Back at the village, Raesh was waiting for Mannat at the smithy. It was getting late, and he was starting to get worried. Punctuality was Mannat’s bread and butter. He had never been late before. It goes to say Raesh had a reason to be nervous. Where was the boy?

However, just then, a bell rang at the front shop. A customer had arrived. “I’m coming,” Raesh said and hurried to stow the metal ingot he had been working on back in the furnace when he heard footsteps.

“It’s you,” Raesh uttered, a bit guarded. It was none other than the skinny man who followed the Sarpanch everywhere – his assistant. It was a general rule for people to not set foot in other's workshops unless allowed to. It was not only disrespectful but also demeaning. The man had definitely entered the shop with the purpose of disrespecting Raesh and his work. Either he didn’t care for Raesh’s anger, or the Sarpanch had sent him to rile up Raesh.

“What do you want?” Raesh cut to the chase. He didn’t want to see the man or his master if he could. “There will be a council set up at the village center at noon. You have been summoned.” The man’s eyes looked around and stopped at him. “Be there,” He turned away and left as quickly as he had come.

The thing was… it was already noon.

Raesh had an inkling the council would be pointing its claws at Mannat. The Sarpanch had come a few days ago openly bearing hostility. The man had asked him to keep an eye on his son.

“Kids are like birds,” Sarpanch had told him. “They are naturally curious about everything and don’t know right from wrong. While birds know to keep away from other's territory, kids don’t. It’s a parent’s job to teach them. Are you with me? Do your fucking job… or I will do it for you!”

Later, Mannat had told him the reason behind Sarpanch’s anger.

Most of the villagers didn’t know the truth about the man; the jobless villagers even called him their big brother and had stood up for his time and time again in the past. The truth wasn’t what it seemed. Raesh, being a shopkeeper, had tussled with him in the past. He knew the greed that man hid behind his mask of politeness. The man was hungry for money; Power was just a means for him to get it.

Raesh culled the fire and pulled the block out of the furnace to let it cool down. It was going to take time. He’d be delayed, but it also couldn’t be avoided. He was glad that Mannat wasn’t back. He didn’t know what kind of trouble his son was in, but he promised to solve it for him.

Raesh mentally prepared himself to be pitted hard by the Sarpanch, but no amount of preparation could have prepared him for what he saw and heard at the council.

The whole village was on its feet and out on the roads. It was a festival of people. The kids were rushing through. The adults wondered if the neighboring village had attacked again. The women whispered if someone caught some boy with some girl again. There were all kinds of speculation and all kinds of voices.

The council usually sits at the village center after harvest season and before the monsoon. They were early and it was causing the villagers to be excited. People tend to find excitement in the little things, in happiness, and in misery, when there is no other source of entertainment.

Raesh followed the crowd to the village center, where the whole village seemed to have gathered in the shade of the great banyan tree. The tree had a thick trunk, and tens of metes long branches spread all around it. Kids had climbed onto the said branches, while people sat on the ground. The council elders sat on the round podium of mud and stones around the tree, while the Sarpanch addressed the issue.

Raesh was really too late.

The Sarpanch had already rallied the villagers together for a common cause. People were pumping their fists in the air and shouting for justice.

The truth didn’t matter since he had the people's support. This was par on course for the village’s council. Raesh had seen the same thing far too many times over the years. What stunned him the most was not the villager’s reaction, but the reason behind it? There were two roped bedsteads on the podium beside the council members. They were inclined toward the crowd so everyone could have a clear view of the two half-dead boys lay motionlessly on them

Their swollen faces were unrecognizable. The shorter one had his head bandaged, while the buffer one lay only wearing his beige boxer shorts. Red, black and purple bruises covered his whole body. There was a depression near his diaphragm, pointing toward a broken rib and it set Raesh’s heart in flames. He had worried if Mannat might have lost control of his mana and hurt someone, but he knew the boy could not have caused such injuries.

This was a lie, a setup.

Sarpanch saw him in the crowd and his eyes shot wide in excitement. The anger in the crowd had still not reached the boiling point, but he saw the anger burning on Raesh’s face and figured it was time to light the oil and cause a fire.

“Do you want to know who did this heinous crime?”
The crowd screamed. Sarpanch took a breath and pointed his finger at Raesh. “It was his son.”

The crowd got up on its feet. Heads turned in Raesh’s direction. People rose to their toes to get a glimpse of the person who had fathered the bastard. Kids zipped through people's legs to get to the front. Those at the end pushed people to get to the front. The villagers hadn’t had so much excitement since the village war. What truth and what lies? They only wanted to see someone hang!

“The Witch-boy did it!” The Sarpanch screamed and public opinion exploded at the mention of the Witch.

“LIAR!” Raesh roared at the top of his lungs.
His voice was naturally loud, but it couldn’t suppress the noise. People whispered. Those near him pulled back. A boy saw his blood red eyes and bored through the crowd to getaway. The scene repeated more than once. A gap opened around Raesh as if he was the eye and the people were the storm. They stayed around him but kept their distance.
People stared at him as he walked toward the podium.
A few of the older people tried to get in his way and raise their voices, but their relatives quickly pulled them back. No one wanted trouble.

The Sarpanch saw the momentum stagnating, and gestured his men to do something.

Thief! Scoundrel! Bastard!

The words echoed in the crowd one by one, gaining momentum. The suppressed noise started rising once again. A specific group of people, who wore red, knee-long tunics appeared out of the crowd and surrounded Raesh in a circle. One of them spat on the ground in front of him and looked at him with absolute disgust in his eyes.
“Your son is a MURDERER!”
The rest of them followed the act, pointed their fingers, and spat out ‘Murderer’ in unison.

They were the Sarpanch’s goons, his loyal dogs who did whatever he asked. Many of the villagers who unconditionally supported the Sarpanch found strength in numbers and joined the circle. The rest of the uncertain, the keen-eyed, and the bored pulled away from this group. The smart one, who understood a fight might erupt, had already run away or climbed one of the many branches of the banyan tree to enjoy the show.

There were many angry people and Raesh was alone. They found strength in numbers, not understanding the huge attribute difference between them, and someone who had worked all his life to improve his skills. Raesh shoved back the people who got in his way while Sarpanch riled up more and more people against him.

“This is the sad truth.” The Sarpanch said. “Scream to get your voice heard, Push people to get to the front. This is the father of the boy who caused such grief to our community; this is what he taught his son.” The Sarpanch skillfully twisted and changed the meaning of the sentences so they became synonym with treachery and evil. “This man isn’t different from his son. He also has a history of violence. Not long ago, he threw a customer --an average laborer, someone like you-- out of his shop for requesting fair treatment. This man,” Sarpanch accused Raesh, “wanted to give the job to his vile son, the Witch-boy. When the customer refused, he furiously threw him out on the road, madly berated him in front of the onlookers, and told him to never show his face in front of him.”

Raesh heard whispers of people agreeing to it, sharing their own versions of the story.

The Sarpanch paused to give the people time to share their thoughts. They made eye contact and Raesh saw the man pass a smirk before he continued where he’d left off.

“We gave him a home. We gave him work even though he had no prior experience. We gave him a place in our society! This is how he pays us? Now his son has gone and done this--” The Sarpanch brought everyone’s attention to the boys on the bedstead, “NO!” He screamed. “We will not have this! The boys will have justice. His son will pay for his crimes! As will he, as the father. We are equal. Since his son did such a heinous thing, I urge the council to punish him equally. Make a lesson out of the boy so no one ever dares hurt one of our children ever again!”

His silky smooth tongue slithered down the unsuspecting villager's hearts and drowned them in the poison of his words. They looked up to him. To them, he was their brother. He must be right. They demanded to punish the boy! Make his father pay!

Raesh could not keep walking forward as more and more people stood up against him.
Together they were strong. United they were undefeated.
The noise was back and louder than before.
They forced Raesh to kneel on the ground and drop his head. He resisted, but there were too many people against him. He was alone.

What could he do when the whole village was against him and Mannat? He didn’t give in easily though. It took half a dozen people to keep him down.

The Sarpanch nodded to the elders and turned away from the people. His eyes turned into two crescents and a smile painted his face in happiness. He wanted to laugh, but it was neither the time nor the place.
The people were with him. His words were the truth. He was justice.

He sat down with the council elders to watch the show. It was done and over. No one could stand against him. He had won…
Or so he thought.

An even louder voice erupted from the crowd and shook the unity that the Sarpanch riled up in the villager’s heart.
Raesh heard the voice and found a sense of calm rising inside his turbulent heart found a sense of calm.
He was not alone.