The heart pumps the vitality of life, shooting through our veins, into our bodies. But the heart can change. Boil from toil. Singe the skin. In a matter of seconds, a danger becomes as familiar as blood.

CHRONICLE III; Other Side of the Walls

The two men continued further down the beach. The armored one sinking deeper into the sand with each step he took, the weight of his armor making the dry sand feel like mud. Theyo was ahead, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands resting on his shoulders. He could feel the stair of the guard behind him, how it burned into the back of his neck like the sun at its highest point, singeing into the skin, burning a dark tan onto his sin. That is what those eyes felt like -- the sun.

They made it to the same door in the wall, the same door in the wall he walked through every day. It looked different now. Its broken down frame peeled, pieces of wood jutting out, the hinges clung to the stone. Someone hit it, forcefully entering, unnecessary force. The guard pushed Theyo through and led him to a wagon attached to two horses. The reigns swung in a short breeze, the horse's mane flowed into the same small gust. Their color reflected the light, shining a golden hue that danced over their coats.

"Get on." The guard demanded. Theyo climbed up, sliding to the end of the wagon.

"You are under the custody of the Queen until answers are given, the answers our Queen wants you will not leave Aecor." He spoke in short breaths, but his voice came out long and drawn out. He leaped up to the rider´s bench and gripped the reins. He whipped them and the horses whinnied and began to walk along the same wall that bordered the coast and the kingdom.

"What about my ship?" Theyo asked. His head was hanging low as he stared at the floor of the wagon.

"It will be searched. Any contraband and you will face the Queen´s court." Theyo nodded, not in agreement but understanding where this could go.

"Why do you need to search my ship?" He asked, sliding closer to the guard, the metal reflecting the sun on Theyo's eyes.

No response. Squinting, he asks again.

"Why do you need to search my ship? I am a port master of the Queen's kingdom."

The guard sat there. Nothing. He stayed quiet for long, drawn, hot moments.

"What's your name?"

"You don't need that information."

"I have been taken from my home under the what you say is the Queen's word. I have the right to know your name under the King's Arc!" The guard shifted, his shoulders arching as Theyo's voice rose.

Theyo's face contorted in anger, coloring a shade between pink and red. His eyes glared at the man, no longer squinting, his lips and nose crinkled as he rose to his knees, balancing himself against the short wall of the wagon. His arms stretched out.

"I will ask again: what is your name?" He shifted one of his knees to the sole of his foot. He pushed his weight onto the knee, his face drawing closer to the back of the knight's neck. His breath blowing against the shining metal, the air against the metal created a fog.

"Tell me your name." Theyo's voice grew hoarse. His hands were calloused and reached closer to the back of the man. A vein bulging out of his forehead, the muscles in his arm defined themselves in the sunlight. The hair on his arms stood up; he was using all his might to control himself. The anger he felt over this one man, this seemly, insignificant man.

"I will not." The knight's voice shot into Theyo's ears and snap went off in his head.

He grabbed the man by his helm and jump from the wagon, holding firmly on the knight's head. They both landed on the stone-paved road. Their surroundings had changed. Homes of stone and brick surrounded them now. They rolled and rolled against the ground, hitting against someone's abode.

Theyo had pulled the man's helm off and threw it, revealing a man with chiseled features, a defined jaw, an up perked nose, dark hazel eyes. Almost no hair sprouted from his head, short, cut strands rose from his scalp. Theyo's fist clenched as he straddled the man's chest. His shirt covered in dirt, torn at the hem. He rose his hand and forced it towards the knight below him.

"I am tired!" Hit.

"Of you lot!" Harder hit.

"Coming ‘round and!" Blood began to pour from the man's nose, Theyo's knuckles began to scrape. The bloodying man tried to fight back, but his arms were tucked under Theyo's knees.

"And acting all high and mighty!" Theyo hit and hit and hit this man over and over again, his face was turning purple, blood ran from his nose and brows. His eyes had been closed shut, his teeth bent back or fell into his throat. He coughed and choked as Theyo continued his assault.

Theyo's grunting caused a commotion. People in cloth attire, green, blue, red, indigo, began to clamor outside, shocked at what they came out to see.

No matter what, Theyo had yet to stop. He punched and smacked and hit the man. He was growing tired, gasping, spit was falling from his lips, but tears were crowding under his eyes.

He stopped, gasping for breath. He looked up to see the people around him. Women with their hands over their mouth or one over their mouth and another over a child's eyes. The men shook their heads and turned away. Theyo's heart began to slow down, his breathing slowed. He stood up, brushed himself off. His tongue brushed around in his mouth. He let in a deep inhale and spat down at the fallen guard.

The guard's eyes were now swollen shut, his chest heaved and heaved, falling short of a full breath. His face paled, his nose broken, his mouth gasping with crooked, empty spaces where some used to sit. He choked and his chest heaved one last time before falling again. Not a single lift after.

Theyo looked around, searching for the horse and the wagon. He looked down the street and spotted it, stopped a few yards down. He cleared his throat and began to walk towards it.

He climbed onto the wagon, sat on the rider's bench and turned the wagon around, circling through the alleys between the homes, the common folk jumped to the side as he rode back towards the door in the wall.