The morning dew glistens outside on the tall grass while curtains of light illuminate a small bedroom. It’s not a fancy room, but it does feel lived in with some flowers in a vase and a few books lying around. Within the straw bed lies a girl with messy brown hair and freckles.
“Amara, come down here! I have to talk to you,” says a voice floating up from the lower floor.
“Ugh, I’m coming!” The girl slowly moves, crawling from her blankets. She gets up as deliberately as possible, putting on some simple straw sandals sitting below her bed. She’s wearing a simple dress that she uses as pajamas. She walks across the worn wood floor, proceeds down a narrow hall, then heads down some stairs.
A woman with long braided blonde hair in her forties stands in the center of the room. It appears to be a shop, or rather an inn. It doesn’t appear to be busy at all, though there isn’t a single customer in sight. Next to her is a large trunk that seems sturdy. It doesn’t look like something a single woman could carry.
“What’s going on? You usually don’t wake me up this early, mom.” The brown-haired girl says with a strained tone before proceeding to sit down on a nearby stool.
“Amara, I’m going to be going away for a couple of weeks. I need to go to the capital to meet an old friend of mine. I need you to watch the inn, okay?” The mother speaks calmly but seems to be hiding something. It’s not abnormal for her to go away for a few days. However, Amara found it odd that this trip was so long and with such short notice.
“Alright, what’s going on?” Says Amara, prodding her mother with a glance of suspicion.
“I don’t know. It could be sad news; I’m a little worried too.” The mother replies softly. While Amara still felt that her mother was hiding something, she acted satisfied with that explanation. She knew that nothing short of torture would make her talk if her mother didn’t want to say something.
“Do what you need to do. I’ll take care of the inn.” Amara conceded, and her gaze softened. It’s not a particularly challenging task for her to run the inn. Keep things clean, cook a little food, maybe tend to guests on occasion.
The inn wasn’t bustling, nor did it have some noble reputation to maintain; with maybe three guests in a month, it never turned a profit. It was, however, the only inn within the town, so to keep it running, the local government gave some financial support. Travelers should have a place to stay, especially when visiting officials or military personnel pass through. However, even then, those visits are infrequent.
“Alright, I trust you can take care of things. I’ll see you soon, no matter what happens, just know that I love you.” The mother says with an oddly serious expression. Amara felt a little worried about how she said that, but it would be pointless to argue. Amara heads back upstairs and crawls into bed, returning to sleep.
Outside of her window lies the rest of the town. The inn was at the side of the town pavilion, a circular hub built around the essential businesses. The buildings in this area were constructed of much higher quality than the others in the town. Many of the lower quality buildings paid no attention to design, with many rooms attached ad hoc. The town consists of around fifty buildings and is just big enough not to be called a village. Surrounding it was a large wooden palisade with four gates.
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Standing in front of the gate is a grizzled older man in bulky leather armor covered in metal plates. A few other people stood by the gate, the town guard. Today was a quiet day, and there wasn’t much for them to do. Nevertheless, they still had to remain vigilant to stop any monsters from approaching the town. Occasionally, a group of orcs would attack, but with the fortification and group fighting tactics, they’ve held the line thus far.
A lanky-looking guard drops to the ground and lays back, staring at the sky.
“Oi! What do you think you’re DOING!” The older man’s expression darkens as he yells at the guard.
“I’m just relaxing; it’s a nice day out.”
“A nice day? It’s about to storm. You know they’re more active in the rain.”
“There’s no way it’s going to storm. There aren’t even any storm clouds on the horizon.”
The grizzled guard gets frustrated but lets it go. He talks to the other guards, and soon everyone is working hard, setting up a canopy.
“You’re serious about the storm?”
“We’ll see if you believe me once it starts and you’re out there. Don’t even think about getting under this shelter.”
After an hour, the sky is dark, and rain begins to fall. The guard who was lazing about gets up frantically and tries to crawl under the shelter, only to get pushed out by the grizzled old guard.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“This is what you get for insubordination. Take your punishment like a grown-up.” The grizzled guard barks as he revels in the punishment he created.
“I’m sorry, chief, just let me in.”
“Not yet. You haven’t suffered enough. I won’t allow such behavior in MY militia.”
The guard chief sits down on a log under the shelter as the lanky guard quickly runs around, trying to find a place to hide. It was a day like this, wasn’t it? Thought the chief.
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For some reason, the guard chief began to remember a day from his long past. He used to be an adventurer traveling far and wide with his happy-go-lucky party. Their party was reasonably balanced, consisting of a mage, an archer, a shield-bearer, and himself a swordsman. They had all been childhood friends on a mission to become the best party in the land, the ambition of the young and stupid.
It’s not as though the party members were weak; they had climbed up the ranks of adventurers to gold, but rather that they never seriously considered the possibility of death. It was all about the journey in those days, and monsters were nothing more than obstacles to plot and overcome. That was until that day when they were forced to recognize their mortality.
The day had started with clear skies. They were in the middle of a simple quest to hunt a gigape, a colossal primate-like creature with four muscular arms. A menacing thunderstorm caught his party out in the open. Seeking shelter, the party ran frantically into the maw of a nearby dungeon. They walked down the damp stone slope, hearing the muffled pitter-patter of rain resounding through the rocky ceiling. The humidity in this dungeon thickened the air making them labor to breathe. They entered a large room illuminated slightly by shining red rocks lodged in the cave walls, and in the corner, they saw a single out-of-place figure.
The figure belonged to a man whose muscles were bulging to the point where even his veins could be seen. He wore no shirt revealing his abdominal muscles that resembled armor. He wasn’t naked; he wore an oversized pair of pants cinched at the waist and the ankles. The party quickly got into a battle position and readied their weapons, and they glared at the man with a burning gaze. Atop the man’s head were large black horns that branch into two directions; from his back were two batlike wings. The party had come face to face with a demon and a strong one at that.
“Now, now, are you sure you want to do that? I don’t have a quarrel with you little kittens” The demon looked their way with a nasty smile. He jumped up to his feet and stood there, arms fastened to his side.
“Demon! We, the Steel Fangs, will have the glory of taking your life. Surrender to us,” The guard chief yelled out while holding his chest up high.
“Never heard of you. You guys must be some small-time adventurers, huh?”
“Once we take your head, everyone will recognize us as a legendary party.”
“You’re doing this?” The demon closed his eyes and sighed out all of the air in his lungs. He spoke back to the adventurers while assuming a martial pose, “Fine. I’ll give you a fight then.”
“I invoke the element of ice, pierce my enemy with a great blade forged from the air. Tuveria!” The mage quickly chanted out a spell causing a massive blade of ice to form in the air. The blade flew past the party directly at the demon. The demon moved his hand to block the incoming attack; upon collision, the ice shattered and mana released in all directions forming tendrils of light.
“You should know that challenging a demon is a bad decision.” The demon snarled before crouching forward in preparation to sprint. The ground cracked, pieces of stone flew everywhere, and the demon was propelled at a blinding speed. The demon performed a sweeping kick against the shield-bearer, and as it hit, the chief heard an awful cracking sound — The shield-bearer’s leg was shattered, and he was downed instantly.
Before the guard chief could react, the demon unleashed a fierce punch directly into his throat, bringing him to the ground. The guard chief’s breath became ragged, and all he could do was make a wheezing sound. In truth, he was lucky that the demon hadn’t broken his neck. The demon moved on to the archer and grabbed her hand so tight that the bow snapped and the tension in the string caused it to fall to pieces. The archer fell, holding her broken hand in pain.
Finally, the mage attempted to chant a spell once more, “I invoke the element of the heav—,” A rumble quaked through the dungeon as a well-placed punch from the demon dislocated the mage’s jaw. It was a total loss for the guard chiefs party, their bodies were broken, but their pride was disintegrated. “You bastard, I’m going to kill you.” The chief scowled at the demon through his crunched windpipe.
“Will you now? After you all threatened to take my head, you’re lucky I’ve let you off as light as I did.” The demon scoffed as he made a condescending shrug. The shield-bearer attempted to stand up, despite his leg being broken, but he was barely able to manage it. The adventure tried to launch a sneak attack at the demon while it was looking the other way. The demon didn’t notice him in time, and a sword plunged into its back.
“Take that, you monster!” The shield-bearer yelled, feeling triumphant.
“Fuckin’ humans, you’re always like this. Do you guys even have brains?” The demon reached back and gripped the skull of the guard chief’s childhood friend. The scene was awful, with several sounds like a rock being cracked accompanying a wet popping sound.
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One of the guards squeezes a grape before throwing it into his mouth. The guard chief almost falls out of his seat as he's snapped back to reality. His adventuring days had ended with that ‘fight.’ It was never the same after that. The mage, unable to contend with his trauma, was driven to madness and thrown in prison. The archer had lost all the fight in her soul whatsoever; now, she works as a tailor and avoids even leaving her house.
For the guard chief, a burning desire for revenge lingers deep within his soul. He does not go out and seek it, for he knows that he wouldn’t be able to make good on it. So instead, he lends his strength to protect this town, hoping that one day he’ll have an opportunity to quench his anger.
The lanky guard, still out in the rain, speaks in confusion. “Is that a person, coming from the north, in this rain?” A human shape wearing a cloak is spotted in the distance. As the figure gets closer, it becomes clear that it is a woman with silver hair. Upon reaching the town’s gates, she waves, and the guard chief beckons her underneath the shelter.
“Oh, I am so glad to see a friendly face!” The girl lets out a sigh with a broad smile on her face. Now that she’s sheltered from the rain, she removes her hood, revealing her black horns that branch into two directions.