Marcus amuses himself drinking, chatting, and listening to Baldo's anecdotes. He doesn't notice the silhouette approaching from behind until it touches and pulls at his shoulder. He looks back, his gaze clouded by liquor taking a moment to focus on the young woman with a side-swept hairstyle, the quiver, the bow, and the steel choker that marks her as someone's property.
The archer moves her lips; it's just a single sentence, but it's enough to clear the drunkenness from the trio of friends. Marcus is the first to bolt, Baldo pushes Red off his legs, and Pit follows close behind.
Your sister is in danger.
The archer's words echo in Marcus's mind as he sprints through the alleys with a hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Just as his chest and legs begin to burn from the rush, he catches sight of the wooden walls and thatched roof of his home. He pushes the door open and draws his blade.
Leonor is standing beside the spinning wheel. She is a petite and tanned young woman, with very light brown hair like her father's, tied in two pigtails. Her pretty, freckled face is currently clouded with anger and worry toward the man gripping her arm.
"Unhand her!" shouts Marcus, his face flushed with rage, gripping his longsword with both hands.
The man complies, releasing the teenager, and she steps back, rubbing her arm; the reddened marks of the stranger's hand stand out on her skin.
He is tall, strong, and dark-skinned, with a bare chest and shoulders draped in a bearskin cloak. From his neck hangs a necklace with a concave silver plate and an 'X' engraved in the center. He is accompanied by two women in robes with generous necklines; the first carries a grimoire tucked under her arm, the second a wooden staff bearing the symbol of a god Marcus doesn't even bother to recognize.
The silver-ranked adventurer flashes a broad smile at Marcus. The young soldier almost yields to his impulses and lunges, but Pit and Baldo quickly step in between, aiming their mace and spear at the adventurers.
"What a commotion! I merely came to have the corner of my cloak mended," the adventurer excuses himself with a shrug.
"That was before you tried to force yourself upon me!" Leonor complains loudly.
Marcus sees red. He shoves his way past Pit and Baldo, raises the sword above his head, and brings down the full weight of the steel. But as the blade descends, the adventurer is no longer there, and the sword cleaves a stone in two, sending shards and splinters flying.
"Force is far too strong a word. I merely wished to offer you a tempting proposal," comments the adventurer, now five steps behind Marcus, his hands raised and wearing a confident smile. "Would it not be a better life for a young maiden to serve me, Wolfen the Gale, than to spend her days toiling away in a wretched tailor's shop?"
Marcus growls and swings the blade backward blindly, fanning the air and little else. He continues his assault, swinging the sword from side to side—a repetitive motion that Wolfen evades by taking graceful steps backward. When the adventurer's back touches the wall, Marcus pulls the hilt back and thrusts forward.
Wolfen steps sideways; the blade passes right by his chest and bites into the wall. The adventurer takes another lateral step, distancing himself from the soldier to face Leonor again, though this time he finds her shielded behind Pit and Baldo.
"Come now, consider it. You shall discover how reassuring it is to have, for the first time, a strong man to protect you," Wolfen says mockingly, glancing at Marcus from the corner of his eye.
"I will defeat you!" the young man exclaims. He kicks the wall to dislodge his sword, using the momentum to leap almost to the ceiling, spinning in the air with the edge of his blade—an attack Wolfen evades by stepping back. Upon landing, Marcus, crouched on the floor, shoots a bloodshot glare upward at the dark-skinned man. "I swear it, upon my honor, upon my family! I shall strike you down!"
The adventurer's smile widens.
"Is that a challenge? As you wish!" Wolfen says, opening his arms to welcome the idea. "I shall see you at the upcoming Saint Valentine jousts. Enter, fight, and win! Do not disappoint me; 'twould be a pity if you were to fall before crossing blades with me."
With a sweep of his arm, Wolfen makes his cloak flutter and leaves the house, followed by his women.
Marcus rushes to aid his sister, grabbing her by the arms and asking if she is alright. Leonor nods, but she has no chance to speak, for Baldo grabs Marcus by the arm and yanks him, glaring daggers at him.
"You fool! What the blazes are you doing? You gave him exactly what he wanted."
"What he wanted?" Marcus blinks, uncomprehending.
"An opportunity to humiliate you, to destroy you in public," Pit says with a sigh. "You do know that to participate, you will need your own weapons and armor, right? And if you lose, you will lose everything."
Marcus's eyes widen in realization of the predicament he has gotten himself into. The weapons and armor he possesses are on loan from the kingdom's army; they aren't even his. But the young soldier soon furrows his brow in determination and scoffs.
"I did what I had to do; I had no other choice!"
Baldo and Pit exchange doubtful glances.
A sharp cry rings out from the street, followed by the sound of a blow.
The soldiers snap out of their stupor and rush to see what happened. The slave girl lies on the ground, sprawled over her own legs, her head bowed and the mark of a fist on her cheek. Wolfen stands over her, teeth clenched and fist readied to strike her again.
"I told you to delay in bringing him! Are you too stupid to follow a simple command?!"
The archer keeps her head down, offering no reply. Marcus takes a step forward and points his sword once more.
"Halt!"
Wolfen turns to look at him, but this time he seems annoyed.
"There is nothing to see here, little soldier. She is my property; I may do with her as I please, whenever I please."
Marcus knows Wolfen is right, but the fire burning in his chest—perhaps called courage, or stupidity, or just the ale talking—prevents him from standing still.
"If I defeat you in the jousts... I want you to set her free," Marcus says.
Wolfen's eyes widen in surprise; then his shoulders relax and he lets out a single burst of laughter. The archer's expression darkens even further.
"You have stones, boy! I will grant you that!" the adventurer says, pointing a finger forward. "But if I win, I shall claim your sister. It is only fair if you wish to come and take my property."
Words fail Marcus. His blind courage evaporates, giving way to hesitation and caution. Risking his own life comes naturally as a soldier, but risking the life of a loved one?
"So be it!"
The one speaking is not Marcus. Leonor walks up to stand beside her brother, and if looks could kill, Wolfen would already be dead.
"Leonor, what are you doing?" Marcus whispers, but Leonor pays him no heed.
"Adventurer! Beneath all those muscles and all that strength, you are but a rotting tree! My older brother will fell you, I have no doubt!"
The adventurer laughs again.
"On the outside you look nothing alike, but on the inside, it's obvious you are kin! Equally foolish, both of you! Very well, let Saint Valentine soon bear witness to our clash."
Wolfen takes his leave. The two women help the archer to her feet, and the latter casts a long glance at the siblings before departing as well. Baldo and Pit are left speechless, stunned by how quickly everything escalated.
Henry, Marcus and Leonor's father, arrives an hour later, guiding the reins of an old donkey laden with a pile of fabric rolls. He is a simple man, with hair and a beard the color of sand. After learning what happened from a neighbor who stopped him to chat, he sinks into deep silence and reflection.
In the home's dining room sit Marcus, Leonor, and Henry, their faces illuminated by the candle burning in the center of the wooden table. Henry keeps half of his face resting in his hands, while Marcus hides his face in his palm, unable to believe the trouble he decided to bite into. Only Leonor breaks the silence, tirelessly repeating that they did the right thing.
"Adventurers are supposed to exist to defend humanity from monsters, but that man is a horrid brute, an animal! My older brother will show him his place, because my older brother is on the side of righteousness."
"Leonor, please excuse us, I need to speak with Marcus alone." Henry's voice is weak, but he doesn't need to raise it to make his daughter comply and head upstairs, where the two bedrooms are located.
Father and son sit in silence for a couple of minutes until Henry decides to speak.
"I know you gave your word of honor... But I know people who can reverse this."
"No!" By instinct, Marcus slams his fists against the table, making the candle and the shadows tremble. But his agitation quickly subsides and he lowers his head, regretting his reaction and also hurt by his father's words. "What kind of man am I if I do not keep my word? If I am incapable of protecting my loved ones? I will train, I will fight, and if necessary, I will die to defeat that villain. He already tried to humiliate me at the pass, but now he has messed with my family; I cannot tolerate it. If I surrender, if I yield, it would be so maddening that I could not live with myself."
Henry closes his eyes and bows his head until his expression is entirely masked by shadows.
"My son, I understand you. I too felt frustration the day the dark elves attacked. I could not protect your sister, I wished to do more even though my strength failed me... But had that not been the case, had I summoned the strength to grab any weapon and defy the invaders... Surely both Leonor and I would be dead."
"But you aren't. The Great Miracle—"
"Exactly. The Great Miracle occurred," Henry cuts off his son's words and looks up. "Just as a higher power erected the walls, that same mysterious power saved us. Sometimes, the right thing to do is to retreat and wait for other battles... Sometimes it simply is not our time to fight. But if you continue with this foolishness, if you defy fate, you will have rejected the chance the Great Miracle granted you."
Marcus clenches his fists and shakes his head. He wishes to say he understands, that he will reconsider swallowing his pride. But he remains silent because saying such a thing would be lying to his father. Marcus believes that if he trains and pushes himself hard enough, he might call forth another miracle—a smaller one, one just enough to defeat the villain.
Henry exhales the breath he had been holding and nods slowly.
"You will need weapons and armor. I shall see what I can do."
Henry couldn't find a horse or mount for his son, but at least he would provide him with the means to defend himself against his enemies. The victories and defeats of the jousts would be left in the hands of fate.
«What the hell?»
---Jimbo the Dungeon Core LV 3
-Ether: 294/300
-Ether: 290/300 (Reduction)
-Ether: 286/300 (Reduction)
-Ether: 282/300 (Reduction)
-Ether: 278/300 (Reduction)
-Ether: 274/300 (Reduction)
A small amount of ether is consumed repeatedly. His semi-omniscience within the dungeon lets him know that it's coming from the mid-route colosseum.
«The door to the puzzle is already open. What kind of idiots would press the button so many times?»
He floats, phases through the subterranean rock, and reaches the arena. To Jimbo's surprise, there is only one soldier, with short black hair and a blue rhombus carefully embroidered on his tunic.
«It's the same dude from the other day, the one with the X-shaped scar on his face.»
Marcus keeps his right hand extended against the stone monolith in the center of the arena. Five pushes, five burly silhouettes surround him. The cavemen ready their clubs to attack. Marcus grips the hilt of his longsword.
«That look of sheer determination... Reminds me of myself when I used to play ranked.»