What was doubt but fear?
I fear nothing.
Wichtig stood with a groan and only managed to stop from falling by catching himself on the wall. When he bent to retrieve his sword he vomited sour drool down the front of his already disgusting bed sheet.
“Shite.”
He stood, weaving, staring at the naked steel in his hand.
“Shite.”
Stumbling to the door, Wichtig shoved it open with his half hand. He stood with his forehead pressed against the wood of the jamb while the room spun and he coughed dry racking heaves and spat bloody phlegm and shards of teeth. His head felt like someone held the left side in a bed of hot coals most of the night. After trying several of his vast repertoire of facial expressions, he gave up.
So, this is why Bedeckt always has that block of wood expression.
Gods, with his good looks gone, was he going to have to rely on his wits to bed women?
Damned good thing I’m so sticking witty then.
Wichtig limped down the stairs and into the common room, blood drooling from the left side of his mouth.
The room fell silent, all eyes on Wichtig. Adjusting his bloody bed sheet, he struck his best heroic pose, though he did have to cling to the back of a chair for support. Where was the applause he got last night? Or had he dreamed that? The inn’s patrons stared at him, waiting.
Will people treat me differently because I’m ugly? Just thinking the word ugly hurt. Normally people fawned over him, men and women alike.
Wichtig watched them watching him. Was that fear in their eyes?
Fear is okay. Spotting a pretty woman with a low cut blouse showing plenty of cleavage, he shot her his best cocky smile, the one that—
The smile died on his face as she blanched and turned away.
He remembered doing that to Stehlen, sometimes on purpose—to hurt her—because her smile was so goat-sticking hideous.
Wichtig’s stomach rumbled and he realized he was ravenously hungry but seriously doubted his ability to keep food down. Collapsing into the chair hed held for support, he lay his naked sword on the table and waved at the innkeeper.
“Food,” he said when the man approached.
“On the house,” said the innkeeper when he dropped a plate heaped with sausages and fried potato in front of the Swordsman.
Wichtig nodded like it was expected but was secretly relieved. This bed sheet and sword were all he owned.
He stared at the food, stomach grumbling its desire while simultaneously threatening upheaval and all-out revolt.
Go back to bed.
No. The sooner he found and saved Bedeckt—the thought of saving the old goat’s life gave him a grin of dark pleasure—the sooner he’d be beautiful again. Being hideous was hardly ideal, but he wouldn’t let it bring him down. If Stehlen could make it through each day looking like a jaundiced sow’s arse, he’d survive a few scars. As long as he knew it was a temporary situation.
Wichtig ate slowly, shoving the food to the back of his mouth where he could chew with his molars—which seemed to have escaped damage—and waited after each swallow to see if the food would revisit. Foul belches aside, it seemed to stay down. As he finished the last sausage and mopped at the pooled grease with a crust of dark bread sharing both flavour and consistency with sun-dried horse manure, a young woman approached his table. Wichtig glanced up, noting the horrendously old sword hanging at her hip. The leather wrapping the pommel, tattered and worn thin, looked to be older than the girl, though it was impossible to guess her age. Either she hadn’t yet hit puberty or had and would never be called ample. Stehlen would like this one. She wore a motley of leather armour made up of pieces from a dozen different eras and regions. The armour didn’t look like it would slow a blunt stick, never mind a good sword. Wichtig, who scorned armour as the refuge of cowards and people too stupid and slow to get out of the way of their opponent’s attacks, found himself rethinking his position on the topic. I would like, he decided, not to get hurt again. I have scars enough.
The young woman stopped at Wichtig’s table and bowed low, waiting.
“What?” demanded Wichtig, in no mood for a fight.
“Sir, everyone is saying you are Wichtig Lügner, the Greatest Swordsman in the World, reborn.”
“For possibly the first time ever, everyone is right.”
“I am young,” said the girl. “But I really am very good with a sword.” She swallowed, no doubt realizing she was bragging to the World’s Greatest Swordsman, and added, “For my age.”
If the fool draws that sword, I’ll puke on her. Wichtig stared the girl down with flat grey eyes, turning his Gefahrgeist power against the lass. Go away.
The kid didn’t even seem to notice. “I’m fast.”
“Show me how fast you can piss off.”
“And I can learn, sir.