Chapter 15 The Watcher and The Stranger

In a secluded hamlet, veiled in the cloak of time's passage, a lone sentinel prowled the dim thoroughfares when the moon hung at its zenith. The village, a modest collection of no more than fifty rustic abodes, found solace behind a fortress of hewn wood. The solitary guardian, wielding a solitary lantern, battled against the encroaching obscurity that sought to engulf every inch of the settlement.

A youth, scarcely past his second decade, had completed his vigil along the village's perimeter. Now, he stood sentinel by the unyielding metallic portal, firmly sealed against the night's unseen perils. The gate, a lattice of horizontal and vertical bars, offered both a panoramic view of the nocturnal expanse and a potential chink in the village's armor. It wasn't an impregnable defense, but for a hamlet of this stature, it served as a bulwark against the marauding terrors that plagued less-fortunate neighbors.

Draped in a simple tapestry of brown trousers and a white shirt, a leather vest clung to his form, valiantly warding off the encroaching night's chill. The young guardian, with a silent prayer to benevolent deities, offered thanks for the foresight that led him to procure robust leather footwear. A prudent choice that spared his digits from the gnashing cold that threatened to claim them in frosty embrace.

The town's bell, suspended in the steeple, tolled with a sonorous resonance, announcing the passage of two hours into the realm of midnight. Settling into his vigilant post, the youth cast his gaze into the stygian void, the dim torchlight revealing only fragments of the mysterious beyond. Abruptly, a symphony of disturbance reached his keen ears—a susurrus of leaves, the fracturing of a twig. Familiar woodland sounds, yet an unsettling disquiet enveloped him. An eerie sensation, akin to the predator's gaze fixated on its prey, gripped his senses. Something, unseen yet palpable, skulked in the woods.

The guardian, unswervingly focused, directed his gaze toward the origin of the disturbance. His bow, once slung languidly over his shoulders, now embraced urgency, an arrow straining against its moorings. Despite his unassuming appearance, he stood as the village's preeminent archer, poised to confront the enigma concealed within the depths of shadow and foliage.

Watcher: “That most probably is just a small rodent, hungry for a tiny morsel of food”

As the uttered words spilled into the night air, their resonance lacked the persuasive force they carried within the confines of his thoughts. The young watcher stood amidst the village's wooden walls, surrounded by the eerie glow of torchlight. The distant hoots of nocturnal creatures underscored the gravity of the situation, a stark contrast to the quaint serenity of the daytime.

Despite fervent prayers for the disturbance to be a mere rodent, the young watcher knew all too well that raiding parties often marauded this remote realm. The shadows danced eerily as he clenched the hilt of his bow, the bowstring humming in anticipation of a potential threat.

His apprehension materialized when the sound of footsteps, accompanied by the rhythmic tap of a wooden staff on stone, shattered the nocturnal stillness. The village was cloaked in a profound silence, accentuating the unsettling nature of the intruder's approach. The wooden staff's cadence cut through the quietude with ominous intent, confirming the presence of an intruder.

Watcher: "Halt! Who are you? State your purpose."

Yet, the mysterious figure pressed on, heading toward the village gate. The lone watcher stood at his post, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on his face, a mix of determination and unease. It came to a standstill only when its silhouette flickered in the torchlight.

In the grip of fear and anticipation, the watcher's bow quivered, and a bead of nervous sweat traced a path down his face. The chilling night air seemed to carry a sense of foreboding. With trepidation in his voice, he repeated his demand,

Watcher: "Halt! Who are you?"

His words hung in the frigid air, awaiting an answer from the silent stranger.

In a voice resonating like rocks tumbling in a vast cavern, the stranger responded,

Stranger: "Your feeble mind cannot possibly comprehend the meaning of my existence and the essence of my being, even if I told you. Open this pathetic excuse for a gate before I blow it into smithereens."

The words echoed, reverberating off the wooden walls, creating an eerie harmony with the nocturnal sounds.

Without hesitation, the watcher released the arrow, propelled by the urgency to safeguard his people. The projectile streaked unerringly toward its target, aiming for the stranger's eyes. Yet, just before impact, the arrow disintegrated as if striking an invisible force field. The watcher's eyes widened in disbelief, and the torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on his bewildered expression.

Undeterred, the watcher swiftly launched three more arrows, each aimed with precision—right eye, throat, and heart. Each met the same fate, shattering upon an imperceptible barrier. The watcher's once-confident stance now potrayed a sense of vulnerability, and the village gates loomed as the last line of defense.

The stranger, seemingly unharmed, chuckled before speaking again. Despite the booming resonance, a strange calm had settled in his voice, amplifying the watcher's astonishment as to why the village remained undisturbed.

Stranger: “Hahaha! Interesting! You are an interesting one. I am sure you could feel my power, if not the extent of it, but you could feel the aura I emit, the raw power in my booming voice. Yet, you attacked. Why?"

The stranger's silhouette, outlined by torchlight, exuded an enigmatic aura, and the village stood suspended in a moment of uncertainty.

The watcher's knees met the cold ground, a tangible symbol of his failure to shield the village. The weight of disappointment pressed upon him, knowing he had let down those who had entrusted him with their safety. Before him, the looming figure erupted into maniacal laughter, and a desperate plea echoed in the watcher's mind - that this looming calamity might claim his life, sparing the innocent villagers.

Watcher: “Powerful one, your extraordinary nature became evident the moment you stepped into the light. However, your initial words carried a threat. I am the watcher of this village, sworn to keep out any menace as long as breath lingers within me. If mercy dwells within you, I implore you to take my life but spare my village.”

Stranger: “Your first attempt failed. Surely, you recognize I am beyond your ability to end. Yet, you launched another attack. Why?”

Watcher: “Once more, I am the watcher. While I draw breath, no threat shall breach these gates. If I falter in eliminating a danger, I will persist and try again.”

Stranger: “Do you not fear the swiftness with which I could extinguish your life? Are you not afraid of Death?”

Watcher: “Why dread that which is inevitable? Death will embrace me when and where my time arrives. I choose not to cower before its impending arrival.”

The stranger erupted into laughter once more, finding amusement in the watcher's steadfast demeanor.

Stranger: “Fascinating! Truly fascinating! Is this divine jest, teasing me into fulfilling my destined role? Fascinating!”

Watcher: “Powerful one, my fate rests in your hands. Should you will it, I shall meet my end tonight.”

Stranger: “Your demise awaits if the gate remains sealed.”

Watcher: “I shall open the gate, but may I inquire about the purpose of your visit to our humble village?”

Stranger: “I was aimlessly wandering, seeking anything to alleviate my boredom. However, meeting you has altered my purpose. Originally passing through, my only intent now is to converse with you.”

The watcher nodded in silence, rising to open the gate, only to be interrupted by the distant sound of horns.

Watcher: “Powerful one, I shall open the gate now. Hurry inside, for a raiding party approaches.”

Stranger: “It appears they will. I despise interruptions. Well, young watcher, step back while I handle them. Your village stands no chance against them.”

Watcher: “I cannot impose such a request, especially after my initial attack. The raiders' horns will awaken the village warriors. Though it may be a grim battle, victory will be ours. I implore you, powerful one, seek refuge within the safety of our walls.”

Stranger: "Your warriors slumber deeply, oblivious to my sleep spell. Are you telling me you haven't noticed it yet?"

The watcher's gaze oscillated between the looming threat outside the gate and the mist-shrouded village within. The thick mist seemed to hold its breath, contained by the closed gates.

Watcher: "It was YOU! Your arrogance has shrouded this village in a cursed slumber. Lives will be lost, and blood will stain your hands in your quest for power."

The precious moments for preparation dwindled, and from the darkness emerged thirty horse riders, their menacing presence ready to unleash chaos. The horses' eyes mirrored the malice of their riders, their eager anticipation hinted at impending violence.

Before the ominous cavalry stood a low-armored infantry of forty, armed with maces and various swords. Six of them coordinated to carry a large ram, its metallic head shaped like a goat.

Ignoring the watcher's desperate words, the stranger in the mud-brown robe turned toward the raiders. The robe cascaded down to his feet, secured by a golden rope around his waist. A long hood concealed his face, and in his hand, he gripped a wooden staff. His commanding voice echoed once more.

Stranger: “Don’t interrupt me; listen carefully. I will not repeat myself. If you value your lives, turn back now, and pray that I never witness your vile faces again.”

A ripple of fear passed among the horses; they grew restless. The animals, sensing impending danger, urged backward. Yet, intoxicated by ego, ale, and lust for wealth, the raiders pressed forward.

The watcher, trapped in silent horror, witnessed the stranger's advance as the riders charged.

Unfazed, the stranger confronted the charging force. Two sharp thuds of his staff on the ground froze all the horses in their tracks. The beasts, now riderless, trotted back toward the village gate, seemingly oblivious to the unfolding chaos.

The fallen raiders, recovering from their dismounted state, seethed with rage. The men, undeterred by their betrayed mounts, advanced toward the stranger. A pit formed in the watcher's stomach, and a lump lodged in his throat. Desperate to warn the raiders, he attempted to scream, but his voice failed him.

In a torrential display, a cascade of blazing fire erupted from the stranger's staff, engulfing the charging men. The night shattered with the fiery inferno, and the silence fractured with the agonizing screams of those consumed by the flames. Before the village, oblivious in its slumber, only the lone watcher and the hooded stranger bore witness to the pyre.

In moments, the raiding party was reduced to smoldering corpses, destined to become ashes.

Watcher: "You just brutally, heartlessly murdered seventy people in cold blood."

Stranger: “Oh, and you think they were coming to your village for a party? They were here for supper and you and your people would have been the meal. After killing every able-bodied man in your village and enslaving all the children, they would’ve raped every female child, adult or old and then would have burned this village to the ground. Had your warriors been awoken won’t they have killed these raiders?”

Watcher: “Yes, but that would be in a fight, in a battle, not this one-sided slaughter”

Stranger: “You would have preferred your people dying over this?”

Watcher: “No, but what you did was wrong, plain murder. What gave you the right to decide who lives and who dies?”

The stranger turned towards the watcher, and punched the air in front of him. The village gate exploded into smoldering rubble, as the stranger stepped in the village. The watcher once again fell to his knees as he tried to stagger backwards.

Stranger: “I DECIDE, because I am the one with power. You don’t get to decide anything, because you are weak, and weaklings should just dig a hole in the ground and wait to die”

Watcher: “I may be weak, this village, the humans may be weak for you, but we work hard to create the life that we live. It might not be much to others, but it is our own. This life, is our own dream, it is an honest and fair living for god’s sake”

Stranger: “Honest and fair? Are you really that naïve? Do you expect life to fair? What would you have done if the village is attacked by say five hundred raiders tomorrow? Your village is primitive, without trained soldiers, required manpower or adequate defenses. You would have been slaughtered. Who would you blame then, in your dying breath? The God? That he had sent those people to your doorstep? Wake up child, this world isn’t fair, this life isn’t fair. Right or wrong? Dark or light? These things are decided only by those who have power. Powerless don’t get to decide anything, not even the way they die. Remember, history books are written by the victors”

Tears rolled down the watcher’s cheeks. Tears that carried many emotions. Helplessness, sorrow, regret, pity but most of all because the stranger was right.

Watcher: “Who are you?”

For the first time in the night, the stranger lifted the hood covering his face. Except of the light grey beard, the watcher couldn’t see his facial features clearly as he was facing opposite to the blazing fire behind him, but he could see his eyes. His eyes, a fire burned inside those eyes, a hunger to consume, a hunger to hunt, to destroy and devour. These were the eyes of an apex predator.

The stranger let go of his staff that floated in the air now, and raised his hands high to the sky. Resting in his palms were two orbs of violet light.

Stranger: “I am the wielder of the arcane arts, the master of the elements, the commander of the forces of nature. The universe bows before my will. I am the creator of darkness, the obscurer of light, the harbinger of disaster and the preventer of catastrophe. I AM A WIZARD.”

Watcher: “. . .”

Stranger: “I don’t like to play the games of those old geezers in the council. Young watcher, if you do not like the way the world works, gain the strength to change it. I can show you the way to bring the entire universe to its knees in front of you. I can give you the power”

Watcher: “Teach me Master”

Stranger: “Your wish would be granted but first let’s do some introductions. I am Alderich, the master of recruitment of mages. There are 14 masters serving under the Grand-Master. The Grand-Master serves only to the king, all in the glorious Kingdom of Alexandria”

Watcher: “Master my name is Gorion”

*Alderich grabbed Gorion by the shoulder and teleported into Alexandria, and so began Gorion’s journey into the mysterious and alluring world of magic*