Myketh, Free as the Breeze

“"Neither death of gods nor loss of ideals, nor change of life or birth of evils shall stay these heroes from the Grand Achievement of their appointed glory."

“I'm sick of this bastards crap!’’ Myketh's expression went unchanged, despite having his body slammed against the tacky stone pillar, scattering dust and echoes throughout the musty grand hall. 

Gritty gold-neon light reflected off the umbrella in his hand dangled from his fingers lazily , which were quickly concealed by his emerald striped sleeves, draping down as he was lifted off the ground by his neck. 

 “We nearly starve to death comin out to this frozen hell of a city, all to shake down this smug little goblin-” the hand holding Myketh aloft slamming him again to emphasize insult “ All to let him and his resting bitch face get away debt free?!”

 The hands owner, a tall, lean muscled man equipped in so much snow gear you’d think it in order to compensate for his lack of hair, shouted to a shorter man standing behind him in much less exaggerated equipment. The short man stepped towards the long haired courier currently pinned by his neck and glanced into his large cerulean eyes, noting he did indeed seem to have an air of annoyance to his expression, not of over-confidence or disrespect, but sheer genuine inconvenience. 

“ Not the kinda mood I’d likely to be in were it me, but I suppose we have been through this song and dance enough times, certainty gettin old for me too it is-” the short statured man sighed to himself as he surveyed Myketh. 

“Why keep dancing?”, the delivery knight laughed a little through a wince of pain and a little wink, “Lemme just finish my route so I can give you your cash, then maybe your friend here can get a nice new wig”. He raised his hand which wielded the umbrella and tapped the goons reflectant cranium, inducing an even tighter grip on his neck from the angered brute. 

“Aight ya bug i've had enough of your-”, the glabrous giants words were cut off by the click of an opening umbrella, an unceremonious response were it not for the sudden and authoritative gale of ice and storm that streamed from the outside wastelands ,indoors and directly into Myketh’s victim of insult.

In parallel to the galvanic scene just prior, the diminutive squad leader of the giant who now rested dumbstruck in a ruinous crater, gave a pique exhale as he watched Myketh fall to the ground in an almost peaceful fashion. The calmest of winds carried his light frame to a touchdown on the musty carpeted floor, bringing to mind the caressing breeze that follows a storms sweeping destruction, a showy and frankly melodramatic follow up, at least to the watching leader of his assailants. 

After a moment taken for a small breath, Myketh looked up sharply and gave an embarrassed smirk “ Sorry Steam, its been a long night, your boy there didn't deserve that”, gesturing to the poor mercenary now stumbling out of a pit of rubble and dust. While Steel class commander Steam may have been short in stature, his patience was anything but, earning him the far renowned moniker as a trainer of the weak and misfit.

 Whether or not this reputation was one he felt to be an honor, Steam often found himself in the tutelage of, what he politely regarded as, “less than sharpened blades”. However even this paragon of composure was beginning to see the eye-rolling comedy of the constant hijinks between him and his collection target, “ No no, it's the poor bastard's fault, shoulda restrained the wrists, not your neck”. The groan under the old soldier's voice may have drawn pity out of Myketh, of course he knew better.

 “So”, Myketh cleared his voice to fill the awkward moment, “again, give me twenty minutes, I’ll just go on in there, finish this route, and we’re all settled”, accenting his point with a gesture of the umbrella down the derelict expanse they stood in, deep into its dank red carpeted halls that one would assume abandoned.

 Not quite keen on waiting for a response, Myketh turned towards his announced path almost as quickly as he spoke his intent, dusting off his vibrant cyan coat in a nervous habitual attempt to close the interaction. “Don't forget your situation delivery boy”, the stern and steady statement gripped onto Myketh stronger than the bald grunt ever could have, a forceful halt to his stride that one could almost feel. 

“We may have become used to each other's company, but I am a steel rank arm of the dominance oratory, given the task to obtain what you owe”, not a word spoken coarsely, yet cold iron felt in every inflection, “ I will complete my goal, one way or another.” Myketh got great pleasure from the years he spent molding himself to be unfettered by this kind of speech, too many bossy types in the world in his opinion, and nothing pissed them off more than a carefree joke partnered with a sly smile. 

Now however, the only words being spoken between them were the ones that shackled him, and it took all he had to not visibly show they’re grip. Finally, a breath in the dusty dark broke through the silence, and the chains loosed, “ Alrighty then, get up and lets go get you that money”, Myketh gestured again towards the inner halls, this time turning to Steam with an inviting smile. Only he could have seen the tiredness hidden behind the expression.