In Dire Need

Marcus sat, freezing in winters’ icy grasp. His breath left him and floated into the air. Marcus had a slightly troubled past. Two years ago, he visited the distant land of Coloneva. While visiting Coloneva, he accidentally tripped another man. Naturally, Marcus would have helped him up and then apologized, but the man would hear none of it.

“Scum!” he shouted, bolting to his feet. “You’ll die for that!” he exclaimed, pointing vigorously at Marcus.

“Just calm down,” Marcus said softly, “and we can talk this over.” The man exploded in anger.

“Calm down?! You have no idea what you’ve done!” 

“Yea, I do. I knocked you over. Please forgive me, it wasn’t intentional.” The man shrieked in anger. Pulling a rapier from its scabbard, he began waving the blade through the air.

“Clearly,” he said, “this man will not confess his sin. I will punish him.” Marcus grinned. He drew his long sword from its sheath. The man readied himself. Marcus lifted his blade in two hands. The man thrust his rapier with incredible speed; Marcus was just slightly faster. Swatting the rapier away like a fly, he took one massive step forward.
Marcus’ elbow cracked the mans temple. He swayed back and forth, then regained balance. Next Marcus sought to disarm him. Lifting his sword straight upward, he smashed the mans hands in between the pommel and his own fist. Screeching in agony, he dropped the rapier and flung his fingers back and forth.

“I could slay you.” Marcus said, smartly. “But I shall spare you. In the future you should work on your attitude,” Marcus said. Sheathing his blade he turned and slowly broke the circle that had formed to view the skirmish.
Marcus heard a rapid footfall behind him. Grabbing his swords' hilt he stopped walking. Lashing out Marcus turned on the man. In one swift swipe Marcus took his life. The crowd stopped and stared, none of the onlookers dared make a sound. Armored guards burst through the wall of bodies and stopped short of the scene.
The guards went pale, just as the onlookers had only seconds earlier. Marcus felt his stomach turn over a blast of pain. Something was wrong.

“The crown prince!” A guard exclaimed, sinking to his knees. “Prince Otto has been slain!” He screamed, his face flushing more and more.
Suddenly, Marcus took off. He ran as fast as his legs would take him. He easily outran the guards, but the towns’ people were not far behind him. Rocks flew over his head and some hit his arms. Charging through the open gates he lost his footing and tripped. Fumbling back up he ran head first into the gatehouse guard. Throwing him down, the guard frantically tried to subdue the rioters.

More guards came to his aid, and soon a stand off was in the making. The thought of battle was crushed when the king himself emerged from the group of rioters. “Go back to your work, my people. This man shall be dealt with personally.” The king said calmly.

The guards bowed saying, “Hail king Sigmund!” they said robotically. Sigmund looked thirty and was well built. From his belt hung a gladius and right of that was a bastard sword. Tearing Marcus from the ground, he dragged Marcus to his small palace.
Throwing the doors open, Sigmund threw Marcus to the ground. Sigmund fell to his knees and began sobbing. “Close the doors!” he shrieked, turning to his guards. His attention fully focused on Marcus, he got to his feet. He grabbed Marcus by his long black hair and pulled him across the room. Stopping at a large chest, he let go of Marcus and thrust his hand inside his flowing red robe. Metal jingled and Sigmund stopped. Drawing a long key from his robes pocket, he unlocked the chest.
“Now where is that old thing…” Sigmund mumbled. Throwing old rubbish aside he pulled out a small vial. Drawing it close to his eye he examined it. “This will do.” He said, clearing his throat. Sigmund wiped his eyes and presented the vial to Marcus. “Because I will destroy you myself someday, this will help you in your greatest hour of need.”
Marcus stared at the vial.

“Uh, sir?” Marcus stuttered.

“Take the vial!” Sigmund said impatiently. Swiping the vial from Sigmund’s hand, Marcus got to his feet. “Guards!” Sigmund called. “Escort this man out of here!” And that is just what they did. They dumped Marcus into the wilderness. He was able to sustain himself until winter, where the cold became bludgeoning. His hair froze and his saliva crystallized inside his mouth. There was nothing to eat, and he had wondered past civilization. Fearing death, Marcus searched for the vial.

He found it buried in his deer hide knapsack. Pulling the cork out he couldn’t have drank faster. Greedily he licked for every last inch of the strange tasting liquid. Freezing, he dropped the vial. Marcus began to cough. He coughed until it was extremely violent, and he threw himself onto the ground. Gasping for air he tried to shout. Every bit of air he sucked in seemed to evaporate within him. In one last feeble effort he cried out. Only Sigmund heard his cries. And, sitting in his court two years later, Sigmund burst into uncontrollable laughter.