that sent Jarin crashing to the ground. The impact caused Jarin to stumble back, his box of carved wood spilling out onto the cobblestones.

Lena rushed to Jarin's side, her heart pounding as she saw him sprawled on the ground, his face etched with pain. Roderick picked up the box with a sneer, his arrogance unabated. "You'll pay for that," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. 

he glanced at the spilled wood, "I'm taking this to the station." He ordered the other constables to pick up the box and carry it away. It was only then that Lena realized there were other constables with him with no badge on the chest, their stern, impassive expressions adding to the oppressive atmosphere.Roderick made no effort to handle the box himself, instead kicking aside the scattered pieces with disdain.

As Jarin struggled to his feet, Lena took in the sight of the constable who had accompanied Roderick. Before Jarin could react further, Lena decided to step in. She faced Roderick with determination. "I apologize for the trouble," she said. "Please give us our stuff back. We'll find another place."

Roderick's ego flared as he eyed Lena up and down for a moment, making her regret opening her mouth. With a dismissive sneer, he said, "Meet me at the office." Then, turning on his heel in order to leave the scene , Jarin wasn't finished yet. In a burst of anger, he shot back with a voice trembling from frustration. "If your mother were here, she'd be disappointed to see what kind of man you've become."

The words struck hard. Lena's eyes widened in shock. No one spoke about Roderick's mother—neither the mayor nor his so-called constable son liked it when her name came up. Her departure was a source of quiet tension and gossip, and any mention of her was quickly hushed. Lena remembered the woman from her childhood, a figure of kindness now overshadowed by the painful reality of leaving her family behind.

The topic was sensitive for Roderick, and Lena recalled a scene from their school days that underscored this sensitivity. Roderick had once lashed out in anger, punching a girl in his class. The girl had foolishly tried to comfort him by saying something like his mother was a wench; leaving him was her loss. The cruel comment, intended as an attempt to get close to him, had only fuelled Roderick's rage.

Lena remembered how the incident had left a lasting impact, highlighting the deep pain and anger Roderick harboured about his mother's departure. The contrast between that painful memory and the man Roderick had become was glaringly evident in the way he handled situations now.

Roderick's feet stopped moving, he did not turn around. Lena harshly pulled on Jarin's arm and whispered, "Have you gone mad?" However, Jarin never looked at her. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, knowing he had just reopened old wounds for Roderick. 

Roderick turned his head, not his entire body, to look Jarin dead in the eye. He then ordered another constable, who was not holding any box, to escort Jarin to the guardhouse. The constable grabbed Jarin roughly, and though Jarin did not fight back, his anger was palpable. Lena shouted Roderick's name, hoping to get his attention, but he did not stop.

Lena stomped her foot in frustration, running a hand through her hair. She looked at the merchant, who was watching the scene unfold with a satisfied grin, his gaze following the constable and Jarin. The merchant then turned his head towards Lena, his smirk widening. Lena's anger surged looking at him, and she grabbed a spice bottle from the merchant's stall, holding it as if she might throw it at him. The merchant flinched as she brandished the bottle, his entire body jerking back. After seeing his reaction, Lena placed the bottle back on the stall. She wished she could hit him, but she knew it was wiser to hold her temper.