Well, here's Chapter 2!

Please R&R

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Chapter 2: Return to Yazuac

It took Vrael several days—3 to be exact—to reach the end of the forest. As he moved past the last few bushes and trees, he found himself at a clearing that overlooked his village, Yazuac. This particular clearing was very important to Vrael, as it was here that he would go to clear his mind of the troubles in life. When he arrived at the town's gates, the sun had just started to rise, but he knew that the villagers were already up and about, preparing to do their daily chores and jobs.

At the gate, Vrael shouted, "Oi! Halmar! It's Vrael! Let me in!"After a brief silence in which he heard the scuffling of feet and muffled voices, a voice yelled back, "Vrael! Welcome back! How fares the hunting?" Annoyed, Vrael didn't bother to answer him. "Just let me in!"

Vrael stepped back as the town's wooden gates swept outwards revealing the small wooden houses within. In the center of the city was the chapel, in which the town's villagers would gather once a week to pay homage to their God. As he stepped forward, a small group awaited them, and among them were his parents. Running to them, Vrael embraced them," Mother! Father! I missed you." Stepping back from his parents, his father straightened and said gruffly "How goes the hunt, my son?" Looking down at his feet, he explained to them how he had been unable to catch the deer but left out the part about the stone.

"You couldn't catch a single one!" said Velmar, the town fool. "Some hunter you are!" Glaring at the man Vrael started to reply with several curses but before he could, his friend Halmar, having come down from the watchtower, grabbed him in a hold from behind. Wrestling each other, Vrael finally threw Halmar to the ground. "How many times must I tell you?" he said, stepping on his friend's body,"You cannot beat me." Chuckling, he pulled his friend up and left to join his family at their house in the northern section of Yazuac.

Placing his pack on the floor beside his bed, Vrael went to do his everyday chores.
I couldn't have picked a worst time to return he thought, for he had came back at the exact same time that he was expected to do his chores. As usual, he cleaned the yard outside of their small wooden home and made sure to check if the fence surrounding their front yard was still in proper condition. Afterwards, he went off to make sure that the herbs his mother had been growing were properly looked after, and watered the plants that looked dry.

Though their family was not rich, it certainly wasn't poor either. Vrael's mother, Estrilda, was important to the town, as she was the town's herbalist and healer. While his father, Ernald, was also a hunter and a part time carpenter, making many of the furniture around their home. At midday, once his duties had been completed, Vrael went into his room and collected his sword, which his father had given to him on his 15th birthday just the year before. The blade was a claymore and meant to be handled with two hands on the hilt, which is the way he preferred to fight. Once he had made sure that the edge was sharpened, Vrael went off to the small training ground located next to the chapel. The training field was split into three different sections. The first section was used for swordsmanship or any other forms of melee combat, the second section was devoted to archery, while the third and largest section was used for mounted training and jousting tournaments when the occasion arose.

Stopping at the entrance, he met Mordred, one of the local spell casters, whose job was to stay at the entrance and block off the edges of each fighter's sword, so as to prevent them from hurting each other yet still giving them the feel of wielding an ordinary blade. Once the edge had been properly blocked off, Vrael entered the training area and joined Halmar, as it was their agreement that they were to meet each other at the training area each day at midday in order to test themselves against each other and to prove their "prowess" in battle. Walking in a circle whilst staring at each other, they both waited for the other to strike. When Halmar did not, Vrael took the initiative and lunged forward with his blade, both hands grasping the black leather bound hilt. His friend blocked the blow with his polished hand-and-a-half sword and swung the sword at his shoulder with one hand. Ducking under the blade, Vrael swept his sword upwards, so as to strike him on the chin but Halmar anticipated his move and jumped back. Panting, they acknowledged each other with a nod and both donned their feral grins.

For several minutes, they continued to spar with neither of them seeming to take control of the battle. Then Vrael made to strike at Halmar's shoulder but feinted and struck him upon the hips. With a yelp of pain, Halmar then lunged at his chest but the blade was easily parried by Vrael. Riposting, Vrael initiated a flurry of blows, gaining ground with each attack when finally, after sensing that Halmar's strength was weakening, made one final strike with all of his strength, knocking the blade out of his friends hand, sending it flying 10 yards away.

Grinning, Vrael whipped his sword up to Halmar's neck. "I've bested you yet again, my friend." Together, they left the training field while Vrael listened to Halmar create all sorts of ridiculous excuses for his defeat, such as the sun being to hot, and all sorts of unrealistic explanations. After separating, Vrael went to the butcher's shop to buy meat for dinner. Taking out the coins, he purchased a couple chickens and other meats for the week and headed home.