Prologue IV
Davion's eyes opened up to a dark room. He still on the cot in a cottage, luckily, for he had feared that the creatures did come back for the village while sleep had finally found him during his many tries at it. The lantern's flame had died out, perhaps because he neglected to turn it off, leaving it to burn, or because his caretakers had done it for him. He felt a bit embarrassed, but stumbled out of his slump and stretched, but not before clumsily stepping on some leathery objects. A pair of boots were there, for Davion, no doubt. The house's keepers' hospitality is certainly something special. A low yawn sneaked up on him. The oxygen rushing into his brain allowed him to recollect himself, mentally. Even after on the thinking from earlier, Davion felt that something important was missing. He scratches his head while in deep thought of this missing oddity, but just shrugged when he couldn't come up with an answer.
As he made his way out of the door, he thinks he remembers what has been bothering him. He turned back to the room and reached opened the trunk. He hardly took a good look at what was inside of it, earlier, as he was absent-minded in seeking a weapon of some sort during the time. This time, however, he allowed himself to check for as long as he needed. He saw his arms and armor, with the plate well organized in the chest, the shield he carries on top of it, and the sword beside it, lain to rest for a short while. He was reminded that the blade was the only thing sticking out of the chest, when he found it at first.
Call it intuition on the graciousness of the caretakers' behalf to leave it to the knight to find his belongings, should he desire, for that was the thought that came to mind when he noted this minor irregularity, for the weapon was not left snug next to the large shield.
Regardless, he took up his sword in the scabbard once more. Davion took a moment to study the large, but deceitfully well-balanced sword with a heavy hilt and red accents. He stares into the now unsheathed relic of a bygone kingdom, and sees that the metal has been cleared clean of any acidic dragon blood, leaving a clear blade. Even so, he saw hardly anything in the metal gazing back at him in the poor lighting, and the faint moonlight that leaked onto the wooden floor from outside hardly helped the matter. He slowly sheathes it into the scabbard, as to not make noise to those that might still be in the home. Speaking of which, the knight didn't hear anything stir within the cottage, as of yet. Perhaps they wait elsewhere?
The knight fastened the weapon onto the belt on his clothing and set foot outside with the new pair of boots left by his bedside. He hardly saw anyone outside in the starry night. The ground was still mushy from the precipitation of before. Davion then saw the large collection of lights by the village center, and walked towards it. As he left the proximity of the house, he heard a familiar animal's gleeful cry behind him. The man turned around to see his old mule under the moon's light, with a leash on him and tied around a post on the corresponding side of the house. He smacked his palm across his face as he realizes that this is what was really missing, after all. He felt like an idiot, having forgotten his pack mule. He ambles to his only true companion in a lonely road, edging the small pen it is in and giving him a firm petting. Davion knows he'll be back to feed his mule some tasty scraps.
Life in the hunting business – in general – is tough and solitary. So, what little company and memories one can have is enough to drive lone somebodies like the knight through their days in this path.
Davion backs away and hurries on to make his appearance to the party, with the mule simply awaiting its master, this time around.
"Uh… S-sir?"
"I already saw."
"O-oh. Well, we… Ahh..."
"Begone with you two!"
The pair of reddish-orange bi-pedals scrambled away, and in their place was a sighing man in blackest armor. A horse whinnied in disagreement to her master's outcry.
"Peace, my steed..." His low voice rumbled like earth in buckling chaos. "We'll get to him, soon enough."
A few hours pass, and it is well into the night, as the attendants of the affair are all but drunk and weary from the games and drinks. The knight himself has indulged in quite a few of these games, namely the jousts and such in the small tourney the denizens of the community have set up – all in the name of friendly sport, of course. Davion was woozy from the social occasion, having had innumerable rounds of the finest mead the small hamlet had to offer. He was as surprised as any who witnessed the feat of having drunk so much, especially since he didn't claim to feel much of a buzz from the alcohol after downing at least a dozen and a half mugs of liquor, as he certainly didn't have this in him, then. Some even claimed he gave off a bit of flame from one of his belches, but they were all so inebriated by then, that they passed it off as the alcohol gave them a distorted sense of perception. Goodness, some of the fellows even cheered him on, having done such a thing. It was quite the night, indeed.
The skies were still dotted with the stars, looking down upon the party-goers. Many have chosen to go home, now, and the knight included, remembering to at least bring some grains for his animal. Along the way, he already began to sober up rather quickly, like the monks of the Order of Oyo in the distant Wailing Mountains up the north mainlands. He trudged back to Lexina's cottage to bid her and the husband farewell. He saw the couple at the entrance of the building, opening their home.
"Miss Lexine!" Davion cried out, treading a little faster to her and the spouse. "I wanted to thank you both for giving a helping hand; your kindness has been some of the best I've seen in years."
"Oh, that's all right, Sir Davion." The remarkably sober bartender said, the knight having finally reached the two by the door. "You 'ad it coming, you did. Was there something else you needed?"
"Yes, actually. I would like to know how your husband found me, while in the cave."
"Ah, yes, Harold: would you tell 'im, dear husband o' mine?"
"Err, yeah." the man said, unable to stand up straight easily. "Sorry if I'm a tad tipsy, lad. Anyway, I found you strewn across the floor, ship-shape and all, with your blood on your neck, but with no wound, for some odd reason. So I thinks to myself 'why is this man just laying here if he ain't actually hurt?'"
How odd it must be to hear this. Though, there is always something stranger...
"I checked ya, and I saw nothing wrong with ya, except the one claw the beast you killed had plenty of blood and even some skin on it." He says in amazement. "Whatever happened in there couldn't have been right. It's amazing, really. I'd say you'd be the luckiest man in the world if you only had to have some blood wiped off some vital part of your person, and not say, missing that vital part entirely. Awesome stuff, ain't it?"
A chill went down the knight's spine, and having heard Harold's explanation only made him even more confused as to what kept him alive.
"Thank you for telling me this, Mister Harold. Looks like I'll have some more traveling to do, yet, if I want to know what happened."
"What? Leavin' already?" The lady asks.
"I'm afraid so, I have to know."
"Well, don't forget the mule, if you have to go." Harold says, pointing to the pen.
"Why do you guys have a pen, if I may ask?" Davion asks.
"Oh, it was for our old dog. Bit of a rascal, that hound." The man says. "Poor thing ran off some time ago, and we haven't seen 'im since, bless his soul."
The knight nods and goes to his mule, releasing it, and giving him a small chunk of the bread he brought for him.
"At any rate, thank you both for everything. It was a pleasure."
"Anytime, and be sure to come back someday, if you can. I'm sure the village will appreciate it, good sir." Harold says.
"Of cour-" The knight begins, but is interrupted as a crude crimson arrow whizzes by his face landing on the door frame. The couple was shocked, but the knight hardly cared, and notices it has a poorly made piece of parchment on it.
What a cliché means of getting the message across, eh? Heh.
He removes the arrow from the door frame, tossing it aside as he take the note from it, reading it near the torch by the home.
'IF YOU'D LIKE POWER BEYOND YOUR WILDEST DREAMS, BOUNDLESS KNOWLEDGE OF AGES PASSED BY, OR A HEFTY SUM OF GOLDEN REPRISAL, ATTEND THE LOCATION SEEN BELOW.'
The note gave a surprisingly detailed map of the surrounding area, with an X scrabbled on one of the crossroads leading away from this corner of the world and into the harbor, which would lead him off of this island.
"What was that?" Lexina asked while her eyes scoured the place. "What's in that there note?"
Davion gave them the paper, and saw a confused look in their faces.
"Perhaps I should attend to that, instead. It might be from those things from earlier, setting up a trap." The knight said. "I doubt they'll put up much of challenge. Regardless, if I don't take care of it, they may end up going for the village, when I leave for certain."
"Ooh, very well, Sir Knight." She says. "Don't forget your gear, alright?"
He sends another nod her way and goes inside to recollect his belongings. They give their final farewells for the time and the knight and the mule leave their refuge, with the animal having the last of the food provided by its master, leaving it content. They travel down the roads, following the guidance provided by the map in the starry night.
A.A.N
While I am finally beginning to get a grasp on grammar (no thanks to the lack of proper [required] writing classes at my school), I've been looking up sources on how to further improve the readability of my work, so you don't end up becoming bored, if you made it this far, that is. My prose needs to be more colorful and immersive, and since this story is being told by the Secret Shopkeeper, who has that charming way with words already, it's only proper that I do it. I just need more time to look up better ways to do so, and then we'll see it just how much more enjoyable it'll be. For now, basic edits and grammar.