The Hunt.

“Don't you skirt around the issue Petokov!” A sharp female voice stated just a little too loud.

“I'm not! But we are not in conflict!” A gruff, tired male voice replied, “I agree with you, the boy needs to get some fire in his heart!”

Dar leaned closer to the floor of his bedroom, ignoring the loud torrent of rain outside as he focused in on his parent's conversation.

“Then why haven't you put it in there?” His mother asked. “When that crazy witch stabbed Sir Tasher in the face, he ran!”

“I know!”

“His own sword instructor! Killed in front of him! You've been soft on him Petokov!”

There was sigh loud enough to be heard through the floorboards. “SarinKov, you always told me I was running the boy too hard, he's not a Knight but a wizard, he needs to study and read books. And yet you're surprised when he folds like paper rather than staying strong like steel?”

“I...”

The mans voice was more annoyed now. “I didn't give him sword instructions because I wanted him to be a warrior, I order them because he needed to be knocked into the dirt. I didn't teach him to fight in armor because you would rather he study, so he didn't learn to be strong enough to carry that much steel.”

“You can blame me all you want. Maybe if you had explained why then....”

“Enough! Tomorrow I'll start putting steel in his back.”

There was a moment of silence before Dar's mother cleared her throat. “I think you could use something to, relax yourself....”

And with that Dar leaned away and muttered the incantation, the floor glowed slightly and the sound dampening charm repaired itself. He'd made the mistake of listening longer once before and been unable to look his parents in the eye for a week.

He had ran, when that insane woman charged up at his sword instructor, screaming about a child he had left in her and the dishonor to her family, at first his instructor had stood in surprise, then she ran up and before he could defend himself had plunged a knife into his throat. What could have done but run? He knew the answer, he had practice sword at least, and Sir Tasher hadn't been the best man but he was Dar's instructor, he shouldn't have ran.

“Lord Kov!” A uniformed soldier stood at attention as their horses approached small water mill. “We've secured the mill but the Goblins took off towards the east.”

Petokov's mailed head nodded and he looked off towards the east. “And how many Cutter?”

“Not many my Lord,” The man replied in his thick Waterdeep accent. “Took off with flour and the valuables.”

“And the miller?” The lord asked.

The soldier shook his head. “All hanged in the mill, we haven't had a chance to cut them down yet.”

“Hung.” Petokov stated quietly. “Dar!” He said louder and beckoning.

“Yes sir?”

“Today you see the real world beyond your books.” He stated dismounting and handing the reins to his squire. “We won't be long, tell Sir Lupo we'll need his nose.”

The Mill was dusty and dark, the smell smoke from when the retreating Goblins had failed to burn it in their retreat lingered and filled the air. Inside four mangled bodies hung suspended from a rafter, their faces twisted in pain, one of them not even Dar's age.

“You see this boy?”

Dar's stomach twisted into a knot and he nodded.

“This is the world outside your books. Cruel and evil.” Petokov stepped forward next to the corpses. “This was an act of sport for them, this unjust agony.”

“Why?” Dar asked, unable to look up at the miller who often delivered the flour the castle and the boy he would sometimes play with.

“Because they are evil, because they enjoy the suffering of others.” Petokov stepped closer to his son pulled his Dar's short sword out of the sheath on Dar's belt. “Most people don't get blades like this.” He stated holding into the light. “A fine tool to defend against evil.” He placed the tip on the ground and leaned on it towards his son. “But does the one who owns it have the courage to use it?” he asked firmly.

Dar nodded hesitantly, his eyes still on the floor. “I think so.”

Petokov grabbed his son's chin and lifted it upwards, forcing him to look at the hanging bodies. “Tell that to them.”

“I,”

“Tell them you promise to use your sword to defend against evil.”

“I promise.” Dar said shakily, before trying to look away, but his father's grip refused to budge.

“What do you promise?”

“I promise to use my Sword to defend against Evil.” Dar said, his voice still shaky, but small hint of annoyance and anger in it.

His father let go and stood up. “I don't believe you.” He stated coldly, “But you will have your chance to prove it. Come on.” He ordered striding abruptly towards the broken door.

Dar's horse trotted through the underbrush as its young rider ducked below low hanging branches. Up ahead, Sir Lupo had shifted into the form of a wolf and was tracking the Goblins, letting out a howl and yipping sound that any other day Dar would have found funny coming from the old warrior, now he simply felt sick to his stomach as horses hooves pounded the dirt at the same intensity as he felt his heartbeat.

“WATERDEEP!!!!!” Petokov shouted from the front as they burst into a large patch of farm land, up ahead in the freshly sown fields a party of Goblins could be seen running as fast as they could from the approaching cavalry.

Time felt like it slowed as his horse galloped forward, his sword was out of its sheath and in his hand ready to strike as he got closer and closer, the creatures running futilely as he could make them out clearer and clearer, the ones that glanced back showing faces of terror and shouting screams of fear.

Then he and the household Knights were on them, time felt halted as his horse approached one of them, its face looking at his mailed figure astride a brown horse with pure fear, and yet he hesitated, his sword brought back yet he felt a tug, as though he couldn't bring it down. His mind jumped to the mill, the bodies, had they looked like the Goblin did before the end?

His horse charged past the Group of Goblins and he wheeled about, the Goblin he had hesitated to strike was on the ground, a Knight's lance embedded between its shoulders, the rest of the party was on the ground and Lord Kov was trotting over towards his son. “I see your sword isn't bloodied.” He stated coldly. “Lucky for you, I didn't kill mine.”

Dar looked at the pitiful creature sitting in the mud in front of him, surrounded by the household Knights. “Why didn't you kill him?”

Petokov roughly kicked the creature into the ground. “He's the leader, Goblin leaders wear the best armor and loot, and he's the only one with a bronze Sword.” Petokov laughed and swung the tarnished weapon. “Not that these monsters know how to maintain them.”

“Please good lord!” The Goblin whined in its high pitched voice. “I, I didn't do anything wrong! I'm just a traveler!”

“Most travelers don't hang innocent mill workers.” Petokov replied, his boot pressing against the Goblin's neck.

“I don't lie! Please mercy!”

“Dar, what should we do with him?” Petokov asked, looking at his son.

The young boy hesitated. “You're positive he's lying?”

Petokov shook his head. “It doesn't matter, what do you think?”

“I,” Dar hesitated. “How can you prove what you're saying Goblin?” He asked, his voice firmer than before.

“Well I, I have flour!” He sputtered. “I was going to trade it with the town over.....” Dar's eyes narrowed. “It wasn't me!” The Goblin sputtered. “The others made me do it! I said don't, but they did it! And they threatened to kill me if I told anyone! I would have told your Lordship right away but they stopped me!”

Dar's breathing grew heavier and he drew his sword and pointed it at the creature. “Quit lying!”

“Please! Mercy my Lord! I'll go away! I'll never harm anyone again!”

“What you did doesn't deserve mercy!” Dar stated, anger and adrenalin boiling in his chest, the sword not inches from the creature's throat. Yet it didn't move.

“If he doesn't deserve mercy, then strike him down Dar!” Petokov stated firmly. “You promised to use your sword to defend against Evil, use it!”

Dar's fingers grew tighter around the hilt. “He's defenseless,” he stated, his mind at war with itself, wanting to kill the creature for its crimes, yet unable to bring himself to do so. “It's not right.”

Petokov scowled. “So were the Miller and his family.” He stated. “But you're right boy, it's not right that your sword first be stained with blood of a defenseless creature.” With that there was a dull thud in the mud and Dar saw the Goblin's bronze sword had been tossed next to the creature. “Get past my boy and you go free, filth”

Dar and the Goblin stared for a moment before the creature jumped at the sword and grabbed it, eying the young noble for a moment before leaping at him screaming a hideous war cry. Dar had but a moment and this time he didn't hesitate, instinct cut in and he jabbed forward with his longer blade, the creature made a shrieking sound as the sword sank into his stomach and the force of his jump buried it inside him hilt deep as the bronze sword fell from his dirty fingers.

The Goblin's weight pulled the sword point down and gurgling creature slid off, its black blood staining the blade and pouring from its open wound. Dar could only stare in shock as it twitched and bled, its movements slowing and then finally halting.

“Good job.”

Dar's eyes shot up at his father's praise, a rare occurrence. “You...”

“I helped you become a man.” Petokov stated picking up the bronze sword and holding the hilt up to his son. “A trophy for you to remember the day you ceased being the boy Dar, and became the man, Darkov.