(A/N: Sorry if you guys get the notification for this chapter twice! :( I accidentally posted the wrong document.)
It was no secret that Clint Barton was a foodie. When he wasn't sleeping or training, he was eating. He'd cleaned out Stark's and his own fridge more than once due to his nonstop snacking. He'd eaten food from every corner of the globe and he'd found more than one dish that he could describe as nothing but heavenly.
Jenny's lamb stew blew every other competitor so far out of the water that Clint didn't think he would ever be satisfied with anything else ever again.
The lamb chunks practically melted in his mouth and the concoction was just the right mixture of sweet and savory. Clint was tempted to ask her for the recipe, but he dismissed the idea. He doubted that he would ever be able to make it half as well as Jenny had.
The three companions wolfed down the stew in record time and stayed in the restaurant for a few minutes, nursing steaming cups of coffee that Jenny had set out with the bowls of stew. When they were ready to go, they called Rafe over.
"What can I help you with, sir?" Rafe asked when Halt beckoned him over.
"Give this to Jenny for me," Halt said as he handed Rafe a few. The chef had declared that their food was on the house when she had brought it out, but she'd already given them two other free meals in that month alone. Halt had decided that she was getting paid whether she liked it or not.
They stepped out onto the street and resumed their walk towards the castle that was across the river. The structure was enormous, with three outer walls composed of some sort of red stone that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Clint could see soldiers patrolling the battlements from here, the sun glinting off of their helmets and spears. Three towers stood at the corners of the castle where the walls met. In the center of the walls was a fourth tower that was considerably taller than the others, which Clint assumed to be the Baron's private quarters. The structure was almost as impressive as Stark Tower. Suddenly, Clint remembers something that Will had mentioned earlier.
"Will, you said something about being a 'castle ward'," Clint said, turning to look at the apprentice on his right with a small frown. "What does that mean?"
Will glanced up at Clint with a smile before looking towards the castle ahead. "It means I was lucky. My dad was a sergeant in the army. He died saving Halt from a bunch of Wargals." Clint looked to Halt, who was walking ahead of them. The Ranger didn't seem to be paying attention, but Clint was sure he was hearing every word. "My dad told him where my mom was before he died. She was pregnant with me at the time and Halt helped her to give birth, but she still died in the process."
Will looked sad at that, but it was more of a regretful look than one of grief. Clint could understand that. His parents had died in a car crash when he was six. He still regretted that he hadn't had the chance to get to know them better. But he actually had memories of his parents, even if they were a bit hazy. He could only imagine what it would be like to not remember your parents at all.
"Halt brought me here after he buried her," Will continued, gesturing to the castle. "I was raised in the castle with four other kids my age. When we turned fifteen, we all chose our apprenticeships. I was denied battle school, horse school, and every other apprenticeship that I asked for." Will huffed out a self-conscious laugh. "Halt took me on as his apprentice after I climbed through a window into the Baron's study at the top of the Keep in order to look at a paper that he had given the Baron during our choosing. The whole thing was a test. Apparently, he had been considering me as an apprentice for quite a while."
Clint looked up at the castle, which was drawing closer every minute. The keep must be the larger tower in the center. If Will had really climbed that thing, then Clint was immensely impressed.
"My parents both died in a crash when I was six," Clint said. Will gave him a confused look, so he elaborated. "A car crash. Cars are these metal carriages that can move at a fast gallop without any horses pulling them," he explained. "If you lose control and hit a tree at that speed, like we did, then it's really easy to get hurt." Will nodded in understanding, his gaze sympathetic. "What I'm saying is that I understand." Will nodded again, this time with a grateful smile, and they both walked on in companionable silence. Ahead of them, Halt smiled.
The trio passed over a bridge that spanned what Will had called the Tarbus River. The water rushed past underneath them, deep and cool, its edges bubbling against the banks. Ahead of them rose Castle Redmont. It was even larger up close, its walls alone reaching over 30 feet high. The land around the castle was cleared for a quarter mile, allowing the guards to see any attacking force before they could get anywhere near the castle. Of to the right, thuds and yells came from what looked to be a training ground near a long, low building. A little farther away was another slightly taller building where Clint could see young men leading and riding huge battle horses.
"That's battle school," Will explained, pointing to the nearer building where trainees were hacking with wooden swords at dummies as drill sergeants called the strokes. "My friend Horace went there. He's already graduated as a full-fledged knight. The other building is horse school, where we train our battle horses."
Clint shook his head in amazement. Castles he could deal with. He'd seen plenty of those in the 21st century. The same went for the little village that they had just passed through. He could name twenty little villages just like it in third world countries that he had visited. There was just something about words like "knight" and "battle horse" that slammed the whole time travel concept home.
They walked across the drawbridge unimpeded, the guards nodding to the two rangers as they passed. More than one gave Clint a curious look, but no one stopped them to ask questions. The three warriors quickly crossed the main courtyard and entered the Keep, mounting the staircase that curled clockwise around the tower. Clint could already see how a staircase curving to the right would improve security and limit the power of attacking forces. By the time they had reached the third landing, Clint was incredibly thankful that he was in such good shape.
After several minutes of cardio, Halt finally led them into a small room guarded by two fully armored men. Inside was an ironbound oak door that most likely led into the baron's… Throne room? Chambers? Clint wasn't sure what to expect. Along the walls stood wooden benches and next to the door there was a wooden table with a thin, balding man seated behind it. The desk was covered in neat, organized piles of paperwork.
When the three entered, the man hopped up and rounded his desk to firmly shake Halt's hand.
"Halt! Just the man we wanted to see! Just the man!" he exclaimed as he pumped Halt's hand up and down. He finally released the abused appendage and turned to look Clint up and down with a sever gaze. "And who are you?"
"Clint Barton, sir," Clint offered, holding out his hand after only a slight hesitation.
The man seized Clint's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Barton. You may call me Martin."
Clint gave him a small smile and a nod as he took back his hand. Martin had a surprisingly strong grip for such a thin man.
"Martin, if you don't mind, we need to speak with Baron Arald about some important matters," Halt said.
"Yes, of course! I'll announce you all to Lord Arald, shall I?" Martin offered, walking towards the door with a very strange gait, all elbows and knees. Clint supposed that he was trying to march, but he certainly wasn't achieving the desired effect.
Halt quickly strode forward and gripped the secretary's shoulder. "That won't be necessary, Martin."
Martin deflated a bit at that. "If you say so," he said with a nod, returning to his seat behind his desk.
Halt pulled open the door and strode in, Will and Clint following close behind. Clint peered around him in curiosity as they entered what appeared to be a study. The stone floor was covered in a carpet that leaned more toward functionality rather than decoration. The wall to the right was lined with book shelves. On the wall opposite it was a large open window with no glass panes to keep out the slow, cool breeze that drifted past. Instead, it had wooden shutters that could be pulled closed to block out the cold or heat. Clint smiled as he realized that that must be the window that Will had climbed through several years ago. Across from the door stood a large oak table with far less paperwork stacked on it than the one outside. Of course, that wasn't saying much, seeing as Martin had enough paper to set the entire castle ablaze. In front of the desk stood several wooden chairs.
Behind the desk sat a man that didn't fit any of the stereotypes surrounding political figures. He was immense, at least half a head taller than Clint. His arms and shoulders were muscular and scarred. A sword hung on his chair next to him, but Clint didn't need it to see that he was a warrior. Between the scars and the confidence in his posture, it wasn't hard to guess. Clint could tell that the baron wasn't just a hack-and-slash kind of guy, however. The man had intelligence, wisdom, and humor in his gaze. Clint liked him immediately.
The baron looked up from the papers in front of him as the trio entered the room and quickly rose, circling his desk to shake Halt's hand.
"Halt! Will! Just the men I wanted to see!" The Baron exclaimed, engulfing Halt's hand in his own and ruffling Will's hair. "I was just about to send a messenger to summon you. There's been some trouble in a nearby village that I need you to investigate."
Halt nodded with a small frown of concern as Will attempted to fix his hair with a grin. "Well, then it's good that we came. We've actually run into some trouble of our own." He gestured towards Clint, waving him forward. "Arald, this is Clint Barton. He's from another time." Halt's face was carefully blank at that last statement. He was obviously trying hard not to smirk at the confused look on the Baron's face.
"Another what?" The Baron asked, looking at Halt in concern.
"It's true, sir," Clint said, drawing the man's attention back to him. "I'm from the year 2017, nearly fourteen centuries in the future."
The Baron glanced between him and the two Rangers with his eyebrow drawn together, obviously confused and wondering if his advisors had finally lost their marbles.
"That's impossible," he said with a frown as he studied Clint, obviously trying to spot the crazy in his eyes.
Halt nodded. "We thought so, too, but apparently not."
The Baron huffed, running his right hand through his graying hair as he planted the other on his hip. "How?" he finally asked, motioning for them to explain.
Clint smiled kindly in understanding and motioned to the desk and the chairs in front of it. "I was holding off on explaining that until we got here, actually. You all might want to take a seat. This could take a while."
The Baron nodded slowly and reclaimed his seat behind his desk as Will, Halt, and Clint claimed the three chairs in front of it. Will sat forward eagerly on his seat, his elbows propped on his knees. Halt sat back in his chair, his cowl thrown back as he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Clint impassively. Baron Arald leaned forward to steeple his hands under his chin, his elbows resting on a small cleared space on his desk. Clint looked to each of them before blowing out a sigh and sitting up straight in his seat.
Just another debriefing, he thought before launching into his explanation.
"So I guess I'll start with the basics. You already know my name and what year I'm from. I hail from the United States of America, which is a large country made up of fifty states, much like your Araluen is made up of fifty fiefs. I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., which is an organization that operates independently of my county's government to ensure the protection of the world from large-scale threats like alien invasions, terrorist groups, evil sorcerers, interdimensional beings, and so on."
Baron Arald suddenly held up his hand, a confused frown on his face. "Forgive me, but what do you mean by aliens and interdimensional beings? And what are terrorists? Also, sorcerers don't exist! You aren't making any sense!" the Baron exclaimed, looking to Halt with a confused look. "None of this makes sense. Time travel just isn't possible, Halt! I refuse to sit here and listen to the ravings of a mad man."
The Baron stood, probably to demand that Clint leave leave, but Clint stood with him and quickly slid the collapsible bow from the small of his back, snapping it out into its full form. The Baron's eyes widened in amazement as the bow suddenly appeared before his eyes.
"If you want proof, here it is," Clint said, his eyes cold. "None of the materials that were used to make this bow have been invented yet. Neither has the mechanism that allows it to fold or the manufacturing techniques that allows it to have a draw weight of 200 pounds. I've already demonstrated the technology that I brought with me for Halt and Will and they have been convinced that I'm telling the truth. If you won't believe me, then believe your advisors."
Arald's eyes widened in shock at the stranger's commanding tone. He quickly turned to Halt, the Baron's eyes imploring Halt to be straight with him. Halt nodded resolutely, his eyes hard. Arald turned back to Clint and nodded apologetically before slowly sitting back down.
Clint sighed and took his seat as well, resting his bow across his lap. "Aliens are intelligent beings that are not human and come from the stars. Interdimensional beings are similar, but they come from alternate dimensions, which are basically different versions of our reality that exist side by side, but that never mix. Terrorists are people that create terror by blowing things and people up. They usually do it to send a message and to try to threaten people into compliance with how they think the world should work. And yes, sorcerers do exist," he said with a weary sigh. "I should know. It was one of them that sent me here."
"We have methods of instant communication in the future." Clint fiddled with his bowstring as he talked. "A person can speak into one device and another person can hear their voice through their own device, even if they're hundreds of miles away. My team, the Avengers, received one of those communications yesterday with an order to go to the other side of the city. There we found a sorcerer named Loki. He's caused us a lot of difficulties in the past and when we found him, he was in the middle of casting a spell. We didn't realize that it was a trap until it was to late. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by this weird glowing light and I blacked out. When I came to, I was in Halt's cabin. Apparently, I had simply appeared out of nowhere, right in front of the target that Will had been about to shoot at," he finished with a chuckle and a smile at the young apprentice, who grinned sheepishly back.
Baron Arald shook his head in amazement. "Incredible," he mused. "I'll have to admit, I'm still not entirely sure that I believe you."
Clint nodded. "I assumed as much. I don't think it matters if you do or not. There's no way that you could help me get home. I trust my friends to find a way to do that."
The Baron steepled his hands on his desk and leaned forward to piece Clint with a stare that somehow managed to remind him of Director Fury. "And if they don't?"
Clint looked down at his bow and steeled himself, pushing back the despair and locking it away deep inside himself. He had no use for it. He looked back at the Baron. "They will."
Arald nodded, still not convinced but willing to let the man believe his own words.
"Sir, you said earlier that there's been some trouble in a nearby village," Halt noted as he regarded his friend. "What sort of trouble are we talking about?"
"A woman came to visit me earlier today. She wasn't the most respectful, but that was understandable. Her three daughters have been kidnapped by a knight that had been passing through their village, which is about a day's ride from here." Arald pulled a map out of one of his drawers and spread it out so that it was facing Halt. "There," he said, pointing to a small village near the border of the fief. "Debber's Crossing."
Halt examined the map for a moment before nodding. "Did the woman give you her name?"
"Her name is Rose Herring," Arald said. "She lives just north of the village on a plot of farm land."
Halt nodded, standing from his chair and heading towards the door without waiting to see if Clint and Will would follow him.
"We'll be there by tomorrow," he said, slipping out the door with Will and Clint close behind.
(A/N: FINALLY! Now, on to the action! :D Be sure to review, favorite, and follow ;) )