[William]
Maysa was a border town located in the northern part of the Kingdom, a gate to the neighboring Kingdom of Ashmore.
For all that William wandered in his childhood, his path never took him here. He never would’ve thought about it as a destination had it not been for the instructions written on Goran’s envelope.
The instructions took him across the town to its outermost part, where green plains expanded and the houses became scarce. They took him all the way to finally stand before a small, old cottage. He paused just before knocking on its door.
Either he’d find Goran’s mother waiting, would crush her hopes with the delivery of her son’s last words, or… he’d find no one, and those words would remain unread.
He knocked.
“Yes?” came an aged voice, its owner peeking behind the door, gaze emitting clear suspicion.
“Are you Lina Bowen?”
“I am.”
He brought out the envelope, offering it to her. “This is from your son…”
It was those words that made Mrs. Bowen open the door completely to approach him, her sights fixed on the envelope, but her hands limp at her sides. “Is he…?” she began and then faltered, either because she couldn’t complete the question, or because there was no need to.
The answer was obvious.
“I’m sorry,” was all William could muster. He waited for her to take the envelope, but she didn’t reach for it, and so he remained waiting. He averted his gaze from the trembling of her jaw and the tears forming in her eyes.
It felt like a lifetime before he heard a murmured, “Come in.”
If it weren’t for the slow rhythm of her breathing, the tears running down her cheeks, William would’ve thought the shock of the news he brought took the last of Mrs. Bowen’s life. He wondered if this was a thing that could happen, a grief that was so unnervingly silent, unnervingly still.
The envelope laid sealed on the small table separating them. Mrs. Bowen had yet to speak about it, had yet to say anything ever since she invited him in. They just sat in silence, their surroundings darkening as the light coming from the windows dimmed, signifying the arrival of dusk. It was then that Mrs. Bowen left her seat to light an oil lantern, that she said, back turned towards him, “You can stay here for the night.”
William was supposed to stay for a night.
He had no particular destination in mind after delivering the envelope. He had no coin to spare to stay at a tavern. It was rather late to travel out of town. It made sense to accept Mrs. Bowen’s offer.
But a day passed and then another and then it was a month later, and he still lived in Mrs. Bowen’s cottage, doing whatever task she assigned him.
Chopping wood, lighting fire, cleaning the fireplace, carrying her purchases from the town’s marketplace, pulling out weeds, tasting soup to see if it was salty enough… easy tasks, one done in every household, but they mystified William, and his unfamiliarity earned him Mrs. Bowen’s ire on many embarrassing occasions. For an elderly woman that barely reached William’s waist, she could be rather terrifying.
Getting used to this idyllic life shouldn’t be so easy, but it was, and it unsettled William. He wasn’t made for this sort of life. Didn’t realize it was an option.
On their way back from the marketplace, Mrs. Bowen asked, “How did you come to know him?”
It took a moment for the question to register, to realize that she was finally asking. “He took me under his wing when I first started out.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
Mrs. Bowen didn’t speak for a while after, and William thought that was the end of it, but then she said, “He had a son, little Vinnie. Frail since birth. His mother couldn’t bear with it and left.” Her voice lost the detached edge he was familiar with the more she continued, “He thought he could make up for it, and perhaps he did. He loved his son fiercely, borrowed money from every damn ditch to treat him, but it still wasn’t enough to stop the inevitable.”
William once asked Goran about the reason why he became a Champion. He didn’t get an answer then, and he didn’t expect to get it afterwards.
“Vinnie would’ve been your age.”
He did get it now, and it explained why Goran was so protective of him.
It made William wonder, if looking at him hurt Goran. Hurt Mrs. Bowen.
“There’s an empty chest in your room,” Mrs. Bowen said over breakfast. When William looked away from his plate and at her, she elaborated, “Put your belongings in it instead of rummaging through that sack of yours every time you need something.”
“I don’t have much to justify using it.”
“And I don’t want a mess in my house,” Mrs. Bowen returned. She sounded exasperated, but her eyes held worry.
Whatever protests William had in mind faded into nothingness. “Alright… I’ll use it. Thank you.”
The relieved smile Mrs. Bowen broke into told him everything.
Their constant presence in slumber didn’t make William’s nightmares any less painful.
This was another night he snapped up awake because of them, taming a wild, panicked rhythm of breathing into something less beastly. An endless moment later, he noticed the light slipping into the darkness of his room, from the door he never failed to leave ajar.
Walking out, he saw Mrs. Bowen awake. There was an opened envelop on the table she sat by—a letter in the trembling hold of her hands.
He should probably return to his room.
“Come sit,” he heard her say, her faint voice ringing loud against the silence of this night.
He did as she told. It felt like he went back in time; a similar moment with a different course.
“Goran mentioned you in his letter. Told me to take you in.” The look in her eyes appeared solemn under the lantern's light, but not hollow. "Funny how I did it without his prompting.”
“But I was a stranger to you.”
“A stranger who traveled all this way just to deliver my son’s letter. A stranger who cared enough about him to confirm his passing in sorrow.” Her hold on the letter tightened. “No one remembers Champions with sorrow, William. They’re either idols, or names to be forgotten with the following match. No one except those they left behind. For that, we’re kin.”
On his way to Maysa, William earned some coin by accompanying a wagon. He loaded its cargo and drove it through the night, and on one memorable night on the road, he protected the wagon from a group of bandits.
If he were to stay in Maysa, he couldn’t take advantage of Mrs. Bowen’s generosity. He had to earn his keep.
“Try the Blue Gale then. It’s a tavern by the marketplace,” was Mrs. Bowen’s response after he shared his thoughts. “Townspeople go there to ask for someone to help. Sometimes it’s fixing a ceiling, others it’s ruining a wedding.”
William blinked, for a moment thinking he heard her wrong. “Ruining a wedding?”
“The Blue Gale doesn’t discriminate.”
True to Mrs. Bowen’s word, the Blue Gale saw numerous of requests exchanged over its ancient tables. William overheard deals he’d rather not contemplate on.
Since he started frequenting the tavern, he took on many requests of his own, all along the lines of what he did on the road. His presence became a familiar thing, enough for others to point his way when a request suited him.
Tonight was another where a visitor was directed to him. Barely anything showed of this cloaked figure sitting across of him, the details he could discern amounting to a fair chin and bowed lips.
It wasn’t the first time William met a visitor that concealed their features, but it was the first time he met one that seemed utterly bewildered. First time, perhaps?
“Are you alright?”
The visitor nodded, then asked, “Do you take requests?”
It caught William off guard, how soft the visitor’s voice was. “Depends on what you’re asking.”
“Yesterday, bandits attacked and ransacked my friend’s jewelry shop. Retrieve what you can, but you must ensure the retrieval of one particular item.” The visitor put a generous amount of coin before him, perhaps hoping to tempt him with the offer enough to disregard caution.
It wasn’t an outlandish request, not like the one woven in concerning detail over the next table. “What’s the item?”
It was a silver ring, a revelation William found to be strange.
“The bandits ransacked a jewelry shop, but the most important item to retrieve is a ring?” A plain one at that, judging by its description.
“Yes.”
“You do realize how odd this sounds, right?”
“But it’s the truth,” the visitor—Sera, as she insisted for him to call—returned. “It holds a sentimental value.”
If that was to be believed, then why did she insist on accompanying him to the bandits’ stronghold? It certainly wasn’t to ensure he returned the other stolen jewelry, because it wasn’t a requirement. It was all because of the ring, and there was something about it she wasn’t telling.
William let her to her secrets. It was none of his concern.
It didn’t take long to reach the outskirts of the town and the abandoned barracks the bandits took residence in.
“Wait for me here,” he told Miss Sera.
Insistent as she was to stick to his side, Miss Sera was reasonable enough to bow out of attempting to follow.
When William entered the barracks, he found the bandits sleeping.
He stood there for a moment, ears abused by their loud snoring, before he knocked on the wooden wall surrounding the entrance. A terrible decision, he came to find. The doors, consumed by time and termites, creaked in what sounded like agony, collapsing after a single knock.
The bandits screamed awake in their startle, and then screamed again when they noticed William’s presence.
“Hello,” William greeted, and then drew his sword.
By Miss Sera’s side once again, William put all the stolen jewelry at her feet, wrapped up in a large cloth. She ignored it all, her head tilted to the ring he held up for her. “Is this it?”
Miss Sera didn’t respond for a long moment. With the cloak in the way, he couldn’t see what sort of look she regarded him with.
Did the bandits lie to him? But their leader was crying when he handed him the ring.
Finally, she spoke, pointing towards the barracks, “Did they just hand you the jewelry when you entered? You’ve been away for a few minutes!”
“We did fight. They just lost.” It was almost disappointing, how quickly he rendered most of them unconscious, leaving only the leader awake.
“Now you’re the one who’s being suspicious,” she said, but she still took the ring from him.
He thought that request would be the last of what he’d see of Miss Sera.
It wasn’t.
A few weeks later, a familiar cloaked figure entered the Blue Gale, approaching William with a more assured pace. “Miss Sera,” he greeted.
“You remember me?” Something about her voice sounded a little… delighted?
“Your request was the most eventful I’ve had for a while,” he answered.
Under the shadow of her cloak, she smiled. “Then my request tonight will engrave me into your memory.”
“And that is…?” William prompted, taking a sip of his cider.
“I want you to abduct me.”
William choked on his cider.
A suitor of Miss Sera arrived this morning, and unlike the few that preceded him, her family seemed to like him. However, Miss Sera had her doubts, and that was why this scheme came into existence.
“I’m sure there’s an easier approach,” William couldn’t help but say, but Miss Sera was too caught up in her plots to heed him.
“We’ll be taking a stroll along the stream tomorrow’s afternoon. That’s when you’ll make your move.”
He could refuse this request. Just because he frequented the Blue Gale didn’t mean he had to involve himself in something ridiculous. It wasn’t a rite of passage.
“Do you agree?” Miss Sera inquired, anticipation brightening her voice.
William sighed. “What if he chose to fight me?”
“Then let him win. I’m testing his character, not his skills.” She pulled out a sack from her cloak, handing it to him. “Here, you’ll need this to disguise yourself.”
Unlacing the sack, William found a dark robe, a mask, and a dagger. “You’re… thorough.”
“I have to. I’d hate for you to get apprehended by the town’s guards.”
Should he feel touched?
As it was agreed upon, the following day’s afternoon found William stalking Miss Sera and her suitor as they leisurely walked by the stream, both of them curiously cloaked. Waiting for them to reach a secluded spot, William contemplated on the absurdity of both his attire and situation.
It was both a blessing and a curse when they finally did. It was time.
He went for the figure he recognized to be Miss Sera, locking her arms behind her back, and holding the dull edge of the dagger to her neck. His gaze on the suitor, he spoke by Miss Sera’s ear, “Leave now, or I’ll—“
With a yelp, the suitor didn’t even wait for William to finish his threat, running as if a raging inferno chased at his heels.
“Where are you going?” William asked the suitor’s retreating figure, utterly bewildered.
“Do you mind?” came Miss Sera’s voice, a little amused, making William realize he still held her close.
He stepped back with an apology that she carelessly dismissed. Looking after the suitor’s trail, Miss Sera let out a heavy sigh. “What a shame...” She fell to sit on the soft grass, as if crumbling under the weight of her disappointment, gazing sightlessly at the stream flowing quietly before them.
“Perhaps he’s the sort to not handle shock well?” William tried to excuse the fellow, but it was a hard task.
Miss Sera shook her head. “It would’ve been enough even if he merely told you to unhand me and fainted from fright afterwards. He just didn’t care.”
William didn’t know what to say in response to that, and whatever he tried to put together fell apart at the sight of Miss Sera lowering the hood of her cloak, revealing the features that lay beneath: a face sprayed with freckles, embraced on its sides by long strands of auburn hair. Weariness marred the warm hue of her brown eyes—flattened the curve of her rosy lips.
She looked up at him then, and said, “My name is Sera Alessio.”
Confused about this abrupt introduction, William only responded in kind, “William.”
For some reason, his response seemed to have confused Miss Sera. She frowned and then her eyes went wide. “You… don’t recognize my name?”
“Are you famous?” Was that the reason she insisted on wearing cloaks?
She laughed. It was a pretty sound. “Oh, it was arrogant of me to presume.”
“Presume what?”
“That you’ll understand what I’m experiencing by speaking my name.” She pointed to a manor in the distance, the only one in town. “My uncle is the head of the Alessio Family. He’s a nobleman.”
And by extent, so was she. “I see.”
The brightness of her amusement fell as she spoke, “I’m from the branch family, and so even if I hold the name, I hold no power. I have no particular talents, too, so the only way I can benefit the Alessio name is by forming a marriage alliance. I’m resigned to that fate. I only ask for one thing…”
William guessed it. “Someone to care about you first rather than your family name?”
“Yes,” she said, looking at him with surprise, before repeating with the softest smile, “Yes, that’s what I want.”
“It’s easy for others to concern themselves with you,” William mused. It relieved him now that he was the one to receive her request, ridiculous as it was. Who knew what would’ve happened had she revealed her identity to another. “I think you’ll eventually get your desire.”
“I don’t know whether to be comforted or insulted.”
Insulted? “I meant to comfort you…”
Miss Sera appeared as if holding back a laugh. “I’m sure you did.” She reached up a hand to tug at his own, beckoning him to sit by her side.
He did as she wanted, and it was a moment after that she started, her smile teasing, “Upon further contemplation, your words were indeed comforting.”
“They were?”
“Yes. They assured me that I could always go to you with my requests.”
“That… is not what I said.”
“I read between the lines.”
