A boy, not yet beyond his 16th year yelled in defiance. "You better believe I'll win!" His enemy? Perd's dog, Rufus. They were about to be men - able to participate as true adults in their village's tradition. Yet, instead of seeking trouble in town or ogling the wares of the traveling troupe - Perd was watching Destin play-fight a mutt. And he was losing. Again.

Perd glared from under his helm, eyes drilling into his best friend. Destin was of average height, but less-than average looks. His brown hair never shed its grease and his teeth sat just off-center in his mouth. Perd was not much of an eye-catcher himself, but at least he wasn't covered in mud and slobber!

Perd wanted to support his friend but could not understand who Destin was training to fight, why his dog (15 feet away) made a good opponent, and how Perd was left the one wearing his mother's cooking pot for a helmet.

Destin's dog, Rufus, was a lazy monstrosity. He stood at waist height and must have been the bastard of a dire wolf and a mountain hound.

Rufus's tongue lolled out and drool dripped into the grass. 'Oh no, the brutal finisher' Perd thought sarcastically.

Destin shifted his right foot back and bent his left knee. His hand pointed skyward and extended toward Rufus. Then he beckoned, 'Preparing your special move? Well, I've trained just for this. Perd, now!"

That was his cue. Perd slowly rose from his spot in the grass - purposefully ignoring the urgency Destin was imitating.

Perd brushed off the back of his pants making sure that no remnant blades of grass were stuck to his buttocks and hamstrings. He pulled a morsel of meat out of his left pocket and yelled in monotone "I am a distraction. Look at me a big distraction". Perd's arms waved in the air and Rufus turned to track Perd’s left hand holding the morsel. Perd continued to repeat his 'battle chant' as he slowly backed away from the two.

With distraction at play, Destin executed a flawless pirouette, and then placed both his hands on the ground and kicked out his legs - failing the obvious cartwheel he was attempting. Rufus paid no mind. His attention was solely focused on the meat. Even larger amounts of drool seeped out of his jaws as his hunger escalated.

"Oh no, my friend has taken on too great of a foe! I will rescue you, Perd!"

Destin began pumping his arms and running toward Rufus and Perd, intent on performing a ruthless flying tackle. Instead, he misjudged both the timing and the power of his jump - so when Rufus leapt to try and snatch the meat from Perd's hand, Destin bungled into Perd, knocked them both to the ground and Rufus landed atop the dogpile as the obvious victor of this fateful battle.

Without another moment's passing Rufus snatched the meat from Perd's outstretched hand, pointing like a flag to the sky. Was it poetry or a shoulder dislocation? Perd could not yet tell through the pain - but he hoped it was the former.

At midday, Perd had finally recovered enough from the morning's activity to lift his head from the cot and groan. Despite the many times they had reenacted and invented battle scenes and scenarios, Perd’s body never fully adjusted. Perd made his way through the household and scrounged around until he found jerky. He chewed on the long strip, slowly working it between his teeth. It was tough meat and overly salted. Despite this, Perd found it satisfying as he schemed for the rest of the day’s activities.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He decided that after he freshened up, Perd would wander over to Destin's house with his parents to see how else they could drain the day away. Parents. He gazed down the hallway at the light-brown wood of a closed door. Closed for far too long.  A fresh tear glistened in Perd's eyes as he considered how alone he was without his parents.

They were absent from his life and this town - until they would one day return from their extended vacation. Where did they go? Why leave him lonesome, while he was just barely a man? And why had they been gone for so long?

Perd imagined his dad ruffling his  hair in a playful scuffle. Well that never did happen, but Perd had heard vacation changed people - so maybe this would cure his arguably milquetoast personality. And mother dearest, she always provided him the wisest counsel. A single word could rally him against his deepest fears and insecurities or shine the brightest glow stone on his faults. Not much more to be pondered - he missed them both dearly.

Oh well, nothing much to do about it except bury it deep, deep inside until he was forced to confront the realities of his situation. Or his parents would arrive with newly bronzed skin. Whichever came first.

Perd wandered through town not giving much mind to the familiar streets and novelties of Crimsonia. Destin lived in a manse in the center of the town. His parents had fled there from the land of Hysteria after a great evil had conquered their home. Being of a foreign noble status, one would think Destin should be afforded all the care and sensibilities of his station. However, he was susceptible to the eccentricities of the rich – more so than most. Thus, his good humor had quickly waned on the townsfolk in a few short years. That left Perd as the only one who could be counted on as a friend…begrudgingly at times.

Finally, Perd made it to the front gates. It was a grandiose blockade and honestly a bit out of sorts compared to the rest of the square. The gates stood at thirty hands tall and were made of a dull silver metal. Despite the time of day, the silver seemed to absorb the light of the baking afternoon sun rather than reflect it. He had learned long ago to only look at it with his eyes crossed lest he draw the ire of its spirits. 

Perd approached and grabbed a hold of one of the knockers, swinging the cool metal lightly into the gate. He gave a brief pause.s The sun’s incandescence threatened to set his shirt ablaze. No response except a loud snore and grunt. He knocked a bit harder with his patience withering. Another lapse, birds chirped merrily at his expense. Finally, he abandoned all pretense and shouted, “Jerry will you please open the gate?”

At this finally a response could be heard in the form of a loud crash and “Blimey gobsmacks!” resounded in the small gatehouse. Jerry opened the door in a disheveled state – the guard had discarded his helm and wore a rumpled expression. “Ya just about gave me a goblin’s dagger, Perd. What was that fer?”

“I have been waiting ages here Jerry. Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the gate?” Perd answered with an expectant look.

“Sure, but seeing as this be enchanted dwarven steel – I’m more like to encounter a breeze than a true foe.” Jerry sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “I’ll let ya in, but don’t think yer friendship with their son gives ya any special privilege”.

Perd adopted a solemn expression and swore not to let the treatment go to his head. The guard muttered a phrase under his breath and the gate slowly swung inward.

Perd made his way through the hedge maze, slowly winding through without care. He had memorized several of the patterns over time – and figured out that the magic of the maze always left clues as to which general formation it would take. When Perd finally made it to the front door he checked his clogs for mud and straightened out a few errant wrinkles in his clothing. They said a first impression was best, but when it came to this household – each appearance could baffle even the most stalwart of wills.

The metal doors dematerialized, and a burgundy carpet rolled forward stopping at his feet. Then a loud, rich baritone commanded: “Enter the domicile!”

Perd gulped and stepped through the black veil.