It was past nightfall when the group reached the first village on their journey. The wagon had ample supplies for campouts, but Valanor had insisted they keep to their schedule. He had given the impression that he’d rather continue traveling through the night, if not for the drastically increased danger of monster encounters.

As such, the village was lit only by torches when they arrived. It was a farming community, and it was a bit eerie to walk down the single road leading to the small defensive wall. The fields next to them were overgrowing with crops that grew taller than the mounted party. Ethan recognized corn on one side, but the twisting vines on the other were a mystery.

In the dark, the fields felt oppressive, capable of hiding any number of horrors, and he found himself jumping a little at every sound. At last they reached the gates, which clearly weren’t meant to keep out anything more than the smallest of creatures. A single guard in brown clothes was lounging against a nearby wall, and leaped to the ready, even drawing a bow when he noticed the group.

“Identify yourselves!” he called. “I can have twenty more men here in a blink!”

“Hunters,” Valanor called back, turning to look at the other knights with a raised eyebrow. “We’re passing through, responding to a notice in a village to the South East.”

“A fine claim for a group of suspicious characters in the night! What proof have you to show?”

Maggie raised her hand, and a glowing blue bird appeared, perched on her arm. It looked a bit like an owl with exceptionally long wings, but wasn’t particularly intimidating–likely the point. The man lowered his bow in relief, then wiped his sweaty brow.

“My apologies, Hunters. You are not the first strangers in the night we’ve seen of late, and we’re a bit quick to put hands to weapons.” He hastily moved forward, opening the chest-high wooden gate. As the group moved through, Valanor addressed the man.

“Bandits?” he asked in his deep, booming voice.

“They’ve moved in from the old fort to the East,” the man replied. “There’s always been some unsavory sorts in the area, but they’ve stuck to their little hideout and the Patrols have kept things peaceful.”

“Something changed?” the shield knight asked.

“They’ve started coming to the village, causing a fuss. Don’t rightly know why, but there’s some scared folk. The Tree-Bonded don’t mind if someone knicks some crops–there’s always more, but that’s not what these are after.”

Valanor nodded. “Thank you for the warning,” he replied, then started moving the group away. The others followed, the gate clicking shut behind them. As they continued down the quiet firelit street, lined on both sides by small cottages with thatched roofs, Ethan moved up next to the shield knight.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask more questions. Don’t we need to track these guys down?” Valanor gave him a long-suffering look.

“In certain situations it might make sense to post a notice to Hunters about common criminals. Perhaps if they number former Hunters among them, or the location is suitably obscure, but neither is the case here,” he answered.

“So we’re just going to ignore this? You’re,” Ethan glanced around and lowered his voice, “you’re knights! Isn’t this what you do?”

Glenn laughed, “Where you come from, is one single group responsible for managing every single problem?”

Ethan shrugged. “Actually sort of, it’s going uh…mixed?”

“There you have it,” Glenn said. “There’s not enough Bonded in Viridus to handle problems that can be managed by the Unbound. The King’s peacekeepers will take care of things–we’re barely a day away from the capital after all.”

Ethan grumbled, but didn’t argue further. He knew if he pushed, Valanor would remind him that time was limited, and there wasn’t much to say to that. When all this is settled and my life is in my own hands again, I’ll decide what problems are, and are not worthy of my attention.

The group reached the center of town, which was dominated by a single structure several stories tall. It looked almost like an old fashioned oil derrick, save for a large stone fastened halfway up. Ethan started to ask what it was, only to notice the rest of the party had gathered in front of the largest building in the square.

Ethan trotted his oxsteed past the benches and closed market stalls, then hopped off to join the others. A stableboy took the reins as Glenn and Maggie unloaded the wagon. Valanor led them inside what was clearly an inn, heading toward the bar on the other side of the common room.

A woman and man were there, both wearing aprons. The man was cleaning glasses and clearly trying to ignore the other’s crying. The matronly woman started mopping at her eyes when she noticed customers, then hurried through a door, which released the aromas of spices and cooking.

“Two rooms,” Valanor said, placing a few Dawn coins on the table.

“Is everything alright?” Ethan asked, coming up beside the knight.

“Two rooms it is,” the innkeeper said. “Stew’s almost done, and I can bring it upstairs if you prefer.” He reached behind him, removing two keys from his belt.

“Sorry,” Ethan repeated, “I was just asking–”

“Thank you,” Valanor said loudly, and with finality. He then pushed Ethan ahead of him, toward a set of stairs against a far wall. “Not everyone wants to share their troubles with a nosy stranger arriving after dark,” he whispered in an irritated tone. “We eat, we sleep, and we leave at first light."

***

First light came, and the group found themselves standing around their wagon, staring at the broken axle. “Stable boy says he heard a crack,” Maggie said. “He was sleeping in the hay, claims the back just collapsed on itself.”

“It’s the damn swamp,” Glenn said. “Stones keep the road from washing away, but it’s hell on wagons.”

“How long?” Valanor asked, glaring at the collapsed wagon like it had done this intentionally.

“Stable boy already told the blacksmith. Says we can be out of the village in less than two hours,” Maggie replied.

Valanor sighed, then looked at Ethan, nearly bouncing with eagerness. “Two hours. Don’t leave the village, don’t get into trouble.” With a grin and a salute, Ethan raced off.

He was grateful for the extra clothes he’d been given at the palace, letting him stroll around without making too much of a spectacle of himself. He started with the market, which was only just starting to fill up this early in the morning. He sampled various local foods–mostly fresh produce, but also a meat thing kind of like shawarma.

He walked the village, mystery meat in hand–there can be cows here, or pigs, he thought, just because I never see or hear them doesn’t mean I’m eating monster butt. Haunch? Haunch makes it sound better, right? His next stop was the odd structure he’d seen the night before. In the light of day he was surprised to see tubes leading from the stone into the ground. There was also something that looked like a massive weathervane drifting at the top, which connected to the stone from above.

The stone now glowed a bright green, and he was about to ask a villager about it before hesitating. “That’s the boring version of today,” he said, before following the black tubes into the ground with his eyes, and gauging the direction it went. With a destination in mind, he took his snack and started wandering through the village, stopping only for some fruit juice to help with the spice.

It felt good to just walk around with regular people. It didn’t matter that this was a medieval village, or that most of the people had pointy ears. The sky was blue, the sun was out, and Ethan wasn’t falling off of mountains or being attacked by monsters. Part of him knew that this life had chosen him as much–or more–than he had chosen it, and he needed to feel like it wouldn’t all be a sprinting toward or away from death.

At last he came to the edge of the village, and finally spotted the black tubing emerging from the ground, to attach to a massive water tub. The tub was in turn fed from a stream that disappeared into the distance, in the direction of the mountains. Squinting, he thought he might be able to see something that looked like it could be a fort up there, but pushed it out of his mind for now.

Dr. Ethan Bishop, slayer of bandits, and protector of Shawarma Village can save his origin story for later. Turning back to the water, he saw that it fed some kind of irrigation system, spreading out into the nearby field. He grinned when he noticed some of the plant life moving, and realized he was looking at one of the farming monsters he’d seen on his way to Corvale.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Glancing around, he saw no danger and no Valanor, and with a grin he hopped the low village wall to get closer to the field. This one was only half-planted; it was the corn from last night, which turned out to be red and purple in color. Ethan walked past it, and found a dark skinned elf kneeling in the dirt in the empty field, the farming monster right next to him.

Up close the quadrupedal creature was even more unusual. Its legs were like thin tree-trunks, and this one had a back covered in vines and moss. It didn’t appear to have a head, and Ethan was worried he looked for one too long, as it turned to maybe? stare back at him. Feeling like he’d committed some kind of brand new faux pas, he hastily turned to the young elf.

“Howdy friend, sorry to interrupt.”

The elf stood up, a serene expression on his face. “Hello, are you lost?” he asked. He sounded so calm that Ethan actually glanced back to the man’s Familiar, wondering if there might be a certain herb growing on it that he’d missed.

“Not at all, my good man. I’m just new to the area, and I’ve never seen a Bond Farmer at work up close. I was hoping I could watch you do some magic, if you don’t mind.”

The elf smiled, nodding slowly and running a hand through his long brown hair, heedless of the streak of mud it was leaving in its wake. “That sounds nice, everyone in the village grew up watching my grandfather work the fields, so I’m usually out here alone. I’m Carl,” he said, holding a hand out to shake.

“Ethan, it’s a pleasure,” he said. “And who is this handsome fellow?” he asked, indicating the tree monster.

“Oh that’s Bella, we’ve been Bonded for three years now. She’s good company.”

“Calming influence, I’ll bet. So how does this work, Carl? Is it connected to the pretty green stone in the center of town?”

“You got it,” Carl answered with a grin. “The tower collects magic and feeds it into the stone. The thing is ancient, from some Tree monster no one even remembers. It infuses the water with magic, so it doesn’t all need to come from me.” He led them a few paces away from the field, then turned to Ethan. “Watch this,” he said, grin growing wider.

Bella began to sway, and her tree-trunk legs dug into the ground. Carl likewise dug his own hands into the earth, then they both began to softly glow with green light. At first nothing happened, then Ethan noticed the soil seeming to dry up before his eyes, the water being absorbed downward.

The next moment rich green vegetation burst from the ground, vines and stems twisting and braiding together. It was like watching one of those sped up videos that shows a seedling going through its whole life cycle, but for the entire field. When the crops were about waist-high he began to clap, only to realize the show wasn’t over.

Bella abruptly switched from swaying, to vibrating violently, and Carl dug his hands further into the ground, the glow increasing. All across the field, the plants Ethan thought were done began to branch out in every direction. Some stabbed into others, with others reached higher, climbing into the sky.

Flowers were suddenly everywhere, and fruit and vegetables began to burst to live only moments later. It took Ethan a moment to realize what he was seeing. “You’re hybridizing them on the spot,” he said, his own grin widening to match the elf’s. The field kept growing for several more minutes, with so many different types of plants that Ethan couldn’t keep track of them all.

“That was incredible,” he said, enjoying a magical display that didn’t just kill something. “I can’t believe how much food you can produce on your own, hunger must not exist in Viridus,” he said in awe.

“Not in Viridus, and we keep the neighboring kingdoms pretty happy as well. Keeps them out of our land,” Carl said, stretching as he stood up.

“They can’t do all this?” Ethan asked, surprised.

Carl barked a laugh. “Where are you from anyway? No, the desert and snow Kingdoms can’t do this,” he said, indicating the field. “Great markets for glass and oil though, gotta hand it to them.”

The threat of invasion was starting to make more sense to Ethan, wondering just how much of this world was oddly polarized in landscape. He’d been impressed with this place which seemed so idyllic, and it hadn’t occurred to him how homogenous it was until that moment.

He was going to ask Carl more questions, when he realized the man was staring in the direction of the village, his calm expression turned angry. “Trouble near the East gate,” he said. He turned back to Ethan, “You’re safe with me. I have to stay here to protect the fields.”

Ethan smiled, “Awfully kind of you Carl, but I’m a Hunter. Well, in training, but I know enough to know I go toward trouble. Thanks for letting me see you work!” he called out as he ran back toward town.

The buildings flew by as he charged through town, feeling the odd tension of the villagers, most of whom were moving quickly in the opposite direction. By the time Ethan reached the center of town, it was clear that the trouble had moved. A group of five men and one woman were arrayed near the town well.

They were dressed in leathers and animal skins, and each had a weapon at their belt, or in their hands. Clubs mostly, but the largest member of the group was a man with long, thick, greasy black hair, and he was resting a large ax on his shoulder as he stared down at the innkeeper.

“Going to tell us to leave again, old man?” he asked with a smirk.

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again, you won’t find what you’re looking for here. The peacekeepers know about you, and could be here any minute. You should want to be gone,” the portly man insisted.

The large man–who could only be one of the mentioned bandits–gave the innkeeper a casual push, which sent him tumbling to the ground. By then Ethan had joined the small crowd that had gathered at the commotion. He noticed that not even the single guard he’d seen last night was in attendance, and wondered exactly what kind of disturbance had occurred at the gate.

The large bandit let his ax dangle then, alarmingly close to the innkeeper who was scrambling backward. “We know she’s here, old man. If you’re hiding her, we’ll just have to look around. That sounds fun, actually.”

Ethan took a single step forward, before an enormous weight settled over him. In his haste to get here, he hadn’t considered what he actually planned to do. Fighting monsters still seemed so ludicrous and impossible to him, that despite the danger it didn’t quite feel real.

But these were people. Ethan Bishop was a doctor, a man who’d chosen a life of healing. More than that, with the power he had now…He imagined one of his daggers sinking to the flesh of the large man, then exploding. The image was horrific. His new ability would burn the man from the inside out, and without using those abilities Ethan wouldn’t stand a chance.

His brothers were soldiers, and had talked to him a lot about what it felt like to hold a real weapon, designed to kill people. They’d had serious conversations as well as drunken ones over the years, and they’d done a good job of impressing upon him the odd sensations that came with having that level of power and violence at their fingertips.

Ethan had refused that call, reaching for a scalpel instead, and now he was on path to becoming more dangerous than any single person on Earth. In the end, watching the scene unfold, the ax drifting closer to the man, Ethan simply froze. He kept picturing himself killing these people, and bile rose within his throat.

Then he heard Dean’s voice, full of disappointment. So you’ll just leave them to die? Maybe patch up the victims after the damage is done? Shame and rage in equal parts rushed through Ethan’s body, and he let his head drop. That last thought had been a little too close to an actual argument he’d had with his older brother, and the added emotions only crippled him further.

He looked up again when the crowd reacted suddenly, afraid of what he might see. Ethan’s eyebrows rose as he realized the large bandit was on the ground, a dozen paces away. The other five had ceased milling about, and were now drawing weapons on the one who’d attacked their leader.

Valanor seemed utterly unconcerned, despite not wearing his armor, and his left arm still bound across his chest. “The smart ones live,” he said in a loud voice. “I’m in no mood to chase you, and you might even make it back to your little rathole before the peacekeepers arrive.”

The five looked at one another, then glanced at the large bandit, shakily getting to his feet. One of the braver–or more foolish–decided to try his luck, charging forward and swinging his club with a mighty, two handed strike. Valanor didn’t even move, allowing the heavy, three foot slab of wood to impact him directly in the head.

It splintered into a hundred pieces, leaving the man with little more than a handle. He looked from his bleeding hands to the knight, and the orange runes just barely visible at his exposed right bicep. The man visibly shook, “Sh-sh-shit,” he muttered, taking a step back, “Dusk rank” he finished, before turning and sprinting from the square.

The other four might have fled with him if not for the return of the first man. The large brute was enraged, charging forward with his ax raised. He let out a howl as he closed the distance, and his comrades appeared bolstered, tightening grips on weapons and turning back to the lone knight with the dark eyes.

Then the world seemed to shift. Ethan’s stomach turned, and his knees went weak. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and his first, improbable instinct was that he was having a heart attack. Then he looked back up and realized the entire crowd was suffering, most far worse than he.

Valanor hadn’t moved, hadn’t used any abilities, and yet somehow he seemed like a giant in that moment. A wave of terror and danger seemed to emanate from the man, and from the looks of it, it was far worse at close range. Two of the bandits were already running away, while the rest were falling forward, retching on the ground.

The man with the ax was still standing, but he’d frozen in place, and the weapon fell from limp hands a moment later. He shook, every muscle in his body seeming tensed to the point of cramping, bulging in inhuman ways. The knight walked slowly toward him, stopping within easy reach.

“I have no interest in letting you break an ax over my head,” he said softly, though his deep voice carried over the square. “You’ve made a mistake today. Several in fact. I won’t kill you, though, I know that would only bring the rest of your foolish kind out for revenge.”

He stepped even closer, and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he appeared to choke. “I have no interest in wasting more of my time killing them,” he said in a voice rich with promise. “I’ll be in the area for some time. Go, and spend the rest of your lives trying not to be worth my time.”

At his last word the feeling was suddenly gone, and Ethan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The bandits picked themselves up immediately, slipping in their own sick as they did so. They ran toward the East gate in uncontrolled panic, though the leader moved more slowly, barely able to walk.

Valanor watched them go, looking bored if anything. Once they were out of sight, he turned directly to Ethan. “Axle is fixed, let’s go.”