An adventurer's pride [Chapter 1: A unexpected meeting]

The Serard family blacksmiths were well-known for being the finest makers of cutlery around, even supplying nobles with very finely crafted utensils. The smithy itself was relatively small compared to those in other towns. Located on the main road that lead to the house of the ruling noble, it was easily distinguishable from the normal Terrence houses, adorned with two crossed spoons and the phrase “Serard family blacksmiths – cutlery even nobles use!” underneath. As you would expect of a smithy however, the heat is near unbearable, especially if you have to work in the place. It was easily identifiable due to the amount of smoke billowing out of the chimney and the bricks that seemed to be dirtier than the other houses.

“Did you hear? A town to the east was attacked by monsters at the dead of night, not a single person survived! ” said a female voice. This managed to get the attention of the young man working metal behind the counter. He was about seventeen years of age. He had untidy brown hair that clearly needed seeing to, but other than that he was completely unremarkable apart from the fact that he had a thin build that was clearly not suited for such a job. Looking behind him, he recognised her as one of the noble’s cooks.

“That’s a load of offal!” Replied Richard Serard, the head of the family. He was tall with broad shoulders and had black, wiry hair. He was still holding his hammer, a freshly heated chunk of metal placed on the counter. “A whole town destroyed without a single survivor? Impossible! It just doesn’t happen!”

“Oh, but it did” the small woman replied. “There’s not a single town around it for miles in any direction, completely in the middle of nowhere this town. I tell you, these monsters seem to be getting stronger and stronger. I’m glad to see that your son is not in such a dangerous career such as monster hunting.”

At this, Richard laughed. “Shame he ain’t so glad himself, it seems that he will do anything for ‘adventure’, I caught him not five days ago trying to join the town guard by lying about his age.“ he looked over his shoulder at his son, who was now ignoring them. “I don’t get what you see in dying an early death, Alashed.”

”Apart from the fame and glory?” Alashed tried not to sound angry. “Does he realise that it’s my dream?!” he thought, but replied all the same. “I cannot think of a more honourable job, protecting the weak, destroying ev-”

“Enough!” it was his father’s turn to be angry. “The outside world is not all fun and games! People die in this business, m’boy. You’d do much better in the family business, there are few people who can say they take orders for nobles.”

“You talk of me inheriting the family business, but look at me!” Alashed half-yelled. “No matter what you say, I am not suited for this job, nor do I want to be a part of a business that does such menial tasks!” This definitely had an impact, but he reckoned that it was not the good kind. Without even waiting for a response, he put down his equipment and stormed out of the mundane smithy. Alashed had always wanted to be an adventurer since his childhood years. He loved the stories told of brave people that do heroic deeds, that help the weak, that protect people that they have never even seen before. “The exact opposite of nobles” he thought as he walked through the streets.

The town of Pittheath during a working day was crowded with merchants at their stalls and beggars at their gutters. Being in between the southeast region of the continent and the capital, Trahira, it was frequented by travellers and traders. This fortunately kept the place up to date with the latest news, though there was not much the guests to the town had to share. After all, few tales could compare to the happenings of three months ago, when a trusted advisor to the king turned rouge and attempted to take the throne. He would have succeeded to, if he was not slain by the brave king himself. Alashed did not remember the name of this advisor, but it was not really important. Knowing about that was not going to affect his life in any way as he saw it, as he would eternally be stuck making spoons for arrogant nobles to impress others with.

Arriving at the local tavern, the headless dragon, Alashed pushed the door open, prepared to eavesdrop on travellers who happened to be talking with the locals. However, he did not expect to see something that would change his life forever. Inside he saw what seemed to be a beginning of a fight. Three people who seemed to be bandits were surrounding a lone cloaked traveller, all with swords drawn. Of course, bar fights were common when water was more expensive then ale, they just could not find a mage to boil the water for them, but instead had to do it the old fashioned way. But this bar fight was different. Swords were normally kept in their scabbards, and these people did not seem to be drunk in the least, but that was not all. Normally the patrons at a bar would cheer on a fight, but they seemed to be forced into silence, as if they had all lost their ability to speak. They looked afraid, something Alashed had never seen before in a tavern.

The lone wanderer stood before his attackers in mystical attire, his deep black cloak tattered as it swung ankle length to the floor , occasionally tapping gently at the side of his make shift boots made from cloth equally as tattered as his cloak. The hood hid his face with a dark shadow, almost as dark as the night itself, equipped with a simple gauntlet on his right arm only seen through the hole in his tattered right sleeve. He did have a short sword however , yet, unlike his attackers, his was still in its leather scabbard, with the hilt visible through the central opening in his cloak. It appeared he had no intention of reaching for his weapon; was he possessed with madness?

“Hand over the tome!” yelled the attacker nearest to the door. He appeared different from his accomplices’ by his bulkier build and as such, larger armour. He spoke with such confidence, Alashed could only assume he was their the leader.

“What, you mean this?” The cloaked man casually tossed a leather-bound book a foot in the air with one hand and caught it again. “Nice book I have here, it would be a shame if accidently burned it…” turning his head slightly to the fireplace in the far corner of the somewhat well lit room.

“You fool!” The leader was grinning manically. “Do you not realise that we have you surrounded? The lord Archer shall rule this unpleasant world!” raising his arm, Signalling to his men with a smooth movement of his hand, he silently ordered the taller of his men to attack. At this, the taller accomplice smiled a somewhat sinister and more demeaning smile and charged at the cloaked individual. In response the traveller simply grinned with the side of his mouth, hands to the side, His attacker brought their sword down.

The traveller instantly responded with a darting movement to the left. A moment in time paused as the brute held his sword above his head, hunched over, only letting out the smallest sigh of pain. This… mad man had his left hand deeply thrusted into his attackers stomach before recoiling his hand, dropping it beside him. The brute dropped too, firstly to his knees, then flat on his bearded face, still clutching his stomach as if the pain would somehow go away.

“The hunter becomes the hunted,” the cloaked man said, still grinning. Alashed was excited, this man clearly not mad, but instead incredibly skilled in a form of fighting he had not come across in his somewhat sheltered life, besides, these thugs were getting what they deserve – a taste of their own medicine.

“We are still the hunters, dear lapdog of the crown!” retorted the leader. He signalled his remaining bandit subordinate, who charged at the mysterious man. He blocked the incoming strike with his gauntlet. However, this was what the leader was hoping, going in himself in attempt to impale the defenceless traveller. Alashed was furious at this.

“Attacking someone who is in combat with someone else?!” Alashed’s sense of justice kicked in. “No one else is helping, do they want to see him die?!” He picked up a stool from one of the lesser-occupied tables and charged directly – without hesitation, towards the unpleasant-smelling leader. He covered ground incredibly quickly, despite the short time; his target was nearly at the two fighting men, about to intervene. Alashed swung the stool from his right with all his might, smashing his unaware victim on his bewildered right cheek.

Splinters embedded itself into the cheek of the armoured hoodlum’s head as the frail wooden stool cracked In half from the pure force Alashed had used, but regardless he felt it was worth it.

The man crumpled and fell almost comically, knocked out from the sudden strike to the head. Looking other to the man he just saved Alashed noticed that the cloaked man had brandished his sword, which was now pointing at Alashed’s neck. He now felt very sheepish.

“You did not need to do that, y’know, I had the situation under control” said the man, who still had his eyes on the remaining bandit, who looked frightened after seeing both of his companions fall was quickly dispatched. He was sweating…Heavily.

“You should leave…now” declared the hooded man, putting his sword just by the neck, not hard enough to cut the assailant, but hard enough to constantly remind him of its presence.

“What makes you think I will listen to you?” stammered his clearly afraid captive.

“Well, if your friend was awake you could ask him… but it would be rude to wake him now would it not?” remarked the hooded man smugly.

“Alright, I surrender; just let me go in peace!” The bandit said, defeated.

“Give me your sword, I do not want any foul play”, replied the traveller. Reluctantly, the rough man complied, throwing the sword to his feet. Removing his blade from the lone bandit’s neck, the strange man nodded as a sign that he was spared. The defeated ran out the building, trying to not make eye contact with any of the other patrons, leaving a sudden silence in the building. The fight was over.