This is, as some of you might have figured out, my first fic, so constructive criticism is welcome.
I might add another chapter to this. Dunno when, or even if I will, but I have a few ideas that I'd like to try out.
Lastly, sorry about the sucky title, but I never really made one for this. I was just bored and started writing.
Fable: Musings by the Campfire
He had often wondered about what had gone through Maze's head when the old hero had taken him in. Maze could easily have let the bandits kill him, yet he had intervened, saved the life of some boy that meant nothing to him.
Oh, Maleficus had no love for Maze, but it had always been something to ponder about during the innumerable late nights by the equally innumerable campfires.
Yet, this night, as he sat looking into the depths of the fire as he had so many times before, he felt that he understood the old hero's actions a little bit more.
Looking back on the life he had led after leaving the Guild of Heroes, he could see that there would be no salvation in the afterlife for him. Stealing what he needed and wanted, killing people for looking at him in a funny way, for money, for fun. There were few crimes he hadn't committed and half the time the guards had to make up new charges for crimes thought impossible by man. He was wanted over most of Albion on the charges of General Violence, Wilful Sinfulness and Loitering With Malicious Intent.
Even so, he hadn't killed Whisper in the Arena and he had cast away the Sword of Aeons, sparing his sister's life. He had made sure that no one knew of the latter and they still hadn't found all the pieces of the man that had gloated over the former. Maleficus considered these two acts of Mercy to be his lifeline, because deep down in his soul, the bound and gagged being that was his conscience still made the occasional squeal and reminded him that he could quit Evil anytime he wanted to. Yeah, he could quit all this if he wanted to, sure, anytime he wanted, no problem. And earlier today, he had been reminded again.
It was early morning, birds chirped joyously, diverse fauna stood about and looked insufferably cute with large watery eyes. Maleficus were restraining himself from wasting his arrows. Barely.
The bandits he had dragged along with him were laughing at some crude and not very clever joke. The group stood a bit behind the limit between a small town and the surrounding forrest. Apart from thinking themselves witty, the bandits were checking their gear and talking about what they would to with their share of the loot. Maleficus stood a bit away from them and were dragging a whetstone along one of his horns; he had recently discovered the joys of headbutting.
He leant slightly on his Master Axe, the ancient weapon had been thoroughly tainted with demonic runes and the dried blood of many a priest of Avo. The weapon still gave of an almost regal aura of lawfulness though, much to his annoyance, but it would soon be drenched in the blood of innocents yet again, and would for a short while look grimmer than any obsidian weapon. The thought cheered Maleficus immensely.
Testing the tips of his horns with a finger, he turned to the bandits and cleared his throat loudly, bringing an end to the bandits' daydreaming of future riches, and gave the order to move out.
It was later, the annoying birdsong had died away as the villagers' screams had started and the nauseatingly cute forest animals were no doubt far away, but Maleficus, who was now out of arrows, knew that scavengers would soon replace them. There hadn't been much resistance and the battle had soon slipped over into a massacre that was still going on.
Maleficus and one of the bandits were riffling through the possessions of the man now lying on the floor next to parts of his own torso; Maleficus had left his axe in the bits still attached. They had just found the silverware and was tossing it all into a bag.
That was when the two of them had heard the sobs. They weren't loud sobs, but they could still be heard over the screams for mercy in the distance. Maleficus turned to the bandit, who himself were looking to the space under the stairs where the sobs originated from, he was leering. Without a word the bandit drew a serrated knife from his belt and moved towards a little girl who looked at the body on the floor. Maleficus finally tore his eyes from the waif and instead directed his gaze to the bandit who was still approaching the child.
The scene was all to familiar to Maleficus. It was embarrassingly familiar.
Something in Maleficus went 'click' and Maleficus knew what would be the smart thing to do.
As if he were ashamed, Maleficus lowered his head. Then, with a glint in the eye and a grin of grim determination, he charged.
Today, he figured, were not a day for doing smart things.
"Mister, I'm hungry." The child broke the silence that had been reigning between the two since Maleficus had saved her.
"See if it's done now," he said and handed her some of the meat that had been roasting on the fire. She took it and started to eat, resuming the silence and looking at him with a scared, yet slightly accusing expression.
The child weren't exactly good at it, but Maleficus knew where it came from and directed his eyes elsewhere.
Wherever Maze was now, he was probably sniggering at Maleficus, he was sure of it, but the fact that Maze had been lucky was something Maleficus had realized early on. Maze had brought him to the Guild of Heroes where there were others to take care of him.
The Guild of Heroes still existed, but not in the same shape as before.
What little that had escaped the destruction of Jack of Blades attack Maleficus had put a torch to later on. The Guild of Heroes weren't an option anymore for the orphans of Albion and he couldn't just hand the girl over to someone. Maleficus' conscience, now unbound and ungagged again, had shot down that idea even as it formed.
No, this girl was going to be a hero, even if he had to train her himself. How didn't matter, nor did why or where, she was going to be a hero, even if it killed him. Actually, it would kill him to train her, in the long run at least, but that was a matter for another day.
Maleficus smiled and cut himself some meat, which he popped into his mouth.
"You could have told me that the meat was inedible, you know."
"Sorry, mister."