I groan at being called old, though I guess 37 is old for a girl
someone who is barely in her 20. Especially in a medieval type of
world, where people who live past their 40s are not the rule, but the
exception. Still, to be called ‘old’ stings a little, even if it
might be at least partially true.
After recovering from the
immediate shock, the rest of her sentence registers with me and I
ask, “Wait, what do you mean by, ‘the new champion’? I thought
that old coot said something about me being ‘the chosen one’, but
you make it sound like there have been ‘champions’ coming in
before.”
The barmaid nods enthusiastically and explains, “Why
yes, of course. Magnus, the ‘old coot’ as you’ve called him,
goes out to the holy cave summon a new champion once a year, each
time when the stars align. But…”
“But…?” I ask,
fearing that I already know what she meant to say.
“Well, I
don’t know how to put this, but usually it’s some at least
somewhat handsome young man.”
And now she’s not only calling
me old, but also ugly without even noticing…
“Well, more
attempts, better chances I guess. What happened to the other
champions who have been summoned to this place before me?”
“I’m
afraid I don’t know that. They all left to set out in order to
vanquish the evil that threatens our world.”
“Yeah, about
that...what evil? I mean, this place is about as peaceful as it gets.
Save for some of your patrons, that is. And while we’re at it,
people on the street looked at me as if I was the devil himself
trying to drag them to hell.”
The barmaid blinked a few times
and then asked, “I am sorry, but what is that, ‘a devil’? And
what do you mean by ‘hell’?”
I grimace slightly, figuring
that the christian church and its dogma apparently do not exist in
this realm, prior to explaining, “Right, what’s the most evil
thing you know?”
“The demon king, obviously.”
“And
the most dreadful place you can imagine?”
“Um...that’d be
the abyss of eternal torment, into which the demon king throws all
those who are foolish enough to oppose him.”
“Fine, then let
me rephrase that: ‘The people looked at me as if I was the demon
king seeking to throw them into that abyss.’. Same idea, really.
Either way, what gives? And what was with that ‘warm welcome’ a
little earlier?”
The barmaid laughed a little, apparently
unsure how to respond, when someone calls out to her to get a refill
on his drink.
Thankful for the distraction she smiled at me
apologetically and hurried off.
While I
was waiting, the same men from earlier walked up to me from behind.
I
only noticed them, when their leader placed his large hand on the
counter right next to mine and I turned around with a start.
“So,
yer s’posed ta be the new champion, huh?” the guy in charge asked
with a nauseatingly foul breath reeking of too much
alcohol.
“Apparently so,” I replied truthfully and turned
around to face the counter again, silently hoping that they’d get
the hint and leave me alone. They did not.
Instead, he grabbed me at my shoulder and forced me turn around again to face him, burping into my face, “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to ye!”
Up to
this day, I don’t know what got into me back then, but I was too
fed up with the situation to think straight.
So I grabbed the
guy’s hand at his wrist and shoved it off my shoulder forcefully,
getting up in the process, “Ah yeah? You’ve got some nerve to
talk to me that way!”
“Ya?! What, just ‘cause ye come from
some fancy world of demon slayers, ye think, yer better than us?! Do
ya?!” the guy exclaimed, but before I could even process the
apparent problem in his sentence, he already pulled back and landed a
powerful punch into my face, sending me back first over the counter.
Oh and
just in case you think I got back up right away and started a bar
brawl with everyone beating down everyone like you often see it in
those wild west movies, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you.
The
punch knocked me out cold and I only came to much later, lying in an
uncomfortable bed made from wood and straw.
Needless to say, it
was not my own bed and my wife was not lying next to me.
And the
raging hurt in my nose which took the brunt of the hit, as well as
the dumb pain from the back of my head, where I hit the ground,
quickly reminded me, what had happened.
It was at that point,
where I seriously started questioning the validity of the notion,
that ‘one cannot feel pain in their dreams’.
It was
only after that realization, when I noticed through the veil of pain,
that I was not alone in this room.
A young boy of maybe 8 years
with bright blue eyes was sitting in the room on a stool, fixing me
attentively. When he noticed, that I had noticed him, he got up and
asked how I was feeling.
I don’t recall exactly what I told
the boy, but I remember his expression of not understanding a word I
was saying, so it was probably something like, ‘Like a truck hit
me’.
At any
rate, the boy left the room to fetch his mom, who was apparently the
mother of the barmaid I had met earlier, considering that they looked
almost like twins, just with an age gap of maybe 15 years, though I
didn’t ask her age.
I had received enough of a beating for one
day.
“Are you feeling better, Sir?” the woman asked with a pleasant voice and I recall thinking, as silly as it may sound, how nice it was to be treated with some actual respect for a change.
“Like
a mountain of muscles decked me right into the face,” I groaned
groggily, slowly trying to sit up, despite every fiber of my body
telling me to stay down a little longer. Looking back, I probably
should have listened to it. Just keep lying down and let the world
around me take care of itself.
But alas, back then I was still
too convinced that this was all but a dream, so I figured this was
the part, where the good stuff was going to happen.
I mean, it’s
not cheating on your wife if you dream about getting with another
woman who doesn’t even really exist, is it? Nobody could ever blame
me for that, right.
I mean, men had that problem for eons and
they still had successful marriages. Even made up stories about
gender-changing demons, who took the semen from men during their
sleep, then changed their gender and implanted the stolen seed into
women while they were sleeping. Of course, these stories are complete
nonsense, born in a world, where ‘adultery’ simply ‘did not
happen’, when it really did. But is it adultery, when the woman in
question is not even real?
However, as things go, I was worried for nothing, as the beautiful woman said, “You can sit, very good. In that case I suggest you get yourself cleaned up and leave my inn, before causing any more trouble for me and my family.”
She got
up and left with swift and determined steps, with the little boy
trailing behind her faithfully like a well trained dog.
My face
contorts into a wry smile at the image of the boy being a little dog,
but my body punishes me mercilessly for trying to laugh, as the very
act of breathing becomes a painful endeavor, making me wish I could
just stop.
After a few more minutes of trying to stop my everything from hurting, I finally managed to get up and stagger over to a mirror, looking at my own face for the first time since coming here.
That
guy sure got me good, my face being little more than a bloody mess.
I
don’t even want to know what I looked like before I got saved by
that woman and her family.
And I also realize, that I actually
got lucky, that I gave out after that one hit, because other than my
face and my head, my body still seemed to be fine.
Meaning Mr.
‘Big, tall and brutal’ was satisfied to have knocked me out and
did not deem it necessary to beat me into a complete cripple.
I exhaled deeply, picking up a piece of nearby cloth, moistened it in a nearby bowl of fresh water and tried to wipe away the blood, however the instant the cold cloth made contact with my skin, it felt like a million needles pricked me all at once and I had to inhale sharply in order to not cry out, swallowing hard to keep the tears from flowing.
And that is how I got my first scar. The first of many more to come, both physically and emotionally.
Back
then I was glad that this was only a dream, because otherwise I’d
be hard pressed to explain how I managed to get my nose broken.
By
now, I worry that I may never be the same again, even if I do it make
back home.
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