Chapter 1:
A Message
It was a cool morning as the sun began to rise over the Sunrise Mountains. There was a steady breeze blowing about, and there was a light mist lingering in the air; the clouds were turning a light pink, and the sky was bright orange.
The scene couldn't be better for Vill, who lived in a cottage on top of a hill amidst the Old Hills. He lived there with his mother, who made cheese for a living. And of course, since Vill was nineteen years of age, he transported and sold it.
First thing in the morning, Vill would milk their four cows, and would carry the four full buckets, two at a time, into the cottage. Then he would hitch his donkey to a cart, and ride down to the river and catch enough fish for his breakfast.
Meanwhile his mother would make cheese from the milk, and would store it in barrels. When Vill returned from the river during the afternoon, he would cook some more fish for lunch.
After eating, Vill would load the barrels with cheese onto his cart and take it into Cath-Lenor, where he would sell it for a fair price. He would buy a loaf of bread and some chicken with the money he earned, and would then return to the cottage. He and his mother would eat, and enjoy the rest of the evening together. This was their market day routine.
The same happened this morning. Vill woke up to the warm fire in the cottage’s sleeping room. He was a bit itchy from his straw mattress, and he was tired. All the same, he quietly rose from his bed, so as to not wake his mother. Then he headed to the door which led to the barn and entered. There sat four buckets; Vill took one, and set to work, squeezing and pulling down on the udders. First, he grabbed the two far teat, squeezed them, and pulled down multiple times. Then he did the closest ones, and after that, he took the cow out to a stake in the middle of the field, tied her to it, and let her graze. He did the same with the other cows until all four cows were in the field. Then he went up to the each of the poles, and made sure the ropes were secured. When he was satisfied, he returned to the barn. Vill grabbed two buckets, and carried them into the house, opening the door with his arm. He made his way quietly, unsure if his mother was asleep or not. Fortunately, she was in the kitchen, getting oatmeal ready.
“Morning Vill,” she said. “Had a nice sleep I suppose?”
“It was half an hour shorter than yours, so I would say you have won that prize,” Vill replied. His mother let out a light laugh.
“Well, you better hitch up your donkey and head out,” advised his mother pausing her laughter for the moment.
“True, true,” replied Vill. (Vill and his mother liked to talk like the very arrogant nobles that they’d met in the town.)
Since Vill had a bit of time till he needed to head out to the river, he strolled out a short distance about twenty five yards from the cottage. He opened up his mouth and let the morning air fill his lungs. It was a bit chilly still, as the sun was not completely up; but everything was warm inside of him. The birds sung, mainly sparrows in these fields, but also the occasional robin. The day was greater than even the view from mount Azleworth, (which is a spectacular view, since the mountain is well over thirty thousand feet.) The beauty of the morning suddenly stopped at a light sound: “Bu du dump; bu du dump,” it went. Vill’s heart was uncertain if it was to take a great leap, or sink into his toes. The noise kept getting louder.
“Bu du dump, bu du dump. BU DU DUMP! BU DU DUMP!” Then another noise came that went: “Clip clop clip clop, clip clop clip clop.” Vill’s brain paused for a moment, and then stopped dead in fear; the noises were made from a horse’s hooves. Vill knew of the raiders that blackmailed villagers to get gold. Vill thought only to run to the front of the cottage. He ran into the barn, (that was attached to the house,) and jerked the cottage door open. He then ran through the house to the front door. He looked out the window; there was no raider. The man with the horse was dressed in light chain mail with a green cloak. He had one of those almost flat helmets, like an archer’s, with iron studs around the bottom of the half bowl. He had a rich yellow beard, and he was just a bit on the large side. At his side was a fair broadsword, and strapped to his back, was a round wooden shield. He was, a messenger from Cath-Lenor. In his hand was a small scroll. He handed it Vill’s mother, who had seemed absent for a few seconds.
“This is for your son,” said the messenger. He gave a charming smile, and then took off almost as soon as he had arrived. His mother watched him until he was over and down the first hill. She jumped at the sudden appearance of Vill. She turned and said, “Vill, this was addressed to you. It is from the warriors’ guild down in Cath-Lenor.”
It was only on rare occasions that anyone but his majesty was addressed by the warriors’ guild. They had strong warriors that fought beasts from the Forsaken Forest, and goblins from the swamps. Vill stared in shock at the scroll. Finally though, he found the courage to open it. It was written in elaborate cursive with blue ink:
Considering certain events, there is to be a tournament at the fairgrounds just north of the city of Cath-Lenor, just after the dawn of the day. You have been invited, since your twentieth birthday is nearly upon you. You have two days to prepare, counting the day you receive this.
You will prepare by training yourself, not by providing yourself with equipment; we will provide everything you will need, save your skill and strength. You will immediately be transferred to the Warriors’ Guild if you succeed in winning the tournament.
P.S. Remember, this is an optional chance; it is your choice whether or not to compete in the tournament.
Signed: Sir Loylen
Vill stared blankly; he wasn’t sure what to think. All he thought to do was to stare into nothingness. For some reason, he wanted not to think, just to be quiet and do nothing. His mother broke the seemingly never-ending silence.
“You look a bit pale,” she said. “Perhaps you would like some tea?” (Vill’s mother always knew the proper solution to sickness and discomfort. In this situation, Vill’s surprise may have made him feel light headed.)
“I think I will,” said Vill who had nearly fallen down in sudden weakness. His mother caught him, and struggling to stay upward, she said, “Vill, I think you should sit down.” This was in no regular tone; it sounded like a very serious situation.
She sat Vill down on one of their sofas, and then returned to the kitchen to make some tea. Mint tea; all that Vill could think about was tea. He loved the smell of tea; his mother was preparing it that instant, and it was all that kept Vill from falling from his place. The kettle of boiling water was whistling on the stove. Vill’s mother quickly cut up the tea leaves with her wrinkled but skilled hands; soon a bunch of little leaves were on a cutting board. She took a large mug and poured the hot water in it. Then she sprinkled in the tea leaves, stirring all the while. She ran out through the door that led to the barn; Vill was nearly back to his senses; “He was in his house…his mother was making him tea…it smells so good…” And then he came completely out of his daze: “If I desire, I’m in the knight tournament.”
Vill had his tea and lay down on his straw mattress. He thought about his day; it was regular at first, but after a while took a great turn. He had been invited to a tournament for a new recruitment; he had a chance to become a warrior. He looked the letter over again; there it said it in blue ink: “You have been invited.” The words stared out at him like bulging eyes. He looked at the words, as if he was trying to make sure that they were real. Then he fell asleep; and the scroll fell onto his face.
