Chapter one, The first loop.
It started as a peaceful day, as it was just a day like any other. The roosters crowed at the sun as it rose, rising the young smith out of his bed. He grumbled and fumbled his usual routine. Getting dressed, feeding the chickens, collecting the eggs, making breakfast for himself and his now lazy father. The usual things.
He checked the requests that they’ve gotten. The requests have started to pile up, now that its only him at the forge. His father could help; however, it was a good day when he got out of bed before his breakfast got cold. He had never really recovered from the death of his wife.
The boy filed through until he found a request that fit his requirements; both easy to do and pays well. It was to make a new knife for the butcher, Harry. Harry is a good man, easily paying over half as needed to make the knife. Harry is one of the few villagers who have steadily supported him after his mother’s death and his father’s subsequent downhill spiral.
He looked up to his father. He remembered that his father wasn’t always the lazy slob he is now. Just six years ago, back when his mother was alive, his father had been his hero as well as the pride of the village. This was because his father held the [Rare Blacksmith] class. People would come from far and wide just to have his father make them epic swords or any manner of weaponry.
But that all stopped when his mother had died. He sighed as he stopped his recollection and headed to the forge. It was still on their rather large property, a testament of the previous success his father held. However, many things around their home were broken down or in the need of heavy repair. It was already a miracle that a young boy such as himself was able to support his family, or at least earn enough to put food on the table for every meal. Maybe a little more on the rare occasion when he was able to mess around with his friends, as a young boy should.
As he started up the forge and made sure everything was working right, he looked around his father’s shop. It was now more his than his father’s, as he was the only one who ever used it. He picked up his hammer, making sure it was properly taken care of. Half a blacksmiths job is taking care of their tools, he mused. He rubbed his fingers over the engraving on the body of the hammer, somewhere where it wouldn’t rub off from the normal work of a blacksmith. The engraving was his name, John Black. A fitting name for a blacksmith, or for an [Apprentice Blacksmith] as was his class.
Looking at the specifications for the knife John was supposed to make, he was surprised to see it was more a cleaver than the kitchen knife he had previously imagined. It seemed to be made in order to do the first cuts on an animal, to section it off or so. He didn’t know the specifications, nor did he need to. That was Harry’s job. He just had to make it according to Harry’s wishes. His mind wandered as he started hammering away.
With this commission, John would be paid enough for the rest of the week. As he was running low on money, barely enough for food for the next two days, this was definitely the most important part. Maybe with his new slack he could pick up on of the bigger projects he had been putting off. Such as making that plow for the farmers.
Or maybe he could take a break. It had been a while since John had spent time with his friends. Rex and Dina. Those were the names of his closest friends. They too had spent their whole lives in this deadbeat village, not even a proper town. Rex was the son of the best tailor around while Dina was the daughter of the local healer, nothing too fancy but such was their village.
It had been ages since he had had time with them and, much to his dismay, this had led to the two of them becoming much closer. John had always known that Rex had a crush on Dina, but so did he. While they were the best of friends, they were also rivals of love. Both trying to win Dina’s hand. At least that is what they tell each other, as neither He nor Rex had had the courage to confess to Dina properly.
Maybe they could go to the outer farms, there are rumors an old barn that is now haunted. Of course, it’s not, nothing so interesting could ever happen in the village. However, it would be fun to run around with them, maybe he would even be able to show Dina how courageous he is, or something along those lines.
While John worked, his mind continued to wander, from his tentative plans with friends, to his class as an [Apprentice Blacksmith], to even his mother. They never did find why she had died. This caused much pain and sadness to both him and his father. His mind soon wandered to his father, once again thinking of what a great man he used to be, but also about how his life would be different if his father was still that great man.
Before he realized it, he had finished the cleaver. He looked around, noticing that it was just a little past noon, he decided that directly giving the finished product to the Harry would be fine. Swiftly cleaning his tools, he put them in their respective places and left.
“I’m off to Harry’s place dad!” John yelled, not that his father would notice he left.
As the he walked to the butcher shop just a short 5-minute walk, he looked around his cozy village. There were only about 100 or so people living in the village now, about half as many as there were two years ago, and less than a quarter of what had been a couple years or so ago. The village had started to go in decline about 10 or so years ago.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
John had heard from the elders that the village was once a promising border town, on the edge of the wilderness. But then some frontiersmen had declared that it was too difficult to keep expanding in this direction and had left for somewhere else with promise of riches always just over the horizon. Whether it was true or not remains to be seen, however when they left, people stopped coming.
The decline had slowed, and even seemed to be turning around, because of his father and his class. However, his father halting to work had only sealed the village’s fate. It will now just be a small farming village with no real specialty or anything to really set it apart from the rest. He was still caught up in his own thoughts when he reached Harry’s shop.
“Hey John! Where are you going?” A voice called out to him. John quickly snapped out of his daze and turned to meet the voice. It was Harry, just the man he was going to see.
“Hey Harry, I got your cleaver right here.” John said, as he held up the cleaver.
“I assumed so, but you ‘bout near walked right past my place! You were in a daze again boy! Honestly, you think too much for a blacksmith! Now come with me, I’ve got something for you inside.” Harry bellowed, signing for John to follow him.
John started to follow Harry, when just for a moment, he thought he heard something. Stopping for a moment, he tried to listen. After a few seconds, Harry notice that John had stopped.
“John! What are you doing! Standing there like a statue, I told you to follow me!” Harry called.
“Hey Harry, do you hear that?” John muttered, still trying to hear the sound that now alluded him. Harry paused and tried to hear as well. Hearing nothing, Harry spoke.
“I don’t hear anything boy, probably just the wind or something. The village is not exactly the quietest place in the world.” Harry replied.
It was then that it happened. Blasting louder than anything John had heard in his life, a horn sounded from the east side of the village.
“What was that!?” Both John and Harry shouted, as they turned to face the sound. They then saw, what appeared to be an ocean of green, coloring the entire side of the mountain. Then they heard what sounded like shouts of aggression as well as joy.
“GOBLINS!!!!!!!!! Goblins ar-” a voice echoed, being cut off.
John was in stood still, not understanding what was happening. Goblins? What would they want with their tiny village? It made no sense. There was nothing here that they would want. John stood still, trying to work it out in his mind, when he suddenly saw blurs pass by him faster than he could react. He turned to Harry, eyes bulging in shock seeing the man was now adorned with two arrows sticking out of his chest.
“John… run… d… don’t… stop…” Harry barley was able to say, blood starting to flow out of his mouth.
It was then reality hit him. He didn’t have to know why goblins were attacking, they just were. And now Harry was dead. Looking around, John saw many of his fellow villagers running away, while he just stood.
“Dad!” John shouted, then started sprinting towards his home. On his way, he heard metal clashing with metal. He turned and saw one of the few village guards fighting with the goblins, if he could call what he saw a fight. There were only about 15 or so guards left. There used to be more, but as the village declined, people were no longer able to support so many. Leaving just these few for emergencies. And this emergency proved how grossly inadequate they were.
There were around 30 or so goblins surrounding the guards. There were more goblins chasing after the fleeing villagers. With one strike, a guard stopped a charging goblin. With another, they took an arm. With a last strike, they took the goblin’s life. However, just by using their great numbers, the goblins were able to inflict injury after injury on the guards. By using such a sacrificial method, only 3 guards remained. One was named Harold, Harry’s brother. He was the captain of the guards. Usually a jolly man, but now covered in slashes and blood, much of which was his own. He looked worse than John had ever seen.
Turning away, John continued his sprint to his home. However, even from where he was, he could see dots of green surrounding his house. Knowing this meant nothing good, but refusing to think further, he ran as hard and as fast as he could.
Until… Until he saw his house, which at first seemed normal. Then John noticed the green blood all around. Surrounding his house, were countless goblin corpses. It appeared that his house was one of the first hit, seeing as the goblins had come form this direction.
Drawing nearer, John saw a body, in between the house and the workshop. He halted, knowing what it was, but refusing to acknowledge it as so. Until he did, breaking out in an all-out sprint, faster than he knew was possible, he reached the body in record time.
“Dad!” John screamed, looking at his father, now covered in blood. “Dad it’s going to be ok. Dad, talk to me! Dad!!!!” John yelled and bent down, trying to lift his father up, only to realize that his father only had one arm.
Then his father stirred. Opening his eyes, he gazed at John.
“John… John… I…l-love… you” his father muttered, breathing heavily.
“Dad! I love you too! Dad, you are going to be fine! We will be fine!” John practically screamed. Tears streamed down his face; John hadn’t realized that he had started crying.
“Son… I am… am sorry…” his father breathed out, before closing his eyes, one final time.
“NO!!!! Dad!!! Don’t leave me!!!!” John yelled, this time fully acknowledging that he was crying, and pouring his heart out into his words. “You are going to be ok Dad; it’s all going to be ok!”
John grabbed his father and held him tight, crying harder than before. Then John felt something poke him from behind. John looked down and saw what looked like the tip of a spear poking out of his chest. He watched as it was then pulled out from him, then saw a hole the size of a fist where his chest once was. Oddly, it did not hurt, for he was in too much shock for it to hurt. Instead, as he bled out, it just felt cold.
John was then poked again and again, from every direction. However, he still didn’t feel any pain. Just an all-encompassing freeze that penetrated his soul.
“I feel cold.” John muttered, as he fell on top of his father’s now cooling corpse. “I feel so cold.” John spoke on last time, before closing his eyes. John’s consciousness grew hazier and hazier, until it faded to nothingness.