Chapter 6 A Roundabout Way

Two days passed. The sun was now beating down its wrath on everyone who had no shade atop their heads. The boy wearily sat on the steps in front of the Payon temple. His hair glistened a fiery red on the afternoon sun.

Two days and still no job. He had exhausted all the shops, houses, and even the local pub that could provide him work. Nobody seemed to need a boy servant. He was dead tired.

His stomach growled. He rummaged for his rucksack for food, but none was left. The canteens he carried were also empty of its contents. Dismayed, he grabbed the trouser of a passing townsman.

"Water, Sir," the boy implored.

"Take your filthy hands off me!" Seeing the boy's miserable state, the townsman conceded. "If you want free water, grab some at the lake in Archer's Village."

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Condor meat. Wolf meat. Savage meat. Hydra meat. Phen meat. Bapho meat. All kinds of meat.

The boy's mouth salivated at the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat offered by the merchant. He breathed in the wonderful scents, willing it to miraculously make his stomach satisfied. His stomach just growled more.

Looking around, he could see a lot of adventurers, mostly hunters, walking about the village. He took off his rucksack and dropped it to the ground. He raised both his arms above his head, stretching his aching muscles.

A running, silver-haired thief of the same height as him made a grab for the rucksack he had left on the ground. Instead of melting into the crowd, the thief ended up sprawled on the ground, his hand fully stretched but still holding the rucksack.

The thief stood up and looked at the boy, who looked back at him. They stood there, facing each other, summing up each other. But then, both of their eyes crinkled with amusement, and with amusement came laughter. They laughed as if there was no tomorrow.

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The boy picked up with ease the large rucksack the thief was unable to steal.

Surprise etched the thief's features. "Hey, that stuff inside was really heavy! You must be really strong! What have you got in there, [i]gold[/i] bars?"

The boy blinked. "There's nothing much really."

"May I carry it again?" The thief said with a devilish glint hinting in his silver eyes. He stretched his arm toward the boy.

The boy hanged the straps of the rucksack on the thief's hand. The rucksack plummeted to the ground.

"Oof…"

What the – it's like something is pulling it to the ground! The thief scratched his head, bewildered.

"Is that bag cursed?" Before the boy could reply to this, the boy's stomach made its presence known by growling again. The thief laughed; the boy's cheeks burned.

"I should have known," the thief said, still amused. "Runaways like you won't be able to keep fabres alive! What with no money and all…" He threw a questioning look at the blushing boy. "You are a runaway, aren't you?"

"Yes," the boy mumbled.

"Come with me."

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"Whoa there, kid! Nobody's going to steal that food from you," the thief exclaimed as he passed a goblet filled with water.

"I'm sorry. I haven't eaten for about –", the boy took a gulp of water, "– the whole day now. Why do you call me a kid, by the way? You don't look old. In fact, I don't think you're that much older than me."

The thief smiled at this. He lifted a hand towards the boy. "The name's Yorgil Zuiken, fourteen summers old. At least that's what I think."

"Daffid Iolo. I'm ten," the boy declared while shaking the hand of the thief. "Did you build this shack?" He asked, looking at the sturdy walls made of willow wood.

A glimmer of pride brightened Yorgil's eyes. "Yes. I made this when I was about your age. Well, at least I think I was ten that time."

"What's with the age confusion?"

Yorgil shrugged. "It didn't seem important back then; it still isn't. And I don't really remember events that hold no importance for me."

"Oh." Daffid resumed his supper.

"Where'd you get that shield, by the way?"

"The Sisters at the Prontera Sanctuary gave it to me. They say they belonged to my family."

"They say? Aren't you sure? Didn't you ask around?"

"No." Daffid shook his head. "We weren't allowed to leave the orphanage. Not until one reached the age of twelve."

"Why did you leave? I thought orphanages were good places?"

"The Sisters said that I was going to be an acolyte. I don't want to be one," Daffid said defiantly.

Yorgil laughed. "We're going to be great friends, you and I."

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The soft rustling of the trees signaled the presence of the night wind. It caressed and soothed Yorgil's face as it slowly passed. He leaned against a tree, his hands crossed over his head. He drew out a breath and closed his eyes.

But just then, a twinge of nervousness felt itself on his Yorgil's heart. He opened his eyes. Confusion clouded his mind as he saw a caped entity float towards the open shack.

The caped entity was gaining speed, never wavering from its path, floating straight for its destination – the shack. He saw the entity bring forth a sword.

Astounded, he tried to move, except that some external force was stopping him. And this force, it seemed to create a void around him, around the shack; leaving only him, the caped entity, and Daffid, who was now writhing on the bed but still asleep.

He could clearly see it now. The caped entity, the wraith, was slowly approaching Daffid. It raised its sword, and then brought it down for a mighty strike.

"NO!!!"

Daffid sat up with a jolt, breathing heavily.

"Daffid!" Yorgil shouted, leaning a hand against the door jamb. "You're ok!"

They stared at each other, both of them still breathing heavily.

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"We became close after that. We treated each other more than friends. We were brothers, best of friends," Daffid recounted.

"I noticed that you're saying it as if you aren't friends now," Madeline observed with a slight frown.

"He's still angry with me. For leaving him, I guess. He was my mentor and my protector. He still is," Daffid said with a sigh of regret.

He taught me everything I know.

"I still remember what he said to me, 'We're thieves! This is our destiny. I know people here treat us like dirt, but we get back at them don't we?' He even resented the fact that I wanted to become a knight."

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'A knight?! Why, for Odin's sake? What reasonable reason could you have?'

'The dream,' Daffid would say unemotionally.

'But it's just a dream!'

'You saw it too, Yorgil. In fact, you were awake at that time.'

And Yorgil would go silent after this.

So here I am, training to become a full-fledged knight. I hope I know what I'm getting myself into.