From my hideout in the trees, I am free. I can see everything, perched here above the world. The wind whips through my brown hair and stings my eyes, but the gentle heat of the sun melts into my dark clothes. Like startling awake from a light sleep, my reverie is broken by the snapping of branches far below.
Peering down, I see a boy, no older than eighteen, striding through the woods. He is making quite a ruckus while he's at it. Smirking at the boy's carelessness, I fasten my cloak around my neck and pull up my hood, hiding my face. I think I have found something to do this afternoon.
I slowly scale down the tree, gracefully slipping from branch to branch, not making a sound. I lithely drop no more than a few feet behind the boy and raise my bow. As I softly push the arrow's flint tip into his back, the boy stiffens with a jerk.
For a few moments, silence surrounds us, save for the shaky breaths leaving his mouth.
"It seems I have you at a disadvantage," I taunt. "Perhaps if you did not stumble so, breaking every branch in sight, you would keep yourself out of danger. Although, from the looks of it, even if you did keep quiet, you could probably do nothing to defend yourself. You obviously carry no sword, though perhaps you have a dagger. Little good that could do against a raging bear or a band of rogues, though."
"Do not underestimate me so, sir. I am not stupid enough to traverse the woods with nothing to protect myself. As it turns out, I do have a dagger, and extensive training with which to wield it. So I think you'll agree that it would be most unwise to challenge me in this respect." His soft voice trembles, contradicting his audacious speech.
"Tough words coming from someone I could pierce at a moment's notice," I observe.
"But you won't," he assures me.
"And how do you come to that conclusion?" I question, amused.
"Simply from your tone, sir. You speak with a most unbecoming arrogance and smugness, if I'm not mistaken. I believe you consider this some sort of game. And I sincerely doubt that you would end my life without gleaning as much enjoyment from it as possible. So I challenge you. Lower your weapon, and allow us to battle face to face."
My lips curve into a slow smile at his nerve, and I stand quietly for a moment, considering his proposition. He is very insightful, gaining much from my tone alone. It is true, after all, that this is the most fun I've had in a while. Although I know it would only be too easy to defeat him in any sort of challenge, I decide to take him up on his offer.
I trail the arrow's head down his spine until it points to the ground, and take a step back. Slowly, he turns and faces me, and for a moment, I am rooted to the ground in surprise. Simply put, his face is striking. He has high cheekbones and a straight nose, and his full lips are slightly open, shallow breaths betraying his fear. He is flushed, perhaps from exertion, and waves of his dark blonde hair hang over a smooth forehead and slight shoulders. His most captivating feature, however, are his crystal blue eyes, burning with determination. After a moment of drinking in his features, I mentally size up my opponent. He is some inches shorter than I am and weighs much less, his baggy clothes only highlighting this difference. Remembering myself, I smirk and speak to him.
"It certainly would be a shame to mark up a pretty face such as yours. Admit your impending defeat, and I will let you continue on your way unharmed."
He narrows his eyes at my words and reaches into his satchel.
"How very kind you must think yourself with an offer like that," he replies with scorn. "However, I will do no such thing. I may not look much, but I will defend myself."
"So you would rather die than suffer a blow to your pride?" Laughing, I sheath my arrow.
The boy says nothing but draws a dagger from his satchel and shakily points it towards me, seemingly posing for battle.
I do nothing but smile at his boldness. He is brave, I will give him that.
"Well?" he questions. "Will you not draw your dagger?"
"No," I sigh. "I prefer to use no weapon. It will be easy enough." I grin wickedly beneath my cloak.
Eyes only slightly widening at the bravado of my words, he charges me with the dagger, and I easily step to the side. Stopping short and whipping around to face me once more, he quickly lunges. I bend backwards to escape his attack, and push his arm away. Straightening up, I yawn loudly.
This is too easy. For all his big talk, this boy really has no skill whatsoever. However, he continues to fight, this time swiping weakly at me. I quickly jump out of the dagger's path and he is thrown off-balance, so I give a quick shove to his back and he is sent sprawling to the ground on his stomach, dagger skittering into the bushes. Panting from exertion and fear, he awkwardly flips over and struggles to gain his feet, but I press my foot onto his chest, keeping him pinned to the ground. He squirms and struggles with everything he has, sapping his remaining strength. Soon, he lies still, and I detect a trace of fear in his eyes.
After a moment, I cannot help but let out a short laugh as I cross my arms.
"I think this has been the shortest fight of my life. Really, I believe I could even fight you blindfolded with no struggle."
He scowls at my words, though his lower lip begins to tremble.
"If you're going to kill me, just do it already. It is the noble thing to give me a quick death," he gasps.
My smile slips away at his obvious distress.
"Why should I kill you?" I question. "You obviously pose no threat, not even to a gnat. It would be most dishonorable to kill someone as defenseless as you are."
I lift my foot off his chest, and he lays there, uncertainty clear on his face.
"So you'll let me go?" he questions as he sits up slowly.
I ponder for a moment. He really put up a pathetic fight, though it was most entertaining. As I look at him, I stumble across an idea.
"I will spare your life, but not without a price. For a while now, I have been in need of a servant and I believe you meet my requirements. You are of no danger to me, and are too slight to be of much service in any other position. Yes, the more I think of this, the better it sounds."
"A-a servant?" he stutters, looking incredulous.
"Servant, pageboy, whatever title you prefer. You will accompany me on my travels, wash my clothes, make my meals, gather firewood- whatever I ask of you, really," I smirk, satisfied with my proposition.
For a moment, he looks outraged. "I think you mean slave! I refuse your offer, thank you very much. I am really very busy, and I would appreciate it if you let me on my way!"
Given his predicament, I am somewhat surprised by his vehement refusal. As he starts to rise, I keep him down once more with my foot, and slowly begin to raise my bow. Immediately, uncertainty returns to his face as his eyes shoot to my sling of arrows.
"Wait!" he calls out, as I reach back to my quiver. "I give! I-I'll be your servant. Just please lower your weapon," he pleads breathlessly.
Slowly smiling while replacing my arrow to it's sling, I offer him a hand.
"Glad we have reached an agreement," I respond smugly as I pull him to his feet.
Dusting himself off, he looks at me cautiously, as if unsure of what I'll do next. I grab his satchel, and he grips it, knuckles turning white.
"W-wait, this is my bag! You can't just grab it from me, that's common thievery!" he huffs.
"Actually," I growl, "I can. Being my servant, what was once yours now belongs to me. So, I'll be taking my satchel now." With minimal force, I tug the bag from his hands and open the flap.
Digging through, I find a loaf of bread and some cheese wrapped up, a few gold coins, a needle and thread, a small flask of water, and a hairbrush. I pocket the gold and examine the hairbrush. It's silver, with engravings on the back and fine white bristles. I gaze at him beneath my hood, wondering where he obtained such treasure, and, to my surprise, he blushes. Shrugging, I toss his satchel back to him.
"Well, boy," I address him. "You appear to be not much older than seventeen or eighteen. Am I correct in my estimation?"
"Y-yes," he stutters. "I have seen eighteen years."
"And your name?" I question. "If you're going to serve me, I have to call you something."
"My name is Adrian," he says, diverting his eyes.
I know he is lying, but decide to question him later. I stoop to pick up his dagger from the bushes.
"And w-what shall I call you, sir?" he questions.
"Do you always stutter, or are you simply nervous?" I ask, annoyed.
He blushes again but doesn't answer. I sigh and return to standing as I pocket his dagger.
Realizing the notoriety of my real name, I decide to conceal my identity. "You can call me Beck."
He keeps his eyes down but nods quickly. Peering up to the sky, I notice the sun has sunk considerably during our encounter. Adjusting my quiver, I move forward, searching for a clearing. We need to set up camp, and soon.