A restless woman wandered aimlessly through the stone-paved streets of the large town she had been forced to stay in for the past several days. Occasionally, she would duck in between the sides of buildings as the streets become more crowded, finding a less populated road to restlessly pace down instead.
Although she clearly didn’t want to be there, it’s not that she disliked the town of Zwieback or the crowds of towering people, it’s just that she would much have preferred to have been somewhere else. Specifically, back in her workshop, very many miles from where she currently was.
This woman was a dwarf. A race of people who stood half the height of most others. Dwarves were quite a rare sight to see outside of their own underground cities and settlements, as they generally preferred to stay to themselves, tinkering away with whatever crafts or contraptions happened to be the current focus of their fascination.
This woman was no different. However, the focus of her tinkering happened to take her beyond the comfort of her underground workshop and out into the world above. Things had gone smoothly at first for her, but she soon ran into a problem. A problem that she was currently waiting for the Adventurers Guild to fix. She had filed in a quest to deal with the issue several days ago, but no one had yet taken on her offer.
And so, she continued to restlessly pace through the streets of the town, gnawing anxiously at her coal-stained fingernails until the issue was resolved.
It seemed the street she was in now had seen a fair amount of commotion a few days before she arrived, and some workers were still in the final process of mending the damaged storefronts lining the sides.
As she ducked into another side passage to avoid all the busy people, a shout rang out from nearby.
“Stop! Thief! Don’t let him get away!”
It was the authoritative shout of a woman. Most likely a guard, the dwarf thought.
Ignoring it, she continued out through the narrow passages and back onto another street. However, before her boot even reached the stone of the road—
A man's arm had wrapped around her body from behind, lifting her off the ground and pulling her towards him. With the dwarf now in his firm grasp, he stepped out onto the street and spun around to face the passage the two of them had just exited.
As he did, several armoured guards spilled out from the passage, weapons raised toward the two of them.
“Don’t come any closer!” the man shouted at the guards, taking a small knife from his side and holding it to the dwarf’s neck. “If you take one more step, I’m slitting this kid’s throat!”
The guards hesitated their approach, instead circling around him cautiously as he slowly backed up against a wall.
“Put the child down!” one of the guards ordered—a human woman. “There’s no need to go this far!”
“I’ll let her go once you’ve all backed off!” Tightening his grasp on the dwarf, he lightly tapped the edge of the small knife against her neck threateningly.
Looking up at her captor, she could see the man was an elf. Evident from the pointed ears that stuck out beneath his long blonde hair. He was tall too. From what she could tell, at least. To someone of her stature, everybody above ground was tall.
From beneath his grasp, she squeaked out a strained complaint.
“I’m not a child!” she snapped. “I’m a dwarf!”
“…”
Both captor and guard blinked down at the dwarf for a moment, before looking back at one another.
“Don’t come any closer!” the man shouted again, tapping his knife across the dwarf’s neck. “If you take one more step, I’m slitting this dwarf’s throat!”
“Put the dwarf down!” the same guard ordered. “There’s no need to go this far!”
Despite having the misunderstanding cleared up, the dwarf woman didn’t exactly feel much better about the situation at hand.
Fully surrounded by a crowd of guards and with his back against the wall, there was nowhere left for the man to run. However, with the hostage held tightly in his grasp, the guards had no way of approaching. They had reached a stalemate.
With each passing second, the heat of the early afternoon sun bore down on them all the while, melding together with the ever-increasing tension bubbling up from the heavy atmosphere and causing the woman to sweat.
With the feeling of the knife pressed against her neck, the tightness of the arm around her body, and the uncomfortable pressure boiling away at her from the tense situation, the woman had reached her wit's end. Just as she thought to try her luck in wrestling away the knife from the man—
“What’s the meaning of this?”
A sharp glint of violet light stole the focus of her attention, as well as the voice of a man coming from behind the encircling crowd of guards.
“Ugh… I don’t have time to deal with you right now!” the guardswoman replied, a sour look on her face. “I’m trying to deal with a hostage situation! There’s a thief with a knife over here and he’s—!”
“What?!” the voice of the man snapped back in anger. “Move aside!”
As the guards hesitantly did as the man asked, the dwarf’s eyes went wide as the source of the voice stepped into the scene.
If she were to describe the man in a single word, he was a man who could only be described as long.
His long, brown hair swayed gently in the breeze at his back, falling across the lengthy red scarf that trailed far along the ground behind him. An adventurer, he appeared to be. And slung above his shoulder was his sword. Trailing her eyes along the edge of the weapon, the dwarven woman soon found herself squinting up into the sky at its seemingly limitless length—appearing to carry on without end, splitting apart the very sun bearing down on her from high up above.
“W-who’re you?!” Her elven captor shouted at the man in shock. With the arm still wrapped around her, he reached his free hand to his side and pulled out a second knife, brandishing it awkwardly across the woman’s body. “Stay back! Or I’ll gut the both of you!”
At his words, the long man’s face contorted into one of both sadness and anger.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Don’t you dare touch them!” he shouted, gripping the handle of his colossal weapon with both hands. “Unhand them this instant!”
The woman’s heart skipped a beat at his passionate words.
Though his tone was angry, she could sense the pain in his voice. The pain of a deep sadness within. As if the situation before him had so greatly offended the man on a deeply personal level.
Just who was this man? He clearly felt very strongly about her. But why? The questions flittered across the woman’s mind. To her knowledge, they had never met before. So, why…?
“You’re better than this!” the long man pleaded, his gigantic sword held high above his head. “I don’t want to have to strike you down!”
No. It wasn’t just her the man felt strongly about. It was everybody. Not only did he care about her, he cared about her captor as well. Despite the size of weapon he chose to carry, he was clearly a man who detested needless violence. The length of his blade served only to intimidate, not harm. The reason he felt so strongly about them was clear to her...
He was a good person.
From the hesitant look on her captor’s face, it seems the blonde elven man could sense it too.
“Your hands were not made for this,” the man continued, his stern yet passionate voice focused solely on the knife-wielding elf. “They were made for something far greater.”
“…” At those passionate words, the elven man dropped the woman to the floor, his knives clattering to the stone pavement below. Tears began to stream down his pale face. “Y-you’re right… I never wanted to do this…”
Collapsing to his knees, the elf continued to sob, burying his face into his hands. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
As the guards quickly swooped in and dragged him away, the long-haired swordsman breathed a deep sigh of relief, and—without another word—turned back around, and walked away.
She watched the back of the man as he walked down the street, his gigantic sword slung across his shoulder once more, trailing high into the sky above…
“Wait!” she called out, causing the man to stop in his tracks, looking back at her from over his shoulder. “Just who are you?”
She didn’t have any real reason to know, but she felt compelled to nonetheless.
Glancing down at her from over his shoulder, the man returned her question with a smirk.
----------------------------------------
After spending a week in a jail cell, One Swing found himself wandering the streets of Zwieback once again.
It seems the urgent quest he received from the Capital had already been resolved prior to his arrival in the town, and the dangerous criminal he had come here to apprehend was already locked away at the Surstrom Spire prison.
After causing havoc across an entire street, breaking into a care home for the deathly ill, and assaulting several of the residents within, One Swing himself was at risk of being shipped across the Surstrom Lake and placed on a floor in the prison. But, word of his heroics in Bredkrum had made their way to Zwieback, and One Swing was eventually set free. With the stipulation that he never swing his gargantuan sword within the town ever again, of course.
Making his way to the Adventurers Guild to find a suitable quest, he was drawn to the sounds of some kind of commotion in the distance.
“Stop! Thief! Don’t let him get away!”
Curious, he decided to follow it.
Eventually making his way to the source of the commotion, he found a crowd of what looked to be a group of guards, their backs turned toward him. It seemed like they were crowding around something. Their weapons were raised in front of them as well, and from what One Swing could tell, they looked to be quite tense.
Approaching them, One Swing directed a question at their backs.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
A surprised guard turned her head back to look at him, before scrunching it up in annoyance. It was the same woman he had met at the gate when he first arrived, and the one who had arrested him several days ago.
“Ugh… I don’t have time to deal with you right now! I’m trying to deal with a hostage situation!” she said. “There’s a thief with a knife over here and he’s—!”
“What?!” One Swing was shocked by her words. It seemed that something deeply unsettling was taking place before him and One Swing would not stand for it. “Move aside!”
Pushing past the confused guards, too taken aback by the man’s sudden arrival to try and stop him, One Swing stepped onto the scene.
Before him, a tall, elven man was in the center of the circle of guards, his arm wrapped tightly around a small child, threatening to slice open her neck with the small knife held in his other hand.
“W-who’re you?!” the elven man said as One Swing arrived, reaching his free hand to his side and pulling out a second knife, brandishing it awkwardly across the woman’s body as he continued to hold her in place. “Stay back! Or I’ll gut the both of you!”
It was just as One Swing had feared.
The man was holding knives. Two of them, in fact.
And One Swing hated knives.
One Swing gripped at the handle of his colossal blade in anger. “Don’t you dare touch them!” he shouted, ordering the man not to touch the disgraceful excuse for a blade any longer. “Unhand them this instant!”
One Swing could not bear to see somebody wielding a knife this way. Unlike Shashlik of a Thousand Nettles who opted to use the short blades to strike from long distances, the man before One Swing was attempting to use them in close quarters. Completely lacking of any kind of length whatsoever.
This was unacceptable.
And on top of that, the man in front of him was an elf. One Swing had a deep respect for elves. He respected their long and endless lives, as well as the elegant and lengthy pointedness of their ears. To see an elf wielding such small blades in such an unlengthy way, One Swing could not bear to see it.
“You’re better than this!” One Swing pleaded. “I don’t want to have to strike you down!”
As an elf, One Swing strongly believed the man was better than that. And striking him down would be unfortunate, for the sole reason that One Swing was certain he would be sent to prison if he swung his giant blade around in town anymore.
“Your hands were not made for this,” One Swing continued, his gaze still focused on the elf. “They were made for something far greater.”
Like a bow or something, One Swing thought. Bows were a very respectable long-distance weapon. If the man wanted to attack people randomly on the street, it would have been a lot more effective too.
“…” At One Swing’s words, the elven man dropped the woman to the floor, his knives clattering to the stone pavement below. Tears began to stream down his pale face. “Y-you’re right… I never wanted to do this…”
Collapsing to his knees, the elf continued to sob, burying his face into his hands. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
One Swing sighed in relief. It seems the elf had learnt the error of his ways and wouldn’t be touching such short weapons ever again.
Turning to leave the scene—
“Wait!” A voice called out at his back, causing One Swing to pause in his tracks and glance over his shoulder.
It was a child. The girl who had just been held hostage. Her messy orange hair was stained black, matching the blotches of black smudges across her face, hands, and the dirty and worn-out overalls she was wearing. She also wore a belt with a collection of different tools holstered across it. Possibly taken from a parent for her very messy game of pretend, One Swing thought.
“Just who are you?” she asked, gazing up at him with sparkling green eyes.
Children were very short creatures, and One Swing wasn’t particularly fond of them. But he knew they had potential. Potential to grow up big and long. Children had not yet reached their full length, after all.
Smirking at the thought of such potential, One Swing answered the girl’s question.