Author's Note: So now that Dart and Wil have split up, I think what I'll do is alternate between their stories, one chapter at a time. If all goes according to plan, I might even carry this all the way until it intersects with the game's story line. We'll see though. For now, here's chapter three. It follows Wil, now that he's all by his lonesome. Enjoy.

Chapter 3: Wil Flies Solo

Wil was lost. He had left Badon heading north, in the hopes of reaching the distant country of Ilia, but soon realised that he had no idea where he was going.

Which was why Wil was very relieved when he stumbled upon a small village nestled in the hills.

He approached the first person he saw, a bent old man.

"Excuse me, sir? Could I ask you a question?" Wil asked politely.

The old man gave a Wil a once over before nodding.

"Sure sonny. Ask away."

"Would this road take me to Ilia?" he asked, pointing north.

The old man followed Wil's arm, and thought hard before answering.

"Ilia ye say? Well now, I suppose it would. Take ye awhile it would, but yeah, it'd get ye there," he answered, stroking his short beard. "If ye don't mind me askin' though, what business would a young fella such as yourself have up in Ilia?" asked the old man, staring inquisitively at Wil.

"Well you see sir, I want to become a mercenary, and I hear that Ilia is famous for that."

The old man started chuckling.

"What's so funny?" asked Wil, a little annoyed. Who was he to laugh at my dream, thought Wil.

"You're a funny one sonny boy. Sure, Ilia's got some famous mercenaries, but they ain't what ye think. They're all wimen, if ye can believe it."

"What...?" said Wil, surprised by what he had heard.

The old man continued to laugh.

"All the men folk up there are good for is plowing the frozen fields. Now, if you're serious 'bout being a mercenary, listen closely son. Head east for Bern is what ye should do. They're always looking fine young fellows like yerself."

"I see. Thank you for your help sir. I'll make my way to Bern then."

"I take it by yer bow that ye fancy yerself an archer do ye?" he asked looking at the bow slung around Wil's shoulder. "Mind if I take a quick look?"

Wil unslung his small bow and handed it to the old man, smiling sheepishly.

"It's not much..."

The old man examined the bow carefully before looking up at Wil disbelievingly.

"Tell me you're not serious, sonny! Ye can't go off to be a mercenary with that tiny thing! They'd eat ye alive."

Wil stared at his shoes in silence.

"Look boy. Come with me. I run the local armoury. I'll set ye up good."

Wil followed him up the dusty path to a small store with a faded wooden sign labelled, "Armoury". The store's small exterior proved misleading, as Wil gasped when he walked inside. The building was packed to the rafters with killing devices of every imaginable kind. There were axes, swords, maces, spears, more axes, armour, and most importantly, bows and arrows.

The old man led Wil to the back of the shop and picked up an exquisite looking bow from the rack. It was a beautiful piece, more art than bow, really, thought Wil to himself.

"Here, feel this one. As light as a feather, but strong as an ox, that one is. She'll serve you well. Crafted by the finest Lycian bow makers, that was."

Wil took the bow in hand. He weighed it in his hand and marvelled. He plucked the bowstring. Taut, but not too taut.

"It's incredible," gasped Wil. "But, um... there's one small problem."

"What's that?" asked the old man inquisitively.

"I, uh, don't actually have any money to pay for it..." Wil smiled weakly.

"I see," said the old man, his smile disappearing as he took the bow back and placed it gently on the rack. "Why didn't you say so before?" He rummaged around in some nearby boxes before emerging with a smaller, cheaper looking bow.

"How 'bout this then? It's not as fancy as the first one, sure, but it's still miles ahead of that toy on your shoulder. And sonny, just 'cause I like ye so much, I'll let you walk out of here without paying for it," the old man gave Wil a smile.

"Th-thank you," said Wil, grasping the old man's hand. "I won't forget this kindness you've shown me today."

"Ah, think nothin' of it sonny. You know, you remind a bit o' myself when I was yer age. All full of hopes and dreams. Now get out of here: It's a long road to Bern!"

Wil took the bow and a new quiver of arrows and ran out the door, but no t before shouting back:

"Thank you!"

Wil had put three days between him and Badon, before he conceded that he was once again lost. The path he had been following had started out heading east, of that he was sure. But for the past day or so, the path had been going through dense forest, with only a mere hint of sun peeping through foliage. Wil couldn't help but think that he was lost.

He was just about to turn back when he heard screams coming from just down the road. He rushed forward to find a band of six rogues surrounding a young woman, who couldn't have been older than Wil.

"Leave her alone!" yelled Wil, opening his mouth before he had a chance to think his plan through. He instantly regretted his decision, as they all turned to face Wil, wide grins on their faces.

"This don't concern you boy," snarled the leader, who looked strangely familiar to Wil. "Turn 'round afore it's too late!" The bandits broke out into laughter.

Wil gasped. It was Brago, the thief from the bridge.

"You don't remember me villain, but I have a score to settle with you," declared Wil, as he pulled an arrow onto his new bow.

A look of recognition came to Brago's face.

"Well I'll be damned boys. If it ain't the boy wiv the tiny arrers. This must be our lucky day."

"Yeah," chimed in one of his henchmen, "we'll fix 'im good, jus' like we fixed 'is friend!" they all started laughing again.

Wil didn't understand what he meant by that, or at least pretended not to.

"This is your last chance. Leave this place now, or I will slay you where you stand!"

"Ha, big words from such a small man. Get 'im!" yelled Brago.

The closest bandit to Wil rushed forward, but Will was ready. He released the arrow with a twang. It sailed forward, striking the oncoming attacker cleanly in the throat. The bandit collapsed with a gurgling scream, the lifeblood quickly draining from him.

Wil didn't stop to think about what he had just done. He pulled out another arrow and loosed it before the bandits realised what was happening. The bandit to Brago's right collapsed dead, an arrow protruding from his forehead.

Brago looked down at his fallen comrade and lost his nerve.

"Run!" he yelled, and took off in the opposite direction, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

But Wil wasn't about to let him get away. Wil sighted him along his arm. He took his time; there was no rush. He released the arrow and watched it soar forwards and catch the fleeing Brago square in the back of the neck. He heard the scream, and watched as Brago fell forwards, dead.

Wil lowered his bow. He didn't care about the others. They were nothing without their leader anyway.

"My hero!" gushed the newly rescued young woman. She rushed forward and embraced Wil. Wil was taken aback by it. He stepped back, blushing.

"It was nothing...really," he stammered. He had never been good around the ladies.

He looked at her now, for the first time really. She was petite, with long golden hair and bright green eyes.

Wil blushed again.

"Wh-what's your name?" he managed to stutter.

"My name's Vanessa," she said, looking away demurely.

"I'm Wil," he stated rather brusquely. He extended his hand, not knowing what else to do. She took it, and they shook hands rather awkwardly.

"Are you alright?" asked Wil, coming to his senses.

"I'm fine, now," she smiled at him. "That was so brave what you just did, standing up to them like that. You must be a real warrior."

"Well... I don't know about that," grinned Wil, starting to feel good about himself.

"And the way you took care of them, killing them as if it were nothing. I don't think I could ever do that."

Wil suddenly felt like he was going to be sick, as the full realisation of what he had just done hit him. He had taken a life. Not just one life, but three. He stared at the puddle of blood that surrounded the first bandit. How did that knight make it look so easy? Did everyone feel this way after they killed someone, or was it just him? Maybe he wasn't cut out for the mercenary-

"Wil? Wil, are you ok?" asked Vanessa, a look of concern coming over her face.

"I-I'm fine. Really. Just a little woozy, is all..."

"Oh, I know! My father's house is not ten minutes away. I'll take you there. You can rest up till you feel better."

She took him by the arm and led him away down the path. Wil followed meekly, too sick to put up a fight.