The Vagrant Hero

Reunited in Fairemoore

 "All in due time Cyrus." The dust from the trail they took kicked up from heavy winds whipping throughout the lands. "We have to make it there first. The council is back in form, but they learned from their mistakes. Creating a secret guild, one that would very much like to meet you. At the very least thank you for starting the steps to a new direction of life." He would bring up a hand to block clusters of particles from his face. "Seems to be another horrid windy day." He would spit in an attempt to clean his mouth of the grime. Squinting his eyes, he saw off in the short distance Fairemoore. "So, shall I set you up to a meeting the Keepers of the Mythos?"

"No, not until after we have been there for some time. Knowing the king and his lackeys, soon as I arrive, he will have me watched. I find it best to have some family togetherness before we attend to business." Always the clever type, Cyrus knew with the city festival underway that the town's guard would be more alert of guests. The event was well known across the lands, it lasted a workers week. A large variety of people came to enjoy the food, music, and livelihood. Even more, came to test their mettle in hopes to join one of the military branches. "Looks like we will be in Fairemoore soon. Let's hope the young ones have kept it civil without a mature eye watching them."

The captain took the mental notes of how Cyrus picked apart that situation. "You know mistrust is because you never visit on a regular basis. When is the last time you were around?"

"It was a quarter moon ago. We celebrated Wrynn's seventeenth birthright." If memory served him correctly, they stayed for two days.

"See how country life is affecting you? It was half a moon ago." Six months since they last have seen one another. "You really shouldn't let life pass you by so swift. You never know what you might miss. Sybil has been visiting the city more and more as she has grown in age. Soon maybe she will pick a profession in life?"

"Well, when you get old that's what time loves to do. It passes you by, I have been pondering those types of things." He let himself go into thoughts of where the time really did go. "I guess writing my stories is sucking more time than I realized. Helping make a nice house livable without the need of visiting the city. Crops, farm animals, everything right at your fingertips. Live off the land pure and simple."

"Cyrus, I know it can be hard to grasp. You are still a hero around here. The people didn't forsake you, the king's court did." As the two made their way ever closer to the city, more people were seen in route. "Let us make haste, splendor awaits us!" Spurring his horse firmly the pace sped up to a gallop. Both men were met at the large wooden gates that were open wide, welcoming all. Several guards stood post along the sides and atop towers. Passing the gates, they were met with aisles of vendors. Merchants selling clothing, jewelry, and other items. Butchers cutting up meats, large grills fueled with wood and charcoal to feed the masses that swarmed about the grounds. Drink provisioners were handing out assortments of ales, spirits, and refreshments. Fairemoore was alive with people.

"Last I knew," Zell would look about the sun's position. "The amateur bouts are soon to begin, I will wager a tankard we will find the girls there."

"Well, let's get the horses squared up and," Cyrus's words would be interrupted as a young man came running up.

"Master Cyrus! I shall take your horse to the stables! Yours too Captain Baird." By the looks on his face, it would seem he was star struck. A smile seemed permanently etched to his face. His cheeks a rose color, eyes darting back and forth between the two.

Zell removed himself from his horse, handing the reigns to the young lad. "Thank you for your kind services." Cyrus followed suit, he handed the kid a sack of coins and requested his name. With a stutter of words, he finally produced it. "Virgil?" Zell repeated it. "Well for that sack of coin make sure they're well-tended to. We don't need Cyrus's retirement going to waste."

The boy gave a nod he would put the sack inside his pocket, taking both horses he moved with pride towards the stablemaster. He just imagined the tale he would be telling his friends in time. The captain and his master trusted him more than anyone else to tend their very own horses.

The two men headed towards the arena floors that were positioned a decent walk away from the markets. The arena area was several plots of ground measured out with chalk lines and ropes. There were small circle spots for one on one combat. Large rectangular ones for jousting and archery challenges. These arena fights were meant for several intentions. The first and most obvious was to find skilled warriors and such for possible recruitment into the military. The second reason was to help the few human magi to harness their powers. It was a rare gift for magi to possess, but healing was essential to learn. The Magus Counsel could think of no better way for their potential menders to practice than on real people injured. Not all of the magus counsels were of magical prowess. Many of the ungifted took on other talents, a scholarship was one of the most common. Practicing medicinal herbs and learning botany. The schooling that the Magus Counsel ran had many options for people.

There were several other union groups available to all with a mind for it. However, few paid as well as being militarized. The king and his counsel were wise to the fact that the best way to tempt men into service was simple. Riches, lands, and stability for the family, a possible legacy to pass down for generations to come. This was the staple point of this massive festival held once a year during the spring. This was what made the kingdom of Astalon have the most enormous army of all the three nations in the lands. It wasn't the worst of strategies, considering that the two neighboring empires never won a war against them. It was times like this were local people went through great lengths to test their mettle in whatever specialty they chose to embrace. Archery, swordsman, jousting, ballistics, guerilla tactics, and so many other specialties were brought to the attention of commanders.

A small fanfare played as Cyrus and Zell approached the battlegrounds. It was all too easy to spot their kid's standings in the front. Sybil and Wrynn didn't even notice their fathers approach them. Their eyes glued as two fighters were introduced by name and mild applause. Wrynn stood much taller than Cyrus remembered, her long wavy brown hair matched the fiery gleam in her eyes. She seemed all but the opposite of Sybil, who had more of a relaxed and collective notion. "You two must be joined at the hip. I can't see one without the other lately." Zell said as he placed his hands on Wrynns shoulders. "Have you seen any good matches since I've been out?"

Sybil pulled away from his grasp. "Ugh, I knew you wouldn't be gone long enough." Her eyes would cease to watch the match to turn and face him. "Everything's fine, and everyone we've seen so far is terrible!" Her intense stare flew from him to the man at his shoulder. "Hey, Cyrus you did show up. Pleased to see you're still alive and kicking. Sybil is great as you can see! Now men!" She would turn her attention away from the parental figures and back to the action that would soon be at hand. "Damnit! Sybil, what're their names? I missed them." Sybil looked behind her with a soft smile at the two men. "The one with the sword and shield was named Orson, the one with the two short swords Flynn. I will have to say the sword and board will win out on this fight." Wrynn would grab hold of the rope that tethered them back a safe distance from the action. "Come on guys! Show us what you got! The Captain is watching! You'd better bring your best now." Her boisterous nature was loud and clear for all to see.

"Well Zell, she's got her mother's spunk that's for sure..." Cyrus gave the obvious observation as the two men began their duel. "Keep a close eye out, this is either going to be over swift or be a wear and tear fight. Depending on which man keeps their wits about them." The young captain drew his attention to the battle. The two men in the little round dirt ground circled one another. Flynn would burst forth with a heavy grunt both blades swinging at angles aiming for the neck. He was met with a hefty round shield slamming into his core. The blows thud into his body was matched with the crowd's pained response. He quickly rolled up to his feet using the momentum of the blow to aid him. Lunging forward with little hesitation one blade pointed out to gut Orson the other swinging upright in an attempt to cripple one of the arms. His actions would be met with a swift end. The outreached blade would be swat downward by Orsons, the edge of the shield would bash hard into Flynn's swinging hand. This broke the sword loose to fall to the ground. Orson leaned lightly to his side, bent his knees, twisted his hips, and brought the shield up under Flynn's jaw with a mighty uppercut. The crowd all gasped at once as they watched shattered teeth spray out of Flynn's mouth and a volcanic-like eruption of blood. His body fell still in the dirt, the crowd's silence was a testament to the shock and awe of seeing such a powerful performance.

"HOLY s**t! Did you see that Sybil?!" Zell's daughter broke the silence and awe with her outburst. Her friend gave the nod to the words, but her eyes couldn't break their gaze on what remained of Flynn's face. The crowd seemed to all come to and scattered applause from the townsfolk. "Orson, way to be awesome! I'm going to keep my eye on you." Orson dropped his sword and shield to help pick Flynn up from the ground and take him to the medics for much-needed aid. To everyone's perplexion, it seemed as though Orson didn't acknowledge his victory in any form of celebration. He simply took his leave until the next time he was to fight.

"Wrynn, you really need to watch the words you speak!" Zell scolded his daughter as were a normal thing. "I don't mind it in privacy, but in public, you should be more mindful." He was met with her turning about swiftly. "Excuse me, I said what everyone was thinking after that brutal shield smash. I'll try my best but no promises." She would turn to her friend and began talking with her in hushed whispers. "Well, you called it old man. It was over swift, this Orson fellow may have some promise. That could have just been a lucky shot. Graced by beginner's luck." He gave a small laugh, patting Cyrus on the arm. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

Cyrus pulled his attention away from staring out into the diverse crowds. "I dare not say that was luck by any means. His blows were concise and deliberate. I can only read two things from that fight." He seemed to be looking past Zell to see what was going on behind him. "Orson is either a very well trained individual, or that fight was rehearsed. I had seen my fair share of friends and families attempt fake fights. They know they'll be healed at the end free of cost, so what's the harm in tearing each other up? Excuse me one moment Zell, I'm going to go fetch a grog of ale." He would push past Zell and make his way to a small stand. Cyrus found what he was looking for. Taking notice of a familiar face. The victor in the ring stood over there drinking up a grog. "Great match you had in there Orson, I hope to see more like it. I haven't seen a man handle a sword and shield like that in ages." He would order himself a grog of ale. "What's your drink?"

The tall, dark-skinned man was taken back by the approach. "You're the former captain of the royal knight's guards." Taking a long deep drink and placing his grog down for a free refill. "If your buying I'll take some more mead." Getting his drink, he would guzzle it down and firmly place the grog down on the countertop. "Let me guess? You're here to recruit me for the military? Sorry, I'm not here for that..." He would raise his brow and knock on the counter for another refill. "I'm simply here to show my friends they're fools for thinking they stand a remote chance of actually surviving a real fight. Flynn, he's my cousin from the north. There are a dozen more here that I have to show." Partaking of another strong drink that finished off the grog he would give a groaning sigh of relief. "Thanks for the drinks old timer but I'm not for sale to the kingdom." Another knock on the countertop got him filled up.

"You got it all wrong Orson, I am here to chat if you would be interested in adventuring with me?" Each cup the large framed man guzzled down Cyrus would place more silver on the counter. "I have no love lost for these kingdoms ways of treating its people. I served for twenty moons only to be forced out for my ideas." Sipping his ale, he would wipe the foam from his mustache. His ideas stirring already for his meeting with the Keepers, they would surely send him out, and he knew himself he would not have people in his group that could be bought off by the king or his counsel. This was his schemed idea from the moment he saw Orson, he never intended to recruit him for Zell's army, but his own. "If you would be interested, I can help you show your friends they are fools for wanting to join ranks in the meat grinder military Astalon offers. Now, don't get me wrong there are good people in the ranks. That doesn't excuse what higher authorities force them to do with the stroke of a pen." His eyes would casually glance over to Zell and the young ladies. Bringing his eyes back to meet Orsons, he would inhale deeply through his nose. Swirling the liquid in his cup, he would partake a large drink and place it down.

Furrowed brows would tell Cyrus that Orson was seriously thinking about the offer. "I'll assume your privy to something that may pique my interest." His large hand would clasp up another grog and seemingly inhale it as if it were air. "What's to be gained from it all? Your angle in it?"

"I am unsure of the details to it all, as they are still being hammered out. What's being put together is a small group. I will assume you know about The Great Upheaval? Well during that time I took the side of the unknown rather than humanity. I was part of a small group devoted to understanding them rather than running them off." Heavily he would pat the large man on the chest. "I can't say for certain but given your skin tone, your size, and your demeanor. I might be inclined to think you're a half-giant." Looking around and peering at the normal-sized people around. "You stand several hands taller than most here. Your muscles are plentiful. No one really notices though because you tend to bend your knees and slouch." Tapping the countertop Cyrus would get his second glass. "You can drink like a fish, much akin to many mountain folks... You said your cousin was from the north, as are you."

Slightly Orson would nod to Cyrus's words. He felt that the former captain's deduction skills were at a prime. "Alright, you got me. I am interested in seeing you help me. My friends and family from the north are in hopes that by joining ranks they'll somehow get aid for us. The giants and dwarves have been quite troublesome with their skirmishing amongst themselves. Throw in some ogres with trolls and a dash of orcs with mountain goblins. We need help up there. You help me get my kinsman back home." Orson would place his large hand on Cyrus's shoulder. "You got yourself an ally until death." Removing his hand, he would grab his grog once more after tapping the counter. "You keep the drinks coming, and you'll have a roommate." An uproar of laughter would spring forth, only to be silenced into a few guzzles from his cup.

Cyrus felt that he and his newfound companion had reached an ultimatum. For Cyrus, it was the first time in a very long stride that he had felt involved in a cause. His mind grew even more with the fact that Zell had claimed the Keepers were already making great attempts at breaking barriers with the subterranean. Perhaps he would build himself a group of them, to prove his point that they were not evil, deranged monsters that humanity stamped them to be. "I'm glad to have you aboard my cause Orson. The more I uncover, the more I will tell you." With a hefty punch to the giant's shoulder, Cyrus would snicker. "I fear a drinking game against you ever... I must take my leave of you for now. I will be in touch so long as you stick around." His eyes would peer back to the three he left to pursue Orson. "I will be able to find you, so long as you stay within Fairemoore. My former student and our daughters await my return." Cyrus would get one last refill of drink, swiftly he would consume it with a youthful vigor he hadn't felt in many years. He would slam it to the counter, giving a refreshing sigh he wiped clean his face of foam and brew drippings. He gave bid farewell to Orson and made his way back to his usual company.