Henry stood emerging from an alley and gazed at the sky. He remembered the expanse he saw in the other realm. “Was that a dream?” He remarked. The hustle and bustle of the markets had died down, and the street children playing along the roads were being ushered by their parents or irritated city guards. “I can’t believe its this late already.” Said Henry.
Much time had passed as he recalled it being morning when he was transported and when he was returned. “Of course, it’s not a dream.” Henry exclaimed. He began walking down the street absentmindedly and in recollection. This work of his, had been going on for an exceedingly long time but still he was in shock with what he was confronted with.
Henry recalled times of his childhood, he was a hearty child, with big dreams and high aspirations, like most of the young in the city. He had wanted to be an explorer, to brave distant lands and to discover unknown knowledge. He would usually accompany his father to his place of work, a small food shop situated on the main streets of the city. Knights would usually parade around the city, accompanying the royals.
He played with others often, as he was an only child and the boys his age dreamt of becoming mighty knights to serve the kingdom or have been arranged to apply the trade of their parents. He saw knighthood as a similarly boring objective, he would often watch the knights patrolling or occasionally standing guard and found it boring, equally as boring as laboring as a merchant or stonemason for the entire day. He sat outside his father’s shop, and the place received little customers.
“Dad, what did your dad do?” Young Henry asked. “Well, he owned a farm and his brother sold things in the market, and his other brother was a tailor.” Henry's father exclaimed. “Sounds boring.” “Well, if you could believe it, your great-grandfather was one of the warriors who helped the kings of the past start this whole kingdom! My grandfather told me stories about it, and now I pass them down to you.” “Oh, like the clearing of the hidden forest and the battles of the snowfields to the north, I heard that in the past there were dragons!” Henry remarked. His father chuckled heartily. He had a warm smile and Henry grew up to be a splitting image of him, mustache, and all. Minus the smile of course.
“If you want, you can become a knight like him.” His father remarked. “But all the knights do now is stand around and walk back and forth, they don’t go out on adventures like they used to.” Said Henry. “Well, you could always inherit your old man’s shop.” His father said optimistically. “I don’t want to. Well, maybe...”
As it slowly approached nightfall, Henry spotted his shop and walked to it. “Turned out exactly like he said it would.” He recalled crying over his father’s deathbed, inheriting his store and a key. “This key… It’s your true inheritance. I ignored my own father, tried to hide from it… Now its your duty.” After he took the key, he was confused and deeply saddened and after his father’s burial, the item slipped from his memory.
He inherited the store and began toiling away serving food to those that needed it. He remembered the recipes but could not quite replicate the taste, days passed and he passed through each day, tired. One day, he found the key tucked away in a drawer and took it. He was enthralled by an urge or a feeling, the feeling to go out and journey into the unknown. He walked outside, leaving his store unattended and began walking, he felt free, the cool breeze felt more refreshing to him than the finest drink. He came across an imposing tall structure. He looked at the locked door and opened it with the key. He entered a dusty abode, remarked how unclean it was and explored.
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He was excited but calmly walked up the stairs and into one of the rooms. He picked up a book from the shelf and opened it. It contained myths and legend like those he dreamed of as a child. “Huh, I didn’t know he had things like this.” He exited the building book in hand and came across a stranger. “Hmm… You are Wayne, yes?” “Who are you? No, that was my father. What’s your business with me?”
The man looked to be very old but Henry couldn’t determine by how much. “Your family once took care of this place for me; I haven’t been here for a long time and now I needed something from it.” “I- I’m not interested. Whatever their obligation was to you, that’s theirs.” What a strange one. Wearing armor and cloak from head to toe, carrying around tools so far away from a mine of a farm.’ Thought Henry. “Hrmph.” Jura remarked. He walked forward and with one hand on his weapon, he outstretched the other. “You could just give the key to me.”
As Jura moved forward, Henry quickly realized that the old man was much taller than he looked and in his tired state, seeing him lay a hand on his weapon made him assume he to be some sort of thief or bandit. “Get away from me!” He yelled as he bent down to pick up a stone on the side of the road and raised it towards Jura. With one swift motion, Henry was disarmed with a smack, shoved in the stomach in another motion and within a few seconds, had the blade of his pickaxe pointed at his throat. “Sorry kid. I need to go.” Henry handed him the key, and as Jura pocketed it, he lowered his hand and lifted Henry up.
“Who are you?” Henry asked. “Ah, you asked that. My name is Jura.” “Henry, nice to meet you.” Jura entered the building. “Hrmph. This place has not seen care for some time.” “What are you looking for? I can help look.” Henry suggested. “Sure.” Said Jura. “What are you, a knight or something?” Henry asked. “Hmm… Let’s say I’m somewhat of an explorer.” Said Jura. Henry’s eyes gleamed with delight, suddenly he was young again.
Henry snapped back to reality from reminiscing in the past. “All he did was make me clean and work. He paid well though.” Henry started to close his shop and then looked at the food he prepared earlier. “Ah… I didn’t even get to sell these to somebody since I was in a hurry, better take these home with me instead.” As he turned off the lights and put the plates of food into containers and brought them on a basket. He thought about the following years since his first meeting with Jura. He worked both as caretaker and aide to the estate whilst tending to his father’s dwindling shop on the side.
He had enough money as Jura paid him, strangely not in coins but in various treasures. He soon raised up a family of his own and worked the business as cover and brought home minimal of the riches he accrued. He worked seemingly menially day after day, from the outside not even distinguishing him from the others he had looked down upon, but somehow, he felt purpose.
Looking upon the strange guests, and the peculiar artifacts Jura brought he felt an air of intrigue. It was no adventure, but for him it was enough. He exited his shop, basket of food in hand remarking to himself: “I bet Alice would like these, she always eats too much.” He said with a smile.
On the walls that encircle the city, figure was eying the landscape of the town. They stood over two defeated guards, under their hoods were eyes that glistened like they were mad and their cloth concealed red scars, or burns. The bandits climbed the city walls quietly, preparing to strike.