The Ballad of the Three

That morning in the village of Vira, the wooden buckets that the villagers had left outside all night were filled with a thick layer of ice. The youngest children played in the snow covering the main street, while the adults removed the icicles hanging from the roofs of the houses. In the distance, emerging from the forest, a figure approached the village; no one saw it coming, its advance, almost imperceptible, did not catch the attention of the busy villagers. The sun's rays began to melt most of the snow; the ice started to crack, and in some areas, the mud became quite difficult to traverse. It went unnoticed, not even when the front door of the inn swung wide open. It was as if it did not exist, as if its presence was elusive even to the wind itself. The song of the birds could not be heard, even though the sun had risen; the dogs began to bark early, as if alerting of a new storm, or perhaps it was just because the birds had left the forest in flocks. It is said that a few hours later, the figure left the inn, the village, and even the very material plane. No one saw or heard it; no one even thought to see anything at all. The presence was gone, and with it, every voice, every being, every life that had awakened that cold morning in the village of Vira. **Young Exalted:** Do you expect me to believe that the entire village disappeared in just half a day without leaving a trace? **Experienced Woodsman:** Look, kid, I don’t want you to believe anything, I’m just telling you things as they are: an entire village vanished after an inexplicable figure spent half a day in the inn. Now the surrounding towns have heard about what happened, and people are on edge. **Young Exalted:** What you’re saying is impossible; something must have happened for everyone to flee, maybe a stampede of some monster or a band of thieves, I don’t know, anything could have happened. **Experienced Woodsman:** That’s probably what the local governor thought because when they arrived, the first thing they looked for were signs of struggle, you know, pools of blood, bodies, some fire or weapons, maybe even a couple of broken walls, you know, the fine wooden ones, but nothing, not a trace of absolutely anything. It’s been two moons since then, and the investigation hasn’t yielded any results. **Young Exalted:** You know, I’m not trying to give credit to your story, but if what you say is true, it could be... you know, magic... **Experienced Woodsman:** Be careful what you say, kid; you know it’s forbidden to talk about that subject; the guards won’t hesitate to cut off your head, believe me, I’ve seen it. Come on, let’s go get the remaining pieces from the shed by the lake, then we’ll finish putting up the roof and the windows. The older man and his companion began to leave the bar of the inn in the village of Frida, home to many woodsmen and their families, surrounded by a lush forest that never seemed to stop having trees. From inside the inn, the song of the birds and the wind passing through the windows could now be heard. At the bar, a hooded figure lowered his beer mug to the ebony wood. **Stranger:** This is a bar of impressive quality; Frida is well-known for its woodsmen, but apparently, its craftsmen are just as amazing. **Experienced Bartender:** Not at all, this ebony bar was carved by the only dwarf living in Frida; it was a gift for inviting him a bottle of old aguardiente I had saved. I didn’t expect it, but dwarves are very grateful, no doubt about it. Can I get you another beer, dear? **Stranger:** Yes, please, the beer you have here is very good; it’s rye, right? **Experienced Bartender:** Ah, how did you know? **Stranger:** Its taste is unmistakable; I’ve only had it in one other place: the capital. **Experienced Bartender:** Wow, you’ve traveled quite a bit; the capital is several weeks away on horseback. Do you need a room to stay? The beds aren’t as comfortable as those in the capital, but I’m sure after traveling so much you won’t have trouble sleeping. **Stranger:** I appreciate your concern, but the truth is that I’ve come to meet a friend; I’ll stay with him while I’m in the village. Thank you for such a pleasant experience. He stood up, took a final sip from his mug, and left the payment on the bar. **Stranger:** The beer has treated me well, and your service has been magnificent. Have a good afternoon, ma’am. With those words, he continued to leave the inn. **Experienced Bartender:** What a polite young man; I hope he comes back here. The bartender picked up the payment and, upon doing so, realized it was a gold coin; the two mugs of beer only cost one silver each. **Experienced Bartender:** Wow, I didn’t expect this; I’ll have to put his name on my list of favorite customers, what was his name...? The water from a waterfall covered part of the entrance to a cave, inside a simple wooden door. From within, loud thuds and pieces of different materials could be heard being thrown against the walls of the cave. Just moments earlier, the hooded young man had entered through the wooden door, which was now being destroyed by his body, flying several meters beyond the waterfall to land in a shallow river. Cheeks cut by powerful blows, blood leaving his lips indicating internal wounds, his torn cloak filled with impossible-to-repair holes, and a kind of wooden stake embedded in his right arm made it clear that whoever was inside that house did not want him there. **Stranger:** Many, come on! I didn’t travel all this way for you to treat me like a thief. **Angry Dwarf:** My name is Manfred Algwur Fentonmar, not Many. You are a worthless human I wish I hadn’t had to see again, but here you are. And by the way, how the hell did you find me? Manfred left the cave carrying in one arm pieces of wood large enough to feed the fireplace in his house for several months. He took them with both hands and broke them in half, leaving sharp points on each side. **Manfred:** Speak now before I turn you into a pincushion! He shouted as he threw one of the stakes. The hooded young man barely managed to dodge the attack; the stake hit one of the trees lining the path, creating a hole the size of a melon before reaching the adjacent tree and embedding itself as if it were a steel knife. The young man, not very surprised, turned to Manfred, pulling the stake from his arm with great effort but showing no sign of pain. **Stranger:** Well... That could have killed me, Many. The dwarf, strangely larger than the young human, leaped toward the river; the hooded one dodged the attack once more, quickly positioning himself behind him, placing the stake at a point on his back and kicking the back with his leg, performing a somersault in the air that propelled him several meters away from Manfred, only to realize that the stake had not penetrated more than an inch. The stake fell into the water... **Stranger:** Are you still as unbreakable as ever, huh? Please, I just came to talk; I don’t want to hurt you. Manfred turned to look him directly in the eyes, his gaze now dripping with aggression. **Manfred:** I told you my name is Manfred, AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Both stakes shot out, missing their target; mid-dodge in the air, Manfred attacked with a punch directly to the solar plexus; only the shockwave managed to reach the rocks behind the hooded one, forming a small hole. The young human, still standing, spat a lot of blood, raised his gaze, and Manfred realized that what he had hit was the sheath of his sword. **Stranger:** Come on, Many, don’t you have even a hint of curiosity? What am I doing here? Why now? How did I find you? With a bloodied smile, the human looked at the dwarf, and he hesitated. He lowered his fist, and with that gesture, the young human fell to his knees in the river’s waters. The dwarf’s body began to shrink until it measured barely half of what the human did while standing. **Manfred:** Manfred, I won’t repeat it again, that is my name; try not to stain my blood carpet or you’ll clean it with your tongue. The dwarf headed to the entrance of his house. **Manfred:** Are you coming or what? **Stranger:** Yes, yes, I’ll be right there; let me check all my limbs. He said while adjusting his still-sheathed sword at his waist and tearing part of his cloak to cover the wound on his arm. Upon exiting the river, he approached the tree where Manfred had opened a hole and, next to it, picked up a backpack with his left hand. He returned to the entrance of the house, where the dwarf was waiting impatiently. **Stranger:** You almost destroyed the gift I brought you, you damn braggart. He pulled out three bottles of aguardiente from the backpack, each with a characteristic color ranging from golden to transparent, as ancient as the forest they were in. The dwarf held back to maintain his dignity. **Manfred:** If you had started with that, you could have avoided the beating, i***t. **Stranger:** No, you would have just broken the three bottles before I could say anything, and then you would have gotten even angrier. **Manfred:** ... well, that’s true too. Well, enough chit-chat, let me see those bottles up close. **Stranger:** Hahaha, really? I thought you wanted to talk about why I’m here. **Manfred:** Would you prefer to talk now or after I’ve had a drink? The young man thought for a second while watching the dwarf cross his arms. **Stranger:** ... come on, take the bottles and relax; we have a lot to talk about. **Manfred:** Hahahaha, give me that, they look delicious! After the intense reunion, both sat down to talk by the fireplace, with a drink of aguardiente and the bright light of a flame warming their wet clothes. The dwarf lent him a tunic he had stored away and a first-aid kit; the young human took a bath in the outside river, put on the tunic and the new bandages along with natural medicine. The velvet and golden thread revealed refined tastes; the lack of long sleeves made the tunic perfect for the hot climate of Frida. Although sleeveless, the scars on the young man’s body were too noticeable: cuts, bruises, claws, stabs, and who knows what else deformed his amber-colored skin. Rough hands full of calluses, cuts, and bites denoted the hardships of an experienced explorer. Sharp, always cheerful eyes, with a golden color and short dark hair like the night, a scar on his neck and a kind face. The dwarf, with reddish hair, wore a white field shirt and leather pants; in one hand, he held a bottle and in the other, a pipe with a medicinal herb to calm the mind. The rest of the house, completely disordered, was the result of the battle that took place, but in those seats, two old adventure companions sat down to have a drink while catching up.