by Dilland Doe
Pain struck his left side, but he refused to let go. An old grampa sucker punched him. Why didn’t Parto and Finio have his back on that side?
Lizeto’s mind churned red as he saw the two brothers standing frozen, their arms to their sides. They stared at a girl. Her smooth face, sharp check bones, and tight jaw line created an image like a cute kitten. She scanned the boys with green eyes. Her medium-length light brown hair blew to one side in a light wind gust. She was beautiful, but…
“Damn it, guys! Help me out here.”
They didn’t. The old man punched again. Luckily he didn’t have the strength of his youth, but those blows still hurt.
The man who Lizeto held, leapt down to Lizeto’s level, then swung his knee toward the same side the old man punched. Lizeto blocked the knee with his elbow before using his whole body to sling the man into the grandpa and they both tumbled down the bleachers, slamming into others.
Lizeto stepped up another level, looking for Theto and the heckler. Theto stood shaking with rage. A pie slowly slid down his face, leaving thick cream globbed on his skin. Even over the riot, the obnoxious laughter of the heckler rang in Lizeto’s ears.
The rat skittered down the back side of the bleachers like a squirrel.
About twenty horses mounted by armored men flying The Authority’s flag galloped toward the scene. The trumpeter blew his instrument from horseback, alerting the crowd to their presence. The fighting came to an end.
Lizeto looked back toward Parto and Finio. They gazed off into space. The beautiful girl was no longer in sight.
Ch. 3
Hibberro slapped both hands to his head, bent forward, and gasped as horror struck through him.
Count Rylo and Hibberro’s brother, Themeno, looked at him skeptically. They had just returned from the sedeux match and entered the spacious central room of Themeno’s mansion, where large windows lit leather furniture that surrounded a table.
Hibberro moved his hands down his head that was bald on top. “My hat! I forgot it again.”
The other two men chuckled, shaking their heads.
Running his fingers through his thick black hair, Themeno said, “Little brother, you’re also missing your hair.”
I am!? Oh, a joke. I mean, I am, but yeah. The hat is what’s important here. Hibberro straightened up. “Darn it. This is the third hat this month. I suppose I could go back and look for it. Probably best anyways. The boys were right in the middle of that fight.”
His brother shook his head. “Our sons,”—Themeno motioned toward the count and himself—“started the damn thing.” He sighed. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t see them get out safely. Give me some credit as a father.”
Hibberro scratched his noggin. “Yeah, okay. I’ll look for it next time we’re at the field. Maybe I’ll get lucky.” He pumped his fist in front of his face and smiled with an open mouth. He caught a glare from the count. What was that for? Oh yeah, I’m supposed to betray my brother. And I lost the sedeux bet, so I’m more broke than I was before!
The four teenagers walked through the front door. None of them showed signs of injury from the fight as they strode along the side of the central room.
Lizeto said, “Asho is gonna pay.”
Theto threw his fist in the air. “Yeah!”
“Boys, wait,” said the triplets’ father as he shifted his weight.
They halted, then turned toward him.
Themeno and Rylo approached the young men. Hibberro followed.
“Whatever grudge you got from that sedeux fight,” Themeno said, “drop it. Damn sports fanatics will tear this country apart. Just focus on your studies.”
Rylo crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his chubby son, nodding menacingly.
The triplets’ father held up his finger. “What should the goal of all of your actions be?”
The boys rolled their heads, muttering, “For the good of all.”
Shaking his fist, Themeno said, “Say it like you mean it.”
The boys stood up straight and shouted back militarily, “For the good of all!”
“Good.” Themeno nodded.
The boys exited the room.
Rylo put his hands on his hips and rolled forward and backward on his feet. “Welp, old friend. I best get back to my fortress. I’ve had a problem with lazy peasants this week. I need to oversee the whippings and hangings.”
Hibberro and his brother grimaced.
Themeno placed his hand on the count’s shoulder. “Our friendship must be strong to overcome our political disagreements.” Rylo waited patiently for Themeno to finish. Themeno closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, gazing compassionately into his friend’s face. “Do you really believe a little lackluster field work justifies whippings and hangings?”
Themeno removed his hand.
“Yes.” The count smiled. “That my friend, is why I’m a count and you’re just a viscount.”
Hibberro didn’t like Rylo lording his higher rank over his brother. Not a cool thing among friends. As Rylo stepped out the door, Hibberro yelled, “At least the king doesn’t treat his nobles li-like his nobles treat their peasants.”
The other two men scowled. Hibberro knew his brother thought he’d gone too far, but he also knew his brother agreed. He’d stolen that line from him after all.
For half a second, the count locked eyes with Hibbero before scanning both brothers. “Good day, gentlemen.” The count left.
Themeno closed the door, then sighed. “I’d be the count if not for my beliefs. I don’t care what the scriptures say, the peasants should be treated with justice.”
Hibberro nodded. “Yeah.” That’s why I have to turn you in, brother, for justice…and gold.
He wrung his hands as he followed Themeno toward a large window. “So, brother, I uuuhh…I need a little help.”
Themeno leaned with one hand on the wall and stared at the green rolling hills on the east side of his mansion.
Hibb said, “I’m a little low on cash. I—”
“I’m tired of supporting you.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault I was born second.”
Themeno gazed out the window. “It’s a good thing too, you would have ruined our house. Dad set you up with three good jobs. He had to fire you from each one because you’d become lazy or distracted and not show up.”
“Yeah, bu—“
“But nothing.” Themeno turned. “You should join the priesthood. Or hey,” he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in, “go west where magic is legal. You bungle things half the time, but you’re a pretty powerful magician. You didn’t lose your communicator, did you?”
Hibberro shook his head. “No, CAAA! is at home.”
Themeno sighed. “Do you have to scream every time you say his name?”
“That’s part of his name!”
The brothers looked away from each other in silence.
Hibberro shuffled his feet. “Look. I mismanaged the small farm you gave me. Something happened to the equipment, I just need a little more money to fix it. I-I… please.” Hibberro gave his big brother his best sad eyes.
Themeno laughed through his nose and shook his head. “I’ll come by next month and look at the problem. But I make no promises and won’t just simply bail you out. There’s nothing wrong with priest life. Hell, in this country you may have more power as a priest than a viscount.”
“Heh.” Hibberro nodded and glanced toward the floor. I’m sorry, Themeno, but I don’t have a month. If only you joined us…
Ch. 4
The boys sat on an upstairs balcony of the triplets’ mansion watching the blue sky turn to black over rolling farmland. Lizeto reclined backward on a wooden chair and turned to the brothers who sat on a wooden bench. “So when your dad said take actions for the good of all, he included paying back that bastard Asho, right?”
The brothers nodded, grinning.
Lizeto leaned forward and tilted his head to the si
de while looking at his friends. “Well, I happen to know that Asho’s best friend is throwing a party. Our target will be out of his room all night.”
The brothers leaned in.
Smirking, Lizeto said, “Get on your horses, boys, because I have the perfect plan. It will enrage the little snake, but not do real enough damage to get us in trouble.”
#
Lizeto rode to one of his father’s farms. He and the brothers tied their horses to trees near four large corn silos—round structures with a solid roof and crisscrossing gated sides. Yellow cobs filled the silos from top to bottom.
“See that building over there?” he pointed to a shed on the other side of the silos. “It’s filled with stacks of empty crates. Get them and start filling them with corn. I’ll ride up the road and borrow a transport wagon and some horses.”
The triplets cautiously stepped toward the silos. “Uuh,” Theto said, “aren’t there locks?”
Lizeto snorted. “Ha. No one would dare steal from my father.”
The brothers froze. Parto turned his head. “Then why are we?”
“We aren’t stealing.” Lizeto said, shaking his head, “I’m the heir.”
The count’s son strolled toward his horse, keeping an eye on the brothers who stood still. They simultaneously shrugged, then strode toward the shed.
Returning in about twenty minutes, Lizeto guided the two-horse wagon next to where the boys were stacking corn cobs in crates.
The four of them filled crates and loaded them onto the wagon for about an hour.
Exhaling air from his lungs as sweat trickled down his forehead, Lizeto set a final crate into the wagon. “That’s enough, guys. Let’s go.”
The brothers untied and mounted their horses while Lizeto secured the wagon door and climbed into the driver’s seat. He flicked the reins and the horses pulled.
A triplet brought his steed next to Lizeto. In the dark, Lizeto couldn’t tell which one it was.
The boy said, “So what are we doing with all this corn?” The other brothers pulled up as well, looking at Lizeto.
“Ha. We’re going on a side road, leaving it for half a mile, building a fire, and popping some corn. I got everything we need in this wagon.”
#
The wagon rolled to a stop a quarter mile out from Asho’s mansion. Morale was high because the triplets had never seen corn popped before. Listening to a barrage of bangs and then revealing torso-sized bags of tasty exploded corn where before there were only cobs, was like a party—full of hoots, clapping, and laughter.
Now, bags of popcorn filled the wagon.
Lizeto said in a loud whisper, “Okay guys, keep it down. We’ll approach from the right side. That’s where his room is. Both the parents and the in-house servants sleep on the left side of the house.”
One of the brothers, Lizeto guessed Parto, said, “Your intel is awfully good.”
“Believe it or not, when we were little kids, Asho and I were actually friends. His land does touch mine after all.”
As they rode toward the house, the lively strings of a fiddle grew louder. Soon, clapping, laughter, and singing emanated from the mansion as well. Glowing candles shone through the windows.
Lizeto muttered, “Oh, shit.”
A triplet whisper-shouted from his right, “Are you sure the party is at Asho’s friend’s house?”
“They must have had a change of plans.”
The boys continued forward.
A triplet from the left said, “So we go another night?”
“No. I can’t hide all these bags of popcorn. They’re probably not partying in his room, and with all their merriment, they won’t hear us climb up the side of the house.”
From the right, a brother said, “This was supposed to be a low risk prank.”
The sounds of partying grew louder as the dark details of the wooden building came into view.
Lizeto rolled his head; a loud pop sounded from his neck. “I can’t do it alone. I’m too muscular to climb up the house. You guys in or out?”
They rode in silence until they reached the side of the house. Lizeto looked up at Asho’s window. It was wide open. He smiled and jumped off the wagon.
While the brothers tied up their horses, Lizeto opened the wagon’s back. He waited for his companions to approach.
“Okay. I’ll stay in the wagon and hand each of you a bag. You climb up as quietly as possible and dump the corn in until we’ve emptied all the bags.” Speaking sternly, he said, “Make sure you bring the bags down with you.”
The brothers nodded.
Lizeto watched his friends climb up and down the side of the house, like ants gathering food. “I feel like a queen ant down here, guys.”
“Yeah, you’re pregnant, fat, and just sit around laying eggs all day.”
The triplets laughed.
“Quiet down. We’ll be heard.” Their laughter cut off.
Lizeto really was worried they’d be heard, but their burn also rubbed him raw.
He forgot it as the triplets reported the hilarious effects of their labor. Mounds of popcorn piled up on Asho’s bed, on his desk, all over his expensive rings and necklaces, and on his clothes. The mounds then started to connect to each other, forming a floor of popcorn with corn hills. Eventually, gentle, motionless, waves of popped corn filled the room from floor to waist-high like the entire room was a sea of food.
The boys laughed. Finio came for another bag. “This is such a stupid revenge plot, ha.”
“To a normal non-butthole,” Lizeto said, “this attack would just be silly and not so harmful. It just creates a few fun hours for his servants when they clean it up. But this is the ultimate butthole we’re talking about here. I won’t be surprised if we’re hanged for murder when Asho’s head explodes. Trust me, this is the perfect plan.”
Full bags left the wagon and empty bags returned until only two were left. Lizeto handed Finio the second to last one, then Finio started climbing up. The other two brothers stopped and waited at the entrance to the wagon. Lizeto stared at the last run of an ant going up, happy at their success.
Parto held out his hand. “The last bag?”
Lizeto shook his head. “Na, I’m hungry. This is a victory snack.”
Freezing at the window, Finio whisper-yelled down, “Someone’s coming.”
Theto said, “Dump it through the window and let’s go.”
Theto and Parto started untying the horses. Finio opened his bag and dumped it in.
Everyone froze as the bedroom door creaked open. Finio ducked down, his fingers still clinging to the seal.
Asho yelled, “Whaaaaaaaaat!? Who dares do this to me!? Aaaaaaaaaaah! Popcorn!?”
Even though all Asho had to do was look at the window to glimpse Finio’s fingers, catching them in the act, Lizeto had to bite the side of his mouth to not burst out laughing.
Asho stormed away from the room, yelling for his servants like a toddler having a hissy-fit. Finio scurried down part of the building. His brothers already had his horse ready for him. He leapt from the side and landed straight on his mount, which then galloped forward. The rest of the gang followed. They held their laughter for a few minutes as they rode away, then they almost suffocated in grand levity.
Ch. 5
The day after their successful strike against evil, the four boys sat in the huge stadium shared by the counties of Hydia, Sleemna, and Pinstaria, watching the Hydia Saints play the Sleemna True Believers. The boys loved watching the best at the sport play, but also watched to learn. They weren’t three year running Authority-wide sedeux champions from talent alone.
The boys lived in Pinstaria, just north of the The Authority’s capital city, so they didn’t have real passion for either team, but Lizeto found himself cheering for the Saints. Maybe because he liked their yellow and gold colors, or because he just admired Leekinsho Adinia—the most skilled pusher in the game.
A dancer from the True Believers ran down the sideline bouncing
the ball between his clubs. Leekinsho backpedaled like he was waiting for the play to develop. Then, he charged. That man went from backpedaling to charging full speed in an eye-blink.
Lizeto jumped to his feet. “Yeah, get him!”
The dancer knocked the ball backward to a grounder behind him, then twirled around the charging pusher. Leekinsho barreled forward toward the grounder, cutting down his passing angles. The grounder reared back and swung. The ball rocketed past Leekinsho, to the dancer, who controlled the ball midair, bouncing it back and forth between his clubs, then smashed the ball toward the goal. The final guard dove, extending his stick, but too late. The ball hit the net.
The triplets jumped and cheered.
Lizeto scowled. “You guys are cheering for the True Believers?”
The brothers shrugged. One said, “Apparently. Their offense is so skilled.”
This put the True Believers up three to two. The rest of the game would have been boring to casual fans, but to hardcore sedeux fans and players, like the boys, it was a masterpiece. Neither team scored again. The skilled finesse of the True Believers’ offense against the Saints’ punishing defense created a stalemate.
The long, slow defeat fogged the Saints fans with boring disappointment. The whistle blew, ending the game. A small group of men near the field began chanting. “The Believers are cowards! The Believers are cowards! The Believers are cowards!”
They pushed their way through a batch of True Believer fans. Some reacted with counter shoves and even punches. In less than a minute, chaos erupted, masses of people fought, many lay wounded, and several fires burned in the stadium. Armored guards retreated outside to regroup.
The boys ducked their heads, glancing for an opening to escape the chaos. Luckily, they weren’t wearing the colors of either team, so rioters didn’t see them as first-choice targets. The fans around them ducked and searched for an escape route as well.