Inevitably, the sun had already went down. Our young squire walked past the city gate. The beggar's voice echoed through his head as he mindlessly paced around the forgotten town. Like a curse, it stuck with him all throughout the day.

Before the sunset had started, the boy had been outside the settlement, in the woods. Surely not the best thing to do on his own, but the youngster knew how to take care of himself, in case something happened. But nothing did, and so he started his stroll back to the inn as he saw light fade away, slowly.

First, let us retrace his steps. In the forest, he sat atop a small waterfall, on a flat rock, carved and smooth, right beside the water. It looked old, and it was almost certain caused by the passage of the stream, that was diminished in size. After all, autumn had just arrived, and the Summer must have treated that part of the kingdom with its scorching sunny days.

He was pitiful, to be honest: in his armour he silently watched as nature flowed and flourished around him, and all he could think of was that man's words, and the fight against Sir Thorne, that he was suddenly quite unsure about winning. His pride had left him with a simple look and three words! Wasn't he a man?... He tried to tell himself these things on his own, but really, that realization made no difference, as if those lavender eyes really had a greater impact on him that he could manage. What was he worth?

He had stopped there to think, but his thoughts didn't help him, at all. On the contrary, he felt more and more nauseated as the hours passed by, and finally, he catched onto something that maybe a brighter lad would've noticed right there and then. Or, to articulate further, he had noticed it, but his shattered strenght made him back away before trying to get a hold of the mendicant once again.

Just how did the deaf man know of his duel?

Yes, El had initially thought that it was all just a vision, but, in an attempt to keep his sanity, he later denied to himself that all toghether. If he didn't, he might've really gone crazy right there in the outskirts of the burg.

And so now, after finding his way back to the main road, the boy slowly realized that something was off. Something... something unnerving. He felt unsettled, as his hand were shaking, in a strange fear of the unknown...

No moon shone above his head. The darkness had caught him by surprise, and now he felt agitated, and he felt his soul rattle inside his heart. He heard a crackle, and then a whisper. The boy had enough, and he turned on the spot, but nothing was behind him, or to his left, and niether to his right.

His blood raced inside his veins. Without even having his mind comprehend the reason for his movement, the young El made a leap backwards, taking his sword out thanks to his reflexes: the blade collided with an arrow, and the warrior was just as surprised as you might be. His body's reaction were far beyond the ones of a normal lad like him, and his brain couldn't connect with his perception, which far outsped his mental capabilities, and as such he had learned to let his muscles free to react on their own when he knew that his instinct would've beat his intellect.

Now, he had found the attacker's position: somehow, his enemy was above him.

"Curse you, bandit! Show yourself!", he shouted, as he took his buckler from his side, not trusting his sword to parry anymore, knowing that such a feat was not possible without luck on his side, and not feeling the need to test his fate twice in a row.

An owl came down from where the projectile had been shot. It was a typical owl, but the boy was no expert on animals and animal names. For you readers, I will tell you it was a crested owl, with its long and white brows.

"What... what is this?"

The beast opened his beak, and just stood there, in the middle of the street. El almost dropped his guard, baffled, but then, something curious happened. It was a good thing that he had gotten his shield on his arm.

Another arrow came out of the owl's mouth, stretching it and going straight for the young man. He let it hit the iron, and it bounced off, broken. A big puff of smoke surrounded the owl, and, in his place something else appeared.

"Magic?!", murmured our young fighter, at a loss of other words, as a figure emerged from the purple mist that had been created by the creature he had just encountered.

The two were several meters apart, and now they stared into eachother's eyes. The soldier looked at his features, to remember him. The criminal was surely recognizable in a crowd: he had a slim body, he was as tall as El was (and the squire was tall, even for his master's age), he wore robes and scarves, colored like sand, and his brown hair was decorated and laced with golden and silver bonds and little chains. The jewerly on his head seemed quite expensive, and looked quite bizarre. He had blue eyes and he was darkskinned. His smirk showed white and perfect teeth, that was very uncommon. It was obvious that the young offender not only was a mage of some kind, but he was also rich, very rich.

"A strong fellow, uh? I said I didn't mind taking care of a small fry, but I guess I was wrong. This fills me with wonder..."

"Who are you?", asked El, not listening to the lawbreaker, waiting for his chance to strike. He was not the most intelligent, but he knew his strategy, and he knew that against someone that had displayed such a strange way of fighting and throwing projectiles, he couldn't just charge in. Talking, in a way, was stalling, for both of them.

"Ah, the age old question! Who am I? Who am I... let's see...", answered the enemy, taking a step back. El made a step forward, mimicking his adversary. The bandit smiled, evidently amused by the situation.

"Let me introduce myself, since you withstood my attacks. I'd say it's fair. My name is Strigidae, the master of owls. I come from one of the faraway lands your king has conquered, I come from the Lost Shores. I am part of the Vultures, and even thought the name could use a change, I serve them well, and so I'm here for you, on behalf of them.", explained the man. El's eyes widened.

He had heard of the Vultures once or twice, from the Badger. He had talked about them while discussing criminals, and he had described them as 'lawful lawbreakers', as they had the right to do what they decided was best for themselves and for the kingdom. They were crooks and convicts, fugitives and felons, or at least that was his master's view of them. He had described the fact that they had no external hierarchy, and they were controlled by the strongest of them, hence the name of that organization: many preyed on the weak to move up in the ranks the boss made. The King really didn't care how they administered themselves, all he needed was for them to act fast in cases of emergency. Then, the Badger had spoken about their magical capabilities: all Vultures were to learn the arcane, one way or the other.

"Why would the Vultures want to kill me? I'm a nobody, just... just a squire. And if it's linked with the competition that will be held in Nelaime, I don't even know if I will participate in the Tourney!", replied our poor El, now trying to hold his sword without shaking too much. The fact that he knew how powerful one of the Vultures could be instilled a certain fear inside him that washed away the beggar's curse, for now.

"Well who said t'was the Vultures who want to kill you? I don't even want to kill you. What made you think that way? Didn't you see my arrow was aimed at your arm?...", whispered in return Strigidae, wtih a grin on his face.

 "What do you mean?... Why are you here then?"

"You see, a certain knight from that party of yours, with the same symbol you have on your shoulder on his asked me to... impair you, yes, let's put it like this. A knight of Noth apparently doesn't like your company... or maybe, he knows something that you thought he didn't. Does it ring a bell?"

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

El grunted, and left his eyes wide open, in shock. The only one that could've wanted something like that was certainly Sir Thorne! Otherwise, why would one of the Duke's trusted warriors want to hurt him? He was friendly with everyone, and he was but a mere squire... But how did Thorne come to know about his plan to duel him?

As his mind tried to go through the possibilities, only one answer came to him. The beggar. It must've been him... somehow.

Distracted, our soldier didn't notice that the Vulture had just made a jump towards him, nimble on his feet. Fortunately, his body answered to the bandit's attack, as he hopped back and raised his shield, parrying the blade of a knife that Strigidae tried to swing at the arm he had the buckler on, trying to avoid said protection but failing. The boy attempted to retaliate, bringing his feet forward and swinging his bastard sword towards the Vulture's hip, but the man he was fighting against was far too fast for him, and his enemy went back to his initial position. His face showed how impressed he really was about the squire's potential. The man took his knife by its blade, hodling it between his index finger and his thumb. He sprung back his arm, and then back towards the young boy in front of him, throwing his weapon at high speed towards him. Our El was just quick enough to deviate the weapon that was heading for his right hand, that held his sword.

"I have to say, his judgment of you was incorrect. He said that he didn't want to fight you out of fear of killing you, but it would be much easier to send him to hell than to paralyze one of your limbs.", claimed Strigidae, laughing. El was not amused.

 "Or maybe, he just was trying to sound tougher than he is to me. Well, I don't care about him either way. I just owe his family a favour, that's all there is to this. I'd like for you to make this easier, but I know you won't listen.", sighed the master of owls, with an entertained look on his face.

"But I digress... I hope that no words of this encounter will escape from your mouth, right, boy? You wouldn't want to kill anyone, would you?... You seem like a precious specimen, but I won't have the same care with other toys you'll bring into the pit by mentioning my name...", giggled the lawless fighter, unsheating from under his robes another knife, licking its blade. He made a slight cut on his tongue, and a single drop of his blod touched his weapon, spreading onto it.

"I give you... ten seconds."

The enemy jumped again. El was ready for his move: he tried to puncture his chest with his sword as he was running towards him, hoping the speed of the collision would favour his counterattack. But the Vulture was two steps ahead, and he evaded the blade by crouching, and then trying to stab his leg, but once again the squire's buckler proved to be quite useful, as the young man used it to strike his adversary's arm and make him drop his weapon. El might've been out of balance, but he wasn't easy to surprise, and he was almost always ready to defend himself. Almost always.

Strigidae cussed after the hit but he obviously didn't stop, grabbing onto El's arm with his undamaged hand, pulling him downwards. The squire had to let go of his sword, fearing that while falling it could've pierced both of them, and he had no choice but to succumb to the Vulture's grasp. The man covered in robes rotated as he pulled him, and practically kicked behind himself with one of his feet, hitting one of El's shins, and making him lose all grip to the ground. The young man tripped over the mage and started flying in the air, pulled by his enemy's strong arm. The squire smashed his back onto the stone road, shouting a curse while trying to control the pain. Fortunately, his armor absorbed part of the impact.

The attacker quickly got up, still pulling El by his limb, and the man put a foot on the soldier's chest, pinning him down, declaring his victory with a smile.

"I was wrong. You would've survived only five seconds, if my mission was to kill you. But I guess I gave you a challenge that exceeds your current strenght..."

Our youngster fixated his eyes on the blue ones of the bandit. Bitterness filled his heart, feeling incapable and unable to do anything against Strigidae, in that position. He tried to use his buckler to hit his opponent's leg, but he had no strenght behind his strike, with no breath in his lungs to send oxygen trough his veins and into his arm.

 "I wouldn't want to have you bleed out on your way to the city.", murmured the master of owls, slowly.

El felt something pinching his forearm's skin, through his leather armor, and the criminal let go of him, vaulting over him, using him as a pedestal to launch himself faster. Since they had switched positions in relation to the town, he started running straight ahead, escaping before the squire could even get on his feet.

"I'll see you on the bleachers! Train for next year!", shouted behind himself Strigidae, and El, looking to the sky, out of breath, could hear the man smooch the air. The Vulture was making fun of him, sending him a kiss?

"Goddamnit...", whispered to himself the soldier, all alone with the night's sky, trying to at least sit. But when he tried to put his weight on his arms, the right, the one that his enemy had held in his grip, failed to hold any of it, and the boy fell onto the pathway once again.

He tried to do the same once more, but his limb didn't respond, and so he had to make do with just his left. He got up, finally, and he stumbled and faltered a bit, before finding his pace. There was no point in following the direction Strigidae headed in: all he could do was go back to the inn, inform his master that he was attacked and, with him, he would've tried to find someone able to check his arm. The man with the laced hair had to have done something to him: his arm felt numb, as if he had slept on it a whole night, but the sensation wasn't fading away.

And so, we are back where we started, at Nelaime's entrance. Stone walls surrounded the town, but they were not built to hold off or repel any assaults: they were small, and narrow, and their only purpose was to signal the settlement. On the gates themselves there was a sign.

----------------------------------------

Nelaime

----------------------------------------

Apparently, nobody cared enough about the place to put the sign in a better place: if the doors were open, there was no way to see it, and at night (when they were always closed) no light shun to reveal it at a distance.

 A guard looked concerned, seeing the squire holding his arm and wobbling towards them, and so the man made him pass without asking many questions, saying that ha had to "go and see a doctor", because apparently he was "as pale as a mop". El disregarded the sentinel, thinking about talking with the Badger first, but he said nothing to the warden and started pacing around the streets, trying to find his way to their inn, frustrated. He didn't want to look helpless, for some reason. The fact that Thorne had told that Vulture to stop him was just now starting to make him fume out of his ears, and he was angry, to say the least. He didn't want to have anyone around, apart from someone he could trust.

But... sometimes...

Walking around on your own will get you to unexpected confrontations.

El found himself in an alley, surrounded by a thin fog. A familiar sensation sent a pulse of nervousness inside his being. At first he tried to send the feeling away, by trying to turn around... but something pushed him forward. Nothing physical, no... something in his body made him keep his eyes on the dark end of that back street, and something made his legs move towards it.

A voice made his whole body shudder.

"I told you, didn't I?"

It came from behind him, and so the boy managed somehow to face the beggar! It was his voice, the voice of the man from the inn he had talked with just earlier that day, it was him!...

No. It wasn't him. In fact, it wasn't anybody. Behind him there was nothing but the dark street he came from. He felt a faint breath on his neck, and he spinned on his feet again, and there he was. Somehow, he had just... teleported? El didn't really know, but there he stood. The mendicant.

"You won't win because you won't even fight. A shame, really. You are a much better fighter than Thorne is."

El felt his throat dry up. He wanted to move, do something, talk to the man but... his lavender eyes blocked him. He couldn't move.

"But... I guess it's fate. You won't fight in the tourney, and he will die in your stead..."

The squire flinched, and hugged himself even more.

"But... I see that you fought a scoundrel..."

"What do you know about him?... H-how do you know all of this?", shouted the soldier, managing to speak, knowing well that it wouldn't have made a difference with the deaf vagabond.

"Ah, that doesn't matter, really... why would it?... You'll lose your arm if you don't treat it."

El remained silent. He nodded, slowly. He didn't know if the man's words were true. But... he had been right, and he had this strange aura to him... the squire felt like the beggar wouldn't have lied to him, for some odd reason.

"I know just the one that could help you with this type of venom, and I believe our two meetings were something more than mere coincidence... but I know that the person in question is not avaiable at the moment. I fear... we'll have to see eachother tomorrow. You may find help on your own, that I don't mind. And you'll still have to wait until the sun rises again. But... if you do so..."

The beggar sneered.

"You'll lose your last chance at participating in the tourney. You'll hear how you'll be able to, I'm almost sure of it... I hope I will see you here at noon, young boy."

Our squire couldn't answer. He was panting, cold sweat on his forehead. He watched as the man went past him, and laughed. The soldier couldn't even look at him disappear around the corner. He just stood there, his psyche shaken by the mendicant's presence.