Note - Hello! Yes, I've decided to continue the fanfic I started long ago. But before I could continue on to the next chapter, I thought it'd be best to rewrite what I had so far. I did this because I felt that I've improved in my writing, and it'd be a little pointless to change styles mid-story. So here I am, rewriting the prologue through chapter five of 'A Hero's Tale'. I do hope that you see some improvement.

Please feel free to leave comments/constructive criticism/encouragements if you enjoyed (or not) They're very helpful!
Anyway, let's begin!


Bated breaths filled the eerie air around two, unprepared folks who spent the majority of their time in the slums of Bowerstone Industrial. One, was a young noblewoman of twenty-one. Her brightly-dyed red hair was braided into a bun located on the top of her head, while her clothing consisted of a mid-length dress that allowed free movement, such as running. She was accompanied by a blonde soldier who wore clothing as red as the noblewoman's hair. His ruff features contrasted her delicate and more sculpted facial aspects. Little things such as these would deem them enemies according to the nobles and their imposing social rules. Yet, the two worked together for one cause without complaint: to rid the country of its tyrant, and place the rebel prince on the throne - Erik Tucker.

Stuck together in the middle of forest with scrapes and cuts, the couple continues to run from something other than a monster or a beast. Nay, nothing of the sort. These beings were something they feared more. Something unpredictable and unnerving, which caused the two to be even more wary in exposing their powerful abilities. The soldier and his excellent marksmanship, and the noblewoman with her uncommon magic ability.

Catching their breaths behind a large oak, the couple waits for an opening to escape once more.

A shot fires nearby, causing the noblewoman to jump in place. Her jeweled fingers anxiously scrap at rotting bark, causing slimy material to cling underneath her manicured nails. "We need to leave, preferably now. I can't how many are out there. Too many for a fight with just you and I." She whispers to her companion, locking green eyes with his blue. "Or would you rather we fight? Fight like the rebels we are?"

This causes a small chuckle out of the soldier, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Tempting," he replies, truthfully. "But, no one's out to save our pathetic hides this time. We should continue moving towards civilization."

"Agreed."

Another moment of silence passed between them, their breathing practically nonexistent. And when the second shot echoed in the night air, the couple took off. They bolted through the forest, ducking and jumped over branches, and avoiding the harmful projectiles shot from their enemies weapons. It was much later in the month when the couple sat together to talk about the events of that frightful night. They joked about how they were roughly comparable to deer during hunting season. Prancing through the forest with a wild look in their eyes when they ran.

"Over here!" a familiar voice called out behind a short barricade of fallen trees. A wave of relief passed through the couple at the recognition of the prince's tone. It was reassuring to say in the least. "Ben! Aria! Get into cover, quickly, quickly! ... MEN! Weapons up! ... FIRE! Fire into that dammed darkness!"

Without a second of hesitation, the soldier lunges at the noblewoman's waist, tackling her to the ground to prevent any bullets from harming them. Both sputter out in pain as flashes of light briefly filled the darkness around them. The young woman had bumped the crown of her head into a nearby log, a bad enough injury to cause blood to trickle down into her eyes. Her left arm was trapped underneath the weight of two bodies, and sent daggers of pain each time she squirmed. On the other hand, her companion seemed to be in better condition. The only visible injuries were those from before the ambush.

Shots continued to fire above them, which caused the two laying on the ground to hold their breaths and each other.

And when it finally stopped, they both looked at each other, sighing in deep relief. At the sound of another, the couple looks up at the smiling face of the prince of twenty-three. His chestnut hair was clearly unkempt, barely taken care of. And judging by the streaks of grey at the temples, never colored or treated. His clothing was worn, and covered in grimy bandages around his left thigh and right arm. Erik Tucker was never one for clean-cut appearances. Luckily for him, he inherited the late Queen's beautiful looks and rarely had to do much -except bathe and obtain nicer clothing- to keep his charming mug looking princely.

"You two lucky sods," his grin widens, hands placed firmly on his belt in an amused manner, waiting until they sat up to continue. "You took quite a fall there. Both of you all right?"

"I think so," Aria replies first, rubbing her cheeks and eyes of the blood from her head. "Nothing a quick healing spell or two won't fix." Another jolt of pain causes the noblewoman to hiss. "And judging by the pain, I simply dislocated my shoulder, nothing more. Everything shall be fixed before I return home to Millfields."

Somewhat satisfied with that answer, the prince turns to Ben, dark eyes scanning for any visible injuries his fellow soldier might have.

"None, mate," Ben replies with a sly smirk plastered across his ruggedly handsome face. He rolls over onto his back, allowing his arms to be free and relax. "Can't believe what just happened. Thank the light you were sneaking out Aria. And Erik, you ridiculous bloke, for having premonitions."

"Pleased to be of assistance, Benjamin. It was sheer luck I found you traveling from Driftwood, quite happy we crossed paths, or Avo knows where we'd be right now," a smile of her own appears on Aria's lips. She thought it a miracle that they had survived that encounter with only minor injuries. "But.. By Skorm! Erik, those things practically ambushed us in the forest! Everything about them was so dark and grim and ghastly."

"Hard to believe they were just ordinary bandits," the prince comments. His dark-colored brows knit in confusion, and one could practically see the thought process going on through his mind. Newfound enemies that would certainly cause problems in Albion if not dealt with. But, who could they possibly be? Definitely no rebel, or supporter of the king.

"I highly doubt they were bandits," this time, it was Ben who spoke up. He had been comfortably lying on the cold grass, listening intently to Aria and Erik's conversation. "Considering how they fought with better weaponry and higher skill, this is the handiwork of no common rogue." He begins to violently cough, fist reaching to pound his chest in hopes of stopping. Promptly afterwards, Ben mutters a few quick apologies, assuring the two that there was just something stuck in his throat.

"Sit up, Benjamin," the noblewoman's lips curve downward. "Are you sure you're all right? A cough like that does not sound healthy."

Seeing the worry flash across her face, Ben smiles calmly. "Positive, darling." When another wave of angry coughs attacks Ben's lungs, he decides to heed Aria's words and sit up. She gently places her hand on his back, only to recoil away in surprise.

"Benjamin," the noblewoman slowly states.
"Hmm?"
"You're bleeding. Badly." Hearing her voice on the verge panic causes Ben to smile with some amusement. In their short time together, he had never once heard her voice quaver quite like it did now. Still, the word 'bleeding' causes the soldier to furrow his brows. And the prince's too, seeing as he had also sat down next to them.

"When did you get shot?" Aria continues. "This is a bullet wound, I'm very sure. Benjamin?"
"Is it now?" he could feel his body growing weaker with every second, yet he continued to smile and nod.

"Don't be humorous! Yo-you're injured! And my healing spells aren't having any affect."
"I'll grab help!" Erik jumps into a standing position. "Quickly! Health potions! Bandages! We need help! There is a man in need of help!" He yells to the ragtag gang of soldiers who trusted Erik with lives.

"Ben, don't close your eyes. Please don't... Don't die," the noblewoman ducks her head down, ashamed that she had failed to protect her comrade. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I-I'm very sorry."

"There's absolutely nothing to be sorry for, darling. There's no way the great Benjamin Finn will die, especially in the presence of a lady such as yourself."


The warmth of the afternoon sun was comforting and inviting as it reflected across Ben's face. After all, being shot was never fun, and it seemed they had accommodated him well. He could hear birds singing their beautiful daytime melodies, and even the distinct chatter of people.

'Away from the bustle of Bowerstone,' he thought, refusing to open his eyes just yet. Taking a breath of the clean air, Ben assumed they had retreated into Driftwood for a small time.

"Wake up." A voice called out bitterly.

"Idiot, wake up." the voice snapped, more harshly than before.

"Is he dead?"
"Oh dear, oh dear. The bandits got him, ain't that right?"
"Well with optimism like that, of course they got him."
"You fools! He's alive. See that breathing? That rising up n' down of his there chest? He mighty alive, all right. Just gotta wait til Aneva takes care of him there stupidity."

Hearing such unfamiliar voices around him, Ben had no choice but to open his eyes.