He woke up in the morning, disoriented. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk so much ale’ he thought. Looking around, trying to figure out where he was, he saw it was a shabby room in an inn he couldn’t remember the name of. Instinctively, he reached out his hand below the mattress and relaxed when he found his precious dagger. He looked around once more and found all his belongings. He dressed up, equipped himself with his broadsword, dagger and backpack. He was ready to travel. He didn’t know where to, but he was ready. Fiddling with his pouch, he discovered it was almost empty. ‘That means I need a job’ he thought and frowned. Why couldn’t he just find a treasure like all those legendary adventurers and live happily ever after with his beautiful princess, in a castle with servants and horses and... He shook his head. ‘I hate this daydreaming.’ He got out of the room and went downstairs to the lobby. It was midmorning and there were several men sitting, waiting. He recognized one. ‘Damn, here goes my paycheck.’ It was Marvin, ‘the laughing man.’ It was rumored he laughed after every kill. ‘What a title,’ he thought. ‘I should get one, too.’ He took a seat and despair landed upon him. Marvin was a great warrior and guardsman. ‘He always gets the jobs I want. Of course he did. Just look at him, so big and strong, charismatic and beautiful, Ah, I hate him.’ The time passed quickly, and after an hour he devised several ways to get back at Marvin, but he knew he was too coward to execute any of them.
After some time, like he knew would happen in this time of year, three merchants entered the inn and sat near the bar. The bar tender approached them and they began to talk. Every once in a while a stare was sent across the room towards on of the men sitting, once even to him. He knew the procedure. The bar tender would tell them something about each one. ‘He would obviously recommend the laughing man’ he thought, and he was correct, of course. But surprisingly enough, the merchants looked at Marvin and nayed. The bar tender looked at him, and the merchants joined the humiliating stare of evaluation. The bartender did that shake with the hand, as if to say ‘he’s not that good.’ He hated that, but the merchants nodded. He felt pleased and as a kind of boyish act, he looked at Marvin and put out a face. Marvin just smiled.
As the merchants approached him, the door to the inn swung open and a beautiful damsel entered, and fainted. As if prepared, Marvin, quicker than lightning, grabbed her before she hit the floor. He caressed her and seated her chivaloursly at a chair. She opened her eyes, saw Marvin, and smiled. Marvin looked at him, saw his red face, and laughed. ‘You won again, Marvin, but you’ll lose, someday.’
The merchants sat beside him. ‘Greetings, stranger. We have some merchandise to pass through the northern track and we heard you can help us.’ ‘Of course, kind sirs, but it will cost you. The northern track is dangerous, nowadays. Bandits, monsters roaming about.’ ‘We foresee no trouble, and we don’t have too much coins, or else, as you know, we would have hired someone better.’ Did they gesture towards Marvin, or has he imagined it. ‘Pool yourself together. Maybe I should buy some confidence when I get to town, next time.’ ‘O.K. I agree. Who is traveling with us?’ ‘Just us three, on horseback. By the way, we prefer avoiding problems then solving them. Is that understood?’ ‘Avoidance is my middle name, sir.’ ‘So we heard’ the merchant said, grinning. He almost got enough of these ridiculing people, but he needed the money. ‘We leave now.’ ‘I’m ready’ he said, glad to be away from Marvin, but suspecting that these merchants won't be much better.
From the first moment, he didn’t like those merchants. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was wrong. They left the inn and went to the stables. He went to take his horse and as he mounted it and trotted towards his employers, he was impressed. The three merchants rode three magnificent mares. A black one, a brown one and a stained one. ‘They must have cost a fortune’ he thought, enviously. They started to ride north towards their destination. The merchants rode together and he, alone. Having nothing better to do, he studied them. The first thing he noticed was their equipment. One of them had a huge, glorious wooden bow with carvings on it that testified for marksmanship. Another had a fine long sword, impressive on its own right. And the last had nothing. That was extremely strange. He didn’t have a sword, nor a bow or an axe. Absolutely nothing. ‘He must be something else’ he thought, bewildered. ‘They’re not merchants. They’re three men army. What do they need me for? Maybe they just have it and can’t use it?’
As time passed and afternoon made way for evening, he began to ponder about those merchants. He couldn’t see any merchandise they possessed, nor could he think of any good place of trade beyond the northern track. As he scanned their saddle sacks for any oddities, he saw their money pouches. They were full and hard coins at that. ‘They have money’ he thought. ‘And lots of it. They could have hired Marvin. Why did they hire me?’ He didn’t like those merchants.
They made good progress, thanks to the mares and reached the entrance to the northern track before they had to break camp. They efficiently distributed responsibilities for food, water and fire. After half an hour they sat laughing (at least the merchants did) around the campfire. He wasn’t with them, of course. He sat quietly, studying the fire, holding his broadsword close at hand. The entrance had a bad reputation as a not so calm a place. Every once in a while they heard a sound that made them shiver, but it was distant enough not to worry them. Someone else was getting harassed. They turned in, taking shifts, his was first. He sat quietly, scanning the surroundings. Little was seen outside the firelight circle. After about two hours of guarding, he heard a howl. They’ve heard it before, but now it was closer. Really close. The merchants woke up and within seconds were equipped with their weapons. He looked at them, dazzled. They looked fearsome; a bow cocked with an arrow, a long sword held by a pro, and the third one looking around with bloodshot eyes, ready to kill with stares alone. He feared them. ‘Look,’ one of the pointed. It was what he dreaded. Red eyes glowing all around them, at least a dozen wolves waiting for the kill, just beyond their reach. ‘Don’t worry’ he said, trying to sound confidant. ‘They will never approach while the fire is still burning.’ As if by a cue, it went dark. Somehow the fire went out and before he could adjust to the starlight, he was knocked to the ground by the hungry beast. Totally unprepared, the sword swung from his hand and foul fangs going for his jugular, he wrestled the wolf, trying to get the better hand. Only after a few minutes of wrestling, punching and aching he remembered his dagger. With expertise he mastered over the years, he drew it and stabbed it in the beast’s belly. Thinking it would be the end of it, he was surprised to see and feel the wolf keep kicking and scratching. The blood oozed from the wolf’s wound and he twisted his dagger to deepen it. Only after a dozen seconds and another nasty scratch did the wolf die. Feeling tired, yet victorious, he reached for his dagger and sword and stood up to face another foe. He looked around and saw the three merchants, with eleven wolves lying around, some with arrows in their brains, some decapitated and others, just pure dead. The untouched merchants looked at him, then at his killing, and laughed. The rest of the night passed quietly. His wounds were taken care of, but his hurt pride was still bleeding. He REALLY didn’t like those merchants.
A little boy, running on the rocky ground of his village. The fresh, cold air enflating his lungs as he searches for the other children. The forest looming around, contributing its natural sound to the peaceful scene. As the boy descends downhill, he sees a group of children. The peaceful tranquility changes to a commotion. The children surrounding him, laughing. He just wants to join them, but they’re pointing at him, still laughing. ‘Get out of here, boy. We don’t want you with us.’ ‘Yah, you’re different’ says another one. ‘You’ll never be one of us.’ ‘Can’t I join?’ he’s pleading. They shove him away. He’s running back to the forest. Raging, breaking branches, wounding himself. He’s running from them. Alone, desperate, powerful...
In the morning they skipped breakfast and mounted up. This time he rode far from them, for they giggled whenever they approached. Something still bothered him. ‘Why did they hire me? They are grand warriors, experts with arms and what was I, just a laughing matter? Maybe they needed a jest? But no, no one will pay so much money to someone just to laugh at him. I don’t have any reputation to ruin and I hadn’t done anything remarkable my whole life. What do they want of me? Maybe they have tested my strength, or lack of it? But what do I possess.. My dagger! No. It has only sentimental value. Besides, they could have killed me by now, if they wanted it. No, there’s something else. I fell there’s a secret waiting to be unlocked. I’ll play along and be their jest. But in the end...’ Now he had them to think of when a new idea of torture and death came to mind. Marvin was gone and the three merchants filled his every desire of hatred.
The next day they continued their journey. Where to, he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. He heard them whispering among themselves, shooting glances towards him and grinning. ‘They’re still laughing at me’ he thought. ‘I’ll show them, one day.’ In the evening they reached an inn. The sign said ‘
In the morning after, they packed their stuff and continued their quest. They rode in a thick forest on a cracked road covered with sylvan wildlife. They dismounted and led their horses through. ‘It’s a perfect place for an ambush’ he thought and drew his sword to be prepared. And he was right, of course, but not prepared enough. A blunt object hit his head and he made acquaintance with the grass on the ground. He hurt, but was not out yet. ‘I’ll pretend to be unconscious and surprise the enemy.’ Drums were banging in his head. He opened a slit of an eye and saw five bandits circling the three merchants. His comrades didn’t seem to be concerned about the bandits, but about him. ‘Is he out?’ he heard and saw a nod. ‘Good. YAWP!’ One of the merchants drew his saber and began dancing around the bandits, slashing their limbs at an incredible speed, shouting cheers. ‘In Mary’s name’ said another, and, as if by magic, his magnificent bow appeared in his hand, and two arrows left it, to hit the eyes of two of the bandits. The third saluted and jumped the surprised leftover, knocking him down with fists from hell. In ten seconds, the five unlucky bandits were dead. He wanted to get up and help his hirers, but they didn’t need it, so he passed out. He woke at night, still in pain, but conscious enough to overhear the merchants. ‘I think he’s ready. We’ll do it tomorrow.’ Suddenly, they were quiet. ‘Yah, he’s a loser enough, that wretched luckless supposed-to-be swordsman. Beaten by an animal, a woman and a child. We should have taken Marvin.’ That name. His blood boiled, and not from the fire he was close to. ‘Those snobs, worthless scumbags. Who the hell do they think they are?’ He almost got up and killed them, but he chose it to be the wrong moment. He is weak now. He’ll wait, his day will come.
He woke in the afternoon, his head still in a bandage. ‘Get up, it’s time to go’ he heard. Trying not to show his pain, he dressed, washed and removed his bandage. ‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked. ‘We’ll tell you on the way.’ They started riding again, but this time they rode beside him. ‘We’ll enter a town today, to meet a client of ours. We have some business with him, but we suspect foul play. We are not allowed to carry weapons to the negotiation room, but we are entitled to one guard of our choosing. That’s you. We want you to be prepared for anything, but do not; I repeat, do not interfere with the negotiations and don’t do anything with our client. Just watch and in the unlikely, yet possible, event, do what you must. Is that understood?’ ‘Sure’ he answered shortly, but in his mind ran thoughts faster than a speeding arrow. ‘What are they planning for me? What will they really do to me? I’ll wait, and be prepared, as they’ve said.’
Two hours later they entered the town. It was quite modest; not big, but not poor either. They went directly to the business quarter and approached a small building. They knocked on the door and a large man opened. ‘I’ve been expecting you. And this is your guard. Ha.’ ‘He laughed in my face.’ They anchored their horses to a wooden stick outside the house, and left their weapons there. He entered the house, with his sword, and they all followed. The single large room was empty, except for a table and four chairs. The merchants and the client sat and began to talk. They did so very softly, for he couldn’t hear them, so he examined the client. He was widely built muscles everywhere. Long brown hair and brown eyes. He saw that he was carrying a carved, custom-made sword, but he did so very openly so he did not challenge it. He still ran that ‘Ha’ in his head. A few times during the talks, the stranger looked at him and grinned. He hated that. After twenty minutes, he heard the client addressing him, loudly. ‘Hey, dog. Come here.’ He approached, blood running more and more to his head. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, but tried to clam himself. ‘I heard a woman beat you. Is that true, loser?’ His ego burst like thunder. He couldn’t take it anymore. This stranger comes along and offends him, openly. At the corner of his eyes he saw the merchants mouth ‘SNAP’ and he did. Shouting his lungs out, he drew his sword and attacked the client. He, in return, had lightning reflexes and drew his masterpiece, too. They fought like hell. It was nothing like anyone had ever seen before. Rage controlled him completely and he slashed and pierced, parried and dodged. It was the longest and hardest battle in his life, but after almost thirty minutes of metal against metal, he hit the final blow. His adversary fell, bleeding, to the floor. He turned with bloodshot eyes to the merchants. They looked pleased. ‘You have just beaten the best swordsman in the country. He had won all his duels, ever, until now. If this were a tournament, you would have now been declared “Master Swordsman”. The greatest honor. We salute you.’ And they did. If he wasn’t exhausted, he would have probably reacted, but now he only checked himself to see if he was hurt. ‘Not a scratch, and from the best swordsman of the country, Ha?’ ‘What the hell happened here, and who the hell are you people, anyway?’
We call ourselves “The Fire Within.”’ ‘The name does sound familiar. I heard legends about these men. They were unbeaten, powerful adventurers, roaming the country. They were fearless, almost immortal.’ ‘This is Joy, Code and I’m Love. We each have a fire that burns from within and we learned how to harness it for our benefit. In every battle Joy takes pleasure. In every combat Code stays lawful. In every encounter I remember my Mary. This is our power and we would like you to join us, Rage, because now, you are one of us!’