Longview
A fanfiction by Schizophrenic-Pancake
Disclaimer: I don't own Fable, nor the land of Albion. I'm not making a profit for writing this. It is purely written in boredom and fun.
The sunlight streamed through the single room of the ratty farmhouse, spilling across the snoring face of a young boy of a mere eight years. In typical response, he turned over, giving a small groan and pulling rough woolen blanket over his head, blocking out the light and curling into the fetal position to try to recapture those lost memories of the pleasant dream he'd been having. He'd been the king of some far off land, wielding a mighty sword and slaying balverines that threatened his kingdom.
"Faolin", His father walked into the room, sighing as he went "It's time to wake up! Your sister is already up and finished with her chores." As response, another childish grunt escaped from beneath the bundle of covers that was Brom the Woodsman's son. He sighed, running a hand across a sweaty brow, as he took the covers in a single glove-covered hand and pulled them from over his son, revealing the offending son.
"Five more minutes father?", Came the hopeful voice as his son sat up, his brown hair spilling into his cyan eyes. A laugh filled the room as Brom ruffled his hair and held up two fingers. "I'll meet you in the fields in two minutes… Hurry up." The order was obvious as his father walked out the door and closed it behind him, leaving him alone once more.
Faolin stood up, stretching as he did so. The audible cracking of his spine was the only sound as he silently yawned and padded across to his closet where he pulled out a patched white shirt and his pair of old red pants. Clothes didn't make much difference to him, as he lived in the small hamlet of Oakvale, where there weren't many high classed people to make others feel fashion conscious.
After splashing water from a basin on his face and sufficiently waking himself, he made his way into the gardens, where his father already had begun working on correcting the rows that hadn't been plowed correctly. 'A mistake on my part', thought Faolin. He absently drug his bare feet through the cool earth as he made his way to his father. "What are we doing today?" Faolin's look was curious as his father glanced up at him.
"Today you're going to market with your mother, since your sister is off playing with her friends and there isn't much to be done in the Gardens." Brom gave his son a small wink, "You'd best mind your mum. You might get a surprise." The words were delivered with a sly undertone that made Faolin smile happily. His ninth birthday was soon. Maybe they had cracked and were finally going to allow him to attend the Heroes' Guild?
Hugging his father with dreams of becoming a hero in mind, he dashed off to find his mother, leaving a bemused Brom behind. "I wish I had half the boy's enthusiasm." With a shake of his head and a wistful glance skyward, he returned to correcting the rows in the garden. It would be a while yet before he had time for such rest.
It only took several minutes for Faolin to find his mother in the kitchen setting things in order for supper later that night. She had already set aside the ingredients for a stew when he rushed in. She glanced up, smiling at him as he skidded to a stop and got his breath back before asking if she was ready to go to Market. His youthful exuberance made her smile and kiss the top of his head before gathering the gold purse out of the cabinet and beckoning him to follow.
He rushed after her, gripping her free hand and looking up at her to smile a megawatt grin. It wasn't every day that he got to leave Oakvale to see Barrow Fields. The journey took half a day, there and back. Normally Theresa, his twelve year old sister, would accompany his mother to help her carry things and put things in order. Turning his attention to the dirt road ahead, he found himself humming a song under his breath and watching the birds flit through the birds on either side.
"Nice to see that you are so excited about helping your mother get groceries," Scarlet commented, looking down at her youngest child and smiling. His energy was admirable as he walked a little bit ahead, glancing through the foliage and pretending to be a mighty hero saving Albion from all manner of evil things. Honestly, she didn't know what to make of his ambition of being a Hero.
She herself had been an Arena Champion in her youth. Scarlet Robe, slayer of Balverines and the winner of the Guild's Arena had given her a reputation most would kill for. Yet she had traded it all for a quiet life in Oakvale with her husband and two beautiful children. Though she still had her skills from fifteen years before, her awareness of the world around her had greatly diminished, so she could not possibly had anticipated the arrow that flew through the air, piercing the wicker basket in her hand to a tree.
Turning her attention to the wooded area to her left, she wasn't really surprised to see a band of four bandits step out. She found herself rushing forwards, her dress gathered in one hand and jumping through the air to land a kick on one of them, knocking him back and into another one, dazing the two before narrowly ducking beneath a sword blade that nearly took her head. "Run Faolin! Get help!"
Turning back at his mother's frantic yell, he found himself sprinting down the road towards Barrow Fields. After all, they were more than half way there and there were plenty of Guards. "I'll be back mother!", he called back over his shoulder before picking up his pace and disappearing around a corner.
"You'll regret that." The gravelly voice came from a man that made Scarlet's face droop into confusion. "Jack?" her voice was hesitant as she turned to face the crimson cloaked masked man. "The one and only Jack of Blades," The evil was almost palpable as he disappeared from sight and reappeared behind the stunned Scarlet and sunk a dagger into her shoulder, splattering blood onto an earthy green cloak.
She stumbled forwards in pain, crying out in a small voice. "You'll be coming with me." The voice was distorted as she fell into unconsciousness, cursing the Jack of Blades as the sleeping potion the dagger had been dipped in took hold of her.
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It was half an hour later when Faolin returned with a band of Guards, leading the party at a dead sprint to the place where he remembered his mother being. The road was abandoned as he felt himself come to a sudden stop. His mother was gone. He stumbled forwards, ignoring the hands of the Guard who tried to grab his shoulders to keep him back. He fell to his knees beside the bloodstained cloth of his mother's green cloak. The leaf broach that had kept the cloak shut.
Hugging it as he cried himself into a faint, the Guards examined the site, looking all around the surrounding area for a sign of a direction in which the Bandits could have traveled with a hostage. But the whole area was empty of life and trails. Picking up the unconscious Faolin, they made their way back to Barrow Fields where more disturbing news was awaiting them. The small town of Oakvale had been razed to the ground by a large group of Bandits.
Laying the boy down in one of the Trader's tents, they made their way to their posts, reflecting on the news that they'd just heard. Something dark was stirring in Albion, and there had to be someone who could combat it.
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Faolin's dreams were filled with death and destruction. He walked through the streets of Oakvale, blood staining his bare feet as he made his way through all the fire to his home. It seemed to be the only building in all of Oakvale that wasn't burning with that ungodly red fire. A feeling of dread filled him as he dashed to his father's prone body and clutched it protectively, sobbing into the black cloth of the corpse's shirt.
As he glanced up, he saw a red cloaked figure staring down at him, beastly yellow eyes staring from a white mask. He could see the energy gathering around the man's fist as he held it out. The crackling of lightning filled the air as it arced towards him. It hit and pain racked his body for a second before he shot up, clutching at his chest and sweating.
They were dead. All of them. It was odd how clearly he could think as he pulled himself out of the tent, his mother's cloak draped around his small frame. Something urged him to search through the inner pockets of his mother's cloak. What he found was a small button-like coin with the seal of the Heroes' Guild. He stared from it to the Cullis Gate on the hill.
His mind literally stopped working for a moment as it tried to process why his mother would have a Guild Seal in the pocket of her robe. Had she known a hero? More importantly, why would a hero give their pass through the Cullis Gates to a farmer's wife? After all, hadn't his mother always lived in Oakvale? Straining his little eight year old mind, he began to cycle through early memories and set aside small details.
The arguments his parents would have at night about some sort of training came to mine right off the top of his head. At first he'd thought that they'd been arguing about sending him to the Heroes' Guild for training, but now that he thought back they seemed to be talking about his mother training someone. Scratching his unruly brown hair, he sighed. It didn't make any sense.
Then, the memory of earlier that day burst into his mind. He remembered seeing his mother kick a Bandit with startling force and moving with a deadly grace that he'd never seen. He remembered the awe he'd felt as he'd run to get help for his mother. From her tone, he remembered that she didn't seem to be worried about herself, so much as getting him out of there.
That fact would only make sense, since he would just be a distraction to her, which meant that she had obviously had training of some kind. Combined with the Guild Seal he'd found in her pocket, there was only one possible explanation as to the solution.
His mother had been a Hero! Staring at the seal, he made up his mind. He would make his way through the Cullis Gate and go to the Heroes' Guild! They had to help him. His mother had been one of them. Surely they would train her son so that he could avenge his family's murder?
Sneaking around the encampment, he gathered supplies in a burlap sack. Silently swearing that he would pay each and every one of the merchants back, he headed off with his mother's cloak bundled over his shoulders like a cape, a couple of cooked hams, some blankets, and a lamp. After all, if he was going through the cullis gate he wasn't going to have to pack heavily.
Making his way up the hill, he stared at the blue light of the gate, making a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening. "Please, let me reach the Heroes Guild." He stepped into the light and was whisked away from the quiet community of Barrow Fields and into his tale.
(A/N): So there is the Prologue. I just finished playing Fable: The Lost Chapters and had the idea of telling the full story and not just what appears. Also, I changed things around a bit. I didn't really like how the Game began, so you can bet I'm going to go into more detail with the Heroes' Guild.