text: Your latest quest begins not with the destruction of your manor or the death of someone close to you, but rather with a letter.
  
  Bertrand, your loyal servant, comes to your room in the early morning hours to drop off today's dosage of bread and wine. But on the platter, tucked in between two loaves of bread, is a letter. The seal is emblazoned with the royal coat of arms. You eye Bertrand warily, and the old man gives a sigh. "Apologies, my lord. A knight came to the manor this morning, and he requested that I pass this along to you. The knight said that it's an invitation to the royal castle from the king himself. I suggest you read it."
  
  With a sigh of your own, you rip open the envelope and unfold the letter, taking a look at the contents.
  
  "Dear Sir,
  
  I have need of a man of your talents. There are important matters to discuss regarding the ongoing war between the Kingdom of Oren and the Empire of Kishak. You must report to Castle Oren as soon as you may, though I urge you to arrive soon. If a week has passed without word from you, then I am afraid I must send my men to acquire you immediately. I hope that you will come.
  
  Regards,
  
  King Walter III."
  
  You scoff at the letter. Bastard king, sitting on his throne while his dogs do the work. You suppose that he considers you one of them. The question lies in whether you are indeed one of the dogs that mindlessly obeys orders, or whether you'll break from the pack and carve your own path.
  > you've nothing better to do. You'll go to Castle Oren.
  You shake your head slightly, before shrugging. There's not much you do in your day to day life, and at the very least, this is something. "Bertrand," you say. "Get to packing my things. I'm going to Castle Oren at dawn." Your servant seems very surprised by this, but immediately leaves the room to get a knapsack for you. He comes back not long after and begins packing the essentials: changes of clothes, a tinderbox from your dresser, and lantern oil, along with some of the bread and wine he came to give you.
  
  He nods to you, taking the knapsack. "I'll pack it in your carriage, sir. In the morning we'll go." With those words, he leaves the room. You sigh, before popping open the remaining bottle of wine and beginning your daily routine. By nightfall, not a drop remains of the wine nor a crumb of the bread. The weight of the situation hangs heavily on you: tomorrow, you're going to leave your home for the first time in years to fight a war that isn't yours to fight for a man who will never care for you. It's enough to make you reconsider your plans. Almost.
  
  At least, this is something you can use your talents for. Twenty years and your blade hasn't tasted a drop of blood. You feel as though you're getting rusty, that your time is long past, and it would be best to turn this offer down... No. You need to prove to yourself that you can still do this. Age means nothing for a person with your raw strength and skill, and you could kill four times as many men as a soldier half your age and twice your size. You were always told that you had a warrior's heart. Soon, you shall reaffirm it once and for all.
  
  When the sun dawns on the horizon, you get up and get dressed into practical clothing. Then, you grab your old sword, giving it an experimental swing at the air. It's large, only a bit shorter than your tall frame, and almost as wide as your torso. A greatsword that no man but you could wield. After hooking it onto your back, you head down to where your carriage is stored. Bertrand is already there, waiting for you in the driver's seat. "I packed some of my things as well, sir. Hope you don't mind me coming with you," he says. You nod, getting into the passengers seat. He spurs the horses into action with the reigns, and the two of you begin the ride to Castle Oren.
  
  You pass through a town on the way there and pass by several small hamlets. The sun is high in the sky when you see something on the horizon: a group of men sifting through a broken down carriage on the road. The men are dressed in fur and hides, and have chipped and dented axes at their sides. Highwaymen, bandits who prey on anyone daring to go from one place to another by the main roads. It makes you sick just looking at them. Then, you hear a woman's scream from the carriage. A noble lady in fine clothing runs from the carriage, screaming all the while. The highwaymen chase after her, abandoning the carriage.
  
  You grip your blade...
  > ... Then jump out and chase after the bandits, intent on killing them.
  Damn these sick bastards. Robbing and killing the innocent. You jump out of the carriage and begin to chase after them. Faintly, you hear Bertrand yelling at you, but the pounding of your head as a cold rage runs through you blocks out any sounds but the woman's screams. You chase the highwaymen down; it doesn't take long, you find them just as one tackles the noble woman to the ground. The others haven't noticed you yet.
  
  You draw your blade, making sure that the chain keeping it tied to your back clinks loud enough for them to hear. They whip around, glaring at you; their eyes hold a mixture of primal rage and fear. One bares rotting yellow teeth at you, snarling like a dog. You put both hands on your sword, keeping a firm grip on it, waiting for them to make the first move. You don't have to wait long, as Yellow Teeth runs at you screaming, flailing two axes around as though he's a barbarian of the Northern Wildlands. You smoothly sidestep his charge, then bring your sword down at his legs. His upper body is sent flying upwards as your sword slices through his thighs and out the other side.
  
  The other three highwaymen stare at their dying ally, the fear overcoming their rage. You draw your sword back and swing at nothing, the blood flying off. Droplets land on their faces. "Leave the woman alone, or you'll wind up like your friend," you say. To seal your threat, you take a step forward, and they immediately back off and begin running. You draw a dagger from your boot, stabbing it into the dying bandit's throat as you approach the woman to make sure she's okay.
  
  "Hurt?" you ask, kneeling down next to the noble woman as she lays on the ground. She's hyperventiliating, looking around with wild eyes, before turning over and vomiting on the grass. You pat her on the back to help her get it out, then shake your head. "It's normal the first few times something like this happens. Once the adrenaline wears off, you feel sick to your stomach. Get up." You offer a hand, which she accepts.
  
  "T-thank you, sir. I can never repay you. Those... Those thugs attacked my carriage, killed my driver and the stole all my valuables. I... I don't know how I can make it back home." She sighs, shaking her head. "I'll just have to walk, I suppose."
  
  "Where were you going?" you ask, already wishing you hadn't.
  
  "Elkstern Keep. Have you heard of it?"
  
  You have, actually. It was one of the stops on your journey twenty years ago... And is in the opposite direction of Castle Oren, about two hundred miles away in fact. You'd have to arrive much later or even cancel your trip if you were to escort her.
  > damn it all, you're too soft for your own good. You offer to escort her.
  You mull it over for a moment, before groaning internally at how soft you've gotten. "I can drive you. It's far out of the way of my destination, but I need to see you safe." Perhaps that was a bit too much, but the woman gives you a shaky yet radiant smile anyhow.
  
  "You will, sir? Oh thank you, thank you!" She leaps up, giving you a bear hug. Your arms stay limp at your side.
  
  You wait a moment for her to let go. Then another. Then one more. Finally, fed up with this contact, you push her arms off of you. "We must get going," you say. She nods, withdrawing from you and falling into step as you walk back to your carriage.
  
  "What's your name?" she asks. "I am Lady Caroline of House Rorens, Fairest Lady of The Western Woodlands."
  
  "Kit of Droburg," you reply, shaking your head slightly at the woman's title.
  
  "Kit of Droburg? Are you not the same Kit that saved our kingdom two decades ago?"
  
  "The one and only. And before you start, don't you dare start worshiping the ground I walk on."
  
  "I wouldn't dream of it, Sir Kit. It is an honor to meet you."
  
  The conversation drifts off just as the two of you reach the carriage. Bertrand is keeping watch, having dug a crossbow out of the back of the carriage. "Ready to get going, sir?" he asks, but you shake your head.
  
  "Change of plans. We need to make sure Lady Caroline here gets safely to her destination. Elkstern Keep, about two hundred miles west."
  
  Bertrand's eyes practically bulge out of his head, yet he keeps his voice level and calm. "That's far from Castle Oren, sir."
  
  "I know," you say, grunting as you climb onto the carriage, "but I'm sure the king will understand our tardiness." You wait for Caroline to get into the back, then turn to Bertrand. "Let's get going, eh?"
  
  He sighs, before nodding. Spurring the horses on, Bertrand turns the carriage around and begins heading west, in the direction of Elkstern Keep. You have a ways to go, but you know that you made the right choice doing this.
  
  The carriage carries on into the horizon.
  > continue
  The ride to Elkstern Keep is mostly quiet. Occasionally, Caroline tries to break the silence in an attempt to get to know you, but your grunts and shrugs to her questions discourage her. Bertrand stays silent every time she tries to talk to him. She probably wasn't expecting something like this, but at the very least she's getting to her destination in one piece this way.
  
  A few hours later, you're forced to stop for the night. You use your sword to cut down a small tree, splitting it up into smaller logs to build a fire. As the fire rages, Bertrand sets a few strips of meat on a small metal pan and holds it over the fire. The only sound is the crackling of the fire and the sizzling of the meats; that is, until Caroline decides to speak up. "So where were you two going before you picked me up?" she asks.
  
  "Castle Oren," you reply.
  
  "Castle Oren? I was just leaving there. I was negotiating with the King, he wants to buy some land near Elkstern Keep that's under my domain. He was talking about building a second castle there."
  
  It is Bertrand who replies to that: "Why would he want to do that?"
  
  Caroline shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. Castle Oren is rather old, but it's in great condition. Maybe the King wants to relocate?"
  
  "It could be because of the war," you suggest.
  
  "I've heard the war has been going as it usually does: no real advances on either side. Just an uneasy stalemate occasionally breaking out into a scuffle over the border towns."
  
  "Perhaps the King fears it won't be like that for long, and wants to fall back. Castle Oren is only a few miles from the border, after all."
  
  "Fair point."
  
  Bertrand pulls the pan away from the fire as the strips are done cooking. He takes a few strips of meat in hand then passes the pan to you. You do the same, then pass the pan to Caroline, who looks at it strangely. "Aren't you going to eat?" you ask.
  
  "Yes. I'm just not used to this is all." She hesitantly plucks a strip from the pan, giving it a cautious nibble. She sets the pan down on the ground and continues nibbling slowly on the strip of meat. By the time she's finished her first one, you've been finished for a few minutes and are laying down to sleep.
  
  In the morning, the three of you pack up your things and get back into the carriage. You estimate that you're about a week's ride from Elkstern Keep, if you keep this pace up. Maybe you and Bertrand can alternate between driving the carriage while the other sleeps in the back to make the most out of the time you have.
  
  It's about midday when Caroline finally pipes up from the back: "So tell me, why were you going to Castle Oren?"
  
  Feeling in a generous mood today, you reply, "To meet the King."
  
  Caroline laughs. "Well of course you were meeting the King, but why were you meeting him?"
  
  "He wanted my help with the war effort. Drive the Kishak back to their own country."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "I suppose there's no one who could do the job better. That man, the other day... I take it he wasn't the first one you've killed?"
  
  "Wasn't the first, likely won't be the last."
  
  She's quiet for a moment, likely considering your answer, before piping up again. "... What was the first one like?"
  
  You consider the question for a moment. Your first kill. You haven't thought back on that day in a long time. It was about a week into your journey, and you and your companions had gotten into quite a bit of trouble. A group of Marauders, vicious barbarians and raiders, had ambushed you on the road. They weren't interested in killing you like most, though; no, they had something much more sadistic in mind.
  
  You can still remember the screams. Just a kid, a year younger than you were. Had his whole life ahead of him. And they peeled the flesh from his bones. Took their time. Used a jagged rock. Lasted for hours. Felt like years. When the screaming stopped they were still peeling the meat off him. Cooked it. Ate it. Would've been you next. Fortunately for you they got distracted and left a single guard there.
  
  You can still remember the way he struggled under your firm grip. Busted down the rusty cage door and charged right for him. Tackled him next to the fire. Choked him out for a bit. When that proved to be taking too long, you grabbed the pot of water boiling over the fire. Poured it all over his face. The scalding hot water peeled the skin from his face, and he screamed louder than the boy did. You shut him up by smashing his skull in with the pot.
  
  When you freed your friends and escaped, they didn't look at you the same way for a while. You did what you had to do. You knew that. They knew that. Two weeks had passed when they started acting normal again. But you remember the looks in their eyes, remember the fear they held. That day you proved what you were capable of, and they were terrified of you until the day they died. You wish you could take it all back.
  
  "Sir Kit? Were you going to tell me?" Caroline's voice snaps you out of your recollection. She looks concerned. "You've been spaced out for a few minu-"
  
  "Stop."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Stop. Stop asking questions you don't want to know the answers to."
  
  For a moment, there is silence. Then, you hear the cover of the wagon being drawn back, indicating that Caroline has retreated back into it. You sigh, then dig one of the bottles of wine out of your knapsack. You need it.
  
  Bertrand doesn't ask questions when he sees you drinking. Just nods and continues driving.
  > continue
  The next day of your trip goes by quietly. There's nothing but the open road ahead of you. Any travelers pass you by without a second thought, and aside from Bertrand and Caroline you haven't interacted with anyone since the highwaymen. It's peaceful, almost too peaceful; usually it means something will happen, and it comes when you least expect it. Of course, your gut is right on this one.
  
  On the third day of traveling, just a day or so away from Elkstern Keep, you come across a bridge and force Bertrand to stop. The bridge is large, wide enough to fit three carriages side by side and about half a mile long. It stretches over a canyon, a long drop into a rapid river below. You see men in ragged clothing milling about; they haven't seen you yet, but if you move forward they will. By their looks, they won't be too friendly.
  
  If you tried to go around, you'd lose a day of time. Safer, yes, but you really just want this to be over and done with. The bridge is risky but you're sure that you can defend the carriage. You look to Bertrand and nod. "Keep going."
  
  He nods, spurring the horses into gear. "Think we'll run into any opposition, sir?"
  
  "Not sure. Probably, though. Keep that crossbow ready." Bertrand nods and grabs the crossbow with one hand, keeping the other on the reins. The carriage continues on, heading towards the bridge. You draw closer to the men, who turn their heads and finally see you. Quickly, they start moving, grabbing weapons and preparing for you to come by. You notice one poking his head out.
  
  "Take that one out!" you point him out to Bertrand, who shifts the crossbow and fires. The bolt flies true, hitting the man in the forehead. He slumps over, and his companions immediately open fire with a volley of arrows and bolts. You raise the flat of your sword and hold it up, using it as a makeshift shield. You and Bertrand are spared from most of them, but an arrow manages to hit him in the leg.
  
  "Shit!" you shout, then jump off the carriage and begin sprinting towards the men. They shift their focus from the carriage to you, firing more arrows and bolts in your direction. You keep your sword raised to deflect any projectiles coming your way, and through sheer luck, you manage to get to the men with only the faintest of grazes to show for it. They back off and drop their ranged weapons, readying knives and rusty swords.
  
  You swiftly dodge the first swing that comes your way, then back hand the man who attacked. He staggers back with a split lip, and you move in fast by smashing his face with the pommel of your sword. He falls to the ground, dropping his sword and clutching at his broken nose. You don't have time to finish him off, as another blade comes your way, then another, and another. Raising your blade, you deflect most of the blows and dodge others. However, one of the bridge men gets a lucky hit through, cutting your side. You hiss in pain but push on.
  
  Quickly jumping back, you assess the situation. There's still more down the way, keeping crossbows and longbows at the ready, while there's a group of about six heading right for you. They're all clustered up close, as though they believe that will make it harder for you. If anything, it'll make it easier.
  
  You rear your sword back, waiting for them to get close enough...
  
  Then swing.
  
  The massive blade cuts through three before it gets stuck in the ribcage of the fourth one. The three you managed to hit fall to the floor in pieces, flecks of blood spraying onto you and their remaining allies. You pull your sword out of the fourth man, who falls to his knees and screams in agony for his mother, before swinging yet again. His cries are cut off as the blade cuts through his skull, and out the other side to take down the remaining two.
  
  You pant, catching your breath. You don't have long though, as a bolt flies true and lands in your shoulder. You stumble back with a curse, and nearly fall into the canyon were it not for the rail you grabbed onto. A horn pierces the quiet of the bridge, and you know what it means: they're calling for reinforcements. You're not sure if you can take on these men, let alone more.
  
  The river is seeming awfully tempting. Maybe you can survive the fall and be carried away to some place safer...
  > No. You've got to defend your companions. You'll fight as long as you have to.
  You steel yourself and stumble away from the edge of the bridge. No. You're not going to let them down. Using that stored up adrenaline within you, you push forward with a primal yell, charging straight for the archers. They fire at you, but you ignore the arrows and bolts flying your way. Occasionally one manages to graze you, a scant few even hit you, but you ignore it as best you can. You've got a fight to win.
  
  The first one loses his head. The seconds his arms, then a stab through the chest. The third drops his crossbow as if in surrender, only to be sliced clean in half. You continue on like this, no longer seeing men but instead an army of targets you need to tear down. Half way through these ones, more targets come running down the bridge. You finish off the remaining archers, then ready yourself in preparation for the others.
  
  You're not sure how long the fight lasts. All you know is that by the end of it, you're using your sword to keep yourself standing. The carriage slows to a stop, and Bertrand hops off to help you into the back of the wagon. You're still on edge enough that you snarl at him, like a wild hound defending its territory. He doesn't back off, and soon you're lying on the floor in the back of the wagon.
  
  A woman is there, digging through your supplies and pulling out a roll of bandages. Caroline. She sets to work immediately, pulling out bolts and arrows and wrapping them up as best as she can. Her hands are left bloodied from the work, but in the end you're much better off than you were. She smiles. "You'll get proper healing at Elkstern Keep."
  
  She continues speaking, but the words fade away, and you slip into unconsciousness.
  > continue
  When you wake up, it's in a bed. You're covered in bandages, and though your body aches it seems your wounds are gone. There must be a healer here. In the bed to your right, a person stirs, and you shift to get a good look at them. There lays Bertrand, flipping through a leather bound book. "I see you still live, sir," he says, dog-earing the page he's on and closing the book.
  
  "Sorry to disappoint you," you chuckle.
  
  A small laugh escapes Bertrand's lips. "No, sir. I'm happy to see you're still among us." He pauses. "We got here yesterday afternoon, sir. The healer set to work immediately. You'll be okay if you rest for a few days."
  
  "That so? Where's Caroline?"
  
  "She's still here, sir. Likely in her chambers. She said she'd come visit later."
  
  "Alright." You sigh and close your eyes. You made it to Elkstern Keep, and you and Bertrand are still relatively intact.
  
  You consider what you should do now. You'll be extremely late for your meeting at Castle Oren. The King may not like it, but if he truly needed you, he'd excuse it. Still, something about this... Felt better than fighting some meaningless war you have no investment in. Maybe...
  
  You must have been thinking for much longer than you thought you were, as Caroline steps into the infirmary and immediately gives Bertrand a bear hug. Your servant pats her slowly on the back, and she breaks away after a moment to move onto you. The hug is so tight, it makes the aching turn into a sharp sting, and you hiss in pain. Caroline withdraws.
  
  "I'm so glad you two are alright. Thank you for all that you've done for me, I can't repay you," she says.
  
  You wave your hand and shake your hand. "No, no, everything is fine. Just letting us rest here a few days is good enough."
  
  She gives a worried look. "Are you sure? I can give you supplies, or money, or..."
  
  "Nothing. It's fine. Thanks for visiting us."
  
  Caroline nods. The three of you talk for a while, though it's mostly her thanking you profusely and continually offering help, which you turn down. After about an hour, a man comes in and informs her that she's needed in the entrance hall. Caroline sighs, but nods at the man.
  
  Before she leaves, she turns to you and Bertrand one last time. "I know I've been saying it a lot, but thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you hadn't saved me and escorted me here, I don't know what I'd have done." With those words, she departs.
  
  After she leaves, you once again wonder what you'll do now.
  > maybe you can keep helping people. Damn the King and his war, you'll help people in other ways.
  Yes. You can keep helping people. That's what you should do, what your friends would have wanted you to do. It's what the hero you used to be would have done in this situation. As much as you've tried to drown that boy with alcohol, you know that deep down he's still in there. Maybe, it's time to let him back out.
  
  You voice your thoughts to Bertrand. "Damn the King's summons. After all this, I think I want to keep helping people. Will I have you by my side, Bertrand?"
  
  Your servant smiles at that. "Of course, sir. I was hoping you'd say that."
  
  You nod your head a few times. "Okay. Okay."
  
  For now, you have a few days to rest. When you're done, you'll leave Elkstern Keep, and set out to right any wrongs you find. After all, that's what a hero does.
  
  The sun is high in the sky. It's a new beginning.
  
  THE END