The sun was setting as the prisoner cart rode back to the village. A steel cage sat in a cart pulled by two horses. The ranger sat next to the driver, a village guard tasked with retrieving him and the poacher. The guard was wearing standard issue guard armor, an iron breastplate with the village insignia painted over the heart, a simple open faced helmet with a blue plume jutting out from the top. Arms and legs covered in protective gauntlets and shin guards.
The hunter’s belongings and the deer carcass were tucked underneath their legs, the deer’s lifeless eyes rolled around its head as they rode along the bumpy trail. They still had a ways to go before reaching the village. The ranger took the time to start filling out some forms describing the incident, as is protocol when making an arrest.
“Would you describe his hair color as being black, or dark brown?” The ranger asked nonchalantly.
“I don’t know Vern,” The guard shrugged. He looked over his shoulder towards the crumpled figure laying in the cage. ”I guess it looks dark brown in the sunlight.”
“Good enough for me.” Vern responded, as he continued writing.
“It’s been a while since you caught a poacher out there.” The guard said as he turned his head forward.
“Yeah, and it’s just as annoying every single time.” He brought the end of his pen to the corner of his mouth. “Still, it beats having to deal with the drunken rabble at the tavern every payday.”
“What? You’re telling me you don’t miss tippler duty?” The guard asked sarcastically.
“Not in the slightest, thank you very much.”
They both shared a chuckle before continuing down the road. After a while the dirt road turned to stone as they neared the village. The main gates were already open as they approached the wall. The guard on duty gave Vern a quick salute as the ranger gave a short nod in return. The poacher stirred behind them, groaning in pain before sitting up, blinking in confusion.
“Where am I?” he asked dizzily.
“Welcome to Vickwood.” The driver shouted back at him.
Vern propped his head up with his arm as they rode through the streets of the village. Many people weren’t out at this hour as he watched a few residents enter and exit some of the buildings on the main street. He thought of his home, the village of Vickwood. It’s been his home for the past 6 years. It was a sizable village of an estimated 3,000 residents, it was the largest in the district, and the furthest east settlement in the kingdom, with a long and storied history. The village guard had about 40 members on the force, but he was their only ranger. Meaning he was responsible for protecting nearly 50 square miles of land himself. It was hard work, work that he loved.
The cart pulled up alongside the guard barracks before pulling to a stop. “We’ll get our friend here patched up and put in a cell, you go ahead and get those forms to the captain.” The guard offered.
“Thanks Jano.” Vern replied as he hopped off the carriage
“Hey! I want to talk to you!” The prisoner snarled through gritted teeth, clinging onto the cage bars looking down at the ranger.
“Oh you’ll have plenty of time to talk later!” Vern responded, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. “I don’t recommend it though.”
The driver snapped his reins as the cart continued down the street. Vern waved them off before spinning around heading inside the building. The main room was a large common area, with some wooden tables and chairs near the left wall and rows of bunk beds lined against the right. The barracks were mostly empty, save for a few off duty guards napping away in their bunks. The captain’s office was located on the 2nd floor as he turned away from the main room, heading towards the stairs.
Vern pressed his ear against the office door, listening for sounds. He could hear the shuffling of parchment paper and a deep voice humming to themselves. He gently knocked on the door, waiting for a response.
“Come in.” a voice responded, slightly muffled through the thick wood. Ven turned the iron handle and pushed the door in, giving a small wave to the occupant inside as they came into view.
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“Good evening Captain.” The ranger said in a soft tone “I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
“Oh, Vern!” The captain said, looking up from his work. “Of course not. Come in, have a seat.” Waving him in as he pushed the parchment to the side.
Vern obeyed, closing the door behind him. Pulling down his hood as he seated himself at the large wooden desk, across from the captain. The captain was a large man, with graying-brown hair, a short trimmed beard, and deep creases on his forehead. His uniform was a dark blue button up shirt with a high collar, and decorative silver shoulder pads, the village’s insignia was stitched on the left side of his chest, several small medals neatly pinned on the right side.
“I have the paperwork from today’s ‘incident’.” Vern said, as he placed the forms down on the desk and slid them over to the captain. The captain picked up the forms, straightening them on the desk before looking over them. Stroking his beard as he read.
“ ‘A burning log’ Huh?” The captain questioned in amusement.
“Well it was right there,” Vern said with a shrug. “I’m still waiting to hear back from the blacksmith about my sword, so I had to improvise, but it all worked out in the end.”
“Hm.” The captain acknowledged his words. “Have a word with the Provisions officer in the morning, we’ll get you a temporary sword from the armory in the meantime.” He placed the forms back down on the desk. “Good work today Vern.” nodding in approval.
“Thank you captain!” He spoke in an appreciative tone. Taking pride in his professionalism. “Will that be all then?”
“Actually there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.” The captain leaned forward in his chair, resting an arm on the desk. “What are your duties for tomorrow?”
“Well.” Vern looked off to the side, pressing his thumb up under his chin as he thought. “I’m going to walk the eastern border like I do every other foursday through sixthsday, checking game trails and making sure nothing is amiss. Maybe see if I can run into some of our neighbors.” He finished, lowering his hand and returning his eyes to the captain. “Why do you ask?”
“We’ve had a report come in, one of the local hunters spotted a monster lurking around Breaker’s Ridge. He couldn’t make out much other than a large figure with dark fur and wings.”
“That could be any number of things.” The ranger shook his head. “Or nothing even. Could just be a case of misidentification.”
“I know monsters don’t come close to our side of the woods. “The captain straightened up in his chair. “But I don’t take reports of potential dangers lightly, and neither should you.”
“Of course, Captain.” Vern responded, bowing his head in respect before standing up from his chair, turning towards the door.
“Be safe out there, Ranger.” The captain called after him before returning to his work.
***
Vern was passing through the eastern gate of the village. A thin sliver of sunlight pierced over the horizon, illuminating his path back to his cabin. The warm summer air gently breezed against him. In one hand he was carrying a wooden bucket filled with clean water, drawn from one of the wells that sat in the village’s residential district. In his other hand he carried a small bag, in it was wrapped a cut of venison from the hunter’s deer. The deer was property of the kingdom, the hunter had no claim to it, yet there was no use letting it go to waste, so it was divided up between some of the guards on duty, the ranger included.
The cabin was situated on the outskirts of the village, just before the forest’s tree line. He stepped inside his small home. A small unlit fireplace sat across the opposite wall, a medium sized bed was tucked in the left corner, with a small shelf hanging above it and a small wooden wardrobe sitting aside it. A cupboard sat next to a wash bin and a mirror in the right corner. In the middle of the room sat a table, with a few of the ranger’s books and supplies scattered about it.
The ranger sat the bag down on the table, the bucket next to the wash bin, and pulled a small skillet out of the cupboard. He placed the venison in the skillet, and stuck the skillet on a grate inside the fireplace before lighting a fire using his tinderbox. While he was waiting for the meat to cook he undressed, removing his cloak, boots, and armor and changing into a comfortable pair of trousers. Next he poured the bucket’s contents into the wash bin, grabbing some soap he cleaned his face, his arms and his legs. When he was finished he placed the bucket under the wash bin, to catch the used water as it drained.
After a short time, and using a spare armored gauntlet from a previous mishap with a poaching knight, he pulled the skillet out of the fireplace and sat down to eat dinner. He wasn’t the best cook, he thought to himself, but it was enough to satisfy the hunger after a long day of work.
“Maybe I should finally find a wife? Someone who’s a better cook than I am.” He mused. Vern was certainly open to the idea of being a provider while someone waited for him at home. Or even someone out there in the field with him. That wasn’t uncommon these days, but it was even less so for his line of work. He really just wanted someone to share and build a life with. He was still a young man but not as young as he used to be. He didn’t talk much to anyone outside of the guard, often letting his duties absorb most of his time. Well, aside from one group of people, but that was a different scenario.
After finishing the meal and cleaning his teeth, Vern put out the fire and climbed into bed. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifted back to earlier thoughts. No it wouldn’t be enough to marry for the sake of convenience, he would rather it be out of genuine love. Yet in his station, and quiet demeanor, that task seemed impossible to achieve.
“Tch, ah oh well. I just don’t think that’s for someone like me…” He quietly spoke aloud, as if trying to assure himself, before turning over in his bed, slowly drifting off to sleep.