A Baffling Beginning (Ch. I)

A wintry night, the moon shined acrimoniously upon the beautiful landscape, save for the few parcels of little hamlets sprinkled among the blanket of flowing green. The dark-grey clouds above softly showered down snowflakes, which slowly fluttered down to the ground. The current region, Friedmont, in the country of Galigonia, was known as a farming culture, and prided themselves on producing only the finest harvests.

In one house specifically, in one of the little hamlets scattered throughout the landscape, was a pair of twins who were known as rowdy rascals amongst the rest of the villagers.

"Oy! Drop the damn chicken, ya pigeon-livered ratbags!"

A pudgy man sporting a blood-stained apron ran after two teenagers, who were laughing boisterously as they scurried away from the butcher. In Margery's arm was a chicken, which was clucking in surprise from the sudden abduction. Dippens, who was running alongside her, looked back to flash the bird to the butcher, who began cursing as he found a burst of speed.

"When I catch you two, your asses are grass!"

This only incited more raucous chortles from the scruffy scoundrels he was pursuing. However, he began to tire quickly, as his chubby build, albeit strong thanks to the physical labor he had done all his life, was slowed down by his chubbiness, a result of years indulging in the luxuries of being the butcher for the community, especially a farming one.

He slowly came to a stop, his hands on his knees as he panted heavily, using his willpower to avoid vomiting onto the grass as his adrenaline slowed. He looked up to see the kids running up a steep hill. He felt anger at having allowed the troublesome twits to escape their punishment, but decided he'd simply wait till they came back down. He could always inform the village head of their actions, in which they would be missing their meal for the following days.

He shivered, seeing the snow begin to accumulate on the ground, as well as the wind only reinforcing this chilling cold as it blew it across the landscape, ramping up in power as the clouds began to pervade the air even further in thickness. The butcher waved his hand in dismissal, walking back to the slaughterhouse to finish his work.

"They can freeze in this damnable cold as much as they want."

Up on the hill, Dippens and Margery slowed down, finally stopping at the tip of the rather peaked hill, which gave them a beautiful sight of a flowing landscape, which was heavily dotted with white speckles of snowflakes. Margery, who was panting along with Dippens, finally fell on her butt to the grass below, seating the chicken on her lap, to which it clucked once. She looked at the scenery not with amazement, but rather boredom and want. She gazed over at her brother, who was staring out as well, but instead thinking. He and her both wanted more than this plain, open land, with nothing to offer but tedious jobs, tilling fields and harvesting under the harsh sun for months on end, only to rinse and repeat the process until they gained enough money in hopes of traveling the land to see more and better opportunities than this boring place.

However, they could not even aspire to that, as they were the absolute worst at farming. Their active minds and fast-paced thought processes prevented them from keeping consistent to such unimaginative and insipid tasks, especially one that did not engage their interest whatsoever. After a few moments of contemplation, Dippens looked over at the chicken in Margery's lap.

"What are you gonna name that, Marge?"

Margery thought for a second, averting her down towards the chicken. She flashed a sh*t-eating grin.

"Clucks."

At the sound of the name, she bursted out laughing, which was accompanied by rapid snorting of the nose. Dippens lowered his head, rubbing his temple with two fingers to follow the pattern of tropes he used in situations such as this.

"I feel bad for that chicken." He commented idly.

"I don't. He'll be accompanying us on so many adventures when we get out of this crappy hamlet. In fact, I heard that, in Norena, they're constantly inventing new things like 'steam engines' and 'factories'! We should totally go there when we do leave this place, Dips!"

Margery squealed in delight, her wide grin shining even in this dreary weather. Dippens couldn't help but smile at her beaming positivity. He looked back down at the ground.

At the thought, he remembered hearing about new innovations cropping up in the country far west, overseas, known as Norena, a place rumored to be discovering advanced technology everyday. Although He and Margery lived in such a rural area, even they had heard, from passing travelers, about the great, imperial cities over there, which were told to be built almost entirely out of metal and operated by things called 'gears'. Dippens was absolutely fascinated by these tales, which only led his mind to be tortured even more by his currently-mundane lifestyle.

They sat there, indulging in their own minds for a couple minutes, before Dippens broke the silence once again.

"You know, Marge, there's gonna be consequences for stealing that chicken."

Margery slightly tightened her hold around the chicken, causing it to cluck in irritation. She had a forlorn look in her eyes as she continued to gaze out over the landscape with her deep, brown eyes.

"I know." She mumbled quietly. "I know, Dips. But I didn't want Clucks to be killed, especially by that gibfaced jollock." She sighed, petting the chicken, to which it cooed from the pleasant touch.

"Still, if I have to go more day without proper food, I honestly think i'm gonna-"

Screaming pierced the air, and the two turned around quickly, hearing it emit from the village.

In the distance, the two could see a large group of horse-riding bandits edging over the wide road that led into the hamlet. They whooped and hollered as they raised swords, torches, and flintlock pistols above their heads. Below, the community itself was in panic, as people of all kinds scampered around, grabbing any available weapons they could for the oncoming attack. It was only when around half of them were either ready to fight or hiding that the bandit group slammed into the village.

Pandemonium ensued. Villagers screamed in horror as blood and violence were both slung about. Fire soon sparked up in the bleak night, first starting in a pile of hay before dotting around on houses and other buildings. It was slow, however, in spreading, mainly due to the cold weather and snow.

Nevertheless, chaos did not die down anytime soon. The villagers, having been sleepy and fatigued after harvesting such bountiful crops, were already at a massive combat disadvantage, yet still the raiders seemed much more adept at fighting than even an experienced warrior. In the end, it was like sheep taking on lions, and was blatantly proven by the slaughter that ensued. Villagers were cut down left and right, blood staining the grass and dirt below them.

"We've got to help them!"

With that said, Margery bolted down the hill, dropping the chicken as she did so and picking up a big stick that was laying in the grass. She waved it above her head and shouted in anger.

Dippens, on the other hand, was not so eager to start a fight. Although he was furious at the enemy killing off his fellow villagers, he had seen the unrivaled fighting power they had just displayed, and so his mind was frozen in a state of terror. He didn't want to die. He was just getting life started!

Further down the hill, Margery was charging, using the downward slope as an advantage. She roared when she saw one of the raiders propped up on a horse, his sword covered with new blood, which oozed off the edge. He turned around just in time to see Margery bounce off the ground with agile grace, thrusting the blunt edge of the stick into his armor. The force behind it was enough to knock him off the horse, even sending him flying a couple meters away. He hit the ground with a loud grunt, and sat there groaning as he clutched at his chestplate, surely having seriously bruised a rib or two from the accelerated impact of that stick.

Margery then moved on into the village, waving the stick around like a barbarian. Seeing the whole spectacle, Dippens finally found the courage within himself to break himself from his frozen state of perpetual fear, and dashed down the hill, grabbing up the sword that the raider dropped. That same raider brought his head up and, seeing the kid equip himself, contorted his face in anger, and tried to get up. Dippens, out of fear, ran over and smacked the raider with the butt end of the sword. The raider fell unconscious as a big bruise welled up on his forehead. Even though the bandits had killed many of his friends, Dippens was not one to kill so easily himself. Trying to contain the fear and adrenaline coursing through him, he ran into the village to find Margery.

After a few moments of avoiding slashes and getting knocked onto the ground by fleeing villagers, he managed to find Margery engaged in a sword-to-stick fight with one of the raiders on foot. The match was completely in favor to the bandit, though, as Margery nor he had ever actually fought with weapons in their lives. Sure, there were times when the two had to get a bit rough and tumble with bullies, but nothing serious. The bandit himself already saw the inexperience in the girl's fighting, and managed to smack the stick out of her arm. She yelped at the pain of the sword's side slapping against her wrist, and she held it with her other hand, wincing. The bandit looked down on her with a sneering expression, and brought up his sword to slay her.

"NO!"

Dippens screamed at the top of his lungs, his movement now enhanced. Without thinking, he dashed over and swiped his blade down on the bandit, not seeing where it hit.

Time slowed back down to its normal pace, and Dippens saw the bandit stare down at something. He averted his eyes downward to see the bandit's limb now bleeding profusely, his hand laying in the grass, the blade still clenched tightly.

The bandit then screamed in agony, falling to his knees as he clutched his bleeding arm. Dippens looked down at him with horror, frightened by his own action. Nevertheless, he shook his head and looked over at Margery, who had a long cut that traced down her cheek, as the sword still sliced her skin when the hand fell off, seeing as it was poised over her at the time.

Dippens didn't get the chance to say anything, though, before he felt a massive shockwave of pain hit him in the back of the head, and he fell over on his side, grasping at his head, to which it pulsed with pain rapidly. He quickly lost consciousness, though, and his body slacked.

"Dippens!"

Margery rushed over to grab her brother by the shoulders. Behind him was one of the bandits, who looked pissed from what the two had just done.

"Holy sh*t in a shack, did this pair of farm whelps actually just put two of my well-trained warriors out of commission?"

Margery looked up behind her to see an approaching figure. A fire blazed up beside him, its light shining cruelly upon his features.

A man, medium-sized yet built, sporting a rather snazzy outfit. He wore knee-high leather boots, his brown trousers tucked in so as to not drape over and get muck on them. For his torso, he adorned a gray waistcoat, a black overcoat covering up most of his vest and also draped to his thighs. On his head, a flat-cap was firmly held against his head. He held a colt peacemaker in his right hand and a falchion sword in his left, to which he flicked upwards slightly with his wrist idly.

He finally came over, crouching down and staring at Margery with curiosity. He had then looked up, and eventually around at the carnage inflicted by his men. His eyes furrowed in fury, and he scowled rather scarily. He did a 180 to talk to his second in command, yelling at him.

"Henry! I thought I told you to keep killing to a minimum! What the hell is all...this?!"

He swept his hand over the death and disarray that the village was in. Henry, the nervous second in command, yelped at his sudden hostility.

"Well, sir, it got a little out of hand since they actually fought back-"

He yelped in fright once again as Ames grabbed his collar, pulling him only inches away from his face, which was contorted in anger. He began sweating in fear.

"Are you telling me these villagers were actually a challenge to you and my soldiers?"

"N-no, sir, b-but we could-couldn't exactly knock 'em out e-easily…"

Ames growled in disgust, throwing Henry to the ground, to which the rather young man hit the ground with an umph. Ames turned his attention to the rest of his underlings, starting with a lecture on their ability to deal with lowly farmers and ending his speech by barking orders. The well-trained ruffians scurried about, gathering supplies and tending to any wounded on both sides of the fight.

Ames turned back to Margery, who was puzzled by the whole encounter. After slaughtering nearly their entire village, this man was now carrying out humanitarian acts like he didn't just cause the whole deal in the first place. Ames saw her look and put on a sneer.

"Ya think I care about these pitiful farmers? I only need them 'cause they can go for a good price in the slave market."

He leaned down to the twins, to which Margery leaned back in fear of the encroaching intimidation the man was emitting. He wore a scarf that covered his mouth and a black eye mask, which only shrouded the man in mystery more so than before.

"And you two are coming as well."

"Why though?"

Ames flinched at this statement. It seemed to have irritated him, and he got up, looking down at her before signaling the bandit behind Dippens to do something. The bandit nodded, and moved to shove a sack over her head, throwing Margery into darkness.