Chapter 6

Enjoy!

The Patrol

Villian, now well rested, felt refreshed, and was hoping for a peaceful day. Unfortunately, the first eyes he saw were Loylen’s, and he had another job for Villian; patrol duty. To make matters worse, Maron was on the same patrol. Quickly, Vill made his way down from the bedroom, to the armory, and fit on himself a chain mail shirt. Then, he put on a guild shirt, (a gray shirt with the guild crest, (four squares checkered blue and white,)) and an iron helmet. He also took up a shield with the guild crest, and a steel broadsword. After arming himself, Villian made his way to the kitchen, where he packed some mutton, with some cheese, as well as a small pouch of berries. He also packed a pouch of water. At that moment, Maron entered the room; he himself was already wielding his weapon, and already wearing his armor.

“Are you ready to go, my friend?” he said with a smug face. Villian said nothing.

The two exited the guild, and made their way towards the main gate of Cath-Lenor. The sun had already risen above mt. Azelworth, and stalls had been opened within the city gates. The day was now underway. Just as Villian was admiring the day, he saw an empty stall. There were some barrels, smelling of cheese, and a scale and knife. This was in fact, Villian’s old cheese stall. He was gazing at it in sadness, when he heard a distant call from Maron. Villian looked, and saw him leading two horses from a stable.

“These beauties will be our way to the East Fields,” he said with a smirk. Villian again said nothing.

As they rode through the castle gates, Villian remembered selling cheese to all the peasants and merchants that came by that way. He remembered the carpenter, who was well built with a round face and a brown beard; and the baker, who was fatter than a hog, with a mop of yellow hair; and the butcher, who always wore an apron that was covered in blood. But these thoughts were pushed away as Villian and Maron rode through the countryside. On their left they could see the river, and across it, a black forest; but as they continued, the forest fell behind and great bluffs came into view. And on the horizon, he could see what looked like a bunch of tiny square-like stones, piled on top of each other.

“What are those?” Villian inquired Maron.

“The Were-wolf Ruins,” replied Maron, with a grin. “In the day, wild men live there; but every night, they make their transformation, into wolf-like beasts.” All that was being said had to be said in a sort of yell, because of the noise of the horses’ galloping hooves.

Then, they saw on their right, they saw a large plain, stretching all the way up to the Sunrise Mountains. These were the East Fields.

The river now took a turn to the left, but Maron discontinued following the river and instead took a steady right turn; Villian followed.

Soon they had arrived at their destination, which was a stake in the ground. Both Maron and Villian dismounted, and tied up their horses, and then unpacked their daily supplies. Maron, had a section of ham, along with some cheese and wine, and Villian pulled out his own meal, that he had packed beforehand. They ate, and talked about very light subjects, such as the weather; although, most of the talking was done by Maron, because Villian had no desire to interact with him.

The sun was soon at its high point, and it was then that they saw it; lumbering across the plain in the distance, was a Minotaur. Though it was a good mile or two away, Villian could tell that it was large, nearly fifteen feet tall, with giant hooves and horns. The Minotaur seemed to notice the duo that stood far away, but he couldn’t be sure whether or not anyone was actually there, because they were so small. So he moved on. Villian couldn’t tell what to make of this creature, except that it was large, and frightening.

“I’ve killed one of those,” said Maron with a grin. “I had to cut off its legs at the knees, and then after it fell, I stuck my sword in its ugly neck!” Villian thought it an interesting piece of advice, due to the fact that he had normally received advice like, “milk the cows just after sunset instead of before,” or, “let the cheese age for one extra week before you sell it.” “Cut a Minotaur’s legs of first, and then stab it in the neck,” sounded much different. But Villian thought he would remember this piece of advice for a long while.

Hours past, and soon the sun had nearly done its duty as being a light. It was at this time, that Villian and Maron were ready to return to the castle.

“It’s been a long day, has it not?” said Maron. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I have long pondered the lengthiness of  days, such as the day that Marsen was killed, (he was the warrior that you replaced.) Yes, I remember that day for a long time, as I will remember this day. For today, someone will either choose to listen to me, or they will choose to die.” Villian knew what was about to happen, so he quickly readied his shield.

“I think I know your choice Villian,” said Maron, “You have chosen death!” Maron drew his sword, and carelessly attacked Villian, hitting only his shield. Then he stabbed, and Villian parried. Maron continued to attack, and Vill continued to block. Then, Maron, tired of sword-fighting, dove at Villian. Villian had nowhere to move, and he had not yet drawn his sword. Also, Maron was on his shield, so he had no way to block. Maron readied to deal the death blow, when Villian drew a small dagger and stabbed Maron in the leg. Maron stumbled backwards, holding his leg in pain. Vill rose quickly, drew his sword, and drove a deep cut into Maron’s other leg; Maron screamed. Villian, carried him to one of the horses, and strapped him down, and then went to untie the horses. Villian mounted the other horse, and they began to ride, only to dismount again because Villian forgot to bandage up Maron. Once off again, they had no other stops.

Arriving in the city, Villian was greeted with gasps and screeches. He hurried to the guild, where he would have to explain the situation. He thought he would give himself some time to think, but for every second thought, one second Maron would be closer to dying; so Villian hurried on.

He didn’t know who the horses belonged to, so he tied them to a random hook in the wall, to be attended to later. He unstrapped Maron, and carried him into the guild. In the Loylen and Stolar were in the living room, and Villian immediately walked in. Stolar stood up abruptly, and without saying anything, stole Maron from Villian’s hands and made his way out the door. Loylen looked startled, and soon inquired Villian rapidly.

“What happened?” he asked. Villian wasn’t sure whether or not he should answer truthfully, so he decided to try and not mention anything that put him in bad light, (such as dealing his second blow.)

“Maron attacked me, and I defended myself,” answered Villian. Loylen looked puzzled.

“Then why is his leg nearly severed, and you remain unscathed?” Villian knew that the truth would have to come soon, but he decided to prolong it.

“He,” Villian stuttered, “tripped on a sharp rock after I pushed him away.” Villian knew that Loylen saw dishonesty in him, but the truth would surely have to stay unsaid, for his sake.

Silence followed the short discussion, such a long silence that Villian decided to sit down. After a good ten minutes or so, Stolar burst into the room.

“He’ll live,” he said, “but his leg won’t heal for a few months.”

Stolar noticed the silence and sat down on a sofa. Eventually Loylen left the room, and Stolar followed, leaving Villian alone. He thought of the truth, and knew that it would have to be mentioned; but now was not the time he thought. So Villian walked upstairs to the barracks, and fell asleep.