Disclaimer: Guess what that fine print down at the bottom of this page means in simple words. It means that this fic is MINE! Lol! Reviews are very much appreciated, heck, I'll even take a flame or two! (I'm fairly fire retardant) Warnings: This fic is PG for a crazy plot twist, but I got to keep quiet about that up here! Summary: Ok, so I suck at summaries. Here goes nothing. Inhales deeply A traveling hero named Dale comes across a village with a mysterious robber ransacking the king's vault. It's up to Dale to find and capture the thief. Sounds so cliché doesn't it? But don't worry, it's not.
Hero's Song
Dale treaded lightly on the dirt road leading into the village of Quine, his frayed black robes gently sweeping the ground and generating a small cloud of dust with every step. He reached into one of the pouches that hung from his waist and pulled forth a miniature mushroom that was to be his lunch for the day. Dale sighed as he took a nibble from the fungus, thinking quite indignantly that it was not fit for a hero to be eating. If he had raised the price on his last job, then this single mushroom would not be his last morsel of provisions. Granted, if he were of the evil and selfish type, he would have robbed many a village by now for there was not a man in Washadar that was match for Dale's speed and skill; or so he at least liked to fancy. There were the trolls of Undag-but they didn't qualify as human. Sometimes though, Dale wondered if he was of the status of man himself. He had never been beaten in a duel and he was definitely the type of person that a lone wolf might be classified as-a wanderer who felt more at ease alone than with company to haggle him. Deeds had a way of staining his hands, like poisonous berry juice, whether the act was of good nature or otherwise. he would be better off if he relinquished his heroic ways; to release the ties that bind him to his conscience . Dale swore to himself long ago that he would never be caught doing misdeed. With finality, he decided that he would always defend those who needed protection and give to those in need of charity.
"But where is my charity now?" Dale muttered bitterly as he finished his mushroom, and somehow felt emptier than he had been before lunch. He was in desperate need of money, not only to buy food, but he also owed coin to a bartender in the next town over who would surely sic all of the burliest drunkards on Dale if the debt went unpaid.
He passed a sign that hung at a crooked angle on its hinges that read in scrawled letters 'Welcome to Quine'. The sign has clearly been vandalized on a number of occasions for the paint, though thickly coated in an attempt to hide the graffiti, showed faint letters of past times. Dale walked past the sign and into the village market that bustled with activity. He browsed in the many counters that stood in a distinct line on either side of a main street. But Dale was not shopping. He had no money for that. He was merely rummaging through the shops in an effort to appear important. It was by looking important that Dale was often able to wrangle a job or two. There were many interesting and distinguishable pieces of work in the shops, some like none Dale had ever seen before. The traveler was sifting through some of the finest fabrics that Washadar had to offer when he overheard a conversation between two noble men.
"Yes, I've also heard that the king's royal treasures have been raided several times in the last two months," one of the men said.
"It's said that the felon may be a witch. Probably that Old Lady Cragg who lives at the bottom of the hill near the swamp," said another.
"If Cragg really is a witch, then that would explain the slight head cold that ran through the castle personnel last week. But whether the culprit is a witch or not, he must be captured before the king decides to raise taxes again to compensate."
"If only a hero would descend upon this village and release it from this dilemma, I'm sure that he would be paid quite generously."
At this, Dale puffed his chest brazenly and confronted the two noble men. "I will be the hero you ask for. Now please, sirs, direct me to the castle so that I may solve the issue of the disappearing treasure."
"You claim that you will catch the delinquent that is stealing my treasure. But can you actually back up your claims and capture him? After all, I have never heard of a wandering hero that suddenly appears in the middle of a village when he is needed. How do I know that I can trust you?" King Redat, a stout man with flat brown hair peeking out from underneath his crown, asked Dale while studying the so-called hero conspicuously.
"Your Majesty, with all do respect, you have no reason to be wary of me. I am but a humble man with no other motive than to help your Highness and your Highness' kingdom surpass this problem," Dale said in his most sincere voice as he knelt low for the king.
"Very well, Hero. Name your price for the job and I will hire you to apprehend the thief. But if I sense that you are double-crossing me in any way or form, then I will order you to be beheaded in the village square. Not a very handsome ending for a hero, eh?" the king stated with a bent smile.
"No, but an ending fit for a traitor," Dale said while letting his own wry grin twist onto his face. He could tell that the king liked his style already.
The king and his servants led Dale to the treasure vault. The room was built of cold stones that were piled several feet thick, and was padlocked as heavily as a knight decked in armor. It was obvious that the vault could not be penetrated easily, and the culprit either had some of the most extreme skills in lock-picking ever seen in Washadar or he had special access to get him past the doors. But then again, the felon could have been a witch that traveled in by tunneling underground and between the cracks in the mortar. But Dale quickly shoved the thought from his head and reminded himself that he did not believe in witches.
"So, Hero. This is the vault. Any funny business and you will be taken away immediately," King Redat told Dale.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I understand. But now I must know how much treasure has been stolen, and how much remains in the vault. The thief's next moves can be predicted by tallying his goals."
"The money means nothing to me compared to the Stone of Fortune. The mystical Stone can create immeasurable amounts of gold and silver out of thin air. It is not the money I am concerned about being stolen. It is the Stone, Hero." Dale ran his finger along the spotless padlocks. "Your Highness, whoever it is that threatens your gold did not break in by picking the locks. There would be scratches along the inside of the keyhole if he had. I will risk saying that His Majesty's vault has been raided by one who had possession of the keys."
A gasp of surprise gripped the king and his servants by the throats, each paralyzed with suspicion. Their eyes shifted uneasily from one suspect to the other. Finally, the king found his voice, "This is an outrageous accusation, young man! I refuse to believe that one of my servants could have stolen from my vault without me even noticing."
"Are you absolutely positive, Your Majesty, or are you simply in denial," Dale said as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather. At this remark, the king's face flushed as brilliantly as one of the fabrics in the village market. King Redat took several deep breaths to calm himself once again and he made a motion to one of his servants. "I will let that slide by this once," he said. "But next time, I will not be so lenient. Now, let us venture into the vault."
The servant that had received silent permission from the king unlocked each lock on the door with a ring of keys that hung from his belt. With a bone-shivering creak, the metal door swung open. Inside, there were heaping piles of gold, silver, gems, and other treasures, all glittering like millions of stars. And in the far back corner, standing on a pedestal and surrounded with bars like a bird's cage, was the Stone of Fortune. It was a deep blood red and had hundreds of facets carved on its ravishing surface. Yet, for having as much power as to supply an infinite amount of treasure, it was only about as large of the palm of a hand. If even that.
Dale could not help but stare at the Stone. He felt as if he were sinking deeper and deeper into the red waters. If he let those waters flow over his head, then he could buy anything he wanted. Anything his heart desired could be bought with a flick of the Stone. Anything.
"It's beautiful, isn't it, Hero. Only I have the key to the Stone," King Redat said thickly. "It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Dale told the king as if he were in a trance. But then catching himself sinking into the Stone's power, he gave himself a mental shake. "Your Majesty, how many of your servants have keys to this vault. I noticed that the one that led us in here had a ring of his own. Do all of your other servants have a ring as well." The two men stepped out of the vault and the king clapped his hands twice. The double clap echoed across the dark stones that lined the corridors. The servants came from around the castle to aid the king and were followed by the eerie echo of their jingling key rings. Within a minute, there were eight servants lined up along the wall. Dale eyed them up and down and settled on a particularly timid man. He was as thin as a stick and his clothes hung from his limbs. The man's eyes were darting nervously from side to. He was unconsciously wringing his hands under the heroic traveler's stare. "Nothing is as it seems," Dale stated simply and then turned back to the king. "I will not rest until the culprit is behind bars, Your Majesty. But I wish to ask a question." "You may ask your question, Hero." "When I was walking through the market today, I could have sworn I saw a ruby that looked exactly like the Stone of Fortune. Are they made from the same material?"
The king guffawed loudly. "Oh my, no. That stone is nothing but a ruby made by one of the best carvers in Quine. He modeled it after the Stone of Fortune. He also managed to put a twist on the name given to his work. He called it the Fortune Stone, because whoever buys it will spend a small fortune!" The king broke up laughing and Dale joined in so that he would not come off as rude. If he wanted his pay, he had best stay on the ruler's good side.
The next day, Dale received his gold for the job, but it was another week before the thief struck again and finally met his undoing. The king had given the heroic traveler his own ring of keys to the vault-even a key to the Stone of Fortune. It was only a matter of time before the felon would open the vault and try his hand at thieving again. And Dale was waiting.
When the criminal came into the vault, Dale jumped him. To no surprise of the well-seasoned hero, the brigand turned out to be the same nervous and fidgety servant that Dale had eyed the week before. The man fought fiercely, like a mad animal hunted for the first time, but Dale kept his firm bear hug around the man. The servant stopped struggling for a moment and then slid his long and bony body underneath Dale's crushing arms and headed directly for the Stone of Fortune.
"No you don't!" Dale yelled as he dove for the felon. The bony servant screamed as he was driven into a pile of silver. In a whirlwind of punches and kicks, and in the melee of rolling between the hundreds of treasure piles, the two men fought. They then both stood up and looked each other dead in the eyes. For a moment, time stood still as the wild tiger and the poacher watched each other-hatred glaring, and reflecting itself in the windows to their souls. Then the thief sprinted towards the exit, pulling down piles of gems and pocketing gold while he was at it. Dale couldn't see where he was going! The torches' light was redirected by the raining silver. But the hero made his way out of the vault and spotted the thief running to a secret corridor in the stone walls. Dale chased the servant, but in vain for the passageway closed before he could catch the felon. The hero then ran trough another secret passage he had discovered during his stay, and followed it into the cold night. There, he saw the tail end of the thief running away, and continued to pursue his prey. All night, Dale gave chase, but was always only one step behind. The two animals in human skins ran to a road with eight-foot deep trenches. In desperation, the thief started throwing some of the larger pieces of his reward at Dale. The first two pieces of debris were dodged easily, but the third caught Dale in his foot and sent him careening off of the road. Dale rolled down the muddy hill and splattered into a puddle at the bottom. He recovered quickly, but by the time that he got back to the top of the hill, the thin bony servant was gone.
The sun rose a few hours later, and Dale realized that he had ended up in the town of Isabe. The first thing he did was find a messenger to deliver a note to the king of Quine. The note read:
Your Majesty,
I have failed to catch the thief as he ran from the vault. He has headed west through Isabe. I will track him to the ends of the earth, and may God be with anyone who tries to stop me. And for that matter, may the heavens have mercy on the poor man's soul when I catch him. I know that Your Highness certainly won't. I will not cease my pursuit, so it is of no use to try to find me. I will find you once I have caught the thief. Though the thief made off with some treasure, at least the Stone of Fortune is safe. It should still be on its pedestal. And if I may make a suggestion to His Majesty, one must keep better check on the servants that have access to the vaults. One never knows when there is a traitor in their midst until it is too late. Farewell, Hero
Dale handed the note to a small delivery boy who seemed delighted to make a delivery to the king of Quine and sped off, trailing a cloud of dust behind him. The traveler then walked west out of Isabe, but turned north, walked around the village of Quine, and finally headed east again. Along the way, he whistled a merry tune and kept turning his hand around again and again in the pouch that hung from his belt. The Fortune Stone had indeed cost a small fortune, but the stone that he now held in his satchel was worth an infinite number of fortunes. Allowing the thief to escape could prove to be the greatest move Dale ever made. He turned the object around in his pocket again, feeling the smooth facets of the gem that drowned him in their power. He had left several clues for the king of Quine to catch, but they were paid no heed. It was the king's loss and Dale's gain. And so the traveling thief continued his journey east, whistling the melody of a song that he knew from long ago, but until this point, had forgotten the tune. Under his breath, between the lines in his song, Dale muttered softly to himself, "Nothing is as it seems."
Blankface
So, how was it? Good, bad, or mediocre? Hehe, I told you that it was good. I'm currently working on a sequel, but don't get your hope up too high. It's still in the making. THANKS FOR READING!