part 6

The road Ares followed north began to shrink until it was little more than a trail through the mountain forests. While the valleys around Graystown were dotted with villages and small towns, the area was actually almost isolated from the bigger northern countries and most traders and caravans took a more circuitous route around the taller mountains. Moving through the mountains was no problem for Ares though and the predators seemed to instinctively know to leave him alone. Deep in the mountains Ares found some overgrown ruins that explained why there were even the remnants of a road leading this deep into the mountains, besides that Ares encountered no other signs of human life as he traversed the mountain range.

Palidor was the southern most town of the country of Diret. It was not a large or prosperous country and its economy was supported by hunters and trappers more than anything else. The rich northern nobles would often pay exuberant prices for the pelts of the monstrous creatures that stalked the southern mountains. A day into his journey Ares killed one of the ?Frost Wolves? That hunted the mountains. He spent the rest of the day smoking the meat and ended up with plenty for the rest of the trip, so he would not have to hunt again. He also cleaned the thick pelt and used it as a cloak and it was big enough to serve as a bedroll as well. Ares was used to the mountains and didn’t mind the climate, but still the nights got cold and there was still snow on the ground so the warmth was welcome. 

The town was roughly ??? leagues from Graystown and 6 days after departing, Ares came down out of the mountains and could see the town spread out over the valley floor. At least, he assumed it was Palidor. It was about 4 times the size of Graystown and he could see small other dwellings spread out around it that he figured where farms. From the mountains he could see the main road that came into the town from a distance to the east, so he made his way towards it and by the time he was down the mountain he began to walk towards Palidor on a proper road. He had been running mostly through the forests and mountains but now slowed to a walk, not wanting to miss any new sites. He was also still worried about frightening people.

It was nearing evening as he walked up the road and he began to hurry a bit as the shadows began to lengthen. The first humans he had seen in almost a week looked out at him from their homes and fields along the road and he waved jauntily to them, though none waved back and a few mothers hurried their children out of site when he waved. It must be the ?frost wolf? Skin Ares thought, as he had the skin draped around him so it trailed behind with the head , that was almost as big as him by itself, draped over his shoulders. 

He made it to the gates of Palidor before dark, and had actually grown bored with the farms and houses along the way. They all looked rather the same and nothing was growing this early in the spring, so he had quickened his step again. Palidor however was splendid indeed. The walls were almost twice the height of Graystown and the gate was an iron portcullis. Two guards stood atop the gate and watched him as he approached. He saw their were guards on the inside of the gate as well. There were no other travelers on the road so Ares walked confidently forward and waved at the guards.

A large, grizzled man at arms walked out of the gate as he approached and commanded him to halt. The guard carried a long hooked spear and had a short sword at his waist. He wore studded leather armor with iron greaves over his sturdy boots and had an iron helm that looked dented and quite worn.

“I haven’t seen you afor hunter, what’s yer purpose in Palidor?” The guard was not aggressive, but Ares thought suspicious of him. Maybe they had bandits up here as well? More importantly, this was Palidor!
“Greetings!” Ares answered excitedly. “I’m traveling north and am looking for a map. Also, I’ve never seen a city this big and would like to go inside.” The guard stared at him him for a moment, mouth agape.

“Eh, you’re just a boy! Where’d you get that great ?frost wolf? Pelt?” Ares had a somewhat difficult time understanding through the guards accent, or did he just mumble?

“Oh, I killed it about 5 days back. I am hoping to sell it I think. I think I need money to buy a map?” Ares trailed off, thinking about the things Faral had told him about currency. He probably should have practiced in Graystown, but everyone there wanted to give him things for free.

The guard eyed him up and down and then shrugged. The boy didn’t look dangerous, even if he was a liar. No one killed a ?frost wolf?, especially not some boy that barely came up to his chest. “Sure boy, go on in but don’t be making no trouble.” The guard turned and started to walk back into the town.

Ares wondered if word from Graystown had already gotten this far, that they would warn him not to make trouble? Whoever brought news must have traveled fast indeed. Ares followed the guard in and as he passed took the bag of ?frost wolf? Meat from his shoulder and handed it to the guard. It still had plenty for a few more meals. “Here, you can have this, I’m getting sick of it. I want to eat city food!”

Ares continued on into the town leaving the guard staring after him dumbfounded, clutching a bag of meat that was worth more than he would make in his lifetime.

part 5

The only tavern in Graystown had no name, just a faded sign with a picture of a mug of ale. Although it was not even dusk yet shouting and laughter spilled out of its main room, over filled with the somewhat hysteric joy of townspeople that not even an hour before had been certain of their impending death. Although they had not really achieved much, those that had ventured out of the gates to fight the bandits were being treated as heroes and some already lay passed out across the tables after one too many victory drinks.

At the center of the room Ares sat a table with the townspeople crowded around him, but not sitting with him. Although he had saved their town and they were grateful, most were also too afraid to go near him or thought him far above simple people like themselves. The table itself was covered in dishes that had been devoured to the last crumb and although he did not eat ravenously, Ares ate at a steady pace without stopping and was already on his 5^th order.

Only Jordan, the mayor slash blacksmith and the old trader Faral sat at the table with Ares and even they were rather hesitant about being there. For Jordan, this young knight that he had originally tried to protect from the bandits turned out to be more powerful than he could have imagined. Simple folk like him were not meant to associate with such great men. However, he also felt it would be rude to leave Ares alone at the table where he was absorbed in eating all the food in Graystown, so he sat and fended off some of the more direct townsfolk.

Faral watched Ares bemusedly and was still trying to come to terms with the entire situation. He had actually known Ares for near his entire life since he had been travelling down to the village by where they lived for near 30 years. He knew Taras was a soldier from far north, anyone could tell just from his accent, and that he had been training Ares. He had had no idea how powerful of a warrior either had been though and had never actually seen them fight. He had been terrified when Ares took off on his own, not wanting to have to tell Taras he had let his grandson get himself killed and when he had seen the monster Ares went to fight he had been near to having a heart attack.

A young wild blood barmaid came over to Ares as he finished off his 6^th order. For a wild blood she was rare, looking completely human except for long rabbit ears that stuck up from her hair. She was rather timid and had looked terrified to approach Ares at first but after serving him a ridiculous amount of food and drink her expression had changed to annoyed, rather than afraid.

“Sir knight…will you be wanting another plate?” She asked exasperatedly.

“Hmm?” Ares responded languidly and raised his arms, stretching. He turned to look at the girl and grinned, satisfied with his meal. “Oh, no thank you, that was plenty, and delicious.” The girl blushed brightly as he smiled up at her, even her ears going pink.

 “A..as y..you wish, my lord!” She stammered hurriedly and fled as Ares watched bemused for a moment, then turned to Jordan, putting the strange behavior of the girl out of his mind. He had found the behavior of most people in Graystown to be quite strange.

“Thanks for the meal Mr. Mayor.” He said and looked around at the suddenly quite room. The towns people had grown quite boisterous while Ares ate, but at his sudden words all conversation in the room halted.

“It was the least we could do Sir Knight” Jordan said nervously. “Um, is there anything else we can do for you?” Jordan looked out over the crowd desperately, hoping someone would throw out an idea. While he was grateful to the boy for defeating the bandits, he was feeling rather on edge with so powerful a warrior in their town. It was not comforting knowing someone could destroy your town and everything in it and there was nothing you could do to stop it, even if that person did not seem likely to do so.

“A map” Ares said into the silence.

“Excuse me?”

“I need a map” Ares explained patiently. “I am travelling to Ranthanon I think and I don’t know anything about how to get there except, ‘go north’. So if you have a map it would be very helpful.”

Jordan blinked in confusion and then asked. “Why…why are you going to Ranthanon?”

“To duel of course! All the best knights can be found in Ranthanon ” Ares spoke confidently. All the stories grandfather had told him said the best knights went to Ranthanon eventually because that was where the High Church of Dion was and since the knights served Dion, they must go there. Ares was not certain but the logic seemed sound enough to him.

“Ah…I…I see” Jordan wasn’t even sure where Ranthanon was, besides north, either. He knew it was where the high priest of Dion lived, but that was about it. The church of dion did not have much influence this far south and even though they claimed all humans were the subject of Dion, most people did not think too much about the Dionites this far south, there were other, more influential religions to be concerned with. “I will see what I can do. I doubt we have a map that shows all the way to Ranthanon, but knowing the roads and kingdoms to the north should help you out.”

The rest of his stay in Graystown was uneventful. Ares finally asked Faral why the townspeople acted so strange around him, calling him my lord, averting their eyes and whispering amongst themselves. He was startled and a little hurt when Faral told him that the townspeople were afraid of him. He protested that he would never kill a bunch of townspeople but Faral told him it didn’t really matter and that the people knew that, they were simply afraid of power. Ares was not really the type to dwell on things and decided not to worry about it if he could not change their minds. Still he thought, he might try to be less conspicuous in the next town he visited since having everyone afraid of him was pretty annoying.

When Jordan returned some time later with a map the revelers in the tavern had mostly dispersed. Ares had passed the time asking Faral questions about towns and then announced to the old trader that they would be parting here. Ares did not want to hurt Farals feelings and was grateful for his help but he thought he might die of old age before getting to Ranthanon at the pace those two old mules set. Faral however, tried hard to hide his relief and assured Ares that he was not upset and thought it was best for young knights to make their own way in the world without old men like him tagging along.

The map Jordan placed on the table was old and worn and almost certainly out of date. At the top of the map was the bottom half of a large body of water with several countries outlined in black in below it, stretching to the bottom of the map. Thin lines crisscrossed the map indicating trade routes and rivers.
“Where’s Graystown?” Ares asked, scanning the names of the towns written on the map and unable to find it.

Jordan placed his finger on the table a few inches below the map, “somewhere around here.” He said somewhat sheepishly, as if embarrassed his town was not even on the map.

“So then where is Ranthanon?”

Jordan looked embarrassed again, “Well, Ranthanon is somewhere north of that lake. I’m not really sure what it’s called and I don’t know anyone who has travelled that far. You should go to Palidor first I think. That is the biggest city I know of within a few weeks travel. They should have better maps there.”

Ares found Palidor on the map. “Okay, that makes sense. Thank you Mr. Mayor!” Ares said enthusiastically and then jumped up. “Well, I’ll be off then!” He grinned excitedly and turned to go.

“what!?” “Wait!” Faral and Jordan cried simultaneously. Jordan continued hurriedly, talking over the older man. “You’re leaving already? I can get you travel supplies, or a horse, or…”

“Nah, I’ll hunt on the way and I don’t even know how to ride a horse.” Ares answered negligently and headed out the door, leaving the two men stunned at his abrupt departure. He did not hurry as he walked, but nor was he slow, walking directly to the north gate. No one had started to repair the gate yet though much of the wood had been dragged away. Ares passed through the gate without fanfare, the few people around not daring to interrupt him. In silence Ares left Graystown and began his journey north to Palidor. He did not turn to see the many townspeople climbing to the tops of the walls to watch the strange boy who had saved them, leave.

When Ares got to Maraks corpse he picked up the club that was over a foot taller than him. It took two hands not some much from weight but from bulk. He walked to the edge of the road and leapt into the air and slammed the club handle down into the earth, the handle sank into the hard earthabout a foot, so it stood straight up at the edge of the road. The metal bands that wrapped around the head of the club where rusted and blood encrusted but still reflected the sun enough so that anyone could tell that it was a weapon. Maybe that will discourage other bandits from coming here Ares thought and then continued his walk north.

part 4

Jordan Berlson stood atop the walls of Graystown and watched the so call knight confront the Maneater Marak, his thick arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown on his face. While Ares did look rather striking with his long blood red coat and duel swords on his back, there was no escaping the fact that he looked like a toddler confronting an adult as he faced Marak. A grating noise caught Jordans attention and he saw the gates being opened, the more militant of the townspeople had apparently been shamed by the boys actions and decided to help him fight, not matter how outmatched they were.

The people that swarmed out of the gates were not simple peasants or farmers. This far south where there was no army or patrols to fend off bandits and monsters the simple people learned that survival depended on their ability to fight. The majority of them were hunters and trappers who grew up hunting the deep forests or were ex man at arms that turned to a simpler life. He was not surprised that most of the Wild bloods of the town were the first to leave the gate.

Wild bloods were what they called people that were born with animalistic traits. The majority were canine or feline featured (although bear was fairly common too), often having animal ears or tails, claws and animal like eyes. They were not fully animals by any means and did not have fur or misshapen limbs. The blood did however often grant them with superior senses, strength or speed. Nothing compared to a Maneater of course, but enough to give them an edge against a normal human. It was said a pure Wild blood looked like a human shaped animal, with thick fur, reversed knees and muzzles.

The Wild blood in Graystown had diluted over generations though and most could pass as a pure human with a hat and gloves. There were others in town with blood lines just as diluted. Really it was hard to find anyone without some famous bloodline in their ancestry but after 2 or 3 generations the blood was so diluted the clans did not consider you one of them. Those of the Ogre bloodline were often supremely strong, even the thinnest of young girls of the Ogres could out arm wrestle Jordan. He was fairly certain the hunter Parl had some Ogre in him.

There was also the Hawk clan blood, whose keen eyes and unerring aim marked many a hunter. Moonspider blood could be found in many a thief and trickster, although they rarely turned to outright banditry. Those with Raksha blood almost always turned to mercenary work or banditry, their red eyes, bloodlust and fiery temper making them useless for much else. Jordan was sure some that each of those great bloodlines, diluted through generations, was present in the townspeople below.

Jordan ceased his musings as suddenly Marak took up his great club, made from an entire tree trunk and belted in iron bands, it must have been 6 feet long and yet Marak lifted it effortlessly. Jordan could not hear any of the words spoken but suddenly the bandits started running, swarming past Ares to attack the townspeople that had come out to meet them. Jordan watched Ares and Marak face off with each other, neither moving as the bandits flowed past. He desperately wanted to believe in Ares, but reality looked quite bleak.

Jordan didn’t think he had blinked but suddenly there was sound like two boulders crashing together as Marak’s massive club smashed into the ground. The force of the blow was such that it sent some of the closest bandits tumbling off their feet. It looked for a moment like Ares had been smashed flat but Jordan spied in in the air to Maraks side. He had jumped 8ft into the air in an instant when Marak had attacked. Ares spun in the air and lashed out with the Black blade, the edged arcing directly for Maraks throat.
Jordan could barely follow the movements of the two fighters and knew now that Ares was what he had claimed to be. He wasn’t sure he could be Marak, but he was certainly no ordinary boy. The Black blade sheared through Maraks gauntlet as he brought his hand up to block. Ares pushed off with his foot as Maraks massive hand lashed out after blocking and landed a dozen feet away.

Ares seemed to be on the defensive, at a disadvantage due to the huge difference in reach. Marak sweeped his club across the ground so close that it dug a furrow through the road and had his other hand reared back, ready to slap Ares out of the sky when he jumped. The move was not that sophisticated and Ares seemed to see through it as he instead dashed forward, slipping underneath Maraks arm. Suddenly Jordan saw Ares flying backwards dozens of feet and Marks foot stomping back down on the ground. The hand had been a feint and Marak had been aiming to kick Ares as he dodged through.

Jordan worried that the fight was over but saw that Ares was standing where he had landed after the kick, apparently unharmed. The exchange had only taken a few seconds and the bandits and townspeople were just now meeting in battle. Jordan spared a glance down, as that battle was happening only a hundred feet from the gate. Compared to what he had just witnessed their battle looked like children play fighting, though he knew both were a life and death struggle. 

He looked up suddenly, his eyes wide as Marak suddenly brought his club down in a double handed over head blow. Ares was still a hundred feet away but the blow sent a shockwave tearing through the ground towards him. Ares jumped easily aside but the shockwave continued, a series of eruptions tearing up through the earth, sending dirt and stone dozens of feet into the air. The line of destruction traveled all the way to the gates, tossing aside the bandits and townspeople in its path like toys. It hit the gate with a thunderous boom, buckling it inward as if a catapult had struck it and Jordan desperately held onto the wall as it shook violently, threatening to throw him off.

The bandits and townspeople that had been fighting near the gates had stopped fighting and turned to watch the fight between Ares and Marak. They all realized their fight didn’t matter now as either Ares or Marak could wipe out the entire town, or the bandit group, on their own. The two of them moved in a blur, Ares’ blade gouging chunks out of Marak’s armor and leaving bright red gashes red the blade bit into him. Jordan thought Ares was pressing Marak, the giant seemed to be covered in blood from the gashes across his arms, legs and stomach, then suddenly Maraks giant club swung and there was a loud boom as the gate buckled and collapsed, leaving Ares kneeling and panting amidst the wreckage.

The bandits cheer however was short lived as Ares walked out of the gate in a trail of splintered wood, shoving aside planks of wood bigger than him without notice. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his face. The scowl on his face and blazing eyes sent bandit and townspeople scurrying out of his way as he walk unhurriedly back to Marak. Jordan wondered if the town would even be standing at the end of the fight.

His worry was unneeded and the end of the fight was what some would call, anticlimactic. What had looked like it would be a drawn out battle between two titans of equal skill and strength instead ended in the blink of an eye. When Ares was within a 100 feet of Marak, he suddenly dashed forward, his speed again to fast for Jordan’s eyes to follow. Marak’s club smashed into the ground, tossing those outside the gate off their feet once more with its great impact. Jordan looked desperately for Ares and finally spotted him behind Marak, sheathing his blade and turning around. Ares had crossed some 200 feet in the blink of an eye. Jordan’s amazement at Ares speed was forgotten as he watched in confusion and awe as the top half of Marak’s torso slid off the bottom, blood fountaining from both halves as his bisected body toppled to the ground.

There was stunned silence, everyone trying to process what had just happened. To the watchers, in the blink of an eye the battle was over. The entire fight had only taken minutes. Then suddenly the townspeople were cheering outside, and those inside began to climb the walls and cheer as Ares began a slow walk back to the gate. Most of the bandits gaped in stunned silence, though a few ran for it. Jordan paid little heed to the bandits, still trying to come to grips with what had happened. In less than a day his town went from safe, to doomed and now safe again.

As Ares got closer Jordan looked closer at him and then rushed down the wall and out the shattered gate to see him. Most of the townspeople were backing away from him in awe. It was one thing to cheer their savior, quite another to get close to a boy who had just single handedly killed a Maneater, one of the most feared creatures in the land, and seemingly without much effort.

Jordan had noticed what the townspeople had not though. It had not been without effort. It looked to him like Ares was holding himself up by will alone. He walked as if trying not to limp, he was covered in blood although most of that was not his own. Still his lip was busted open and scraps and bruises covered his face. Jordan could not even imagine how someone could survive the blow from Marak’s club that had sent Ares crashing through the gate. Even if he had been in full armor his body should have been crushed. 

Jordan reached Ares and realized he wasn’t sure what to say. His injuries didn’t look like anything serious really, nothing anyone wouldn’t have after a fist fight and it suddenly seemed like the likes of him, a country smith and ad hoc mayor of a town barely bigger than a village had no right to be speaking to this boy. No, this knight as he had claimed.

He gulped finally and steeled himself. “ Sir Ares! You have saved Graystown from Marak and we are eternally grateful. Is there anything we can do for you? We don’t have much but I will try to find a suitable reward…” He trailed off as Ares looked up at him and spoke, and Jordan felt justified in his concern at hearing the exhaustion in Ares’ voice.

“Food”

part 3.5

They waited in silence for about an hour before the bandit group was fully visible. About 30 ragged men in mismatched armor marched gracelessely down the road, with not attempt at organization. In the back of the group was Marak. He stood around 8ft tall and was hugely muscled. He looked like one of the giant clan from a distance, but upon closer inspection Ares could misshapen tusks jutting up from his mouth, a distended belly and foul looking sores all over his body. His hair was matted and tangled and one bloodshot eye was bigger than the other. He was unarmored except for thick metal gauntlets and shin guards and he did not carry a weapon. However, a group of a dozen bandits trailing behind him dragged along what looked like the trunk tree that had been fashioned into a club.

“That is a Fallen!” Ares hissed in revulsion and almost spat in anger, clenching his fists at his side. He had faced Fallen before, although the ones he had seen were wild and savage, living like animals in the far southern tundra and mountains. Baruvius and Galudur were with him those times and they never passed up a chance to kill one of the Fallen, saying that the existence of the Fallen were the greatest dishonor of their clan.

“Is that what you call them down south,” The blacksmith said. “ They’re called Maneaters around these parts and farther north, and they’re one of the most feared monster anyone could meet on the road.”

“They’re not a monster.” Ares’ eyes remained fixed on Marak. By this time a crowd of towns people had gathered up on the wall, waiting and watching as the fearsome bandit group made their way slowly down the road. “They’re the dishonored of the giant clans, once great warriors that were corrupted and turned away from their duty and honor.” His words were soft but hard as he remembered the anger that burned in Baruvius’s eyes when he had told Ares about the Fallen, the first time they had encountered one deep in the mountains.

The silence grew long and tense as they waited and finally Ares could wait no longer. When the bandits were still a few hundred yards from the gate he leapt off the wall, clearing over a hundred feet before he landed outside the town and began to walk to meet the bandits.

The distance between the two closed quickly and when only a 100 feet separated the two Ares stopped and called out loudly, “ I am Ares, clan son of Baruvius and Galudur of Clan Ultu! What was your clan Marak, the Fallen?” Ares stood proudly before the giant, his gaze firm and fierce as he looked up at the creature that towered over him at almost twice his height. 

The giants chuckle sounded like grinding rocks and the choking gurgle of a dying man’s last breath. “The Ultu must have fallen far indeed if they would accept a human runt into their clan,” Marak sneered down at Ares, his tusks and misshapen face make his words near unitelligeble. “I’ll wipe this stain from their…heh…honor.” His deep slurred voice sounded much like a landslide but the mocking in his voice was clear enough. Ares’ hand grasped the hilt of the black blade as Marak reached down and grasped the enormous club in one meaty fist, lifting it without apparent effort to his shoulder.

part 3

Ares had to admit that Graystown was more impressive than he had expected. Apparently, even with hundreds (thousands?) of people in a town they were still afraid of wild animals, since the entire town was surrounded by a wall of wood and stone 15ft high. Since they were coming down from the mountains, Ares could see down into the town long before they were near and was amazed at how crowded everything looked. Buildings and the tiny specks of people were crammed into the roughly circular town and smoke streamed from hundreds of chimneys. 

The road they were on wined down the mountain towards the south gate of the town and there looked to be another gate on the north side. A river ran by the town a few hundred feet to the west and there were various buildings running alongside it. To the east it looked as if some brave souls were trying their hand at farming the rocky soil in valley between the town and the mountain forest.

Ares wanted to get out and run to the gate, or run over and look at the buildings along the river, but he forced himself to sit still, not wanting to cause Faral any embarrasment by acting like a country bumpkin. He had no idea everyone in the town was a country bumpkin but he remember his grandfather’s warning about bringing them dishonor and thought embarrassing Faral might do that.

The finally got to within hailing distance of the gates about an hour after noon. Instead of stopping for lunch Faral had pushed on, wanting a real meal in a tavern he said. However Ares sensed Faral was apprehensive as they continued closer to the gate and no guard called to them nor did the gates start to open. There seemed to be a lot of noise coming from inside the town. Ares expected it to be noisy but this seemed more like yelling, or maybe fighting than the sounds of industry.

“What’s going on? Ares asked as the wagon slowed to a stop outside the gates.

“I’m not sure lad. Maybe there’s a town meeting, or some criminals on trial.” Faral look around nervously and Ares thought he should have been more accustomed to things like this since he traveled all over.

“I’ll go check it out!” Ares announced, excited to finally be able to move about at more than the mules pace of the wagon. Before Faral could stop him Ares sprang to his feet then leapt up, easily jumping the 15 feet to catch the top of the wall and then flipped himself over onto the walkway that ran around the town. He dashed along the wall, his blood red coat flapping behind him (he had refused to remove the entire trip) circling the town until he found where the commotion was. 

There was a large gathering in an open space that was roughly the middle of the town. The town square Ares guessed. It looked as if all the towns people were facing off against a small group. There didn’t seem to be any fighting, but as Ares approached closer he could tell the townspeople were angry and frightened. Ares grinned fiercely and then dashed right for the group, leaping easily from the wall to roof top, the sloped roofs and slick shingles nowhere near as difficult to navigate as the mountains he had trained on.

The people are angry and afraid, he thought as he quickly approached. As a knight, it’s my duty to protect them! Although this was not technically true, since he was pretty sure the towns and people this far south did not even know of the Crimson Knights existence, since they were from the Dionic Empire, far to the north. Ares did not let little details bother him. Knights protect all innocent humans, regardless of their faith or country.
Ares made one last leap and landed in the clearing between the townspeople and the small group. He landed in a crouching position his coat flapping around him and finally settling as he stood, the clearing had become completely silent as he appeared and he looked around. The towns people didn’t look much different than the villagers he had known growing up, although they seemed to have cleaner clothes and less beards. The smaller group looked somewhat like Baruvius and Galudur, although much shorter of course. The five of them wore furs and mismatched leather and chain armor. They had an assortment of swords and knives strapped to them. Their bears and hair were unkempt and tangled. Ares also noticed, they stank.

Ares took this all in in a second. He spun to the townspeople and spoke proudly, holding his head high. “People of Graystown! I am a Crimson Knight (in training). Are these guys bothering you?” He pointed his thumb back behind him with the last line. The silence remained for a few moments longer, then the crowd began again, even louder, asking what a kid was doing there, telling him to get lost, or get to safety, depending on their demeanor.

The 5 men behind him had a different response and approached him. He could sense the hostility from them and turned nonchalantly to face them, a bit bemused by the chaotic response he had gotten from the townspeople. You would think they would be happy a knight had come to defend them.

One of the men, who seemed to be dirtier and smellier than the others, and so probably the leader Ares thought, growled a curse and went to shove Ares aside. He easily swayed out of the way and then stepped out of the way as the man charged at him. His dodge sent the unkempt man barreling into the largest human Ares had ever seen. Although he was nothing compared to his giant friends, the man who had stepped out of the crowd was over 6ft tall and with a barrel chest and enormously muscled arms. Judging by the thick leather apron he wore and hammer at his belt, Ares thought he was the town blacksmith.

Ares would be attacker stumbled backward as he bounced off the giant man and looked up at him. His voice trembled a little as he cursed the man, looking up at him. “Don’t get in our way blacksmith!”
I was right! Ares thought, this town stuff is easy. Unfortunately Ares missed part of the conversation while he was congratulating himself.

“…and you don’t want that, do you?” The man no longer looked even slightly intimidated by the blacksmith as he threatened him. In fact it was the blacksmith that back away a little, looking at Ares with a frown.
“Hey, I wasn’t listening” Ares announced unashamedly. “What’s going on? Are these guys causing problems or not?”

He heard a shout from the crowd that he was the one causing problems but decided to ignore it and waited for one of the two men facing each other to reply.

It was the unkempt man or spoke first, “Whose brat is this anyway? Don’t you people know how to keep your kids in line? At this rate I might just go tell the boss we should destroy you all afterall!”

There was more shouting from the crowd, really it was giving Ares a headache. “So, are you guys bandits? Who’s your boss?” Suddenly the blacksmith placed his hand on Ares shoulder and then looked at him startled, Ares did not even notice the big man’s attempt to push him back into the crowd.

“Yes, we’re bandits!” The other man shouted, his temper giving out as Ares stood before him unafraid. “I’m killing this brat!” He shouted into the crowd. “Anyone try to stop me and your town is next!” He grinned savagely, showing off a mouthful of blackened teeth as he drew a rusty sword from his back. The blacksmith tried to step between the Bandit and Ares as the sword started to descend but Ares stepped forward first and slapped the sword out of the bandits hand, sending it spinning into the dirt where it snapped in to. The Bandit stared at his hand, where two of his fingers where bent back at a grotesque angle. He screamed in pain and rage and the other 4 bandits drew their weapons.

The townspeople barely had a chance to grasp what was happening before the 4 bandits lay lifeless on the ground, their blood soaking into the town square. The had barely advanced a step before Ares drew his sword, (his old sword, he wouldn’t use the black blade on simple bandits) and cut them down, one slash for each bandit quicker than the eyes of the blacksmith or bandit leader could follow. Ares flicked his sword clean then sheathed it, looking at the bandit leader. 

“Are we fighting or not?” The bandit leader cursed him and then turned and ran. Ares watched bemusedly as the man ran off unsteadily, not sure what to do when an enemy runs. In all the stories his grandfather told him no one ever fled battle. Well he supposed bandits weren’t knights so he shouldn’t be surprised by what they did. He decided to ignore the man and turn to the townspeople.

“The bandits are defeated.” 

The big blacksmith raised his hand and shouted for the newly excited crowd to quite. Ares wasn’t sure why they were so upset with him, yelling that he had killed them all or something. It didn’t make any sense.

“Do you know what you’ve done boy” The blacksmith asked, his voice surprisingly soft considering his size.

“It’s a knights duty to defeat bandits, so I did.” Ares said loftily.

“We could have beaten those five ourselves. It’s their boss that’s the problem. Now that we’ve stood up to them, he’ll come and tear the city apart.” The blacksmith shook his head sadly. “I know you were trying to do the right thing kid but you’ve just made things worse.”

“Oh. Well I’ll just defeat their Boss too then. When’s he coming?” Ares didn’t really see the problem and he wasn’t the type to leave things half-finished anyway. “I’ll defeat the rest of the bandits too. It’s my duty after all.” 

“You don’t understand boy. You defeated those guys easily so you might be what you say, but the bandit boss, Marak, is a monster. He’s a Maneater.” The blacksmith spoke the last with obvious fear in his voice and the rest of the crowd started muttering again.

Ares had no idea what a Maneater was, it didn’t really matter though. “I will defeat this Marak” Ares declared, no hesitation in his voice. “Now can someone let Faral in, the back gate is closed.”

The next morning, Ares stood atop the north gate, his blood red coat flapping in the wind like a banner as he waited for the bandits come. He was still rather bemused about last night. Once Faral had come in the townspeople had turned on him, blaming him for bringing Ares who had caused such trouble, to the town. It had been quite difficult to find a meal and an inn, and Faral despaired of selling his goods. However, he had a good reputation with the townspeople since he had been traveling through there for decades and eventually he and the blacksmith had talked to the mob down. What had seemed about to turn into a riot was turned into a discussion about defense and eventually the townspeople started to hurry about, sharpening weapons, hiding valuables and praying. Ares tried to tell them it was unnecessary, they would not have to fight as long as he, a knight, was present but they refused to listen.

It was however, incredibly boring waiting for the bandits to show up. Maybe bandits liked to sleep in? It was normal to have duels at dawn or noon, and it was close to noon already. Bandits were Ares decided, quite rude. He did not turn as the blacksmith, whom he learned was also the mayor, came up to the wall to stand beside him.

“Are you really a knight?” The blacksmith asked, his calm soft voice somehow still loud enough to hear over the strong winds blowing down from the mountains. 

“Well” Ares faltered. “I’m a squire really. But grandfather said as soon as I lose a duel I will be a full knight, so it’s just a matter of time.” Ares finished quickly, not sure if had lied or been dishonorable. He would have to be more careful in the future, but grandfather had called him a knight. 

The blacksmith had a strange look on his face and was about to reply when Ares let out a shout of excitement, point off into the distance. “Here they come! A bunch of them! I can’t wait to see this Marak.”
The blacksmith peered up the road and could barely see the bandits far up the road. He would not have noticed them without it being pointed out to him.

part 2

It had been around noon when the two of them had set out and was hours passed dusk when they finally arrived at the small village in the valley below his old cottage in the mountains. Days were short this far south and they had only been traveling for about 6 hours. Dusk however last for hours and much of their traveling had been in a twilight glow, their path light by the swirling rainbow of colors that lit up the sky before the moon finally made its appearance.

Although the villagers were used to short days and had to do much of their work during the soft light of dusk, there was little light in the village that wasn’t coming from the glow of hearths. Open flame outside was harshly punished since the entire village, including the 10 foot walls surrounding it, were made of wood.

The wagon trundled up slowly to the gate and a Villager that stood atop the wall called down to them. “Is that you Faral? We were afraid you wouldn’t make it down before full nightfall.” Faral waived and called back a greeting. The wagon still moving at its slow, plodding pace approached the gate, which began swinging outward. Ares thought the villagers a bit paranoid, as the gate began to close before they had even gotten all the way through, clanging shut just a few feet behind the wagon. It wasn’t like a bear was going to charge through right after them, was it?

Although he had not spend a lot of time in the village, Ares was not a complete stranger and little had changed since his visit last fall.

“We’ll have dinner at Marls and can sleep in his hayloft, then we’ll be setting off to Graystown first thing in the morning. If the weather holds we’ll be there in a little over a week.” 

“A week?” Ares asked, startled at how long it would take. “Is that the nearest village?”

“Nae boy!” Faral cackled, enjoying being able to cure Ares of his Ignorence. “ It’s a proper town it is, not a little village like this! More people in Graystown than a country lad like you can imagine, living your entire life up in that shack in the mountains with your granpa.” He shook his head ruefully at Ares’ misfortune, although Ares did not find his upbringing misfortunate.

Ares knew the village had about a hundred people living here at any one time, although it swelled to almost 200 during the winter when all the trappers and hunters came to escape the winter snows. 100 seemed like plenty, Ares didn’t even know the names of everyone since he and grandpa had never stayed the winter, only coming down to the village a few times a year to trade, and that was mostly as a go between for Baruvius and Galadur, who were afraid the villagers would think they were monsters if they showed up to trade themselves.

Faral continued to regal Ares with how amazed he would be at the sites of a proper town like Graystown. Ares only half listened to the old man. He had been told about the great cities of the north where his grandfather had grown up, like Ranthanon, the holy city of Dion, that had spires that reached up almost to the clouds, or Verador, that spread out across the vast valley it was in and took hours to walk from the gates to the palace. There was also of course, the Crimson stronghold. It was not a great city but grandfather said it housed thousands of servants and craftsmen in addition to the knights. Its blood red walls towered into the sky as high one of the great trees of the forest,

It did not take long to get to Marls. Ares took care of Farals mules while he went in out of the cold night to negotiate dinner and a place to sleep. Even though winter was weeks over, snow was not uncommon even in summer nights and Ares had long since grown accustomed to the frigid weather of his home. He only donned proper winter clothes in the dead of winter when snow drifts could tower twice as tall as him and trees were known to burst from being frozen inside.

Faral chatted with Marl about the village, the weather and other things Ares found rather boring. Although he had lived nearby his entire life, the life of a villager was rather alien to him. He had grown up learning swordsmanship, hunting and survival. His cottage did not have walls around it like this forest did. Since he was 8 summers old, if a bear or wolves came it was Ares’ job to defend their cottage, and then they ate well for weeks, after a few years though the creatures of the forest had learned to never venture near.

In the morning they did not linger. Faral had already done all his trading before picking up Ares and was eager to get on his way. His wagon was not full by any means, he brought a lot to the village they could not make themselves and left with animal pelts that would be worth a lot to the townspeople who would not believe that animals could grow to the size they did in far wilderness.

They did not even stop to eat breakfast, leaving in the twilight of predawn and eating as they road. Although eager to see this Graystown Faral talked so grandly about, Ares curbed his enthusiasm. For the first few hours Ares sat and listened to Faral talk about his travels but soon restlessness built up in him and he hoped off the wagon. Faral protested at first but Ares could walk far faster than the mules and had spent years hunting in the mountains, where he walked and even ran through the dangerous mountain terrain, keeping up with his giant mentors for hours and sometimes even days if their quarry was particularly stubborn. 

For the rest of the journey Ares would ride for a few hours in the morning, listening to Faral. He remembered Faral was supposed to teach him about towns and cities and had many questions to ask. Faral taught him how money worked, a concept new to Ares since he had always just bartered for goods. He learned about inns and taverns where you could purchase food, drink and even a place to sleep, as well as stores where you could buy all sorts of things, clothes, shoes or even weapons. Ares had traded furs and wild herbs for his current clothes and boots so the idea of purchasing goods was not alien to him, but thinking of all of those things in a single store where you could just walk in and buy it was definitely odd.

After his lessons in the morning, Ares would run out into the surrounding forest to hunt. At first Faral was worried about him getting attacked or lost, until Ares brought back a great hunting cat that was easily as big as Ares himself and tossed it up the wagon. Faral asked about how it was killed since there was not a mark on it and Ares explained that if you strike one just right at the base of the skull, you can kill it easily without a sword. Faral gaped at him for a bit and then decided to let it go. The boy had grown up in the mountains after all, he obviously could take care of himself. 

They ate cat for meals until finally reaching Graystown.

part 1

Even though it was spring already and the sun shown brightly in the sky, a chill wind blew down from the mountains in the south and patches of snow still lingered on the ground. Ares stretched languidly as he walked back from doing his morning chores to the small cottage he shared with his grandfather, nestled beneath one of the giant trees that grew in the area. It was at least 20 feet up before the first branch appeared and it would take 5 of him to circle his arms around the trunk. 

Ares stiffened and whirled as his grandfather who had set unnoticed in the shadows barked, “Stalking the Blight, third form!” Ares immediately drew his sword from across his back in fell into form, flowing easily through the moves that had been drilled into him since childhood.

He was used to this. His grandfather often ran him through various forms at odd times during the day without notice and each one came to Ares effortlessly now. Today was different though. Usually he only did one or two forms and then went back to whatever he was doing. However this time his grandfather named every form Ares knew, one after another.

Almost an hour had passed when Ares finally sheathed his sword and turned to look at his grandfather. The Oldman was still robust, with biceps bigger than Ares’ thighs. He sat in special chair that had been made for him that had double footed crutches attached to it. He had lost both his legs in the dragon wars and now ‘walked’ using his powerful arms to propel his chair.

His grandfather nodded in approval as Ares approached him and spoke, his voice rough with age “Boy…You’ve learned everything I have to teach. Now it’s time you earn the right to be a Knight of the Red Order. In the old days we had tests, tournaments and quests to determine your worthiness but they days are over.” Ares could see the sadness and pain wash over his grandfathers face. The entire order of the Crimson Knights had been wiped out in the final battle of the dragon wars, the same battle that cost his grandfather his legs. They had defeated the leader and routed the enemy but at a terrible cost. Ares only knew of them through stories but he had been hearing them for so long it almost felt as if he had lived through it.

His grandfather continued. “ You must now journey into the world to prove you have the right to be a knight.” He paused for a moment. ”Do not return until have lost in a Duel.”

Ares blinked. “Um grandfather….don’t you mean won a duel?”

“Of course not boy! You think I’m senile already? If you just had to win a duel you’d be back in a week! The point is to adventure. To prove yourself. It wouldn’t hurt if you slew any blighted creatures you came across either. I wonder how the Kingdoms of Dion have fared these past 15 years without any Daemon hunters to rely on?” His last words were softer as he slipped into musing. Maybe he was going senile after all.

Ares was not entirely surprised at this turn of events since his grandfather often sent him off into the mountains or making him journey with giant tribes, without warning. He had however always traveled south into the deeper wilderness, never north into civilization. There was a small village a few hours walk from here that consisted of every other human besides his grandfather that Ares had ever met.

“When do I leave?” Ares asked, thinking quickly about everything he would need for the journey. It seemed like it would take weeks, maybe months for him to get to the Kingdoms of Dion and find someone worth dueling. He imagined that Ranthanon must be teeming with knights, but would they want to duel with an apprentice of a knighthood that had been destroyed?

“Whenever old Faral shows up. I asked him to take you to the nearest town and get you a map. Can’t have you wandering around clueless. He’ll also teach about how things in a town work. It’s been 15 years since I’ve been to town, not even sure I remember.” 

When old Faral shows up? It’s true the old trader usually shows up for the first time in the spring, but that could be tomorrow or in a month. There was no way of knowing. 

“He’ll be back in a few hours” His grandfather interrupted his musings. “He was here earlier when you were out. He went to visit that old Hermit Ivas. Anyway, go look in your room boy.

Ares’ “room” was actually just the top bunk of the two beds in the corner of their small cottage. One the bed was a rolled up blanket. When he unrolled the blanket his eyes widened in surprise and small gasp of excitement escaped his lips. First pulled up a bundle of red glossy leather and shook it out, holding it up to admire. The standard garb of the Crimson knights was the blood red long coat he now held in his hands. He wondered how his grandfather had kept it hidden from him all this time.

The next item, even more important than the coat, was a sword in a sheath of the same color. The sword was 3 feet long and had a hilt and handle of ebony black, wrapped in red leather.He inched the blade out of the sheath a little and saw that it too was the same black, as if the entire sword had been made from a single piece of obsidian.

It was just two items but their worth was immeasurable, the two things that marked a true Crimson knight of the highest order. He clutched both in his arms and walked slowly back out to his grandfather, his heart hammering in pride and confusion.

“But..but grandfather,” He stammered. “ These are for a …a full knight, I’m just a squire..”

His grandfather waved his hand dismissively. “Besides me boy, you are the only Crimson Knight left and I’m not going anywhere.” He motioned for Ares to come to him and took the sword from him.

“Put it on.” He commanded. “ You are a knight now…first Order, but a knight all the same.”

Ares slowly pulled the blood red coat on. It was slightly too big for him, hanging down to his ankles and the sleeves covering his hands. He noticed that unlike he first thought, it was not made of leather put a slick, almost metallic feeling material.

“Eh” His grandfather grunted, looking him up and down. “You’ll grow into it. For now roll those sleeves up. Don’t want you looking like you stole you fathers clothes.” Afterwards, his grandfather handed the sword back to him and waited for him to fasten it across his back.

“That is the Black Blade” He started gruffly, some emotion Ares couldn’t discern creeping into his voice. “It is the blade of the 5^th Order of Crimson Knights. It was made to kill daemons, the tainted creatures of chaos…if you ever see the ruins on the blade glowing you will know you are in the presence of a daemon or someone so blighted from chaos that it makes no difference.” Ares watched his grandfather clench his fists, old anger at the destruction of the crimson knights getting the best of him.

His grandfather slowly let out a breath and calmed himself, then suddenly tossed Ares a sword. “Come boy, you have until Faral gets back to prove yourself. Try to get at least one hit in today!” His grandfather lifted his own blade and pointed it at Ares. Ares sighed and gripped his sword, getting ready to attack. Maybe his new coat and title of knight would allow him to finally score a point against his grandfather. 

When the old trader Faral finally arrived a few hours later, Ares stood panting and dripping sweat, his sword held loosely as he glared at his grandfather. His grandfather still sat in the same place, not even a drop of sweat on him. The ground around them had been swept clean of snow, leaves and other loose debris by the air pressure from their attacks, so when Faral arrived it looked as if they had been dueling in a barren circle surrounded by snow banks

Faral trumped up slowly in his wagon, pulled by 2 mules that looked as old as him. “By the gods, I could hear you two from an hour back! I was worried the old giants of legend were fighting up here…” He barked a laugh at his own comment as he called out to them, his wagon clamoring to a stop near his grandfather, the mules plowing easily through the snow banks.

“Ho Taras! Ares! Fine weather for traveling today.” Faral called out again as he stopped next to them. Then he grinned widely at Ares. “You ready for an adventure Lad?” Ares thought he was probably more excited than he was.

His grandfather asked about the old hermit and the nearby village and Ares let his mind wandered as the two old men chatted. He knew he should be more excited about the prospect of going out to see the world but it had all come so suddenly he had barely had time to think about it. Although his grandfather had said nothing about it, Ares was sure he was expected to rebuild the entire Crimson Order, find the villains who had set them all up, avenge his parents and apparently, lose in a duel.

Soon enough his grandfather’s gravely voice broke him out of his reveries, telling him to go and pack his things. “You’re wasting daylight boy. You want Faral to have to sleep in his wagon when there’s a good bed he could be sleeping in down in the village?” Ares hurried back inside to collect his meager belongings. His new blanket that his coat and sword had been wrapped in; His old sword; 3 pairs of clothes; an old journal that his grandfather had made him learn to write and read in…and that was it.

He slung the old sword across his back next to the black blade and then wrapped everything else up in his blanket. It compacted into a rather small bundle that he shoved into a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He walked back out slowly, silently saying goodbye to everything he had ever known.

“This is a quest boy.” His grandfather spoke as he came up next to him and Faral. “You are knight now. Don’t come back until you’ve lost a duel with another knight. If you dishonor us, don’t come back at all.” He growled that last ominously, although Ares was not exactly sure how he would dishonor them. His grandfather had never talked much about honor, or really anything except fighting, daemon hunting and the war.

Ares bowed to his grandfather and then climbed up onto the wagon next to old Faral. “Say goodbye to Baruvius and Galadur for me if you see them. “ He called out to his grandfather after Faral had said his goodbyes and the wagon began to move, turning slowly and setting off back down the only path that led up their cottage. Ares was a bit sad about not getting to see the two giants before leaving. He had spent months with them when younger. Since his grandfather could not move much it had fallen to the two giants to teach Ares about surviving in the mountains and forests, hunting, and of course they had trained him in combat as well.

As the wagon moved slowly down the path Ares leaned back a little and looked up at the trees, daydreaming about what adventures he might have. His excitement was beginning to mount as he actually began his journey. He did not see his grandfather watching them as they passed out of sight and didn’t think to wonder if the old knight would have any difficulties surviving on his own.

“This is really slow…” He muttered, as the wagon carried him off to adventure at the pace of two old mules.