A Hero may lie.

  -Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

  Rule #43  

   Heroes milled about the outskirts of the village. Many sat together in small groups, sharing stories and comparing scars. The village itself was comprised of a few dozen buildings built up along either side of the road as it passed through. Most buildings were single room dwellings where the people themselves lived. The forest had been cleared in a wide swath behind the village and numerous outbuildings suggested that the village cared for a numerous herd of cattle, though currently the fields and barns were empty. Such villages were usually inhabited seasonally depending on where the villagers were tending their herds and as such most of the homes were made in a fashion that allowed them to be disassembled and transported from place to place. The only permanent buildings were the outbuildings and a few others like the tavern, the tannery, and the smokehouse.

  Skemm pursed her lips while she stood just within the treeline and out of sight. She needed to resupply and recuperate but she would be expected to participate in the tournament here and with her head still feeling rattled from her fight with the bandits she wasn’t in any fit state to compete.  

  She could manage out in the wilds, hunting and foraging for her food. Certainly she’d been in less fertile lands and been fine, but it was common knowledge among Heroes that those who ignored the need to rest and heal their bodies were those whose bodies failed sooner rather than later.

  “You’re not thinking of competing are you?” Feral spoke just behind her.

  Skemm spun on the spot and immediately regretted it as her head swam and she almost lost her balance. Riven, who was standing right beside Feral, put out her hand and steadied Skemm. Both Feral and Riven looked concerned.

  “You  okay?” Riven asked.

  “I’m fine,” Skemm stated and took a step back from the pair of them. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We came for the tournament,” Riven said as though it should have been obvious.

  “Really?” Skemm strongly doubted they were telling the truth. “Neither of you really strike me as being the spectator type.”

  Feral and Riven chuckled.

 “We’re not,” they said together and Riven once again withdrew the paper baring the announcement for the tournament.  

  “It’s an open tournament,” Riven pointed out, “So we figured we’d head over and give it a go.”

  Skemm faltered. Open tournaments weren’t unheard of but they certainly were uncommon. Tournaments were generally held as a way for communities to audition several Heroes at once for a particularly difficult, and also lucrative, task. The Hero who won the tournament would subsequently be hired by the community and was guaranteed a generous reward indeed.  

  Open tournaments were only held when there were too few Heroes available, or to honor some special event like a nobles birthday, wedding, or something else of similar importance.

  The town before them was too remote for any noble to consider using it as the location for such a celebration. Yet there were at least a dozen Heroes that Skemm could see milling around the town and so it didn’t seem that there was exactly a shortage of Heroes for the town to choose from.

  “Why on Earth would you want to enter a tournament?” Skemm demanded.

  “Why not?” Feral asked. “It’s not every tournament that offers an open field.”

  “Besides,” Riven said with a knowing glance at Feral, “We’re already here. Might as well try our hands at some of these games.”

  “These are not simply games!” Skemm hated it when others treated the work of Heroes lightly. “Heroes come from all over to compete in tournaments so they can demonstrate their skill and prowess.”

  “I told you it was nothing but advertising,” Feral told Riven as though proving a point he’d made earlier.

  “Excuse me?” Skemm jabbed her finger into Feral’s chest. “Heroes provide an essential service to those too weak to protect themselves. These people,” she gestured towards the town with a broad wave of her arm, “support the Hero’s Guild out of gratitude and necessity every time they commission one of us in aiding them to maintain their way of life and prosperity. The independence and strength of the Trade Guilds throughout the Realms have been ensured for nearly a century thanks to the advent of the Hero’s Guild, and as such I think it only fair that the people have an opportunity to see these Heroes prove themselves in the tournaments.”

  Feral smiled broadly when Skemm finished but Riven’s expression was flat.

  “Okay, you win this one,” Riven said.

  For a moment Skemm thought that she’d convinced Riven but then Riven pulled out a pouch of coins and handed it over to Feral.

  “We had a bet,” Riven explained, “About whether the tournament was more for Heroes advertising themselves or as a means of generating income and entertainment for whoever hosted the tournament.”

  “You two are unbelievable,” Skemm said in disgust.

  “Well how else were we going to determine which of us got to enter the tournament?” Feral asked. “Neither one of us had enough on our own to pay the entrance fee so we made the bet and the loser would give the winner the coins they needed to enter.”

  With that, Feral and Riven walked past Skemm and began making their way towards the queue to register for the tournament.

  Skemm finally made up her mind and strode out of the treeline. She didn’t go towards the tournament registration though. Instead she made her way directly to the local tavern. With any luck she could get a room and just wait out the tournament there while she healed. That way she could minimize the number of people, especially other Heroes, who saw her here and question why she wasn’t participating.  

  The tavern itself was nothing special, though being one of the few permanent buildings it was sturdy and dry inside. It only had maybe a dozen or so rooms since this was a small town and certainly wasn’t accustomed to  hosting very many outsiders besides the occasional caravan. Fortunately a number of the visiting Heroes hadn’t come in yet to secure their own rooms and so Skemm was able to reserve a private room, one of the last remaining ones, and then sat herself down in a relatively quiet corner of the main dining hall.

   The boy taking the patrons orders and delivering them their food was young, perhaps on the edge of his teenage years. His hair was pulled back and was tucked down the back of his shirt collar. It wasn’t so uncommon for boys or men to have long air, especially in smaller towns where many people either couldn’t afford to pay for a barber, or else the town didn’t have one and the people would have to wait for a traveling barber to pass through. It was that or cut it themselves with whatever tools they had available to them and most farming tools were neither sharp nor precise enough to give a decent hair cut.  

  He walked by and Skemm waved to get his attention. The boy didn’t notice and kept walking. Again he walked by, again Skemm waved, and again the boy failed to notice Skemm.

  “Boy!” Skemm called out after he passed her by for the third time. 

  The boy turned and went white as a sheet when he saw Skemm.   

  “I’m sorry,” Skemm said when she noticed how uncomfortable the young boy seemed.

  “It’s okay,” the boy murmured. “What can I get you?”

  Skemm pulled out a few coins and handed them to the boy.  “I’ll have whatever that can get me as long as it’s hot, has some meat in it that isn’t too old or stringy,” Skemm said, “And I won’t say no to some bread and cheese if you have it.”

  The boy nodded and hurried off.

  While he was gone Skemm brooded over how poorly her last week had been. News had reached her of there being trouble with bandits in this area and she was hoping to get hired to deal with them, but before she knew it she was being pursued by that very same group of bandits she’d been hearing about. They caught her by surprise, ambushing her in the morning and then chasing her for the better half of the day until…until everything went black. She had a few disjointed memories of someone talking, some arguing, and then of Feral and Riven fighting off the bandits. At first she had thought that Feral and Riven were with the bandits and that they had just devolved into infighting that resulted in them being the only two left but Feral had quickly dispelled that notion.  

  “Who do they think they are?” Skemm wondered out loud. “I didn’t ask them to aid me. Sure they saved me, but it’s not like they really seem to care all that much about me. Dragged me halfway across the woods, tried to rob me and…

  Skemm trailed off. She hadn’t been altogether grateful to them for rescuing her. Perhaps they wouldn’t have treated her that way if she’d been less brusque with them. But no, they were determined to behave like brutes and would have found some other way to do it. And now she was here in a town hosting a tournament that she wasn’t fit enough to compete in and if the Hero’s Guild got wind of it they might demote her and she had worked too hard for her position within the Guild to have it jeopardized by the likes of those two.

  The boy returned  carrying a bowl of steaming stew and a plate of bread and cheese.

  “Here you are,” he said and set them on the table before Skemm.

  Skemm nodded and began to eat. The rations Feral and Riven had given her were decent, but no trail rations are ever as good or as filling as a fresh hot meal and she happily made quick work of the stew before moving on to the bread and cheese. It was a few minutes before Skemm realized that the boy was still standing beside her table, looking at her.

  “Do you need something?” Skemm asked after swallowing her latest bite of food and wiping her mouth clean with a rag.

  “Sorry,” the boy said and he started as though he was about to turn and leave but changed his mind mid step. “Umm, you’re a Hero, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Skemm replied. She didn’t want to be rude but she was really in no mood to chat. Quite often, especially in smaller towns where Heroes were less frequently encountered, some of the locals would take to gawking at or following Heroes around.

  “Well,” the boy went on, “it’s just that all of the other Heroes are out practicing in the field and I thought—

  “I don’t need to practice,” Skemm interrupted him and hoped that would be the end of it.  Instead the boys eyes widened with awe.

  “Wow,” he fawned, “you must be really good!”

  “One of the best, now let me eat.” Skemm returned to her meal. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Hero worship. What was more, her head was beginning to throb and she was thinking more and more about how welcome her bed was seeming in her mind.

  “Okay,” the boy said but as he turned to leave he asked “What events can I watch for you in tomorrow?”

  “I’m not competing, okay?” Skemm hissed through gritted teeth.

  The boy looked taken aback by her sudden aggression and Skemm was immediately struck with guilt. It wasn’t the boys fault he was inquisitive. Neither was it his fault that Skemm was having a rough few days and he didn’t deserve her anger.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and waved for him to sit down in the chair beside her. “It’s just that it’s not fair for the others when I compete. Rule fourty three of the Hero’s Guild Book of Rules, that’s all.”

  It was a simple lie and one commonly used by Heroes when they, like Skemm, weren’t able to compete in a tournament for whatever reason. Other Heroes would know not to challenge it if they heard it, though that didn’t mean they wouldn’t confront her in private about it. A wounded Hero was only acceptable if they could recover quickly.

  “I’ve always dreamed of becoming a Hero,” the boy exclaimed after taking a seat. “I was so excited when they announced the tournament.”

  “What’s your name?” Skemm asked him and she slid her plate of bread and cheese between them to share.

  “My name’s Will,” he said as he broke off a piece of bread and began chewing with relish.  

  He had a slightly underfed look about him, now that Skemm was paying attention, but his eyes were bright and he did at least seem to have a keen mind.

  “Well, Will,” Skemm said. “being a Hero isn’t just about going to tournaments. It’s long hard work. Getting up before the sun, training, and fighting to protect those you serve. I’ve been out in the wilds for weeks on end tracking kidnappers and murderers, sleeping on my sword in case they tried to sneak up on me in the night. You have to keep going when others break down. It’s a difficult life, Will.”

  “I could do it,” Will said with such a stoic expression that it gave Skemm pause.

  “Could you now?” She asked.

  “When I was a baby my parents were attacked in the forests north of here,” Will explained, “They hid in a trappers lodge but their attackers just burned it to the ground. If I hadn’t been down in the cellar I would have died along with my parents. A passing traveler head my cries the next day and dug me out of the wreckage and brought me here.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Skemm laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “If only they’d had a Hero.”

  “That’s just it,” Will said, turning his face towards his lap where he clenched his fists, “They had a Hero, but he abandoned them when they needed him most. I want to be the Hero my parents deserved.”

  He turned back to face Skemm and there was a burning in his eyes.

  “I do not wallow in the despair of past losses,” he said as though reciting from memory, “I only look forward to the future vindication that will come through my service.”

  “That’s from the Hero’s Creed,” Skemm was impressed. Not many people took the time, let alone had the opportunity to learn such things.

  “The Hero my parents hired left his Guild Book behind when he abandoned them. The traveler who found me said he found it in the woods near the trappers lodge. My keepers here gave it to me a few years ago.”

  Skemm’s stomach turned. Stories like Will’s were not common, thankfully, but neither was it unheard of. Sometimes things went wrong and it was almost always the common people who suffered because of it.  

  Will shifted in his seat and withdrew an old and worn Hero’s Guild Book of Rules. The cover was badly singed and it looked as though it was missing some pages.

  “I think the Hero wrote his name in here,” Will said as he opened it to the first page and offered the book to Skemm. “Or maybe it’s some sort of note he wrote to himself. It’s written in some other language so I can’t make it out.”

  Skemm studied the page. It was mostly charred and the handwriting was rough and unneven.

  “It’s the language of the Western Realm,” Skemm said darkly.

  “Can you read it?” Will asked with sudden excitement.

  “Bits,” Skemm said. “I’m not fluent by any means and it’s hard enough to make out what was written in the first place.”

  Skemm moved the book more into the light so she could see the writing better.

  “It’s strange, this certainly mentions the Western Realm a couple of times, as well as the name ‘Jesse’.”

  Skemm furrowed her brow and squinted at the page.

  “These two words at the end,” Skemm said, “This one means ‘change’ and the other one, I think, means ‘animal’, but it’s written like animal was a name.”

  “What does it mean?” Will asked.  

  Skemm shrugged. “I really don’t know,” she said and handed the book back to him. “I’m sorry I can’t be more use to you. It’s pretty uncommon to find anyone who knows the language of the Western Realm. I only know the few words I do because I went there a few times to guard trading caravans and picked up a few words along the way.”

  “I didn’t think there were any trading caravans that went to the Western Realm,” Will said.

  “Not in the last few years, no, but when I first started out as a Hero there were still some open trade routes.”  

  Skemm got up from her seat. She was tired and sore and now that her stomach was filled with a hot meal she was really looking forward to getting to sleep in a soft bed.

  “It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Will,” Skemm said and she began to make her way towards the stairs that would take her up to her room.

  “Lady Skemm, wait!” Will cried out and everyone in the tavern turned their heads to look at them. “Every Hero needs to be apprenticed before they can be admitted into the Guild.”

  Skemm saw where this was going and she wasn’t sure she liked it. There were dozens of people now watching them. Dozens who would now recognize her and know whether or not she competed in the tournament. Dozens of people who would talk about the boy who wanted to be a Hero. If Skemm rejected him, how would the people react? This was a small town but with so many other Heroes here for the tournament word would certainly spread. Maintaining your position in the Hero’s Guild was hard enough without injuries, missed tournaments, and rejected apprentices.

  On the other hand, if she accepted Will as her apprentice she’d have to be responsible for him and prove to the guild that she had been right in taking him on. An apprentice that fails to gain full fellowship within the guild is a black mark indeed on a Hero’s record within the Guild.

  But then another idea came to her, and without meaning to she muttered it under her breath.

  “Rule 76: To prevent undue injury and interruptions to training, no Hero bearing an apprentice may participate in a tournament.”

  “What?” Will asked and it was clear he was terrified that he had so brazenly asked to be Skemm’s apprentice while at the same time incredibly hopeful.

  “I’m a very busy Hero,” Skemm said, not wanting to seem too eager to take him on, while at the same time hoping to feel out the people in the tavern and judge how they might react to her decision.

  “I promise not to get in the way,” Will stated confidently and a few of the people in the tavern nodded their heads.

  “It’s a hard life,” Skemm went on, “and you are young.”

  Most people in the tavern shrugged and it was obvious they didn’t think Will’s age factored much into it. In fact, Skemm was surprised to see more and more of them looking at Will, appraising him, and then nodding appreciably as though they thought he had what it would take. Some spoke in hushed tones to one another but Skemm was too far to hear what they said.

  “A lot of people here say I’m big for my age,” Will stated, “and that I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

  “That’s because they often mistake you for a girl,” heckled one of the tavern’s patrons but he was quickly silenced by several angry looks.

  “Food is often scarce and you’ll have to go without from time to time,” Skemm went on, though more for show than anything else. She had all but made up her mind.

  “I’m use to not eating much,” Will said and Skemm was again struck by his somewhat undernourished frame. She would have to fix that.

  “Can you get up before the sun,” Skemm began, asking Will the same question that her master had asked her right before taking her on. “Run by my side all day, sleep only a few hours and then be able and ready to get up and do it all again, knowing there will still be a hard fight waiting for us at the end of our pursuit?”

  Will shrank and Skemm feared she had gone too far. Perhaps discouraged him too much.

  “I can’t do that,” Will said at last, “Not yet at least. But I would run until I fell and could not rise again. And then I would crawl.” Will’s voice began to rise with passion. “And when I couldn’t crawl any farther I would drag myself along the ground, if only it would mean that I was a better Hero than the one my parents got because I will never stop trying to fulfill my duty to those who have placed their trust in me!”

  Several people clapped their hands and a few nearest Will patted him on the back.  

  “Will,” Skemm said as she crossed back over to him and knelt, all the while beaming at the young boy, “I would be honored to be your teacher.”