There were men born for glory, heroes forged in battle, strategists whose minds shone like blades of well-tempered steel. And then there was Hans.
His story didn’t begin with a prophecy, nor with noble lineage. There were no stars aligning in the sky, nor gods whispering his name. He was born in a humble village, the son of a hardworking, determined woman who never gave up in the face of adversity, and of a paternal absence. From a young age, he learned that life wasn’t easy, but also that there was always a way to get ahead, even if it was purely by chance or coincidence.
From the beginning, his life was marked by a... peculiar luck. It wasn’t exactly bad luck, because he always managed to survive the hardships, but it wasn’t good either, because he did so in the most bizarre ways. When he was eleven, an infamous bandit was escaping the village guards after having robbed the local merchant's house. Hans, who at the time was chasing after his own chicken that had escaped from the pen, tripped on a stone and tumbled down the hill like a sack of potatoes. His uncontrollable fall ended with a direct crash into the fugitive, knocking both unconscious. When he woke up, young Hans was already a hero, having unintentionally captured the most wanted criminal in the region. From that moment on, no one understood how, but he always managed to get out of trouble in absurd and impossible ways.
At twelve, during the village fair, a young dragon, more scared than dangerous, swooped down from the sky toward the market. In its clumsiness, Hans tripped over a water bucket and fell backward, throwing the bucket into the air without meaning to. The water flew in a perfect arc and landed precisely on the dragon's head, putting out the small fire it had accidentally started. This was just another example of the strange power that seemed to follow him. Wet and confused, the dragon turned around and flew off without causing more damage. The villagers cheered him as the brave one who had chased away the beast, although all he had wanted was to recover the bucket.
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At thirteen, during a visit to the capital, Hans was late for his fencing class and was running when he collided with a thief who was fleeing after stealing a large amount of jewels. In the confusion, both fell to the ground and unknowingly exchanged bags. The thief, thinking he had secured his loot, ran off with the wrong bag, while Hans got up without noticing the switch. When the guards stopped the thief and checked his bag, they found only a couple of stale pieces of bread. Meanwhile, Hans, without realizing it, was carrying the stolen jewels. Fortunately, the guards quickly cleared up the situation and caught the thief, and Hans, noticing the exchange, decided to return the bag, as it only contained his bread and a common dice, which at the time had no significance. As a reward, they gave him a medal and an entire month of paid fencing lessons for his good deed.
And so began his path, where his reputation as a walking disaster grew quickly. The soldiers said that wherever Hans went, misfortune followed him closely... and somehow, inexplicably, so did victory. The title of "sergeant" wasn’t an actual rank, but rather a kind of mock honorary title, as his companions claimed his clumsiness was so absurd that he deserved a badge of his own. He wasn’t just clumsy; he was a "clumsy sergeant."
Hans didn’t have an army, riches, or even a horse that didn’t try to bite him. What he did have was a suit of armor with more patches than metal, a battered sword that screeched when drawn, and an unshakable conviction that, no matter what happened, he had to hold on to any opportunity to get ahead, even if he never quite understood how he did it.
And so begins his story, with an impossible mission, a group of soldiers doubting his leadership, and a tavern on fire from which, once again, he miraculously emerged unharmed...
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