Bleff offered words of comfort about the jungle, the world, and particularly the so-called palm trees that I still viewed with deep mistrust.

How could something be tied to one place for its entire life?

“A miserable existence,” I claimed.

To make matters worse, in their despair, the trees grew tall, wandering in the only direction offered. How could they not be filled with misery and anguish? How could we co-exist with these cursed beings?

“You need to relax, man. They’re just stupid-ass trees,” Bleff said and though effortless and banal, his words rang true.

We were trudging up a slope that led to the main road, and I could see it ahead through the shrubbery. When I continued my shameful lament about the tall plants, the goblin, either bothered by my cowardice or simply tired of it, kicked a particularly large one, then pissed on it assuring me no harm would come to either of us.

“You do it too, come,” Bleff said as he adjusted his filthy robe.

“Do what? Piss on the tree?”

“Yes! You’ll be fine, just do it.”

I understood what he was trying to do immediately. One had to conquer their fear and stare it right into the eyes, otherwise they remained chained to their predicament. Chained like a tree.

He was right, so I removed my loincloth and bravely approached this natural abomination.

“Woah!” Bleff yelped both his eyebrows perching up, “Good for you, Shieldfather.”

I looked down and back at him and nodded appreciatively.

“Would you like to see it up close?” I offered, but Bleff had the same reaction as Godfrey. He seemed flustered and quickly looked away. Though it felt insulting, I gave it no voice. I was a quick study, so the Steelspeakers claimed, and I would not repeat the same mistake twice.

“Here, tree. Suffer my urine,” I said as I poised for relief.

I was still somewhat nervous standing there vulnerable to the great plant’s retaliation, but it soon proved an unfounded, maybe even laughable fear. As I emptied my great bladder, I couldn’t help but smile, and then laugh.

“Truly, you have wisdom, Bleff,” I said, turning my head toward him as I showered the stupid, helpless tree in golden water.

The thump of a bow cut through the moment of bliss. An arrow lodged itself into the trunk, inches away from my face. I leaped backward, pulling up my loincloth with one hand and raising my shield with the other and almost falling over in doing so.

Two more arrows flew by, one almost hitting Bleff, while the other flew wide.

“Take cover, Shieldfather!” Bleff yelled then huddled behind a bush. I did no such thing. Instead, I roared from the bottom of my lungs.

“Show yourself, archer! Coward! Weakling! Come face me head-on!” I thumped my shield thrice, my eyes taking in the greenery around us.

“Hide!” Bleff begged, “Please!” I would not do so.

“The day I seek shelter from an archer will be the day I eat my shield and shit out a demon! Now face me!”

“Halt!” I heard a man’s voice yell.

I looked up the slope and saw the outline of several more creatures pushing through the bushes, vines, and trees. My words must have terrified them, for no more arrows followed.

“Good. Bleff, stop sniveling and get up. It’s time to sow more death.”

“Is it, though? I don’t know, Shieldfather,” the goblin muttered through croaky words.

“I know! Up, goblin! Up, up!”

He waved me away then buried his head in the bush and all I could do was sigh. It was once more a disgusting display of cowardice that made me want to end his sad life right there, but the teachings of the Steelspeakers steadied my rage. A Shieldfather mustn’t harm the innocent out of spite, disgust, or boredom.

“In the name of King Harkford, show yourselves!” another voice, deeper, more commanding than the first echoed through the woods.

“Get up, Bleff. We’ve been summoned for war,” I said but the goblin would have none of it.

He curled up tighter behind the tree until I walked up to him, grabbed his neck, and pulled him along.

“Shieldfather, please!” Bleff pleaded, his face once more covered in tears and snot.

I dragged him up the slope, ignoring his miserable cowardice until we reached the road.

A small fence along the road separated us from the retinue of tiny, but well-armored men in thick, shiny plate armor. Their livery was green with golden outlines and sported three black towers; two of them held banners with the same imagery. Among them, men and women dressed in simple robes and tunics, almost like Tartarus commoners, carried plates of food and pitchers of wine from tables set up in the back. It seemed to me a small feast, but there was something odd about it.

They all stopped whatever they were doing as I approached, dragging Bleff along. I dropped the shit-smelling goblin to my side and he whimpered as his ass met the rough, hard road. Several gasps met me and a small grin formed at the edge of my lip.

“I’m Shieldfather,” I said lowering my hands on my hips.

I did not expect them to know who I was for this was an ignorant land, but I enjoyed their awe-struck gaze nevertheless.

“No further!” one of the armored men yelled, thumping his halberd against the ground. I sized him up and grinned again. The man was barely to my shoulder and though encased in fine plate, his limbs seemed thin and easily cracked. He looked like Godfrey in armor and the thought alone amused me.

“What will you do with that child’s halberd? Cut my meat for me?” I asked, eager to taunt the man into losing his temper.

Rage was a tool in the hands of the mighty, but quite blinding when wielded by feeble-minded creatures.

The man looked at his peers, all sharing the same visage of confusion.

“You…you will not speak to me like that. I’m a knight of the court!”

There was so much fear in his voice that it made me sick.

“Move!” another man bellowed as steel ground against steel while he pushed through the retinue. A somewhat larger exemplar of the same race appeared before me. His face was set into an angry snarl, and his armor was simply magnificent. Adorned by jewels and golden vines and flowers growing from his back to the center of his chest. Long blonde hair cascaded down his shoulders framing a white, square jaw below a long nose and emerald green eyes. His hand rested on the hilt of a longsword sticking out of a bejeweled leather scabbard.

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He looked me up and down and only briefly glanced at Bleff as the goblin slowly shuffled up to his full height, which was barely around my hip.

“What in Helva’s name are you?”

The voice that spoke was familiar; the same commanding tone from before.

“I’m Shieldfather, Varian Lord of Tartarus. Defender of the Bulwark, the Steel Bastion, the Gates of Hell.”

“A lord?” the richly dressed man said and burst into laughter.

The people around him joined in, though their cheer was half-hearted, forced, maybe even somewhat apprehensive. He raised a hand to silence the crowd.

“Behold,” he said, addressing his retinue, but never removing his eyes from me, “Lord Shieldmaster of the filthy loincloth, ruler of the goblin-infested jungle, and his honorable squire, shit-for-a-face.”

The crowd laughed louder now. I breathed out slowly, trying to calm my nerves, but it was difficult to do so. I had suffered many insults since I arrived, but this went beyond anything I could imagine.

“My name is, Shieldfather, not master, you insolent fool. Did your slaves stuff your ears full of gold, too?”

That did not sit well with the creature. His brow furrowed and the grip on his hilt tightened. Silence washed over the others.

Then, as if to prove his cowardice, he shoved one of his retinue forward. The man staggered, only finding footing with the help of his halberd.

“Bring me his head!”

A smile found my lips. I was not in the habit of exchanging insults unless it was in a good-hearted manner with the other Shieldfathers while we drank ourselves joyfully in the evenings. A

Varian spoke finest through the steel in his hands. Speaking of which, I had none, but that did not worry me. The creature was small and frightened and his death would be a decent innuendo to his lord’s upcoming demise.

The knight of the court, or whatever he was, didn’t seem enthused by the prospect of facing me, yet he marched on, obeying his lord. I could respect him for that.

“Come, knight of the court,” I said, “Let us find common ground in the fire of battle.”

“This guy!” his commander said and snickered while the rest echoed his mood.

They were a curious bunch of strangers.

The knight raised his halberd and came at me in a sprint. I kicked Bleff out of the way, prepped my shield, and tried to calculate the angle of his first attack, but none found me.

“Enough!” another voice, this one high-pitched and old reverberated through the crowd.

The knight stopped and quickly pulled away from me, relief apparent on his face. My heart sunk for I knew I’d be met with more pointless chatter.

Yet another creature shuffled through the retinue, but this time everyone, even the gold-haired idiot, moved out of the way and bowed their heads. Despite his frail appearance, the tired old face, and a crooked slow walk, he commanded the respect of everyone present. A three-pointed crown of gold, silver, and jewels sat heavily on his head above a sad, thin white smatter of hair. His robes were equally rich, colored green, gold, and red with intricate embroidery, the hem held up by some boy, so it didn’t slide across the dirt. Despite his frail appearance, there was warmth in his eyes, something the other loudmouth dearly missed.

He handed over a longbow of masterful craftsmanship to one of the commoners without so much as sparing him a look. The young man at his side took the weapon from him, head bowed, and then quickly moved out of the way.

The elder studied me curiously for a moment before a wide smile found his thin dry lips.

“What a creature you are!”

I wasn’t sure whether it was an inquiry or a statement of appreciation, but expecting the latter to be true, I remained silent.

“And to think I almost killed you!”

“It would have been my greatest defeat,” I said seriously and for some reason, the perfumed old man appreciated my words.

Curious.

“And well-spoken, too. You said you’re a lord of sorts?”

“A Varian Lord of Tartarus, yes.”

I didn’t wish to repeat myself so I kept my introduction short. These fools were keeping me away from my journey and I was growing apprehensive, eager to make my way to Godfrey’s village.

“A lord of shit and piss!” the blonde one said and before I could muster a rebuke, the frail old man turned around and slapped him across the face. The lustrous warrior rubbed his cheek but spoke no more. What kind of world allowed the weak and withering to humiliate their strongest warriors was beyond me, though I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it somewhat.

“You’re a prince of Prosperia, Archibald, and you will not shed such filthy language from your tongue, gods damn it!”

“Yes father,” Archibald said, clenching his teeth.

“This is a human king, be nice, Shieldfather,” Bleff said in hushed words so the others wouldn’t hear.

“A king,” I whispered, weighing the words.

The books of the Steelspeaker spoke at great length of the rulers of the overworld, and the paintings brought through the World Door depicted them as fearsome warrior-philosophers ripe with both battle prowess and wisdom. Perhaps a thousand cycles ago that was true for this man, but now?

“So, Varian Lord,” the king said and chuckled. “Where is your land, your castle, and your…” He turned around to face his retinue, “Your clothes?”

The men and women laughed, all but Archibald who remained sulking as red gathered in his cheek where his father left a lesson of good manners. He turned to face me again.

“Most of all, why are you trespassing on mine?”

“My land is no land but a city in the caverns of Hell named Tartarus. My castle is the Steel Bastion, but I lay no claim to it for it belongs to Ra’een, the Prime Protector. I wear no clothes for I have been cast here naked as the day I was born. Were it not for the kindhearted fisherman Godfrey, this loincloth would not have found its way around my hip. I have no wish to trespass, but only seek a way to return to hell.”

“That can be arranged,” Archibald said.

“Ignore my blabbering son. He has yet to learn some manners. He’s grown arrogant practicing his sword against lesser men.”

“Have I not led the army against your enemy? Have I not bled with our men in the field?” Archibald hissed at his father, and then seemed to catch himself and winced.

“Silence!” the king barked and Archibald bit his lip but spoke no more.

“What is your name, bronze man?”

“My name is Shieldfather, defender of the Bulwark, servant to the Prime—”

“Yes, yes, but your name, man. What do they call you?”

“They call me Shieldfather,” I explained, growing tired of the question.

“I’ll call you Conrad, huh? You feel like a Conrad to me. Doesn’t he feel like a Conrad to you all?”

The crowd agreed fiercely, almost breaking their necks as they nodded in confirmation.

“My name is Ursus kin Stonechin,” I said, casting a veil of silence over the present. My name was but a stepping stone to the Steel Bastion. A string of words never uttered again after my initiation into Oomer’s Cohort and I hated to give it voice once more.

“Edmund Van Harpstein,” the king said with a grin, “Nice to meet you. And what is this race of yours, Ursus kin Stonechin.”

“Shieldfather, if you don’t mind great king. My birth name is second to my title. I am a Varian Lord, my race is Varian.”

“Oh, did you hear this? I like this. Well, so be it, Varian Lord Shieldfather. And how is it that you’re…”

A mean coughing fit interrupted the old king and he seemed barely able to restrain it. One of his aids, a hunched figure in white robes rushed to offer him a potion of sorts. The king had a sip and then wiped his mouth against the creature’s white sleeve.

“I’m not dead yet, not yet. Keep Archibald off the throne, will you?” he joked and the crowd dropped into nervous laughter.

Just before he would question me again, another coughing fit caught him, and the white-robed figure together with several others surrounded the king.

“Go, Shieldfather…” he managed as they poured more liquid down the king’s throat. “Find your hell.”

“Father,” Archibald protested. “He’s an adventurer! We came here to thin their numbers and you will let this one go.”

“Can someone…” the king began through his cough, “Help my son…his undergarment has been twisted into a knot again.”

Some laughed, others refrained from it, especially the knights of the court.

“Let’s go, let’s go, come on!” Bleff urged me.

I glanced at Archibald; the prince kept his green eyes locked on me as the others escorted the king to a carriage. I snarled at the young fool. Arrogance had to be cut in the stem, but I wasn’t here to teach this world’s royals humility. However, I made a promise to myself to do just that if I were to cross paths with Archibald again. And something told me I definitely would.

“Please, Shieldfather, Varian Lord, please! Before they change their mind,” Bleff begged me, pulling my hand.

I grunted, feeling the slimy palm of the goblin on my bronze skin, but accepted his call and decided to make my way to Underock for I had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Shieldfather!” an unknown voice from the crowd called.

I turned to see one of the commoners run at me with a longsword in hand. I raised my shield and grinned. So, blood it was, after all. I couldn’t say I wasn’t angered for so many useless words had been spilled when we could have settled our differences with steel. Or crab in my case.

The young man slid to a halt a few steps away from me, then brought up the sword, offering it to me with his head bowed.

“King Edmund wants you to have this,” he said and I relaxed.

I took the sword by the hilt and swung it once, feeling its edge pierce the air. A fine weapon. For a child. Yet infinitely better than my own skin and knuckles.

The young fellow ran off as soon as I took the sword off him stirring, up dust in his wake.

Iron Longsword

TYPE: One-handed longsword

ATTACK: 7

DESCRIPTION: The most basic longsword wielded by thugs, thieves, and aspiring guards. It's somewhat sharp, somewhat durable, and somewhat rusty.

“Thank you, King Edmund!” I yelled but got no answer.

The king had been ushered into the carriage and his retinue seemed to care little for my words. Bleff pulled me ahead once again and it took a Varian’s restrain not to smack him on the head for his impatience.

“Bleff,” I asked as we created some distance, “Those creatures back there, they are human are they?”

“You weren’t sure this whole time? I mean yes, yes they’re human.”

“Hmm,” I muttered. “Humans. Such curious beasts.”