The armoured woman staggered backwards and sank to one knee.

How is she not down yet? Horatio thought. They had thrown swordstrikes, spells, concoctions, arrows, spears–everything–at her.

The woman lifted a hand to her helmet and wrenched it off.

Horatio took a double take.

Flowing blonde hair framed a proud, pale face with jutting cheekbones, marred only by a single line of blood that ran from one corner of her mouth. The woman was stunning.

While Horatio and the others looked on, panting with exertion from the battle, the woman pulled a metallic bottle off her belt, snapped some sort of seal off the top of it, then glugged down its contents lustily in one drink.

She gasped for breath. ‘Ahhh.’ Pinkness came into her cheeks, and her face grew fresher. She wiped her mouth with the back of a gauntlet. ‘That’s better. Fools! You shouldn’t have allowed me the breathing space to drink my elixir! Now you are all battle weary, and I am fighting fit again! This was my plan all along–to wear you out and then revive myself! Now I will finish you, and feed your caracasses to the–’

‘Oh do shut up!’ said a man who was running towards the Braxian woman from behind, with a drawn sword. As he said the word “up”, he tripped over his own feet, stumbled a few paces and crashed into the Braxian woman.

The man’s swordblade stuck out of her stomach, pointing towards Horatio and the party.

It was so sharp, and the man was so strong, that the sword had gone right through her armour.

The woman just had time to turn slightly to see who had spoken. A meaningless puff of air escaped from the Braxian woman’s lips, and more blood burst from her mouth and ran down her chin.

She had been trying to say something more, but the stiffness of death was already beginning to grip her in place.

She fell over sideways onto the ground at last, the sword still sticking through her, and did not speak or move again.

‘Whoopsh,’ said the man, unsteady on his feet. ‘Oh well. That wash what I wash planning to do anywaysh.’

With visible concentration, the man crouched and removed his sword from the Braxian general’s body. It slid out with an unpleasant squelching sound.

He swayed slightly as he stood and looked at the party.

‘Don’t you jusht hate it when they go on and on like that?’ the man said in his well-spoken but slurry voice, stumbling not only over his steps, but his words.

The man had wild, flamboyant orange hair that looked dyed, quiffed up above his forehead, possibly with wax, and which fell down to his shoulders. Tanned skin suggested a southern heritage, or at least that he had been in the South for a long time. And he was wearing one of the most ridiculous outfits that Horatio had ever seen–perhaps even more ridiculous than the one worn by Ross: a tight-fitting white-and-purple suit of velvet that clung to him fiercely, not leaving anything to the imagination, with a high collar that gathered in his orange-dyed locks, and a grey-green cape that came down to the floor.

He had come seemingly from nowhere. Maybe he had been hiding behind a rock, or maybe he had approached the Braxian general openly, but Horatio at least had not noticed him while his attention had been fixed on her.

‘Who in all of Braxia are you?’ said Primus.

The man pressed the fingers of his free hand to his chest. ‘Me-ee?’ he said in a voice that squeaked erratically, as though surprised that Primus didn’t know. ‘Why, I am the great Walter Altorius Sinjon, champion boxer, swordsman and adventurer of [land]! Have you not heard of me before? Doesh my reputashion not presheede me?’

Why was he talking so ridiculously, and being so rude?

Horatio realised. How had he been so naive as not to notice it before? The man wasn’t mocking them. He was drunk. That explained why he was red in the nose and cheeks. That was why he couldn’t stand up straight without swaying slightly from side to side, or run without falling over. That was why he was slurring his speech and acting like a complete and total buffoon.

As if to confirm this conclusion, the man giggled, then burped.

‘I’ve certainly never heard of you before,’ said Primus. ‘Anyone else?.’

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

He glanced at the rest of the party for a moment. Nobody appeared to have done. Ouzo shrugged. Helen shook her head.

‘So what,’ Primus continued, ‘may I ask, are you doing here in Braxia, “Walter”?’

The drunken swordsman frowned at him, then slapped his own chest. ‘What am I doing here?’ he repeated incredulously, as if Primus’s question was absurd. [Editorial note: Could have him sober up here out of outrage, and stop slurring! Or it could happen just below–see other note.] ‘What am I doing here? Have yoush really never heard of me? Have yoush not been told the tale of how I reshcued the Prinshesh Wilimina of Excelshivania from the Evil Wishard Wishrove, and how she became my bride? Have yoush not heard the shtory of how I entered the Shstrongest Under The Heavensh Tournament in [land] in the East of Gard and won the prishe of a [feather from the plume of the fabled Phoneishx]? Have yoush not listened to the shaga of how I gathered a band of other adventurersh to myself and journeyed to [Firetop Mountain in order to recover the Shtone of Shamalikia from the Greatdragon Draug?].’

‘Er, no,’ said Olivia. ‘We haven’t. Sorry.’

‘Oh,’ said Walter, his brow crinkling in confusion underneath his ridiculous hair.

‘We are all mainly from the North of Gard, though,’ said Ceres kindly. ‘Maybe we would have heard of you if we were from the South?’

‘I mean, yesh…’ Walter mumbled, his cheeks going even redder ‘I am shure you would have…’

‘My question still remains,’ said Primus. ‘What are you doing here in Braxia, Walter?’

[The sobering up could happen here.] Walter blinked a few times, and his eyes seemed to focus a little more. ‘Ah. Well, I mentioned my wife, Princess Wilimina of Excelsivania.’ He had stopped slurring his speech, Horatio noticed. Maybe he was sobering up. Or maybe the drunkenness was all an act. ‘A few months ago, she was killed in a Braxian raid in my homeland. Several Braxian captains and a horde of monsters descended on my town in the depths of the night, and attacked us in our sleep. I think they were targeting me specifically. I managed to fight my way through them and escape, but…’

Walter sucked in a deep breath. He pursed his lips, and they quivered, and for a moment he could not speak.

‘But my wife did not,’ he said eventually with a tremulous exhalation. ‘She was killed in the raid, by a behemoth. When it happened, I went mad. I flew into a battle rage and slew the monster, the Braxian captains, the whole horde. To my shame, in my bloodlust I killed some of my own townspeople as well. When I came to my senses and the surviving townspeople told me what had happened, I vowed that I would travel to Braxia to seek out the Demon King. I vowed that I would somehow end his reign of terror once and for all, or at least to die trying, to give my life in the pursuit of vengeance for what Brax took from me, and as penance for the battle fury that drove me to murder some of my own people. So I have travelled here, to Braxia, to do just that. I did have a small crew and attendants with me, but all they either died on the journey over or decided to turn round and head home after delivering me here. So here I am, to seek out and fight Brax myself, alone.’ The champion paused. ‘Qind, what a depressing story… I need a drink.’

At this, he produced a large silver flask from somewhere under his cape, unstoppered it, and tipped back a few gulps of its contents into his throat, much as the Braxian he had just killed had done with her “elixir”.

Horatio somewhat doubted this was an “elixir”, however. At least not one of the same sort.

The change when Walter took the flask away from his mouth was immediate. His nose and cheeks were already redder again, his eyes had gone slightly out of focus, and he began to sway slightly from side to side once more.

‘That’sh better!’ he said happily. ‘Now, it’sh my turn to ask yoush guys the shame queshtion! What are yoush all doing here? A bunch of ragtag mishfits with weaponsh cavorting around unshupervised in Braxia? You’re ash bad ash me! What givesh?’

‘If someone calls us a “ragtag band of misfits” again…’ muttered Egea. [Have they before??]

‘We seek to slay the Demon King Brax too,’ said Horatio. He didn’t see any need to conceal their goal from the drunken champion. He was clearly not on the side of the Braxians, having just run through one of their most powerful generals with his blade. ‘We have come to learn of the existence of a legendary magical weapon, the Clarent Sword, which hold the power to slay the Demon King.’

‘Oh! The Clarent Shword, yoush say? I’ve heard of it! I never did manage to find it, though! So it’sh real, then?’

‘Yes, it’s real, and we almost came close to getting hold of it, but the Braxians thwarted us.’

‘Damn Braxshians!’ Walter suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘They alwaysh get in the bloody way, don’t theysh?’

‘Yes…’ Horatio agreed. ‘When we got to the sword, it has just been found by a man called Alex, another hero who claimed to be the chosen champion destined to defeat the Demon King. But he was overwhelmed by a massive group of monsters, and they took the sword. They teleported here, and apparently will be taking it to that tower.’ He nodded towards the spire rising out of the earth in the distance. [Could always just tell this explanation with narrative summary. Though maybe it is not too long, so is ok.]

‘Well,’ said Walter, wobbling his head with excitement, ‘we had better get going then!’

‘“We”?’ said Ceres. ‘Will you join us in our quest to retrieve the sword, Walter?’

‘Of courshe!’ said Walter. ‘We share a goal: to rid Gard of the evil of the Demon Lord Braxsh!’

‘Everyone cool with him joining us?’ asked Egea.

‘He seems pretty strong,’ said Wyvera. ‘I think he’d be a good asset to the team.’

‘Great!’ said Egea. ‘Welcome to Egea and the Misfits, Walter! That’s our band name!’

Primus opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it, and shut it.

Walter, who appeared not to mind in the slightest having been spoken about in the third person, said ‘Why thank yoush, kind lady! It’sh a pleashure to be joining forces with yoush!’

Walter joined the party!

It wasn’t very long before they got to test out what it was like fighting alongside Walter, because when he had shouted a few moments earlier he had attracted the attention of some monsters, and they had started to run over in the direction of the party. Almost immediately after he agreed to join them they were attacked by this group of monsters.

Battle1