Far to the north, lays the magnificent estate of Count Marfeld. A manor sits on top of a hill, surrounded by orchards and vineyards from all sides but one – there, a small pond rests among the hills. Next to it, is a lovely bower along with a pier.

  That’s where I spent the summer, a year after the eruption of Mt. Herdey. It was a slow, lazy time, as I had just recently returned from the crusade and my friend – aforesaid Count Marfeld – invited me to spend the time at his lovely estate.

  Unfortunately, that summer was the last time I was on friendly terms with the Count. Some uneducated swine say that we crossed swords, and won’t talk to each other in the aftermath. Another version I heard, is that I seduced his wife – I can’t even imagine how such an abhorrent thought could cross people’s minds. Mine version, the only true one, is that Marfeld got jealous of my allotment. Those things that I brought back from the crusade. And to be honest, I might admit that I could have flaunted the golds and silvers less – but that does not justify the Count’s reaction, who demanded that I share my hard-earned spoils, after promising my stay at his estate will be at his cost. None should covet the goods of others, even more, none should be jealous of what is not theirs.

  What happened or happened not, during that time, matters not though, as the story I want to tell started when I was heading out, back south – to my lands – forests and mountains of Laastrada. I was just leaving the vicinity of the vineyards, crossing a small river by a lovely, brick bridge, when I heard shouts from the road ahead.

  Someone called for help, and being a Valiant Knight such as myself, I had to intervene.

  I spurred my horse, urging the square who followed me at the time to stay just behind me and rushed towards the hill blocking my sight of the country road. The whole area was somehow similar to the one Gaftiel, The Wizard who told one of the stories before, described – I think it was called Far-Garrad. But instead of icy winds, the lands near Count Marfeld’s estate were submerged in a calm, gentle breeze that made the scorching heat of the sun bearable.

  Sorry, I have gone off-topic. A young boy – as we realised soon – was still shouting something incomprehensible when we arrived at the hill’s top. He was standing before a short goblin, wielding a long stick with a sharpened end and trying to scare the monster away with aggressive moves and shouts. The green beast, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, slowly circling the boy with its heavy, roughly made knife in hand.

  I left my squire behind, urging my steed into a gallop and speeding down the hill. As I neared the boy and monster, I shouted for the boy to cover, and struck the beast with my sword.

  Obviously, the goblin was spit in half under the combined force of my strike and the horse’s speed. Now, it fell flat on the ground, already lifeless when my squire caught up, and I turned towards the boy.

  “What were you thinking, attacking a goblin by yourself?” I asked, trying to sound as calm as I could. Though, I doubt any of that effort paid off.

  The boy wept, tears falling from his eyes as he gazed at the lifeless, green corpse, before answering my question. “I… I wanted to avenge my sister..”

  He looked at me strangely, as if angry that I stole the kill from him. I don’t understand kids to be honest, but then, I was confused even more than normal. So, I asked him: “Why?”

  The kid fell down to the ground and started crying something about a raid and murderous goblins, and how his house was burned down and family killed – what was interesting though, was that he had not seen his sister die. Only being taken by the beasts into the woods.

  “Heartless bastard” Sekta muttered under her breath.

  “How could he treat a child in such a way? Don’t they teach them manners at those fancy noble schools?” Ekta joined in.

  “They do, actually – but not quite well it seems. Or at least, not in such matters. That doesn't mean he can act this way and think he is excused, though” A man sitting behind them, on a chair next to sofa on which a woman – deducing from the attire, a wealthy noble lady – lied and listened to the story attentively.

  “And who are you?” Sekta asked, irritated that some stranger butted into a sisterly conversation.

  The man lowered his head in apology, and introduced himself: “My name is Tristan, a servant to my lady by choice, Thief and scumbag by fate.”

  “And what can a thiefling-turned-servant know about noble education?” Ekta asked, seemingly interested in what he might say.

  “I accompany my lady,” Here he turned towards his dame, and nodded at her in appreciation, “Everywhere she goes – as such, I have attended some classes meant for the blue-blooded myself.”

  The girls quieted down for a moment before both of them smiled slightly, and Sekta said: “Really? Everywhere?” With a suggestive smirk.

  The servant didn’t respond, only moving his head in embarrassment away from his Lady’s sight, who just looked at him, amused, from her spot on the sofa.

  It appeared, that a nearby village was raided by monsters while I was preparing to depart from the Count’s estate. The goblins came from the woods, murdered, burned and enslaved, then returned between the trees. The boy, who calmed down a bit while recalling the recent happenings, seemed really horrified by the raid – and even then he went out of his way, into danger, to try to rescue his sister.

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  I was moved by his bravery and valour, thus, I promised him to do everything in my power to bring her back.

  First, though, I had to get a lead, or at least, find the place where she and the goblins were seen last – apart from the one I cut moments before. And indeed, I found the second thing with relative ease, considering that the boy I met was the one who saw as the goblins dragged his sister into the woods.

  He led me to the site, near a still-smouldering village, where men and women worked tirelessly to save anything they could. Soldiers and servants of the Count were already there, helping. Apparently, the messenger with the news arrived just a few minutes after I left the mansion.

  As we reached the tree line, I decided to leave my squire there. So he may help the villagers, and safekeep our baggage – which I obviously couldn’t carry while tracking a band of goblins through the woods.

  Fortunately – or not – the raiding party was of considerable size, so, they left obvious tracks in their wake. So obvious in fact, that I started to question the boy’s intelligence – why did he fight a lone goblin on some far-off hill instead of going after the one who took his sister?

  Anyway, the huge amount of tracks let me stay on top of my horse instead of going down, so I travelled quite fast and assumed I would reach the travelling goblins way before they returned to their camp. Or cave. Wherever they lived.

  And I did. Trotting through the forest, I reached a big clearing where I started to hear the cackles of goblins and screams of the women – multiple, despite what I believed before. I sped up after leaving the trees, and when I had to enter between them again, I could clearly see the green heads in the distance.

  A small band, of maybe thirteen goblins was walking fast through the forest. Four of them in the middle, without weapons in hand, instead holding women – two goblins per human. Eight walked in a loose circle formation around the captured. Those were dressed in shabby, fur armour and wielding various equally shabby weapons, ranging from short spears without even a head, to looted poorly maintained swords. The last one – clearly the leader – leading the whole flock. He was taller, had more complete armour and wielded an iron boarding axe.

  Normally, I would advise against attacking a group thirteen times larger, but I was on a horse and my enemies were already wounded and tired from raiding the village. So, I charged from the side, sword-drawn and visor closed.

  Primo.

  I cut a goblin in half, while my horse smashed his hooves into another’s legs, incapacitating. From that overhead slash, I followed into another, cutting one goblin’s throat in half and then burying my blade in the skull of its kin. Four away, nine to go.

  Quick turn, and my horse charged once again, towards the rest of the eight that surrounded the captives and their captors. The goblins screamed and charged at me with their crude weapons in hand.

  Secundo.

  My steed once again, buried its hooves in a monster, throwing me forward at the same time. In flight, I cut one deep into the shoulder at an angle, then landed, rolled and buried my blade into another’s guts. Quick, sharp pull later, my blade swung in a crescent, beheading another of the green abominations.

  The goblins who held the girls screamed in fright, letting their captives go and running away from me, into the forest. My horse lost its fervour, without me in the saddle he wasn’t as barve anymore. The biggest of the goblins charged at me with its boarding axe overhead and screaming something incomprehensible.

  Tertio.

  Before the beast managed to get close enough to strike, I moved. Dashing sideways next to the goblin, I nicked its side with the end of my blade – keeping him at a safe distance. The beast stumbled, trying to hit me with its axe, but failing. I stepped forward, while the weapon was still down, and slashed from the opposite direction than before, cutting the head cleanly off.

  I looked around and saw the escaping goblins. The girls stayed together when they were let go. I, on the other hand, grabbed the reins jumped on the saddle, and hurried my horse in the direction of the goblin nearest me.

  After killing, or wounding the goblins heavily enough that they would definitely die on their own, I returned to the scared girls – who despite being left alone for few minutes, still stood where I had last seen them.

  Hark, a Pirate Lord recently pardoned of his crimes, in exchange for becoming the crown’s agent on the seas, stared forward with deep resentment, almost deep enough to feel it in the air.

  On the other side of the furniture-circle, laid an inconspicuous man, much different from a flamboyant pirate dressed in colourful, loose clothes and with jewellery scattered across the body, still tanned despite months locked between four stone walls. The man on the couch, across the room, wore an elegant suit, dark grey in colour and without any extraordinary marks. Wore no hat, and carried a fashionable walking cane – Hark would bet his life that a blade was hidden in its shaft.

  His name was Inferir, bounty hunter, detective – and most of all, a scumbag. At least according to Hark, who thought that the man was no different than him, nor any other pirate for that matter. He looked for gold, they searched for treasure. He hunted people, they hunted big fish. But mostly, they all were ready to do anything to survive, or,- just make their pouch a little bit heavier.

  Inferir, tactfully, didn’t return the look. He avoided the pirate through the whole party, and after the King went to sleep and Archmage took the reins, nothing changed. Understandably, he was quite uncomfortable the whole time, but a royal invitation is a royal invitation, you just don’t say no to it – as long as you don’t have your own army, that is.

  So, even though he didn’t want to, he had to experience the whole ordeal of scornful looks from all around. Many people who he caught were present, but none were worthy of his attention, in his opinion.

  None of them were strong enough to not get caught. None of them were smart enough to use their skills on the border of the law, instead of outside of it. None of them had the balls to approach him during the party and confront their captor, even though some of them spent whole years behind bars because of him.

  Just a group of edgy, incompetent cowards. Even the pompous Knight was better, he at least, had some balls.

  The village, still burning and in shambles, was in better shape than when I left. The escapee cows and pigs returned to their enclosures. Chickens no longer run around letting out their horrible noise of theirs. And finally, the people – were much calmer. They screamed and lamented less often, cried little, and worked in a more organized way.

  When we returned, I and the captured girls, the mob gathered around us, cheering and laughing as they hugged their lost wives, sisters and daughters.

  Not everyone’s faces brightened though – among them was the face of the boy, who I saved from being mauled by an angry goblin, and whose plight made me try to save the girls in the first place.

  He slowly walked over to me, and asked in a small, squeaky voice: “Mister, what about my sister?” I remember that voice vividly, as the boy prompted me to dash into danger a second time in one day.

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