“Ha! I made it!” Markel says, a youthful glee on his face. He had set out to become an adventurer and he was one step closer to that dream. I adventured my whole way here from the Southern Shield Kingdom. Here! To the City of Mercenaries, Cloudfall! He thinks with excitement.

It was a hard journey, and many nights were spent with an empty stomach, but on the edge of Markel's mind was the idea of blood and glory, lingering and gnawing at him; always demanding his attention and urging him forward. For this idea, all those sleepless and hungry nights would be worth it.

When he was a child he had dreamed of becoming a hero, and he set out with that intent. But this journey had renewed the fire in him… Now, all he wanted to do was to be on his feet at the end of an arduous battle, a battle filled with the clashing spirits of men and the blood of the fallen; he wanted to stand there, at the end, knowing that he made it through the fire… That he made it through all of that, and that he was still standing. The idea of it made Markel’s blood boil. The glory. The honor. It was something no man or god could take from you. No, that feeling, in that moment, it would be yours.

And for all of that, Markel’s feet continued to move forward. And he made it here, to Cloudfall. He was finally at the next step.

Like an excited child, Markel decides to wander the city.

When he made it to the market, he came across an unsightly scene.

“Give us your money, Old Sol. The month is at its end and you still haven’t paid your debt. If you don’t hand it over, we’ll take your debt in blood, as a message to anyone that might think that a Crow Gang loan is an act of benevolence.” A lean and muscled man says, his sharp and angular eyes scanning an old man like a piece of meat. Beside him were two other goons, much larger in stature; armed and ready for a conflict.

“I don’t have it! How can I have it!? A month isn’t enough time!” The old man says, his healthy, wrinkled face expressing some anxiety.

“Unfortunately, we don’t trade in excuses Old Sol. If it’s not done today—” The man starts to say before being interrupted.

“Hey! Idiots! You’re in the way! People are trying to walk here. So fuckin’ inconsiderate.” A two meter tall man says, his big black beard unable to hide his discontent. The man was armored and a battle-axe of immense size was resting on his back.

Markel gulps at the sight. Just the casual passers-by… Markel says as he looks around at all the people who were armed and armored. They’re all warriors… He thinks, his mouth beginning to become a little dry.

“And who the fuck are you?” The sharp-eyed man says with a menacing glare. “Do you want to fuck with the Crow Gang?” He asks, his threatening words mildly diminished by having to look up at the other man.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Annoyance flashes on the bearded man’s face. “Crow Gang? What the fuck is that?” He asks casually before a heavy fist was swiftly sent below to where the other man stood.

A deep impact resounds from the fist hitting the other man’s face, and his body promptly crumbles to the ground, unconscious.

The other two men had anger on their faces, but they hesitated to act rashly.

The bearded man looks to them and spits. “Take your little Crow shit and get out of my sight. And apply some healing salve to his asshole while you’re at it. He looked like he got fucked pretty hard.” He says before letting out a boisterous laughter.

The other two men look to each other but they didn’t know what to do. So they simply picked up their friend off the ground and they left.

“Thank you! Thank you, my friend! Old Sol won’t forget this!” The old man says, gratefulness on his face.

Markel smiles at the happy ending. This is how stories should be. He thinks to himself.

“What are you talking about? This isn’t a charity old man. Cough up the cash. I know you’re packing. That face and that plump belly. You must’ve lived a good life. It would be a shame if you couldn’t enjoy it any longer.” The bearded man says with a menacing smile.

Markel’s eyes widen. No… No… This isn’t how it should be… He thinks, disappointment and regret for something he had no control over building inside him.

The old man’s eyes also widen. “Wha-what!? You can’t be serious!” He exclaims, still a little unsure if this was a joke.

“I’m fucking serious, old man. Look at my eyes. Your negligence interrupted my walk. And don’t bullshit me. I can see you what you are with a glance. You’re simply out here karma harvesting. What was in store for those men if they harmed you? A couple decades of slavery? Hmm?” The bearded man says, a fierceness in his voice and a wildness on his face. This man was ready for a fight.

Merkel’s eyes widen again. What… What is happening… He asks himself, a little unsure of what the man was saying.

Shock was still on the old man’s face, but for a second, a smirk escaped his expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about young man. But fine! If you want my money, take it! It’s yours!” The old man exclaims before throwing a bag of coins at the bearded man before attempting to walk away.

But he was blocked off once again by the tall bearded man. He waves a finger as if to scold a child. “The rest too. You and I both know that this is letting you off easy. But this is also my message to you. Know that I’m not afraid to offend you.” The bearded man says, his gaze piercing.

The old man lets out a smile. “Fine.” He says simply before pulling out a much larger bag and throwing it to the bearded man. After that, he walks away.

Markel watches all of this, confused. Compelled, he walks up to the bearded man and looks up to him. “Why-why did you do that? Why did you rob that old man? After saving him?” He says, trying to keep his words steady. The curiosity was burning and if he didn’t find an answer he felt his whole outlook of the world would crumble.

The bearded man sees the twerp and smirks. Just a baby. He thinks, somewhat amused. “Let me ask you this, young man. How did you get here? To the great city of Cloudfall?” The man asks, a lingering lesson in his tone.

“How did I get here?” Markel asks, confused. “I just walked.” He answers, thinking it would be easier to let the other man lead.

The bearded man chuckles. “Exactly, my young friend. You walked. And like you, my journey was difficult, but I walked forward with steady steps, and you know where it led me? It led me in front of that old man. And when I stood in front of him, my whole journey had already decided my opinion of him. So I did what my spirit asked of me, as an act of faith to myself, who had walked all those steps, and I fucking robbed that old bastard.” The bearded man says before letting out another laugh.

“As for you, your journey led you here, asking these questions. But I’ll tell you now, my young friend… This… This whole scene… To you, all of it is just motivation. It’s fuel to get you where you need to go. As for who stood on the side of right or wrong in your eyes, I don’t give a flying fuck.” The man says before laughing again as he walks away from the wide-eyed young man.

Markel watches the bearded man’s figure disappear into the crowd. He simply stood there, lost in thought. Motivation? Motivation for what? He wonders to himself.