From Silvanna to Negas

For a moment, Gorien felt like he should have taken some time to gather his things for the long trip back to Negas. This thought quickly passed once he realized that he has just about everything he owns with him already. He used to have a home, full of things. Keepsakes, trinkets, knickknacks. But that was a long time ago, or at least it felt like it to the road-weary knight. Back when he had things, and a home to keep them in. Now, all he carries with him are the necessities. Weapons. Armor. Rations. No matter how light he travels, though, he still feels as if he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it shows in his posture. Back when he was just a simple sheriff, he'd ride with his head held high and shoulders square, proud to be a keeper of the peace; but keeping the peace between a couple of farmers is a much different thing than keeping the peace between empires.

He rode side by side with the quiet Derek Beryl, Prince of Negas. They were a lot alike in that moment. They said very little to each other, not because there was nothing to say, but instead because they knew that talking wouldn't make their troubles any easier. Gorien, the so-called Hero of Three Kingdoms, was just banished from Silvanna, and not even the most gifted seers in the world could tell exactly what was on Dereks' mind, but even a fool could tell that it was a heavy load. Behind them marched the Negas army. They had just fought a war not two days ago, though it was difficult to say who had won and who had lost.

"Tell me, Sir Gorien," Derek started, "why did you not take the short road with your friends? If you'd taken the portal with them, you'd be back in Negas already."

Gorien shivered a little at the mention of portals. "I figured after all this excitement, I could use a nice, slow ride to ease my mind. Besides, we don't get along so well. Me and portals, that is. Make me sort of queasy." His gelding, Bucephalus, whinneyed in agreement.

"Portal sickness? You?" Derek shook his head and chuckled. "Will wonders never cease."

Gorien sighed and patted the horse's neck. "I guess in a way, this is where I belong. Not Silvanna. Not Negas. Just me, Bucey here, and the long, lonesome road. It's the closest thing to hone I got left."

Derek looked at him sternly. "I heard what you said in the throneroom. You may think you had little choice in the matter, but in hard fact, you chose to return to Negas. This was your decision, do not forget that."

Gorien grumbled something unintelligible, and Bucephalus snorted.

After a few more leagues, they approached a small town on the outskirts of Silvanna. A handful of ragged-looking villagers stood in the road, brandishing their farm tools as if they were prepared for war. Gorien sighed again. "Derek, let me handle this."

Derek simply nodded. "As you wish." He held his hand up, signaling the army behind him to halt.

Gorien rode up to the group and stepped down from his horse. Before he could open his mouth, he was greeted brashly by the leader of the group. "Negas isn't welcome here. I'm afraid I can't let you pass." He was short, squat, and full of bravado. The ruffians behind him seemed to feed off of his feigned bravery.

"Now look here, neighbor" Gorien explained, "we don't want no trouble. Yea, we're from Negas, and all we want to do is go back there. So, if y'all'll just let us through, we'll be out of here in no time at all."

The leader crossed his arms and huffed, and even from 10 feet away, Gorien could smell the liquor on his breath. "Maybe you didn't hear me, old man, but I'm not going to let a single one of you set foot in MY town, so why don't you just turn around and find some other road."

Gorien approached the drunk slowly. "The road to Negas is long enough as it is without takin' any unnecessary detours. Like I already told you, all we want to do is pass on throug. I think I can speak for all of 'em when I say we've had enough fightin' to last us a lifetime, so why don't you kindly step aside and just let us pass."

"For the last time, it's not going to happen, old man."

By now, Gorien was nearly nose to nose with the leader, and from the stench coming off him, Gorien remembers why he gave up drinking. "And for the last time, I'd really appreciate it if you'd simply step down and let us by."

"Step down? I'll KNOCK you down!"

The drunk took one hard swing at the knight, but Gorien saw it coming before he even clenched his fist. In one smooth motion, Gorien evaded the swing, punched him in the face with his left hand, spun around and drew his double-bladed sword with his right. Continuing to spin, Gorien swung the sword around with a practiced flourish, landing a solid blow to the drunk's rubs with the flat of one of the blades. Gorien stepped back into a defensive stance as the drunk charged. The knight sidestepped and knocked him in the back of the head with his sword's grip, sending him diving face-first into the dirt. He did not get up.

Gorien put the sword back on its holder on the back of his armor and turned back towards the rabble. "So like I said, I don't want no trouble, and all we're gonna do is pass on through. That is, unless anyone else's got high hopes of teachin' this 'old man' a lesson."

The crowd looked at Gorien, then at eachother, before quickly dispersing. Gorien climbed back on Bucephalus's back and waved a signal back to Derek. Soon, the troops were in motion again. Nobody gave them a second glance as they calmly rode through the town.