Aimless Wanderer fights for his home

How many times have you heard something like this? It was a day like any other, birds were singing, sun shining… Pretty much a normal day, until the bad thing happens and everyone’s in trouble.

Sounds like a cliché in one of those plays the merchants use to talk about, but it happens. It’s usually exactly how it happens; People enjoy their days and mind their own business until some bandits or something come running and start killing.

Which was what happened today.

We should have seen it coming, it happens for a reason, it’s a cliché for a reason. Secluded little villages like these are good for bandits; It’s in the middle of nowhere, they tend to have little to no defenders, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…

That was no excuse though, we have our own town guard, we’re not as small like other villages. We should have, definitely, made a better stand against them.

So why did it happen?

They played it smart. Any bandit group with experience wouldn’t make themselves obvious. By that I mean that they wouldn’t just walk up to town and say ‘we’re going to take all your stuff’, like in the before mentioned plays.

Bandits are bandits, but they’re also people and they know that they’re not invincible. All it takes for one person to kill another is a lucky stab, the chances of which increase when everyone sees a bunch of maniacs charge from the distance into their town.

So they stand back, look at the place, the people living and the guards, so on. Some of them are extra crafty and disguise themselves as something else (as another group of merchants, for example) and some simply chose to do it the ‘political’ way (talk to whoever is in charge, now you’re in cahoots), at least that’s what Teach says.

When they came to town as simple merchants selling their weird wares, something the townsfolk had already grown used to with all the other merchants that came to town, immediately did my teacher see something weird in the situation.

“It’s the little things boy. Things no one who has no business fighting knows. See how Mister ‘Merchant’ there moves? There’s something to it, he moves just like a person who has years of fighting in him, as if he was just waiting for the right moment to pounce… In fact, all his little friends do the same.”

I always listened to my teacher (most times anyways). So, when confronted with the possibility of some people coming in and killing all the people in town, I immediately suggested to tell the guards and do something about it.

He stopped me from rushing out the door, like always, and explained how the guards wouldn’t listen to me or him for that matter. We had become the ‘black sheeps’ of town a couple of years back, so anything we said was never going anywhere, even if we were worried about the safety of town or if we could present proof of it.

This, a result of me separating from my family some years back in a not-so-pleasant manner and them spreading bad rumors to everyone else on town.

It’s a small town, gossip is what they live on.

Teach did say there was one thing we could do and that was preparing ourselves, just the two of us, for whatever those bandits were planning. But I managed to convince the man, after some arguing, to speak with the leader of the guard, to at least try something.

Because sitting here waiting for the bandits to kill everything in sight and do anything to warn people about it left a… horrid taste in my mouth.

We could at least try, even if they weren’t going to listen to us.

Of course, Teach was right, and the thing with the guards didn’t go anywhere. If anything, it made things worse, and now the entirety of the town guards were looking at us like we had grown a second head.

The fact they didn’t even feel bothered by the possibility of it… It made me feel worse. Which is why, when the town started burning, the feeling of dread I had since that afternoon had increased tenfold.

Shortly after the sun had set and darkness started to overcome the town, the sounds of struggling and the smell of fire started to reach our little abode. It didn’t take long for Teach to pick himself up and go outside, yelling at me to do the same.

Retired adventurer or not, the old man wasn’t letting these people destroy his home. Even if he didn’t like some of the people within.

After a full second of processing the man’s words, I grabbed the sword we had made specifically for my fantasy journey and ran outside, looking at the hellscape that our little town had turned into.

Fire was everywhere. Screams and sounds of battle that were muffled inside were now louder, as if they were happening everywhere.

Within seconds of me leaving the house, I was locked in my first real fight.

Against another human, a bandit, this fight was for life and death. I was more scared than excited, but I managed somehow.

It was an extremely short fight and I didn’t kill the man. …It felt wrong to do so, for whatever reason.

Not even a second had passed since I downed my first bandit when another one came and rushed me.

My fear and shock were short lived, something my Teacher had drilled into my head during training, move or you’re dead. So I started moving, dodging and parrying his attacks, more out of desperation than anything, and waited for an opportunity to strike.

It never came, instead, another bandit appeared from the distance. In the few seconds I managed to look at him I saw him scream at something, or someone. Probably calling for his friends to back him up.

It’s then that I knew I had to make my own opening.

The person in front of me hadn’t realized that his allies were coming for his aid, instead focusing all of his efforts on trying to hit me, even if that made him swing like a madman.

With one swift movement of my arm, just like I had practiced countless times, I managed to parry his attack and then drive my sword inside his chest. His friends haven’t still closed the distance between us.

It’s not until the bandit I just killed falls to the floor lifeless that I realize I lost sight of Teach. Taking a peek over my shoulder, a trail of corpses behind me somewhat resembling a trail of breadcrumbs, most likely my own masters doing.

For an old man with a crippling wound, he sure knows how to kick ass.

…I’m going to have to catch up with him now.