《The Emperor》


 Prologue - Those who wait

    Ah¡­ another one¡­


    Looking down, right in front of my feet, laid a man, bound in iron chains with a brown rag to cover his body. Drops of blood could be seen around his face, along with some bruises and a broken nose. He seems to be unconscious.


    At least he is doing better than the women.


    Looking around this cell, I could see the women, cowering in the corner, in similar fashion to the bound man, only worse¡­ far worse. The light in their eyes died long ago. You can see miniscule puddles of blood underneath and near them, as small drops fall from their genitals. Most likely ripped from the continuous and rough abuse of the soldiers. The stench emanated by us is foul, I guess that¡¯s what happens from not bathing for years, as well as living in your own filth.


    I am not much better, the bruises are healing though, unlike his black hair, mine was dark brown, I had a very slim figure, as expected of a slave. My eyes were dark brown as well, only way I was different was due to a scar starting at the right side of my forehead and ending just above the right eye, and a small, rough, beard.


    ¡­the guards are coming back¡­


    The three open the cell, chatting amongst themselves, they were smiling, seems like it is their turn with the slaves. They pick up the nearest woman, she barely resists, but that doesn¡¯t stop the guards from dragging her by the hair. I hope she doesn¡¯t end up pregnant, the child would most likely be killed, as has happened before.


    It is time to sleep, the guards blow the torches, darkness falls in this prison. I hear the people around me shuffle to their corners to sleep. We do not talk here, it would be unwise to make bonds of friendship or love, when they may be dead the next day. I prepare myself as well, as I was falling asleep¡­


    Suddenly a loud explosion stirs us all awake.


    What¡¯s going on?


    I hear the hurried steps of metal greaves against the wooden floor above us, followed by screams. Not screams of pain, but of fear. The screams get louder, then suddenly silence. We were all shaking, fearing what was to come, I am no exception, the fear of death is all too real. From between the cracks of the wooden floor above us, something is dropping, it is too dark to see. Suddenly a drop falls on top of me, it is sticky and hot, blood it seems.


    The sight made me quiver, I don¡¯t want to die, not yet. The door to the prison opens, across the stairs a figure appears, the contrast between the darkness of this place and the light from outside made it hard to distinguish much aside from body structure. It was tall, as it walked, the clinging of metal could be heard, it seemed to be armoured. I fell on the floor, I was not the only one, no one wanted to die.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t kill us, we beg you!¡± screamed a man right beside me, tears rolling down his face.


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    He is brave, I can barely breath, much less talk or cry. The fear that this person, who killed the 300 guards around the manor in a single minute, was emanating was soul crushing.


    It stopped, right before us. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared. The cell¡¯s door opened, as though it was never locked. We looked amongst ourselves, fear still prevalent in our eyes. I was the first to recover, to my surprise, as I stepped out of the cell. Making my way across the corridor and up the stairs. The others had formed a line behind me.


    I was afraid of what awaited me beyond this wooden door, the smell of death, all too familiar to me, was coming from the other side. With shaky hands, I turned the door knob, and slowly opened the door, the fear getting worse by each centimetre. In a final act of courage, I swung the door open, my eyes wide at the scene before me. I turned to the side, not able to contain my food inside.


    The expensive wooden floor of the manor was covered in a sea of blood. The floor was littered with bodies of soldiers, or so we thought, the only recognizable thing was their armour, the rest of the body was burned, leaving them in an eternal expression of agony. The bodies of soldiers were hanging from the banner covered walls of the hall, impaled in each pole, with their guts strewn from their stomach. On the stairs to the right of us, an enormous pile of flesh, bones and organs was towering over the hallway. Above that, a body of a man stuck to the wall, skinned, leaving only muscles behind, as small drops of blood fell from his feet. It was the lord of the manor, as shown by the clothes on the floor underneath the man.


    In the middle of all this sat a woman, it was the slave the soldiers brought out, she was alive. She sat while rocking her curled up body back and forth. Fear being too weak to describe what she felt. As we approached her, she suddenly looked up.


    ¡± AAAAAHHHHHH¡± she screamed, her voice was hoarse and filled with panic.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, don¡¯t worry¡­¡± One of the other women approached her and hugged the panicking girl, whispering that everything is fine.


    With uneasy eyes, I looked around and found no sign of the thing that did this. What I did notice was the front door. It was open, I could see the outside, the trees in the distance and the cool night air. Without even thinking I moved towards it. As I stepped outside for the first time in years, a sense of freedom washed over me. Freedom? What was that? My entire life, from the day I was born, was dictated by someone else. I looked up at the starry night sky.


    ¡°haha¡­ hahahaha¡­ HAHAHAHAHA!¡±


    I AM FREE!


    Without even looking behind me to check on the others, I ran, ran out of the gate, and into the dark forest ahead of me. I am a free man.

 Chapter One

    It has been 30 minutes or so since I started running. The trees keep passing along me. The wind howls in my ear as the distance between me and the manor grows. I know not where to go, I don¡¯t even know where I am going, but it is of no concern to me, because now I can do whatever I want.


    No longer was I shackled by a lord, being forced to do difficult and sometimes humiliating tasks, only to be rewarded with beatings, and in the worst days, torture, for a simple slip of my feet. There would be no one to force me into a shithole of a cell, to grovel at their feet begging forgiveness, just so I could eat week old bread and hopefully some grub.


    Bringing my thoughts back to the moment, I look forward. Far ahead of me is a light, very dim, but definitely there. Seeing this, I stop my run, and look carefully at the light. Fear swells up in me, as I question the origin of the light.


    Are they slave hunters?


    I wonder if they are people sent by the guards to capture the runaway slaves. I discard the thought, there were none left alive to be able to warn the nearby settlements. Even if there were, it would still take them over 2 hours to reach them on horseback. I bend down to try and decrease the sound I make, while I slowly approach the source of the light. I hide behind a tree, tilting my body to see.


    Ahead of me in a small clearing in the middle of the forest, there are two tents, one directly in front of the other, both facing the fireplace. Sitting on a small log is a man with his back to me, he is wearing light leather armour. His belt is filled with pockets and what looks to be a dagger. In the far corner of the camp fire is a bow and a quill beside one another.


    No chains around, most likely they are regular hunters. I can¡¯t see the other one, maybe inside the tent, sleeping. They don¡¯t seem to know what happened though.


    With that thought I prepare to leave, there is no point in attracting unwanted attention. I turn around to continue on my way. As my foot lands on the ground a small, but audible, bell resonates nearby.


    Crap, a warning trap!


    The man turns around quickly. As he begins to move in my direction, I hold in breath, waiting for his next actions. With footsteps approaching my tree, I hear the sound of steel sliding against leather, he likely removed his dagger. Fear was again rising in me; I have no weapon to protect myself. In my desperation I keep feeling around the ground for a rock or maybe a stick, anything! I feel the rough and hard surface of a rock, its big, maybe the size of my fist. The hunter is even closer now.


    His foot falls right beside the tree, and in a frantic movement I rush at him, with the rock in my hand.


    ¡°AAAAAHHH!¡± I scream from the top of my lungs, releasing the pent up stress


    He looks at me with a confused expression. I see panic in his eyes just before the rock reaches his face. He falls limply on the ground, a deep wound on his forehead. He stops moving for several seconds.


    Is he dead?


    He made a groaning sound, and in panic he might attack me, I close in on him and smash the rock against his head. Again, and again, and again. Blood was splattering my face and my surroundings, but I continued. Again¡­ and again. Between bated breaths I stopped to look, to truly see what I had done. His face was disfigured beyond recognition. His head caved in from the force of the blows, forming a puddle of blood and brain. In an instant I let out the contents of my stomach, but very little as much of it was gone from the last time. What came out was a dry mixture of saliva and stomach water. I quickly move away from him and in my haste I trip and fall on my back. Never taking my eyes away from the body. For a moment I just sat there and stared, tears forming in my eyes.


    I¡­ have killed another man¡­


    I reach for my head and just hold it, as I rock back and forth, remembering. The groans he produced as I hit him, the small jerks his body made as the blows landed, his breath slowly fading.


    Oh god¡­ oh god, oh god! What have I done!


    I begin to breath heavily, darkness clouds my judgement, but I never look away from the body. I hear a sound coming from the tent, and I quickly lift up my head. Another man, a bit smaller and leaner than the other comes out, wearing only a cloth shirt and pants, he probably woke up due to the commotion. I had completely forgotten about him. He looks at me with a wary expression, and then at the body of his comrade. I see the change in emotion from wariness to anger. He quickly reaches back inside the tent.


    It takes me a while to understand what is happening. When I realise, I lift myself up, a glint of madness in my eyes, and rush at him, in the process I grab the knife from the still warm hands of the hunter. I use what little strength I have to scream, only a hoarse and faint noise leaves my mouth, saliva dripping from the sides. I fall on top of the tent, just as he was about leave, and we both end up crashing to the ground.


    I was on top of him, and lifting up my arm I stab at his face. He quickly lifts his left hand and stops my attempt, but I keep forcing it. Without me realising, his other, free, hand is holding a dagger, and quickly stabs my right side. I scream from the pain and fall towards his left. He begins to slowly lift himself, and gradually moves towards the bow and quiver.


    Still recovering more from the shock than from the pain, I lift myself and manage to grab his foot before he gets too far. With a quick slice, I cut the tendon right above the heel. He loses his balance, more from the pain than from the lack of support, and falls face first. I use my free hand grab his clothes and move myself up his body. When I grab onto the edge of his shirt, I use my knife hand to stab at his back. He screams in pain, more so when I use the stuck knife as a grip to pull me up. His consciousness was beginning to fade from the pain. In one movement I remove the knife from his back and use it to stab through his throat.


    He chokes as the blood clogs his throat, producing gargling noises, with red bubbles coming out of the wound. He moves in a last futile attempt to reach the quiver. His hand only centimetres away from an arrow. Finally, he stops breathing as his hand drops. I lift myself up to a sitting position and rest against the small log. The knife is still stuck in my side. Removing the knife from the throat of the dead hunter, I use it to cut a piece of his shirt. With my other hand I gripped the blade stuck at my side and, breathing heavily and quickly, I gradually pull out. Heaving and grunting, the knife comes out at a snail¡¯s pace, until loosening it enough to pull it out.


    Grinding my teeth to hold in a scream, I grab the piece of cloth and tie it around my stomach and over the wound, a very improvised first aid, but for now it had to do. Dropping the weapon on the floor, I look around. Two corpses, one murderer. With solemn feelings I close my eyes, tired from the running, from the fight, from the loss of blood, and from my guilty conscious. While thinking about the disturbing images of the fight and the mutilated bodies of my victims, I fall into deep slumber.


    I am haunted by visions of the dead coming back. They are moving on the ground. The man I first killed is next to me, only moving a bit. I take a closer look, only to have him grab my face and release a chilling scream.


    ¡°I am sorry! I am so, so sorry!¡± I yell at him, or maybe at myself.


    As I repeat these words the other man suddenly lifts up. Looking back at the man holding my head, he was gone. When I lifted my head up, the other was gone as well. I look around myself, it is so dark. Whisper glide through the air, getting louder and louder. And then silence. Eerie, empty, silence. A song for death.


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    I wake up to the sounds of birds and the wind rustling the trees. The sun has yet to break dawn. Looking around the images are doubled, a slight headache befalls me. Adjusting myself, I notice the sweat, must have happened during my sleep. I try to stand but a pain follows. I forgot about the wound from last night. Last night?


    I recover my memory and remember what I had done, gagging in the process. Looking at the corpses, they have begun to decompose as a bittersweet yet vile odour permeated in the air. I try to vomit but there is nothing left. Calming myself I scan the surroundings to think about my next step.


    One of the tents is still standing, the other is on the ground because of my struggle with the second hunter. The fireplace is now a pile of ashes. From the remains of the destroyed tent I notice a bulge sticking out, maybe a supply pack. I struggle to my feet, I take about a minute to do such a simple task, while I still use my hands to cover my wound, not putting too much pressure on my right side to avoid reopening the cut.


    Limping with naked feet towards the tent, I remove the thick linen sheet. There is a medium sized bag filled with pockets, and some leather armour that belonged to the other hunter. Searching through it I find 5 medium pieces of tough jerky, and a water skin. Without thinking too much I devour the pieces and gulp down the water. The fact I hand not eaten or drank since yesterday only became apparent to me now, the constant vomiting did not help to ease the hunger nor the thirst. Looking down, only 2 pieces of jerky remain while the water skin was emptied.


    Somewhat satiated, I keep looking through the bag. Inside I find a small pouch, when I grabbed it, a jingling sound came out, a coin pouch. This will be very helpful if I get to the town¡­ no, when I get to the town. Opening the pouch, I count the currency, 50 copper and 2 silver. This was a reasonable amount; I could probably rent a room for a couple of nights in an inn. Included was a healing potion and some bandages, along with what seemed to be a bear trap.


    This was quite lucky, during one of the days I was cleaning the hall floor alone, I overheard the lord of the manor mention how expensive a healing potion was. The flask was the size of my open palm, I would say it has only a small effect since a group of hunters could buy so much, maybe to treat minor wounds and broken bones. I drink to heal my wound, but all it does is clog it, not strong enough to heal such a deep wound. The bandages would be necessary to change the dressing of the wound. Other things inside included a box of matches, a sewing kit, and a whetstone. Putting everything inside the bag I turned around, now came the difficult part.


    Putting on the armour was an almost arduous task as the slightest movement or pressure on my right side was rewarded with a small shot of pain. After 10 minutes, I was now dressed in better material and leather armour to protect myself and hide the wound, I sheath the hunters knife. Turning around I make my way towards the bow and quiver. The quiver seems to have 20 or so arrows and next to it is a simple wooden bow. I pick both up and strap them to my back as I move towards the bag. I grabbed the jerky, bandages and healing potion and put them into different pockets around the belt. The coin pouches were put inside my breast pocket. I would be in town in an hour or two, I could get the rest there. With everything done, it was time to take care of the bodies.


    It would be unwise to let the bodies in the open and exposed, the smell might attract nearby predators, and that would lead to them devouring the corpses. It was also my fault they died, if I was just a bit more careful with my surroundings, they would still be alive.


    I have to stop thinking this way, what is done is done¡­ In the future, I might have to kill again.


    Now with a bit more resolve, I move closer to the corpses, and begin my work. After about an hour, I have the bodies, the tents, and the bag on top a pile of dry leaves and wood. I use the box of matches to light them up. As the fire grows in strength, it consumes the bodies of the hunters. Although I am not a man of faith, I look up and offer a small prayer to the gods in hope they would find rest in their next life, and to forgive my sins. With a solemn thought, I turn in the direction I was heading last night, and make my way to town.


    After over 2 hours of travel, the trees begin to clear away until I am facing a large open plain. To my right is a dirt road leading away from the forest towards a small grey bundle far into the horizon. Above the mound are pillars of smoke, giving hint of civilization. I was nearing my destination.


    After another hour I finally come to halt, standing before me is a large open steel gate, about 3 meters in height guards posted in each side wearing the chain mail and the city tabard over it. Looking to the sides you can see a 5-meter stone wall that surrounds the town. Around me I see a crowd of humans and some dwarves with small glimpses of elves coming and going. I can see trade caravans on the sides of the road, looking further inside the walls there are many trades looking to sell their wares in an open market, all in all a bustling trade town.


    The sense of excitement and happiness is however only a disguise. In the trade caravans, cages are seen in one of the wagons, the contents are men, women and children. The men are displayed in chains, with the trader hitting them with a baton to show they are of ¡®tough quality¡¯. The women are no better, displayed naked to show their assets, the female children are much the same. The boys are sold as bonuses if you purchase their mothers. Inside the town, many of the store owners are using slaves to do their heavy work, usually males, as females are either for personal use or as advertisements for the store. But this is to be expected.


    The Kingdom of Gueneven has been at war with the neighbouring Corelan Republic for the past 100 years, thus forcing captured Corelan civilians into slavery. The Kingdom has made it illegal to turn Gueneven citizens into slaves, however that law is flimsily maintained. Our trade relations with the dwarves and elves has prohibited turning their people into slaves, but nothing a bit of money cannot do. Nothing is said about the orcs and goblins, a mutually hated race.


    The Corelan Republic, from what I know, is far worse, turning any person into a slave as long as it is within ¡®legal¡¯ reason, such as criminals, prisoners of war, and ¡®law breaking¡¯ minorities, usually other races like orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves, and in rare occasions the draken. Followers of less popular religious institutions are not safe either. They have no relations with any other race as they are self-sufficient, promoting a common belief of racial superiority.


    Without noticing I slip on a pebble, drawing me back to reality. My attempt to re-balance myself sent a pain through my side, the wound likely reopened. I fall on my knees as people start to look with curiosity and pity. Grinding my teeth, I lift myself off the ground. Giving a quick glimpse at the caravans again, I trudge along the road towards the town, thinking about last night¡¯s activity. I am to weak to do anything, and that angers me the most.


    Sigh¡­ I cower at the memory of my murders, how could I hope to help others.


    With a sombre thought, I pass the gates, the guards turn their heads in my direction. This will not be an easy life.


    _____________________________________________________________________________


    Author''s Note:


    First fight scene, hope it caught the attention of the reader. The last part served as a small glimpse of the world, in the future I hope to create a map.


    Chapter''s will be uploaded weekly, usually on Sunday, but it might be earlier, and all chapters aside from interludes will contain 3000+ words.


    Hope you enjoy the chapter, and hope you will continue reading in the future.

 Chapter Two

    Chapter Two


    While walking through the crowded streets of the trade town of Kloven, I feel underneath my armour. Touching my wound I retract my hand, looking at it, a mixture of blood and puss covers my fingers.


    I need to find a healer; I might end up with an infection if this goes on any longer.


    With heavy steps I make my way towards a sign with a heart inside an open hand. I do not know how to read, but neither do most people, only mages and wealthy individuals can afford such education within the Kingdom. Thus all shops and buildings have a common symbol to represent their use.


    Opening the door, a square room, filled with cupboards and display, all filled with magical potions of varying sizes and colours, all too expensive for me to afford. Behind one of the desks was a man in his late 40s. He had a bald head, but with a long unkempt moustache, and a well-built body, only a head smaller than myself. He was looking at me with caution.


    ¡°What can I help you with?¡± asked the man, his voice deep bust rusty.


    ¡°¡­I was wounded during a hunting expedition, the wound reopened recently and I would like to heal it completely.¡± I lied to the old man.


    I hope the price is not too expensive, with 5 silver coins in total, I am nowhere near a gold coin. If the price was too high, I would resort to herbalism. I need to work but that is impossible while my side is bleeding, only problem is that an herbalists medicine would take too long to take effect, so healing was the first option.


    ¡°Show me the wound¡± demanded the old man.


    I carefully remove the chest armour, lifting the shirt only ln the side of the wound. If I were to undress myself he might question the multiple scars on my back, not something I want discovered.


    While I keep the clothing lifted, the store owner slowly removes the bandage.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­ What did you say wounded you again?¡± asked the old man, the suspicion in his eyes only grew.


    ¡°During a hunting expedition a boar charged at my side without me noticing, and ended up stabbing its tusks into my side.¡± I answered back.


    ¡°The wound is too thin to have been a tusk, and your armour is still undamaged, if you plan on lying to me, boy, you better make up a better story.¡± the man narrowed his eyes, cautiously looking at my face.


    He is smart, too smart, in fear I reach for the dagger at my side. The old man notices this and puts his finger inside the wound. I scream from the pain, and drop my hand from the handle, as a sign of surrender. The man sees this and removes his finger from the wound. I fall to the ground while placing my right hand over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding that started again.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been working on this job without catching one or another person lie about the origin of their wounds, but if you threaten me again boy, you will walk out of here with a much deadlier wound¡± the old man warned me.


    ¡°The treatment will cost you 2 silver, but make it 3 for threatening the shop keeper.¡± he said, walking away.


    3 silver?!


    I lower my head and beg for forgiveness ¡°Forgive my earlier act good sir, please allow me a fair price.¡±


    He looked back at me and says ¡°You should counsider yourself lucky I don¡¯t report you to the slave hunters.¡± A smile forming on his lips.


    I quickly raise my head and look up at him, my eyes widen at the realisation of what was just said.


    How did he find out?


    ¡°Good sir, I do not know what you are talking about.¡± I said in a hurried tone, this just seemed to further extend his devious smile.


    ¡°You really think I wouldn¡¯t notice the whip scars on your back? Not only are you a terrible liar, but also a fool.¡± He looked at me, seemingly baffled at how I thought I deceived him.


    I lift myself off the ground, it would be dangerous to remain here any longer. Bleeding from my side while trying to fight an obviously strong opponent would only result in my death. I begin to leave but before I can do anything, he is already in front of me. I reach for the dagger and aim at the man¡¯s chest, hopping to cause a deep enough wound for him to retreat, but not kill.


    Before the dagger can even get halfway through the planned trajectory, it is slapped off my hand and thrown to the side. At the same time a punch comes from underneath and hits my stomach. I bend forward from the impact, small droplets of blood rain from my mouth. The brute force from the blow was enough to cause my legs to collapse. Once again I was down on the floor.


    So is this how I die? Pitiful.


    I close my eyes in expectation of the slow beating that would inevitably ensue a former slave. A dog¡¯s death for a dog¡¯s life. And so I waited, but the blow never came. Weary I opened my eyes and, ever so slowly, looked up.


    The man was looking down on me, disappointment visible in his eyes. There was no bloodlust in them, no apathy towards a life less valuable than your own, but disappointment. I stared for a bit longer, and the man just turned away.


    ¡°If you are willing to so thoughtlessly discard your life because you have met someone more powerful than you, you will not survive long in the outside, slave.¡± He said without looking back.


    At the same time, he grabbed something from underneath his shirt, a necklace. He quickly untied it and threw it on the floor directly in front of me, never turning around.


    ¡°If you want that to change, and want to make that change happen to those in a similar situation to your own, give this pendant to the inn keeper of The Bear Cove in the capital city.¡±


    He went to the back of the desk, going through a door. I waited a minute but he never returned. I look at the necklace right in front of me. It had a simple, oval, silver pedant with no carvings or anything. While getting back on my feet, I picked up the pendant to have a closer look.


    What did he mean by that?


    Upon closer inspection, the oval pendant was about 1 cm thick, but was not a locket despite. Moving it around my fingers, the surface was perfectly smooth. Having satisfied my curiosity, I tucked the pendant away in one of my belt pockets.


    With the other hand I pulled out the health potion and drank a bit of it to close the wound. After the bleeding stopped, I made my way to the back door, almost falling from the pain coming from the wound. I could not let him go out without an explanation.


    Putting my hand on the door knob, I stop and look around the shop.


    What did I want to do again?


    It was an odd feeling, I was about to go through this back door, but why? I still remember the fight with the shopkeeper and the pendant, but not why I wanted to go through the door. This was weird, but I decided to just ignore it. There were other issues that required more immediate attention.


    The capital city of the Kingdom was far, almost a month while traveling at a leisurely pace. The pendant would have the lowest priority, I cannot say I am not curious, but I am very suspicious. The man¡¯s eyes were odd, even though he knew of my origin, they were emitting a feeling almost foreign.


    Regardless, it would take too long to get to the capital, the only clue of who the man might be. A more pressing issue is the wound, I can barely stand, much less fight.


    I must learn¡­


    This fight proved how much I was at the mercy of those stronger than me, if he wanted to the man could easily have killed me.


    He was still holding back.


    He did not want to injure me, at most he wanted to subjugate me. But why? Any man that was attacked by someone would kill him. Why was I spared? This just goes to show my lack of experience¡­ and the unconventional truth that no one is ever free, not as long as there is someone stronger, or more influential.


    Again I was angry, angry at a society that builds upon oppression, angry at the people who do nothing about it, angry at the gods in their high castle for doing nothing, but mostly I was angry at myself. I did not have the power to protect myself, so how could I do anything about this world?


    The answer was simple, I become stronger, both mentally and physically. It is time this useless former slave become something greater. With the idea in mind, I take a large and confident step forward, in honour of my goals.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.When my foot lands, the vibration causes some pain from the wound, and I end up tripping, putting one knee on the ground to avoid falling completely.


    ¡°Hahahaha!¡± I laugh in between ragged breaths.


    The glorious me can barely walk!


    Lifting myself up for the fourth time today, I finally head towards the exit of the shop. Upon leaving, I notice the sun has begun to go down, the streets have gotten less crowded. Holding the wound in hopes this will alleviate the pain, I jog along the street, a smile upon my face.


    I finally reach herbalist shop, the icon of a plant shown above it, and loudly swing open the door, scaring the old lady behind the counter, who stares at me in surprise. It takes a while for the woman to respond.


    ¡°Wh- what can I do for you, young man?¡± the woman stutters at the beginning, still shocked about my entry.


    ¡°Hahaha do not look so surprised madam!¡± I say in an unusually loud voice.


    The woman looks with a brow raised ¡°What do I owe the pleasure of such a happy man?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Well madam, would you mind taking care of this wound here?¡± I lift up the armour and shirt, again only revealing the stab wound in hopes she is not as perceptive as the old man.


    ¡°Oh my! What happened to you?¡± she looked at me with worry.


    ¡°¡­ I was stabbed by a mugger a while ago, luckily I have a potion that managed to heal the wound before it bled too much.¡± My previous encounter taught me not to lie to those healing you¡­ well, at least not about the wound itself.


    Her face turned from one of surprise, into that of disgust ¡°And you are happy with this?¡±


    Laughing off the ludicrous assumption by the shopkeeper, I respond ¡°Well, not about the wound itself, but what it has led me to do¡­¡± I say while looking at it.


    That is right, if it was not for the wound, I would not have gone to a healer. I would not have met the old man, and I would have not been utterly defeated by him. But I would also not have realised the ugly truth, my own futility, the fact that my new gained freedom was only superficial. Thus I would not have come to a conclusion, a new resolve, the wish for a new beginning not only for myself but for the world.


    However, I look solemnly at wound, because I knew what I did to deserve this injury. The man¡¯s appearance after I smashed his face with the rock. The light in the others face fade away, as the blood from his neck crawled through the ground. A sight I would remember for the rest of my life. The day I destroyed the life of another.


    ¡°Well young man, for 20 copper I can offer you some salve which can treat the wound, but you must let it heal by itself. I recommend that for the next day or two you do not do much work¡±


    The woman¡¯s words brought me back to reality, there was nothing I could do now. What has happened cannot be changed, and it is my duty as the survivor to carry the memories of those that have fallen¡­ even if by my own hands.


    ¡°Thank you very much.¡± I respond with a weak smile.


    I quickly ask ¡°If possible, could I also buy some medicine for serious burns?¡±


    ¡°Why do you want that?¡± requested the woman.


    Smiling I assure her ¡°My wife has recently burned her hand while cooking, this would help speed up the recovery.¡±


    She hesitated for a while but then concedes ¡°That will cost you 15 extra copper¡±


    After giving her the money and getting ready to head out, the woman draws my attention as she is about to speak.


    ¡°Take care young man, and I am sorry for what you must have gone through.¡±


    My eyes widened at what she said, did she know about my past? As I was about to reach for the dagger, I remember what I had told her, and lowered my hand.


    She is probably talking about the mugging.


    ¡°Thank you for your concern, madam, but please do not worry.¡± I say, waving her good bye.


    Closing the door behind me, it was time to begin the first change. I must grow in strength, that is an undeniable fact. I will not live should my strength only amount to this, thus I had to find a way to grow, a method for me to become stronger.


    I look at the money I have left, 4 silver 65 copper, not much. With this I can rent a room in the inn for the week, this would allow me to heal the wound. This was the current priority and thus I chose to begin with this before the next step.


    I make my way towards an inn, identifiable by a symbol of a mug, inside I am greeted by a young man, about 2 heads shorter than myself, he had short brown hair and brown eyes, he is wearing a bartender¡¯s suit.


    ¡°Welcome dear guest, what can I help you with?¡±


    ¡°Hello, I am looking for the innkeeper, is he in?¡±


    ¡°He is currently busy, but I can attend you while he is unavailable.¡±


    With a raised eyebrow I give the ¡°innkeeper¡± 2 silver for two days in the inn, a meal and bath included. Being done with the pay, I am shown to a room with a single bed, a desk and a chair. After removing the armor, I head downstairs.


    Kloven, as a trade town in the edges of the Kingdom, was very safe so as to ensure the arrival of important delivery and personnel from the various city-states and nations as well as protect the citizens and the Kingdom in the event of an invasion. This could be easily seen by how peaceful the inn was.


    There was, of course, the merrier bunch, drinking and laughing or singing. There were the calmer, secluded ones, talking to colleagues and friend about the day¡¯s intrigue. Hunters showing off about their biggest catch. The heartbroken men and women who caught their partner cheating, or drinking away the sorrow of losing a family member. A lively and, to the miserable me, a wondrous sight, it glows in a beautiful hue of amber in eyes, and before I noticed it, tears were forming in my eyes.


    The young innkeeper approaches my table, some broth on his hands. He looks at me questionably, wondering if something happened. I look at him, and a thin smile appear across my face.


    ¡°Haha, do not worry¡± I say while wiping away the tears.


    He places the broth in front of me. With an understanding look, he speaks to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright to cry, you aren¡¯t the only one here with a tragic story.¡± He says while scanning the inn.


    ¡°I won¡¯t pry as it is none of my business, but know that holding it in is the most painful.¡± he says to me while looking down, his face shows a deep sadness.


    Turning around he left, only for me to stare at his back. His back seemed bigger somehow. For a child to present such words of counselling, many things must have happened, he is far more of an adult than most people in this room. I do not look at him with eyes of pity, for he granted me the same dignity, but with curiosity. And taking the broth in my hands, I heed his advice and head to my room.


    Sitting on the floor with my back against the bed, I eat the broth. It is warm and savoury. I eat faster and faster, barely chewing before I swallow. Without noticing I begin to cry.


    The is so good¡­


    I think of what could have been. The innocent childhood, where I could play with friends, fight them over a game, and cry when they got mad at me. The teen years where I would meet my first love, with friends making joke about us, to then have your heart broken for being rejected, only to meet another and have the cycle repeat. Get a job and work hard to sustain myself and maybe even one or more people. Argue with my lover over petty things, and beg for forgiveness afterwards. Grow old and tired with that person, watching as your own children got old.


    I look down at the tipped over bowl of broth, and simply hug my legs.


    The food was really good¡­


    _________________________________________________________________


    Authors note:


    Sorry about the delay, I was coming back from a trip and only arrived at midnight, but I managed to post the story today!


    So this marks a turning point in our protagonist, a demand for a change. Thus it is time to name our protagonist! If you have any suggestions, post them as a reply, if a lot of people want that name, I don''t mind using it, just don''t ask for anything stupid please!


    From the next chapter onward a story arc will be implemented, and I can guarantee it will keep you guys on edge.


    Hope you enjoyed the chapter, if you spot any errors, feel free to point them out.