I leave the town after stealing a few stealth scrolls from the same magic store as usual. It’s not like the building is particularly insecure, but I did happen to see its owner use the spare key that she hides in a small crack on the side of the store. Honestly, it’s fairly well hidden. However, she didn’t bother to change its spot after using it once, even when she was out in public. That small mistake causes her to lose ten or more scrolls per week. Lazy woman.

Exiting the town through the front gate, the guards pay me no mind. I found out a long time ago that they only care about what comes in, not what comes out of the gate. Because they do such a good job of the former. I roll my eyes.

Since I was so focused on my main objective, I never did find out why the merchant security has increased. That’s probably information I can only acquire through word of mouth. It sucks that there aren’t more people around so I can hear the local gossip, but I wouldn’t be caught dead here during the daytime.

I leisurely stroll back up the King’s Street, now unconcerned with the final passing wagons. They shouldn’t have any issue with me now that I’m not a stowaway, and considering how late they are to the market, I would imagine they’re in a rush.

I finger one of my newly acquired stealth scrolls from the inside pocket of my cloak. Now that the early crowd has passed through, it’s about time to set up.

————— Several hours later

“Dude, I really don’t want to fight rabid boars. It’s one thing that they’re boars, but rabid boars? C’mon, that’s kinda freaky”.

A party of three adventurers noisily trudge along the King’s Street, exiting through the main gate of Kralbed. Their group consists of a young man with a longsword across his back, an axe-wielding bruiser of a man, and a very pink mage with a stick. She figured that it would probably work as well as a wand.

“It’ll be fine, trust me. Boars aren’t that tough. Besides, they’re aggressive from the start. They may as well have been rabid already”, states the swordsman unhelpfully.

The bruiser is visibly displeased with his answer.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better”.

The pink mage stands behind them, absentmindedly sucking on strawberry flavored hard candy and spinning her stick.

She’d been spaced out for the vast majority of their bickering, and was starting to notice it after they had gotten progressively louder in their retorts.

The back and forth worrying and reassurance continued for another thirty minutes. The pink mage was starting to get fed up.

“Can you two shut the fuck up? I’m trying to concentrate”, she says as they enter the tall grass in the clearing. The party has been out of sight from anyone near the town for a long time now.

She flicks her stick into the air and catches it upside-down. She grabs the other side and holds it right-side-up as if it corrected her trick.

The other two are clearly not listening to her, having grown tired of her sharp remarks since earlier this morning. They already knew she was not in the best of moods today, so they both collectively decided to ignore her until she blew off some steam. They can’t help it if her boyfriend wasn’t here to pacify her. It didn’t seem to stop her from going off on them, though.

“It’s bad enough that I got stuck with this joke of a request, now I gotta do it while you two are being pissy?”

She sighs in exasperation and stops walking to put her hands on her waist. She shifts her weight onto her left leg and juts out her hip. Their inattention was getting to her.

“When does Khan get back? I swear, I’m gonna die before we even get to fight the boars”.

She does.

An arrow passes through the back of her head and out her mouth, splitting the hard candy in two. She tries to speak, but the arrow between her teeth doesn’t oblige her. The stick falls from her hands as she begins to stain the grass crimson.

The other two are alerted from the zip of arrows and the crack of steel on bone. They turn around in response to the noise just as two more arrows emerge from her mouth, forming a macabre smile of flesh and teeth. She falls forward into the grass. They begin to scream.

My scroll is running low on juice, but I have enough time to sprint towards the swordsman. I leap from the grass, draw my bow, and let loose an arrow as my stealth fades.

The swordsman raises his sword to deflect it, but his reactions are slow, and my aim is true. There is an audible thud as his skull gives way to the will of my arrow, and it embeds itself in the furthest regions of his brain.

His corpse is thrown back into the grass by the force of my shot. I fall to the ground and roll to carry my momentum. I drop my bow and draw the dagger from my side, ready for the counter-attack.

The bruiser charges me recklessly, bellowing out a deep, frenzied yell. He loads his battle-axe on his shoulder, preparing a downward swing. He leverages the swing with his shoulder and launches the heavy blade into its arc. The attack angle is determined. I jump into the wide swing, shoulder tackling the axeman. The blade crashes down behind me, but the heavy wooden handle clips my left shoulder. The adrenaline doesn’t let me feel the hit.

I stick my dagger in between his lower right ribs, digging in as far as it can go. My stance is much lower than his, and I am well within his guard. He grabs at me and gets a fistful of my cloak. He roars and slams his free fist down in a hammer-like fashion. It glances off my back muscle as I straighten out my posture to match his. I headbutt his chin as I come up, disorienting him. Now we’re face to face from a few centimeters away, and he’s only a bit taller than me. Perfect.

I pull him into a clinch, positioning my palms around the back of his head, and pull him into my chest. I twist his neck to my right. His upper torso curls, naturally trying to avoid his neck being broken, and his right rib is exposed once again. I knee the blade further into his ribs, and he buckles. His legs give way, and I knee his head as he falls, knocking him unconscious. He fully crumples, face-down in the dirt. I stand over him for a moment.

I breathe a sigh of relief, but quickly realize my folly. I jog over to where I dropped my bow, pick it back up, and notch an arrow. I make my way back to the axeman. He’s already crawling toward the road on his stomach, dagger still jutting from his ribcage.

They never stay unconscious for long.

I walk towards the man and kick his side. He flips over onto his back, tears and snot streaming down his face. His mug is caked with dirt and mud. I stomp my foot into his chest and begin to pull the bowstring.

“Why are you doing this?! What did we ever do to you?!”

The yew of my bow creaks as my arrow draws backward.

“WHY?!”, he yells again.

I hold.

“You hunt my kind for a living, what other reason do I need?”

His scream is bloodcurdling but only lasts a second. My arrow pins his head to the ground, and his voice goes silent.

——————

A gust blows through the clearing, and the grass dances to its tune. Seven boar intermittently emerge from the edge of the forest, slowly making their way towards the fallen adventurers.

‘It’s about time they showed up. Could’ve used a little help’, I think to myself, slightly annoyed.

I call out to them.

(I’ve killed these ones for you.)

I pause, making sure that I have their attention.

(However, more will come. I hate to ask this of you, but you must find somewhere safer if you wish to live peacefully.)

The boar halt and talk amongst themselves, considering their options. After a moment, they come to an agreement. The largest boar begins to speak.

(My name is Ak’thal. There is not a day where we do not appreciate the old legends. We owe you and your mother much.)

The boar looks back at his people.

(Our tribe is small and dwindling. We may have been slaughtered if not for you. We knew this day would come eventually.)

A boar with especially large tusks interrupts him.

(But we cannot leave this place. It is the only place we know, and we will fight until our deaths to protect it. Too many of us have already passed sharing the same sentiment.)

The boar raises its head to the sky, and its eyes trace a cloud drifting in the wind.

(They are with Gaia now.)

There is silence, and not another boar speaks.

The group turns and walks back from whence they came, disappearing one by one into the cover of the forest. I stare at the spot they once stood, and take a second to pray for their safety.

I pivot on my left heel, swinging around to face the deceased.

‘Now to address these ones’.

I rip my dagger from Musclehead's rib cage, wipe it on his shirt, and return it to its leather sheath. Afterward, I quickly scan around the area for any unbroken arrows that I might be able to reuse and retrieve them accordingly.

I pick up the fallen axe and prop it against my shoulder. Time to get to work.