text: [Themes: fantasy, action]
  
  As you walk past the stable to the inn's door, a woman, looking to be in her late 20s, walks out of the stables. Her hands are calloused and her fair skin tinged red, no doubt from working under the sun all day. As she spots you, she looks surprised for a moment, before smiling. "Oh, hello sir! Stopping at the inn for the night? I was just about to head in myself."
  
  You grunt out something resembling a "yes", and she nods. "The place is real nice, sir. My father runs it, I manage the stables for him. My name is Eliza, what would yours be?" She extends a hand, perhaps thinking you'll shake it. You don't, and after an awkward moment she withdraws it.
  
  You do, however, give her a response. "Kit."
  
  "That's a nice name, sir." She smiles at you still. You continue to frown. Eventually, her shining grin falters, and she looks worried. "Something wrong, sir?"
  
  "I didn't come here to chat."
  
  Her face falls a bit more, but she regains her smile. "Of course not, sir. I'm sorry if I held you up. Let's go."
  
  "Right." You move to leave. Eliza follows after you, and you turn to look at her over your shoulder. "Oh, and stop saying sir at the end of every sentence. Makes you seem uptight." Her face falls a bit at that, but she keeps her smile plastered on her face.
  
  As you open the door to the inn, a pleasant warmth hits you in the face. You step inside, Eliza following after you. The entrance of the inn is empty save for a man behind a wooden counter up front, tapping the counter with his finger. He looks at you, and a smile makes its way onto his face, disturbing his bushy mustache. "Ah, Eliza! Welcome back. Who's this, potential customer?"
  
  "Yes, father. His name is Kit. Kit, this is my father, Isaiah. Go on, sir... Um, I mean, Kit." Good, she caught herself.
  
  You step forward to the man behind the counter, staring down at his sitting form. "How much for a room?" you ask.
  
  "Just 5 gold pieces a night, sir. Throw in an extra coin for as many drinks as you can have." That piques your interest. You open your coin pouch and pull out six coins, tossing them onto the counter. The owner takes a moment to count them out, before he nods. He slips the coins into a lockbox under the counter, before grabbing a key from behind him. "Very good, sir. Here's your room key, room 8."
  
  You nod at him, taking the key from his hands and looking around. "There's a dining hall to the right," Isaiah points to an archway. "You can get your drinks there if you want. We have ale, wine, fruit juice, and water."
  
  "Alright." You pocket your key, then head straight for the dining room. Heading through the doorway, you see that it's far more lively in here, different people milling about and sitting at different tables. You spot a few interesting folks, but one really catches your eye: a man with tanned skin, dressed in clothing made of brightly colored textiles. He must be a wandering merchant from the distant lands of Cikoni.
  
  You wonder what he's doing here. Maybe he could use a guard, could get you a steady source of income and get you far away from the kingdom. Alternatively, you can just get your drink and sit by yourself.
  
  > just get your drink.
  You decide not to bother the wandering trader, instead taking a seat at a table by your lonesome. Eventually, the trader gets up and leaves, heading back to his room for the night. You never see him again. After a few more drinks, you stumble out of the dining hall and up the stairs to your room. There, you throw your sword and knapsack to the floor, before passing out on your bed.
  
  In the morning, you awake to a woman's scream. Groggily, you get up, heading to the door so you can see what the hell is going on - grabbing your sword along the way, of course. When you head down the stairs, you see a pair of thugs roughing up the owner, Isaiah. His daughter Eliza watches on, tears streaming from her eyes, as a third thug holds her back. The two harassing Isaiah stick a lit cigar into his face. This time, it's Isaiah who screams.
  
  The thugs laugh at him, sadistic grins on their faces. Your stomach turns. This is disgusting.
  
  Then, one of the thugs turns his head and looks at you. He whistles, the other two looking at you soon after. One with a strange piercing in his nose lets out a laugh. "Oi, you! Quit yer starin' and get outta here, chump." Perhaps you should do something about this, or not. After all, this doesn't involve you.
  
  > The sick bastards. You'll strike them down.
  You unsheathe your blade, pointing it at the bastards. One of them gulps almost imperceptibly, but the one who spoke to you just lets out another nasty laugh. "Wanna play hero, eh?" He callously drops Isaiah, pulls a mace from his side. The others follow suit, pulling out their own weapons; one has a curved blade, the other a pair of daggers. This should be easy.
  
  You leap forward and swing, managing to decapitate the one with daggers easily. Blood gushes from his neck, before he falls to the floor, lifeless. This manages to scare the other two, but mace guy nudges sword guy, the latter nodding before rushing forward to cut at you. You don't bother to use your sword on him, instead ducking out of the way of his swing then tripping him up. Then you use the sword, cutting him right in half with one swing while he lies on the ground.
  
  At this point, mace is quaking in fear. He drops his weapon, raising his hands and getting on his knees. "I-I surrender! Please, don't kill me!" You step forward, planning on delivering the killing blow...
  
  But mace leaps up and pulls a dagger from his boot! His speed surprises you, and he manages to catch you with a glancing blow. Instantly, you begin to feel light-headed, almost unsteady. Still, you swing, cutting off his arm and wedging your blade deep into his side. He lets out an ungodly scream, then dies.
  
  You grin, give a little chuckle. Then you collapse.
  
  When you awaken next, you're in a soft bed, a bandage wrapped around your wound. It throbs still, and your throat is parched. A soft groan escapes your lips, then you grunt out, "water", hoping someone may hear you. There's a slight shuffling, then a cup of water is handed to you. You look up at who gave it to you, and there stands Eliza. She smiles.
  
  "I can't thank you enough for what you did... But you've brought trouble to the village at the same time. There was one watching outside, he told his leader about what happened. They came to town early this morning and said that if we don't surrender all our goods, they'll raze the place. We have until tomorrow to decide."
  
  "Really..." The word that escape your lips comes out less as a question and more as a statement.
  
  "Yes, really."
  
  "How long have I been out?"
  
  "4 days now. The dagger was poisoned. We got our healer to work on you, you should be fine if you rest another few days."
  
  That gets you to jolt up, hissing slightly as you grip your wound. "I can't. I have to leave."
  
  "Please, just relax. You'll be better soon. We plan to surrender to them. And as far as they know, you're dead; we hid you well. You'll be safe to rest here."
  
  Hmph. So they're giving up, simple as that? Back in your day the people would have fought back tooth and nail. What are you going to do?
  
  > You'll leave. Now. There's no reason to defend those who won't defend themselves.
  You pretend that you'll stay to rest, and convince Eliza you'll be fine by yourself. She leaves the room, and after a minute, you get up and search for your things. Thankfully, they left them right at the foot of the bed. Fools, probably didn't expect you to try and leave.
  
  You get into your clothes and throw on your knapsack, securing your sword onto your back. You open the door, seeing that it leads outside; it's night time, which means your escape will be easier. Keeping down low, you sneak to the edge of the village, where you finally stand, noting that your escape went unnoticed. You prepare to walk away...
  
  "So you are leaving."
  
  Turning, you see Eliza standing there. She looks sad, but smiles nonetheless. "I knew you would. You didn't strike me as the type to be patient and rest. Am I right?"
  
  "Right." You turn your back on her. "You won't convince me to stay. I'll recover on my own."
  
  "I figured as much." She sighs. "I wish you well on your travels, Kit." Then, she turns and leaves.
  
  You continue onwards into the night.