Chapitre 239: Fanboy
Michael grimaces slightly as he watches the teenage crawl towards him, mental images of the grudge movie appearing in his mind before he shakes them away like a soaked dog. "Y-yeah, it's no problem mate! Just-er, stand up and thank me properly, continue on your knees and people'll think you're soliciting me or something..." he says, causing the teen to pause, frown, stand, and brush himself off.
"S-sorry. I've just never been, well, attacked before... I-I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest!"
Valdr crooks a brow at the boy, "What kind of Nord hasn't seen combat? You some Milk-Drinker or something? One of those snub-noses over in Solitude?"
The boy quickly shakes his head, "I-no! It's just... Sorry." he stutters out but fails to verbalise anything. He was plain-looking, with a boring face, short brown hair, and strangely bright hazel eyes. His build certainly wasn't fit for a Nord, which suggested that he was malnourished or something...
Michael glances to Valdr, "Help untie those oafs, I'll talk to him." he says, gesturing at the still struggling armoured guards that'd failed spectacularly in their duty to protect the cart. "What's your name? Are you hurt at all?"
"I-I'm Surtr! Son of Pactur and Sorli the Builder, brother of-" he starts but Michael holds up a hand.
"Look, I didn't ask for your life story, just... Get in your cart while I clear the path, we'll head to Falkreath and put these cunts in front of the Jarl." he says, gesturing to the tied up bandits.
"The Jarl!? That fool Dengeir!?" the bandit leader exclaims, struggling in his bonds, "I'd rather you just cut my head off and hand it to him! I'm only out here in the first place because of that mad bastard! You try to take me to him and I'll-*Thunk!*" Michael nails the man in the side of the head with a kick, knocking him out with ease.
He turns to the other bandits, raising his foot to show his hard-leather boots, "Anyone else? I've tested these on rocks before and hadn't got a mark on them, I'm still wondering if bone fragments'll finally break them in..."
The bandits quickly shake their heads so he turns back to Surtr whose eyes have returned back to their previous hero-worship. "I-... What do I have to do to be like you!?" he suddenly shouts, blushing slightly at his outburst, "You're my age but so strong! And I'm just..."
Michael crosses his arms and shrugs, "Determination, Opportunity, Persistence, and a willingness to do what must be done." he states. His own development has been more on the 'bullshit-cheat' side of things, but he'd gone through his own fair share of trials... Was still going through if he were honest. "That's all I can say, everything else is variable. It's best not to compare yourself to me," he points his thumb over his shoulder, "Even Valdr, whose been training all his life is like a kitten in comparison." he says with a heavy helping of pretentiousness.
"Screw off Michael, not everyone can do that magic-shite that you can... I'll happily challenge you to an archery contest any day though! Let's see you brag after losing more times than you can count!" Valdr shouts as he struggles to untangle the ropes binding the armoured goons.
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Eventually, the path is cleared and the prisoners are lugged onto the back of Surtr's cart for easy transportation to Falkreath. Throughout the journey however, the boy continually pressed Michael for stories, tips, and other things relating to his adventures or strength. He was acting like one of those annoying fanboys that'd stalk their favourite celebrities... Or like, Syndrome from The Incredibles... Wait, was this HIS Syndrome?... At this revelation, he bites back an annoyed retort at the teen's overeagerness, and answers neutrally instead, deciding not to risk creating an enemy out of an ally... Even if it was unlikely.
Michael did gather some information from Surtr however, even if it weren't that useful... The Stonehills where he'd come from was north of Whiterun, so he'd stopped by it while travelling. He asked about rumours of Vampires or any news from the Companions. Strangely, everyone seemed to think that Vampires were a non-threat, not even worth notice when they did occasionally appear. Civilians ignored it and left the Holds, bounty hunters, and the Followers of Stendarr to deal with it.
As for the companions? One of them had gotten killed while clearing bandits that'd holed up in an abandoned tower. Surtr didn't know who specifically, but it was someone... Hopefully it wasn't anyone important, otherwise, the future may look different from what he knew.
Soon enough, they returned to Falkreath, the locals greeting them and jeering at the tied up bandits as Surtr drove towards the Jarl's Longhouse.
"Alright, You be safe now Surtr, I won't be there to save your ass next time. Probably." he says as he pulls the prisoners off of the cart.
"Should I come with you?" he asks, wondering if he'd be required to be a witness in whatever case they built against the bandits.
Michael shakes his head, "Nah, these guys are fucked no matter what. Just be on your way and try to stay out of trouble." he says with a small wave, dragging the bandits into the longhouse with Valdr.
Surtr watches them leave, feeling somewhat put out at being so easily dismissed. Michael had no reason to concern himself with him though, so he understood to an extent, no that it made him feel any better about it.
He looks down and clenches the reigns in his hands reaffirming his decision. He focuses south where Cyrodil was located, inwardly promising to make the most of this opportunity that not only his father had provided, but now his saviour, Michael.
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Niggross
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