Chapter Three

First thing in the morning, Heero left for the Thalan Plains which surrounded the city. It was an expanse of green grass and trees and it was even a favorite spot for robbers and bandits to pray on harmless or unsuspecting travelers. Fortunately, no such harm could ever come to him.

It would be at least a day of walking to finally reach the forest and Heero walked as quickly as his body allowed. He didn't bring much with him for ease of the trip. Just a pouch of money and his new sword. And Heero ate as big of a breakfast as he could to help store whatever energy possible.

He walked and walked. Heero forgot about everything and felt for the first time in a while calm. He was relaxed. He decided to sit down on a rock where a tree provided shade from the sun and rest a bit.

Then in the calm winds and quiet ground, Heero felt movement and before long, the sight of men on horseback running over to surround him came. And he didn't move, still calm not wanting it to go away too soon.

"Hey, you there! Hand over all your money and we just might let you live! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" said the man who appeared to be the leader of the group. Like the other men, he had the look of a hardened fighter and dressed in simple clothes. But he wore an eye patch and wielded a spiked mace.

These bandits had probably been living under a rock. They had no idea who he was, did they?

Heero rose up.

"Leave now and there'll be no trouble for any of you. I mean it."

Without another word, a few of the men got off from their horses and came at him threateningly. When they tried to grab him then seize his pouch, Heero responded by quickly taking out his sword. The slash cut across their chests and fresh, red blood dripped and fell to the humble, green grass.

Now all of the bandits except the leader got their horses and started coming for him. The leader watched in amazement and with even greater fear seeing how one by one, Heero cut them down with his brutally fast attacks. Now all that remained was the leader and himself. He had his eyes straight on the leader.

Then he charged with his dark and mighty horse, hoping to stomp Heero. As he was preparing to dodge, something happened which he had never anticipated.

The great horse actually stomped a foot on him before he did anything.

The leader's face grinned and laughed menacingly. But not for long.

Heero rose up from the ground. Although his chest hurt, he felt as if everything were normal. Why? Deciding to think about it later, he grabbed a fallen bandit's mace and threw it at the great horse in the head. It fell down to the ground.

"Wait, please, wait, great warrior! Forgive me! Please, let me live!" begged the leader, now leaning on his back, trying to crawl away from Heero, who approached him slowly.

"I told you to leave me alone."

"Please, I apologize… H-here! Take it!" he said and took out his own pouch of money and threw it to Heero.

Heero looked at the pouch. He had earned all the money he could want from winning battle after battle and match after match in the arena.

"You had your chance"

Saying no more, Heero stabbed down into the bandit leader's chest.

Now, back to his thoughts.

Why didn't the stomping force of the horse's foot hurt him, never mind kill?

Just as he thought.

This warrior, this champion, Heero was always rushing into trouble. And he handled himself well for a mortal until he got stomped on the chest by that charging stallion.

This man, he thought, was possibly interesting. Perhaps he should continue watching over him and see.

The large, blue-white eagle perching on the rock that had been observing Heero easily slay the bandits flew up into the air, up to the heavens.

After a few more hours, Heero was nearing the town on the border between the Thalan Plains and the Saradan Forest. He was able to reach Cerala sooner than he expected because he decided to take one of the slain bandits' horses. It proved to be strong and fast to Heero's appreciation, though it wasn't the greatest in the world. Upon reaching the town's gate, he let it go.

The town's inhabitants made their living by crafting wood and transporting it to the city or by raising crops whereas the richer people owned fine hotels and restaurants or other lucrative businesses.

The sun was starting to set down and Heero decided for the remainder of the day, he would rest. He walked into a fancy inn called The Lion's Den.

"Hello, good sir. How many nights would you like to stay here?" the employee asked at the reception.

"One"

"Very well, we have vacancy. That'll be forty wings, sir."

Heero put the shiny coins on the counter.

"Anything you recommend doing in town or at The Lion's Den?"

"Well, sir, if you wish, you can go see the agora where they sell pottery and clothing or the Fountain of Youth for a nice drink. And if you'd like, we have a play that will start soon in the theatre."

Which one should he choose?

Heero went to the agora to see what was available for sale. After today's journey, he figured he would need a new set of clothes.

On his way, he saw a tent striped with purple and yellow that was isolated from the other shops and stands. It was called the Mystic Star.

He walked in.

It was dark inside and there were a few dimly lit candles and they revealed little of what was inside.

"Greetings, visitor" said the voice of an old man.

The bright light of an orb on a table revealed the face of a man sitting behind whose face wrinkled and hair gray.

"Come forward and learn of your destiny"

Heero took a seat in front across of the old man and the orb.

"I am Howard, your prophet and fortune teller. Let me guess… you are Heero, the famed champion of the arena?"

Heero didn't need to answer and kept looking straight at him.

The man did a series of gestures around his glowing orb and learned more about him.

"Ah… guided and blessed by the Lady Relena on a quest to make your wish with the fabled star stone… Tell me, Heero… what is your wish?"

"Peace. I want peace in my life. To be happy."

Howard again made his gestures, this time taking longer.

Heero also stared at the orb now.

Memories came flooding by inside him like a rushing river.

He remembered all the fights he had been in. The blood, the glory, the crowds cheering him on, calling for more blood. But no, he could never give enough. The more he gave, the more was demanded and he would continue to stay chained in the arena.

The many people he had killed, harmed because they were in the way of his obstacles, innocent or not. They all fell to his blade.

The images of one woman after another in his bed only giving him temporary escape from suffering, the suffering of wanting to be at peace from everything.

Nothing brought him it. He would earn and spend money. Luxuries, comfort, the gold… it all didn't matter.

Yet, he still remembered.

How it was so enjoyable at the same time.

Everything he did.

But the peace of living away from worry and fear and with… with people who would respect him and treat him as though he were like anyone else. A wife, friends, or even strangers. These things had been eluding him.

"My friend, you should know what it you truly wish for…" Howard said. "…for the fate of the land depends on it. With peace, all of your suffering shall be gone… but the path of lust and power… remains to be seen…"

To be continued…