Leina gasped as she broke the surface and clawed her way back onto the muddy riverbank. Her soaked boots weighed as heavy as her mother's breastplate, but she couldn't afford to let any of them slip free. Struggling, her muscles still sore from her prize fights the night before, she hefted one leg and nearly slipped down again as the crumbling dirt collapsed beneath her knee. Once more, this time with success, she pulled herself from the water.
Rolling onto her back, she breathed a sigh of relief and let the sunlight wash over her face. Her armored clothes were waterlogged and she'd lost her supplies, but her paltry money pouch still clung to her person, as did her sword and shield.
Leina groaned and felt herself sink deeper, into the mud and into despair. "Risty… I wish you were still here."
She'd had a terrible time over the last two dawns. First she'd been compelled to fight in that chauvinistic mud pit for a crowd of lecherous men after Risty's money had been stolen, for a paltry 5 gold coins (according to Risty). Then she'd fought again, this time against the very woman who'd robbed them, only to be humiliated both publicly and privately. Echidna had outclassed Leina in every way. Then she'd gotten herself bitten by Echidna's pet snake, woken up in the fight pit's infirmary with a strange taste in her mouth, and returned to the inn to find Risty had gone.
So, after all of that, Leina simply lay on the riverbank, going nowhere for a while… before remembering she should take off her boots. She'd seen blisters and worse on soldiers who'd come home from her father's campaign against the borders of the Swamp.
When she eventually rose from her rest, she thought she heard someone singing a song along the river. However, she was back on the adjacent road before the source could reach her.
Stopping at a small trading post and realizing she might need her money for tolls, she waived any more purchases and continued on her way. She hadn't gone much further when she came across three men loitering on a long wooden bridge, woodlands at their backs. They looked like out-of-work or discharged soldiers from their poorly-kept leather armor. One of them, the oldest-looking from his receding hair and lined face, nudged the one next to him and nodded towards Leina as she approached. The three of them faced her and blocked the bridge.
"I'd like to pass, please," said Leina.
"Not until milady's paid the toll," answered the oldest-looking.
Leina frowned. "Toll? What toll?"
He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. "The toll you pay for crossing our bridge."
"Since when has the Queen put a toll on this bridge?"
"Since we showed up to enforce it," said the one behind the first, who got heel to his shin for his quip.
"Shut up," muttered the leader.
"Can't you simply let me by?" Leina asked. "I have no money left."
The loudmouth in the back chuckled, eyeing her like the men in the prize fighting crowd. "Could pay with something else. Ow!"
"Shut up," hissed the leader. "Fact of the matter is no toll means no food for our kids."
This Leina knew was a lie. If these men had children, they'd be at home or working an honest job, not harassing travelers for money.
Instead of that, though, she said, "I'm not paying any toll to a dishonest highwayman."
The loudmouth became excited. "Guess that's gonna force the issue then," he muttered giddily.
The leader drew the war hammer on his waist. "Dammit all. We'll get what we can and leave her for the wolves."
Leina drew the sword at her hip and readied her shield. These bandits seemed to hesitate a moment, before the leader backed up and smacked them both on the backs of their heads. Their courage regained, the two charged.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
It wasn't long before that the mysterious songbird wound his way down the river, having cleared the worst of the rocks and fallen trees, every single one of which his makeshift two-tree raft had gotten stuck on. It hadn't fazed him; not many things did. It simply meant that now, finally, he could start his favorite song properly, strumming the strings at his fingertips and leaning on the makeshift seat back that was the broken limb protruding from one of the logs.
"Ev'ryone, keeps asking me, my recipe for living. It's simple as, the A-B-Cs, and hardly seems worth giving."
The next line caught in his throat has he heard the distinct sound of metal-on-metal coming from downriver. Standing up, keeping his balance, he spied what looked like a ne'er-do-well accosting a young maiden on a small bridge over the river. It would've been three ne'er-do-wells, but two were on the ground, clutching their legs. This last one swung a war hammer at the maiden, who took it on her shield and kneed her opponent in the stomach with her armored greave. The man coughed up a mouthful of spit and fell to the ground, before she reached down and bashed his leg with the flat of her sword.
The songbird looked the situation over and wondered why a mere three bandits would hold someone up with no fallback plan. Sure, she was alone, but anyone traveling without an escort was either too poor to care or a bad, bad surprise for the unprepared.
Enough scans of the treeline rolled the dice in his favor. There, at the edge, about twenty feet off the ground: the glint of an arrow being nocked among the shadowed greenery. Well, not if he had anything to say about it. With a murmur and a flick of his fingers, the songbird worked his magic, even at this great distance. The sniper shifted their weight, probably, and too late discovered that whatever they were standing on was covered in slippery grease. That glint of the arrowhead flashed again as the sniper tumbled down, hitting every single limb on the way down before crashing to the ground at the edge of the woods. They seemed to be the only one, so he simply sat back down and resumed his song.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Leina spied the last bandit crumble to the ground, their limbs shifting under the green cloak they wore as they coped with their fall. She was still a little in shock: the only thing she'd ever raised her blade to before was that slime-girl Melona. She'd never spilled blood before. She couldn't bring herself to do it now. She only hoped that the strikes to the bandits' legs would keep them from following her.
However, instead of their pained groans and muttered curses on her name, Leina's ears instead caught the middle of a song floating down the river.
"I've tried it out, in ev'ry way. It always sees me through," sang the white-clad minstrel, lounging on his makeshift raft. "It's made me what I am todaaay…"
He paused. His raft was caught on a rock as it approached the bridge. His foot saw him set loose.
"That's why I'm telling you: I-I'm a happy-go-lucky fellow, full of fun and fancy-free. You could make the whole world seem mellow, if you take it in your stride like me."
He stood up at this last line, his unkempt blonde hair bouncing as he did, only to squat down as he passed beneath the bridge.
"Don't cross a bridge, or peeek 'round the corner un-til you're there."
A gloved hand shielded the sun from his eyes as he reemerged.
"Just learn to smile, and in a while, you'll find trouble's a bubble of air... Get a happy-go-lucky feeling, keep it and a guarantee…"
His raft drifted close to the shore and became stuck again. This time, however, he didn't push it free.
"That you'll find you'll wind up living in the sun," he said, hopping ashore, "full of fun and fancy fer-eee!"
Leina couldn't help but be mesmerized by the whistling minstrel as he pranced up the bank in one jump. The bounce in his step and the oblivious way his eyes wandered the countryside, striking chords on his strangely-shaped mandolin, were a continent removed from the four injured bandits at his flanks. His white longcoat was pristine, as were the two scabbards strapped to the belt that wound around his hips. The armored greaves running from his knees to his ankles shouldn't have made him so carefree, not without a shirt beneath the buckle-bedecked coat.
One of the bandits, the leader, cast a glance at the minstrel as he wandered close, a glance that Leina didn't like.
The leader sprang and thrust a hidden knife at the minstrel, only for the blade to be turned aside by the mandolin's neck and the bandit's face to be bashed by the mandolin's body. The leader crumpled again, drool sliding up past his half-open eyes as his head lolled over the side of the bridge.
The minstrel looked at the other two bandits, who flinched and slunk back under the crushing weight of his raised eyebrow.
"Take it easy, boys," he said. "Why, you're just a bundle of nerves."
He pursed his lips and-
"WAHW-WAHW-WAHW-WAHW! WAH-RRRRR-RAFF!"
Be it minstrels or hounds, when the barking began, these bandits wanted none of it. They ran for the hills, their leader picking himself up and chasing after them.
The minstrel turned to Leina and nodded at the fleeing bandits. "See? Jumpy as a cat."
Leina's crooked smile and teary eyes reflected the tug-of-war within. Her mind couldn't decide if she should laugh, stare amazed, or stare aghast at this clean-shaven stranger as he approached her.
"Now, what exactly happened to make them, and their friend-" He pointed at the treeline, where Leina could see a person on the ground, motionless. "-so unreasonable?"
Leina wiped the sweat that was forming beneath her cropped bangs. "They demanded I pay a toll. I only have enough coins for the entrance fee to the next city."
This got her another raised eyebrow. "Is that so?" he said. "I don't suppose you have flint, tinder, food, or transportation to get there, do you?"
Leina shook her head. "It was lost when I fell in the river."
The minstrel began idly plucking at his mandolin, murmuring to himself. "No food…'s not right. I'm... young lady… shn't go hungry from…" The plucking stopped. "Recent situations notwithstanding, care to walk with me?"
Leina's grip on her sword tightened, causing the downward-facing tip to rise slightly. "Would you be opposed if I said no?"
He shrugged. "Dejected, rejected, but not opposed. The way I see things, you've got no food and I've got no place to go." He held out his hand. "Rowin's the name."
Still wary, Leina sheathed her sword and firmly grasped Rowin's hand. "Leina."
He looked down at her grip. "Stronger than you look. But then, you seemed to handle yourself well."
She sighed and turned away. "Not as much as I should, I think."
"Then let's get a move on before some other lowlife decides to try their luck," Rowin said, playfully shoving her shoulder and striding past.
Night soon fell upon the forest road, which Leina and Rowin detoured widely from to make camp. Rowin dug a hole and built a fire while Leina went out to find food. She returned with a mushroom nearly as big as her upper body, more than enough to feed two people. However, after cooking it and taking their first bite, both of them agreed that while safe to eat, not all mushrooms are enjoyed equal.
Leina frowned. "That's a strange turn of phrase. I've never heard it before."
Rowin leaned back against a tree, staring into the woods. "Picked it up from a friend of mine. He had a lot of strange turns of phrase like that. 'Not all this-or-thats are created equal,' 'Who're you to say what's something-that-rhymes-with-improbable', not to mention..." He patted his mandolin, next to him wrapped in leather. "Strange taste in music. I'd never heard 'Happy-Go-Lucky Fellow' until he sang it. Taught it to me, too."
He looked at Leina and rested his chin on his hand. "What about you? What're your friends like?"
Leina's gaze was dragged down towards the fire, feeling the weight of her sadness again. "I don't really have any friends. There was Risty, but…"
...
Rowin frowned at her silence. "No family? Nothing?"
"My father forbid me from following the path I'm on, so I ran away. I suppose there are my sisters, but Claudette was always too strict and aloof. As for Elina, she's always struck me as clingy and eccentric. I love them all, but I couldn't travel with them. All three want me to return home."
"And what is it your traveling to, exactly?" Rowin asked as he stood up, unbuckling his belt and letting his cloak free from his shoulders. Leina caught herself before she could stare; the slender, naked torso of a clearly athletic man was not a sight she was used to seeing, having grown up sheltered in her father's estate.
"To the capitol, I suppose," said Leina. "That's where the Queen's Blade will be held."
"Queen's Blade?" Rowin echoed as he draped his coat over her shoulders-
Leina sighed and melted a little. The coat was fur-lined, and warm from absorbing heat from the fire.
-and sat down cross-legged next to her. "What's that, exactly?"
Now Leina stared, not at his torso but at his face. "You've never heard of the Queen's Blade? Truly?"
Rowin shrugged. "I'm not what you would call a local."
"The Queen rules over most of the continent," Leina said, still confused. "Are you saying you're from across the sea?"
"...I'm saying I'm not from this continent," Rowin replied.
Leina nodded, respecting her new companion's secrets. If he'd meant her harm, he'd had plenty of time to do it along the road. "The Queen's Blade is the ritual tournament by which the Queen is chosen, ordained by heaven and enforced by the angels. Every four years, fighters from across the continent journey to the capital, Gainos, to compete against one another until only one remains. She becomes the new Queen of the continent, with absolute authority until the next Queen's Blade."
Rowin blinked, twice, before his eyes wandered to the fire. He chortled a little beneath his breath.
"It's no laughing matter," Leina assured him. "My mother competed in the 28th Queen's Blade. Her duel against the current queen cost her her life."
"Begging your pardon," Rowin said, meeting her gaze once more. "I wasn't laughing at it. I was remembering my friend, the one who taught me my music. If he heard about this Queen's Blade, he'd be very grumpy."
"Is he the one who taught you to bark at your enemies?" Leina asked.
"No, that was all me. It worked, didn't it?"
Leina thought back to her fights with Melona, how cock-sure the slime-girl had been while trying to kill her. "Pretending to be insane won't scare everyone."
"No, but that's why we're both armed and together, now isn't it?"
Author's disclaimer:
Just wanted to let you know that the reason I didn't put an OC tag on this fic is because Rowin's not quite an OC. Yeah, he's original, but in the same way that a character you'd create for a D&D/Pathfinder campaign is original: you can do whatever you want, so long as it's within the limits of the rules. No homebrew shenanigans here.
Also wanted to say that the lyrics in the chapter were taken from the song "I'm A Happy-Go-Lucky Fellow", originally performed by Cliff Edwards for the movie "Fun And Fancy Free". Check them out; they're great.
Anyway, if you like what you read and would want to commission a fic or chapter of your own, consult the information on my profile page and feel free to PM me with any questions.