Chapter One: The Meeting

The tavern reeked of cheap ale and damp wood, the kind of place where forgotten men drank away their pasts. Dim candle light flickered in iron sconces, struggling against the thick haze of pipe smoke. A bard strummed a broken melody in the corner, ignored by all but the most desperate.

At a table near the hearth, a man sat hunched over his drink, fingers curled around a dented tankard. His cloak was frayed at the edges, his boots worn from too many miles on roads that led nowhere. The sword at his hip, once the pride of a royal knight, was dulled from neglect.

He no longer had a name, not here. Once, he had sworn oaths, fought battles, served a kingdom. But kingdoms fell, and oaths turned to dust. Now, he was just another wandering soul, drowning in memories that refused to die.

Then, she arrived.

The door creaked open, letting in the cold breath of night. A figure slipped inside, moving with the quiet confidence of someone who did not belong yet feared nothing. The woman was cloaked in deep violet, the hood drawn just enough to shadow her features. But he could see the gleam of silver-threaded embroidery along the fabric, the way it shifted like liquid shadow as she walked.

She found him in an instant.

"You’re the one they call the Fallen Knight, aren’t you?" she said, her voice smooth as glass, hiding secrets beneath the surface.

He didn’t look up. "I don’t go by that name anymore."

"Then what do you go by?"

"Whatever people call me when they want me to leave." He took a slow sip of ale, the bitterness familiar. "You should try it."

The woman chuckled, unfazed. She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, uninvited. "I’ve heard stories about you. A knight stripped of his title, wandering from town to town, searching for something he’ll never find."

"You’ve been listening to the wrong stories."

"Perhaps." She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. “I go by Selianne, and I have an offer.” Glancing around to make sure that nobody was watching, she pulled down her hood slightly to reveal long, tipped ears. “Yes, I’m an elf,” she said, seeing the man taken aback. “Listen well, human. This might just change your life.”

A long-lost ember flickered inside Eldrin’s chest. He straightened slightly, the weight of exhaustion lifting just enough to remind him what it felt like to want something again. “What is your proposal?”

Not answering right away, Selianne seemed to think about it before saying, “Firstly, what is your name, human?”

The man sighed, reminiscing about days long gone, when his name used to have some value to it, some authority. Now it was just a meager clump of meaningless uttered letters, with no use to anyone whatsoever. “Eldrin. Eldrin Vayne.”

The elf smiled, her golden eyes betraying nothing. “I’ve heard tales and legends of your bravery, Sir Eldrin.”

Eldrin frowned, not sure what to make of this statement. Before the kingdom fell, he had been subjected to dozens of fervent compliments each day, and he had always known what to say then. Now, after several moons of no one even knowing his name, and a couple hundred ales, Eldrin didn’t know what to say. Instead, he replied, “Shouldn’t say that here, miss. All of these fools here support the new King. I’ve heard the lot of them praising him, damn it.”

Selianne smiled once again, but now there was some mischievousness in his eyes. “Well, I sure as hell don’t support him, and neither do you, I reckon, so I don’t see the problem.” Selianne didn't give him time to reflect before pressing on. “Before I tell you what I want, I must say something of importance. I am a sorceress.”

Eldrin’s eyes widened at this, but he didn’t say a word, eager to learn more.

Selianne continued, “I’ve spent years trying to find the location of a certain… treasure, and I believe that I’ve finally found it. The journey ahead of me is one that I cannot complete alone, and I need someone of great physical strength to join me.”

Eldrin didn’t notice his mouth hanging over or a dribble of ale, slowly dripping down his bearded chin. “You speak of treasure, elf. How much do you mean?”

Selianne said, “Enough for you to turn your life around and live in luxury, until your death of course. And if you are suspicious of me, I will give you my word. And it is common knowledge that nothing is stronger than an elf’s word.”

Eldrin hadn't been very suspicious, but he was glad for the elf’s word. Trying to contain his excitement, he nodded. “I accept your promise and your proposal. When do we leave?”

A bit taken aback by this abrupt acceptance, Selianne said, “Not so quick, human. This perilous journey has many dangers ahead, and there is a chance that we do not make it out alive. Are you sure you wish to proceed?”

This did not make any difference at all for Eldrin. He had been a Royal Knight for almost half of his life, and he had faced countless dangers and perils, and had always come out unscathed. He was assiduous and dauntless, he assured himself. Opening his mouth to tell the elf this, he suddenly stopped. A haunting voice echoed out in his head, its words dripping with hatred and incisiveness. You were fearless and hard-working. Now, look at you! Sitting in a tavern all day, drinking til the bartender throws you out into the streets! You’re not ready for this, you regretful piece of d- “Of course I wish to proceed. There won’t be anything worse than what I’ve already faced and survived, elf.”

“Very well,” said Selianne. "Pack whatever's worth taking. Be here by noon tomorrow, and your old life will be dust."

Eldrin nodded, and took a sip of his drink while mulling this over in his head. Swallowing the foul liquid, he suddenly realized that he didn’t care for the taste very much. This shocking revelation came with a slow calm that Eldrin had never gotten from the ale itself. Setting down his glass, he silently promised himself that the appearance of the elf had been fate, and with her came a new era of his life, one filled with adventure and wealth.

He opened his mouth to tell Selianne this, only to notice that she had vanished, as if she had never been there in the first place. Frowning, Eldrin glanced around, just in time to see the tavern’s door swing shut.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Eldrin got up with a grunt and pulled out a few copper coins from his pocket. He counted out three and placed them on the table, right next to his half empty tankard. He stuffed the remaining few coins back into his pocket, trying with all of his might not to notice that he only had four left.

On the bright side, Eldrin thought as he walked towards the front door, he now had a chance to get as much wealth as he would ever need.

When Eldrin was almost to the door, a hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his arm. He tried pulling it back, only for the grip to tighten. Eldrin looked down at a scowling old man, his features scrunched up as he stared at Eldrin. “Hey son, why don’t you sit down for a drink?”

With a hard tug, Eldrin pulled his arm away from the man’s grasp and started walking away as the man started calling after him. There was always trouble at the tavern, at least a few fights every day, but the watchful guards stationed at the entrance to the bar usually stopped everything after a few hits. Eldrin wasn’t in the mood for a bar fight, not with the prospect of treasure.

He walked briskly towards the door and reached out to grab the handle, but froze in his tracks. “That’s the Fallen Knight, that is!” Eldrin swirled around, and noticed that the bar had grown quiet as people looked from the old man to Eldrin. “Dontcha believe me, ye fools? I seen him on his first day here!” The old man started laughing but soon broke out in coughs as something caught in his throat. He seemed to be enjoying all the attention, and he continued, “He was mumbling to himself, he was! Had a great shining sword with him, he did!” He was clearly drunk, and Eldrin hoped that people would realize this and go back to their ale, but his heart dropped when another patron stood up and shouted, “Aye! I remember that!” As more and more people started agreeing with the old man, Eldrin realized that his best shot was to escape the tavern, but when he turned around to walk out the doors, he saw that the two guards had blocked his path, with both of their faces scrunched up in a suspicious stare.

As far as Eldrin knew, everyone inside the tavern supported the New Kingdom, and the guards were no exception. Their bulky bodies covered up the door, and Eldrin’s realized that one of the guards was tightly holding his sheathed sword. Just then, another voice said, “But.. if that really is the Fallen Knight, we’re rich!” The already quiet tavern became even more silent at the mention of money. “Fellas, that one there has a bounty of a thousand gold coins on his head, he does!”

Eldrin didn’t wait for the outburst. He spun around and punched a guard straight on the nose. As he fell from the blow, Eldrin grabbed the guard’s sword just in time to block the slash from the other guard. Easily hitting his opponent’s weapon away, Eldrin shoved through the standing guard and right out the door, sprinting in the general direction of his lodgings. As soon as he had turned the corner on the tavern, he heard an earsplitting racket from behind him and dozens of disoriented but motivated men spilled out onto the street.

Taking advantage of all the chaos, Eldrin ran and didn’t look back, praying that no one had seen him. As he ran, he tossed the stolen sword aside. It felt wrong in his grip—clunky, poorly balanced. More trouble than it was worth.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eldrin saw with horror that the group had spotted him, and were now barreling towards him as fast as their drunken, stumbling legs could carry them. Suddenly, an idea popped up in his head, and he changed directions as smoothly as he could, turning into a wider street. Sharp yells and boots hitting stone filled Eldrin’s ears as he hurtled towards an even larger group of people than the one behind him.

As Eldrin got closer to the busy marketplace, he noticed that people were slowly turning towards him and the oncoming mob, curiosity on their faces. Ignoring this, he ran straight into the crowd, pushing against shoppers on all sides. For a brief moment, Eldrin thought he had lost them in the crowd. Then a hand clamped onto his arm. "Hold him!" someone shouted. Panic surged through him as more hands reached out. He almost flipped over onto the street when a foot extended out of nowhere to trip him, but caught himself at the last moment. His chest burned. His legs ached. But stopping meant death—or worse; losing his honor. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he thought as he pushed a man away that was holding onto his cloak, sending him flying into a vegetable vendor’s goods.

Potatoes and carrots flew everywhere, multiplying the chaos by a hundredfold and sending vile curses flying his way.

Seeing the end of the crowd, Eldrin pushed through with all of his might, his legs pummeling the cobblestones as he used up most of his remaining strength to get free.

Finally, he broke through, pushing the last people aside. Now running uninterrupted, he left the angry mob behind.

He turned into a few more alleyways, just to be safe, and then slowed down to a walk, gasping for breath. He felt his heart thud in his chest, feeling like he was about to explode. It had been a long time since he had moved like this, and it was tiring beyond words. But in a way, it felt good. Exhilarating, as if his old life was beginning to return.

Then, Eldrin’s face turned grim. There was no chance that Eldrin could stay here anymore. Not after what had just happened. No, it was time to leave. It was time to get out of this place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eldrin pushed the door open, gripping the small handle tightly. As he stepped into his lodgings, he looked around at the mess. A small, threadbare mattress with a weak wooden frame was pushed against the wall, with a thin and worn blanket thrown on it. The rest of the room was mostly bare, with the exception of a few clothes lying around and most importantly, his sword leaning against the far wall.

Walking quietly towards it, Eldrin grasped the handle, feeling the leather coated handle and the small ridges that acted as finger grips. It fit comfortably into his hand, unlike the sword he had taken from the guard before. It had a certain warmth to it, like the comforting smell of the rain or a warm, motherly hug.

He raised the polished blade up to his eyes, gazing at the smooth and sharp surface of the sword. And just a bit above the handle, the word “Ember” was etched. He had been through a lot with Ember. Countless battles had been won, countless adventures experienced, and over the years, Eldrin had grown close to Ember.

But for the past few moons, he hadn’t even held Ember once, barely ever glancing at her. Not an Ember anymore, just a dark coal. Suddenly, the longing for adventure was too empowering. Eldrin’s heart stretched as feelings of despair and regret filled it.

He squeezed Ember’s handle once more, and set her down back onto the wall. After thinking for a moment, he doubled back, took Ember once more in his hands, and set her down on the same wall as the bed, closer to him.

Eldrin threw himself onto his bed, all of his energy strangely drained. Yawning, he closed his eyes and drifted into a restless sleep, dreaming of his past adventures.