Chapter 130: Heimdall’s Past
Heimdall stared at the boy again one of his eyes still open, even though this person standing before him was still a boy in his eyes, he was the first person that gave the man a significant headache.
Nobody wanted to be humiliated in the presence of the Primarch, and Heimdall had especially cultivated his image in the Wutherhorn dynasty, one that had taken him to a height that most of his clan members could have never achieved.
Even as a butler, he was known as the second in command of the Primarch, and he was feared and respected in equal measure across the estate.
But all that wasn’t to say that he didn’t toil to get to where he was. His chapped lips, frizzy hair, unkempt beard, and dirty nails were a testament to how hard he had worked in the service of the Primarch and his family.
*** Heimdall flashback ***
A young boy with long black hair sat on a large root that protruded out of an equally large tree. He was holding a mango in one hand and an apple in the other, that was his entire meal for the day. Infact, he had been lucky as he knew nothing about climbing trees or plucking fruits, he was only eight years old at the time.
The boy had a tattered shirt and shorts on, coupled with a pair of very dirty sandals, he wasn’t high born, neither was he a warrior, he only lived a modest lifestyle with his mother and two brothers.
Their father had died in the service of the king and had left them to fend for themselves.
"Heimdall! Heimdall!" A young woman called out, her face was shapely and beautiful but her hands told the story of the suffering and toiling that had befallen her.
She had long black hair, tied into a low ponytail that cascaded all the way down to her tailbone. She was Heimdall’s mother, Sophia.
She finally caught sight of the little boy, sitting on the tree root and munching on an apple in the distance, she heaved a sigh as she walked towards him.
Two boys followed right behind her, they were both taller and older than Heimdall was, but children regardless, one of them held a ball in his hand, a ball made of pigskin and wool from a sheep.
"Heimdall, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!" The woman said as she had finally bridged the gap between them.
"Mmm. I’m always here mother." Heimdall responded, digging into the mango now, from the way he was ravaging the fruits, it was obvious to anyone that the little boy was hungry, and that he hadn’t eaten in a very long time.
The woman let out a long breath as she sat beside him, the two boys, namely Ezra and Wentworth stood beside her, still not saying anything.
Ezra threw his ball up and down and caught it for sport.
"What do you have there Heimdall." Wentworth asked while leaning over to get a closer looks. His mother touched his chest lightly and gave him a look that clearly said ’don’t start now.’
"That’s enough Wenty. Don’t disturb your brother now, you both have had something to eat today, he hasn’t." She said. Wentworth grumbled and went over to play with Ezra as Heimdall kept on with his meal.
"My boy, you have worked hard today. You deserve—" her words caught in her throat, not for any other reason, but that she smelled trouble, or rather; she saw it coming.
A man in a black cloak and hat, shielded by two other men walked towards them.
"Get up, Heimdall—quickly." She hurried him to his feet and stood up beside him, she already knew what the sight of these three people meant.
The man in question was a local brute in the area that paraded himself as a tax collector, most people knew he wasn’t and hated him for taking their money, but he employed a rather forceful method in doing so. One that most often left them helpless against him and his cronies.
"How do you do, miss?" He asked with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face.
"What do you want... Luke?" She asked, shielding her son instinctively as the little boy looked innocently at them.
The man’s name was Luke Astrom. He was nothing but a thug who went about taking people’s money and beating them almost half to death.
"That tree you just stood up from... it has come to my notice that this right here tree—is Private Property." The words rolled off his tongue easily, one of his non-redeeming traits as a thief. "Therefore I—we will require payment for your usage of this tree."
The man smiled again, his smile annoyed Sophia to the point that she gritted her teeth and tightened her fist. If she was granted the opportunity she would knock the man’s teeth out of his mouth with a single punch.
"I don’t see where it’s written that this tree is private property, me and my children come here everyday." She responded with a frown on her face.
"Well—today it’s private propert, so you understand that woman?" The man wasn’t smiling anymore now. He had tried the calm approach with her already, now it was time to apply a little extra pressure, most of these people never went down without a fight—and he was always ready for one.
"I’m not quite sure I unde—"
"It’s private property if I say it is woman!" He raised his voice above hers, his cronies just nodded in agreement behind him.
The woman, stunned by his harsh tone, instinctively pushed Heimdall behind her as her breath became shaky.
Ezra and Wentworth were aware of the confrontation by now, they ran over to their mother and shielded her, giving the man angry stares.
"Leave our mother alone, she did nothing to you!" Said Ezra, who attempted to push the man, but he didn’t budge, instead, the young boy was hit hard in the face, so hard his jaw cracked and he fell onto the ground with a thud, blood pouring out of his mouth.
"Insolent boy! You dare touch me with your filthy hands!" The man’s eyes widened in anger.