A kick in the teeth

[Wynken]

A Kick In The Teeth

Synopsis: Bertha was once known as Bertha the Battle Maiden when she was younger. Then she got married to a no good slob who gallivants his desires away all day while she's stuck raising their kids. Bertha's request is simple; Get the slacker Silvius a job, beat some responsibility into him, or watch the children so Bertha can do it herself.

Reward: Depending on which option you take in this quest, you can be rewarded with 500 GP, an enchanted weapon, or a magical item. The weapon and item can be up to you, but the effects have to relatable to the story. Unless, of course you kill Silvius, in which case, you get nothing except an enemy in Bertha.

“And don’t come back till ya’ve earned a day’s wages”. The door slammed to a close and shook in its hinges until Bertha slumped against it and began to weep. The house always seemed so still after one of their fights, and this had been their third in as many days. Although, had you asked either of them, they would have told you that the bickering hadn’t stopped since their first was born.

Bertha cried even harder, struggling to draw breath in hyperventilation at the thought of her children. They were three and one years of age, both still so innocent, but she knew that would only be true for so long. As Bertha replayed the argument in her mind, her eyes scanned the room before coming to rest upon the mantel at the back of their hovel. Two swords, one his and one hers lay crossed there, a layer of dust gathering slowly on their blades. They were mere trinkets of home décor which now rest in mockery of their past existence. “How long has it been since we were happy like we were then?”, she asked receiving only silence in answer.

For a long while, Silvius stood on the doorstep looking out into the night. It tore at his heart to hear Bertha that way, but he stood firm in his position. “She simply don’t understand or respect my needs. She aint the only one makin a sacrifice”. It was true. They had both decided that adventuring was too dangerous. They were going to be a family, and so they both needed to settle down and accept that responsibility.

Silvius had tried his hand at some of the traditional professions of Underwood. Logging, trapping, he even tended the bar at the Promenade, but none of it suited him. With each failure he grew more depressed and Bertha more disappointed until he finally stopped trying. He simply could not beat his addiction to the thrilling lifestyle of his youth, and, rather than try, he had been secretly indulging himself in his own adventures for the past six months. At first it was gambling, and he did alright for himself too, until lady luck caught up with him and demanded her share. To support his new habit, Silvius turned to con artistry and petty theft, both of which were thrilling in their own right.

Still standing in the darkness of his front step, Silvius checked his pocket. Feeling the gem that he often used in his trickery, he moved on in search of excitement and gold enough to placate his wife.

[Wynken]

“She never loved it the way I did”, Silvius grumbled as he maneuvered the streets beyond his home. “How could she just walk away and never miss it? Never miss the rush…?”

“Keep it down will ya”, someone called out from the open window of a nearby house. Enveloped in his own emotional tumult, Silvius’ reply was defensive and purely instinctual. “Speak for yerself ya troll”. The window slammed in the distance, echoing off the neighboring houses on the alley-like path. Silvius hadn’t even realized that he was speaking aloud, and now looked around embarrassed that someone else may have overheard him as he aired his feelings. “What’s happened to me?”

Still pondering the events that had led him to his current state, Silvius rounded the corner and spied his destination. A dim and foreboding light spilled from the sole window of the Golden Chalice. It was perhaps the least aptly named tavern in all of Corone, and Silvius mused that the Goblin’s Colon may be more appropriate. To say that it were a hole in the wall would do literal holes of even the dankest and moldiest persuasion a grave injustice. The wooden steps were crooked and one had gone missing entirely. Those that remained had become treacherously mossy, and truly the entire exterior of the building showed to be in the advanced stages of decay. Silvius cautiously mounted the first stair, testing it first to ensure it would support his weight. It did, barely, and he managed to make the top having only slipped once. He had grabbed the handrail to steady himself and was disgusted to find it had left a green residue upon his hand.

Silvius hadn’t expected the interior to be an improvement, but, as he pushed open the door, was hardly prepared for what he beheld. Several pails lay on the floor, strategically positioned beneath portions of ceiling that in some places opened to the night sky. Though it hadn’t rained in days everything seemed damp, and the occasional, ‘drip’, could be heard as he made his way in to the cavernesque bar.

The room was small. Two tables were sat before the bar and half dozen stools lined it. Two patrons currently occupied the place, though neither looked at all aware of their surroundings. Silvius had never been to this particular establishment in fact had previously gone out of his way to actively avoid it. During previous outings, he had found that illegal gambling events were sanctioned in its cellar, and that meant it was likely that the bar had more gold on hand than one may surmise based on its appearance.

“What can I get you”, the barkeep growled more than spoke. He was a grizzled man. Couldn’t have been more than forty, though you’d have sworn he was twice that. Greasy hair hung down his back and one eye was white with cataracts. He looked and smelled like death.

“How much for a pint?”

“One gold piece.”

Silvius plunged his hand into his pocket, dramatically fished around, and produced only an empty palm. “Seems I’ve left the house with empty pockets.” He looked to the barman and frowned before widening his eyes as if in recollection. “I’ve got this gem”, he said perhaps too excitedly. His hand dug in to a different pocket as he explained, “grabbed it from my wife’s box of jewelry. Worth at least twenty pints.” He slammed the jewel on the bar to the bewilderment of the keep. “It’s yours for the drink and nineteen gold in change.”

The man picked up the gem and gave it a solid look. It looked legitimate and indeed it was. In fact it was likely worth more than Silvius claimed. “Alright”, the man moaned as he fixed the pint and prepared to make change. As he counted back nineteen gold, Silvius interrupted. “Wait, how much for a flagon?”

“Five gold for a flagon.”

Silvius scratched his chin. “Alright, I’ll give you four back, you take the pint and pour it into the flagon, sound right?” The man didn’t protest and Silvius counted back four gold coins. The bartender momentarily disappeared in search of a flagon. Upon his return, Silvius stopped him again. “Ah ha. Yep, I just remembered where I put my gold”. He reached in to a pocket on the front of his tunic and produced a single coin. “I plan to be here a while, so I may as well just take the pint after all”. Silvius pointed to the barkeep’s hand saying, “you have four gold, the flagon is worth five, I’ll give you ten more and the one I’ve found and I’ll take my gem back, drink the pint, and call it even.” The man scratched his head, but couldn’t beat the reasoning. The exchange was made and Silvious sat down at a table, five gold and one drink the richer.

[Wynken]

Two sips remained of his pint when the barkeep momentarily abandoned his perch, and Silvius seized the opportunity to be gone from the place. Outside, he shook his purse and smiled. They were meager earnings, but Silvius enjoyed the conquest just the same. He had walked in with the intention to come away with more. Under more favorable circumstances, Silvius would often attempt to con the entire twenty gold value of the gem. However, he quickly lost his nerve. “A man that involved in the criminal underground couldn’t be as stupid as he looks”, Silvius had thought, “and shouldn’t be trifled with”. It was a start.

Silvius walked while considering his next destination and had only made it around the corner of the Golden Chalice.

“That was a nifty trick”.

The voice was clear, articulate, and showing no sign of hostility. Silvius was certain that its owner was not the barkeep, nor one of his cohorts. He turned and protested, “what trick ya talkin about”? The man was no more than a silhouette, a deeper darkness in the already lightless shadow of the tavern. “You’re quite the thespian too”, he stated before striking a match. Silvius attempted to continue his denial. “I don’t know wha…”, but the man interrupted, unimpressed by the obvious lie. “How would you like to make a real profit?”

Silvius took a trusting step forward. “Go on”, he offered in an attempt to sound less interested and more intimidating than were reality. As his eyes became more attuned to the dark, Silvius swallowed hard at the sight of the man’s wicked blade, and he hoped that his gruff façade would go untested. The man drew back his deep cowl and, though at the time his face was buried in his arms, Silvius recognized him as a patron in the bar. His careless, cropped black hair was simply too cleanly to belong to a hobo or a drunkard.

Wynken had occupied a stool at the end of the bar. He had slumped, face first, onto the counter; still gripping a half empty pint of ale as if sobriety had failed him entirely before he could finish. He was there on contract, having been hired to “do away with” a participant in that evening’s gambling event. (Wynken had openly mocked his employer for the hypocritical guilt which prevented him from using the words kill or murder.) In actuality, the deed had been accomplished hours previous through the administration of a deadly, yet slow acting, toxin. Wynken had remained in anticipation of hearing the screams of anguish which would any moment be issuing from the tavern’s cellar.

[Wynken]

“Not here”, Wynken said under his breath as he stalked past Silvius and continued brusquely away from the bar. Intrigued, the con artist turned and followed until they had reached a secluded alleyway. They were behind a temple, he realized, and not far from his home. This particular segment of the sanctuary’s wrought iron fence had been converted to solid stone. It now acted to further separate the temple’s courtyard from an adjacent tavern. Noise was cited as the reason, though drunken riffraff was more likely the catalyst.

Pleased with the location, Wynken faced Silvius, and adopted a serious demeanor.

“Tomorrow morning, travel to City Hall and seek Jaliss Evenkeel.” He paused to ensure Silvius had time to process the information before continuing.

“Volunteer to the town watch, they’re dreadfully understaffed and should accept with little questioning.”

Wynken paused again, took a step back, and looked him over before commenting, “Get some equipment. You’re the actor, play the part of a lawful adventurer.”

Silvius blushed a little and nodded. “Right, you’re right.”

With a roll of his eyes, Wynken proceeded saying, “Be sure to get some kind of official seal or insignia and then meet me here tomorrow evening. We’ll discuss more then.”

With that the two parted and Silvius made his way from the alley and toward his house. He knew that Bertha would not have him back so soon, and was hardly ready to resume their conversation regardless. He would however be in need of his sword.

“Real adventure…real intrigue”, he thought as he attempted to work through the various scenarios of the coming day. He had been proud of himself for his discovery of the short change scam, and looked forward to learning more methods of trickery. His imagination running wild, Silvius practically skipped the remainder of his journey. Adrenaline filled his veins as he anticipated the next day’s adventures. He felt free.

[Wynken]

Bertha checked in on the children. She tucked them in and had been watching them as they slept from the doorway of their shared bedroom. Jo Ellen’s fine blond hair bobbed gently upon her pillow as she breathed to the rhythm of her dreams. She was a spitfire, same as her mother, but she slept like an angel. Their three year old son was comically her opposite. He had the kindest and gentlest spirit but slept like a crazy man. All four of his appendages hung wildly from the side of his bed, and he had already wrestled himself free from the sheets that Bertha had so neatly pulled up - twice. His name was Slavius, and Bertha regretted having allowed her husband to pick it. She laughed to herself and thought of happy memories before retiring.

Silvius touched the glass of his children’s bedroom window and stifled a tear at the sight of their nurturing mother. He shook his pouch again, this time the jingle of five gold coins sounding more like defeat than victory. He blew a long sigh, the anticipation of the next day replaced by trepidation and guilt. “No choice”, he thought in justification.

Having waited sufficiently long, Silvius crept along the house to its front door. Using his key, he then slipped inside and returned shortly with one of the long swords from the mantel. It had been years since he held it in his hand. At first it felt more as a prop than an actual weapon, but his muscle memory soon returned and he sent the blade through a silent series of swings and slices. Pleased, he returned to sit beneath his children’s window. It lifted his spirits to wield his old sword once again, and, slumped against the side of his house, Silvius laughed to himself and thought of happy memories before retiring.

Had he been attentive, Silvius may have observed a shadow at the edge of his property as it moved unnaturally in the mild breeze. He wasn’t the only one eavesdropping that night. In a bid to secure some collateral, Wynken had trailed him to his home.

[Wynken]

Wet with early morning dew, Silvius woke to a cheerless sky wherein moonlight battled that of the Sun before a diminishing audience of stars. One after another the celestial lights blinked out but still the hazy gray of pre-dawn remained. He considered it to be fitting, given his mood.

Silvius gripped his sword once more and hoisted it from the grass. Many times in the past he and Bertha had spent the night under the stars. Alone. They had nothing but open road before them and a shared lust for glory and adventure in their hearts. He frowned, confident those days had long been over and disheartened by the ignoble circumstances which had taken their place.

Silvius stood and attempted to brush the droplets from his clothes which, for the most part, served only to further dampen them. A misty fog had settled and it impeded his sight as he peered down the rough path which cut through the cabins and cottages of Underwood. Desiring to be away before the community became active; he started in the direction of City Hall.

In no particular hurry, the sun had fully ascended beyond the horizon when Silvius arrived. Lost in thought, he had been walking out of habit rather than deliberation and only recalled why he journeyed at all at the sight of the city’s political building. Several prominent figures held offices there, he knew, though he doubted that Jaliss would be in. Still he strode up to the door which had been littered with bulletins proclaiming various items of import. He eyed one expressing the need for volunteer watchmen and prepared to knock as the door unexpectedly opened.

His initial surprise was doubled as Silvius came to the immediate realization that he stood before the captain of the watch, none other than Jaliss Evenkeel.

“Oh! Good morning and come on in”, the regal elf remarked as he held open the door.

Entirely unprepared, Silvius stuttered slightly and toyed childishly with his belt as he said, “actually sir, I’m here to see you.” He pointed to the notice which was now partially concealed by the hand of Jaliss. “I was interested in volunteering.”

The captain looked him over incredulously, the uncertainty clear upon his face. It agitated Silvius to appear before him in such disarray, a true testament of his desperation. At a time, the two may have been considered equals. In fact, he and Bertha would often find themselves in friendly competition with the elven adventurer. It had been a long time, and their lives had permanently diverged nearly four years ago. Moreover, Silvius was markedly out of shape and generally looking worse for wear. He didn’t really know what he expected. He hadn’t truly processed how the elf may react, but it pained him to be so unmemorable. “I never really cared for the man anyway”, Silvius thought, but he recalled that Jaliss had always paid more attention to his wife.

“Don’t ya remember”, he asked. “It’s Silvius. You knew my wife, Bertha.” Jaliss nodded courteously but Silvius could tell that he was still trying to make the connection. “Bertha the Battle Maiden”, he added.

“Ah yes! By the stars, it’s been a long time. You’re looking well.” Silvius cringed inwardly at the lie but forced a smile and continued to exchange pleasantries. Jaliss asked a few questions and listened halfheartedly until the conversation faded into an awkward silence.

“So, volunteering are you?”

“Right”, Silvius affirmed, happy to be discussing the topic at hand. “With the wife and kids, I feel I’ve got an interest in keepin the place well patrolled.” The honesty in the claim struck him as he spoke the words, but he quickly pushed the feelings aside as Jaliss continued.

“Well, the pay isn’t anything to get excited about. The sign does say volunteer”, he winked and slapped Silvius on the shoulder. “Come on”, he said with a wave. “Mayor Aldebrand has approved a small incentive, so we can talk specifics in my office.”

[Wynken]

Eager to be out from behind his desk, Jaliss cut through the proverbial red tape, and within minutes Silvius was assigned to active duty as a voluntary member of the Underwood Town Watch. He was issued their standard brand, an item that would establish his authority in the eyes of the citizenship, and an advance on his first day’s wage – ten gold coins. With that, Jaliss sent him on his way with a firm handshake, saying “I’ll expect you to sign in here prior to every patrol. If necessary, I’ll give you an assignment at that time, but at the least I’ll need a full report of your previous outing.”

It had been nearly twelve hours since then, and Silvius’ anticipation mounted as the moments passed. He had played the role of town watchman for the better part of the afternoon, but it was a poor distraction. Noting the reddening sky, Silvius finished his dinner, settled his tab, and stepped out of the tavern; behind which he was to meet the stranger from the previous night. He anxiously glanced right to left and wiped the sweat that had gathered on his palms. Satisfied that no one was watching, he rounded the corner of the building.

Having not always been an alley, the space was abnormally wide, though Silvius felt that the high stone wall made it feel more enclosed. Such a structure was uncommon in the logging town. It felt cold. He ran his fingers along the harsh surface of the barricade. “So uninviting”, Silvius considered aloud though the grander ideological significance was lost on him.

“Paradoxically so”, came the unwarranted response from somewhere at his back, “for a church that is open to all”. Startled, Silvius spun though he recognized the voice. True to his word, Wynken had arrived.

[Wynken]

Wynken stepped into the last of the fading sunlight and smirked, his eyes coming to rest on the glinting insignia of the town watch. Silvius loathed him at that moment, was at odds with everything. He no longer felt free in the spirit of adventure but trapped without any recourse. He recalled the authenticity of his statement to Jaliss and tried to more deeply considered the feelings.

“This is really quite simple”, Wynken explained, arresting Silvius from his thoughts. He thrust a heavy pouch into Silvius’ hands as he continued, “Take this. It’s two hundred forty-five gold.” Silvius’ eyes widened, ‘that certainly was easy’, he thought. Wynken sneered, “Don’t get any ideas. Once I find a mark, you’re to offer that to me in exchange for whatever I’m selling.” With a chuckle he added, “Just say it worked great and you’d like to buy more”.

Silvius nodded his understanding and forced a smile. He was glad to have such a small part. As he thought it through, a look of confusion slowly edged across his features before he finally asked, “Wait. Why’d I join the watch?”

Wynken rubbed his temples in dramatized discomfort. “Trust”, was all that he answered. Content with the answer, Silvius’ smile returned, broader this time.

Separately, the two made their way to the front of the temple. Wynken stood immediately outside its doors and had instructed Silvius to watch him from a location down the road. In position, he stood alone in the dark and Silvius cursed his foul mood and misfortune. Though the sun had finished its descent, Silvius could see Wynken by the light of a torch which illuminated the temple entrance. His typical rush of adrenaline was replaced by bile as his stomach turned with the stress and emotions of the day. Glancing over his shoulder, he considered walking away. The faint sound of voices drew his attention back to the church, and Silvius could see that Wynken had been joined by another.

Wynken observed the man as he exited the temple. He was outwardly burdened with a great sadness, and his eyes glimmered in the light of the fire as if he had recently been crying. “What troubles you, friend”, Wynken asked. His cloak and cowl had been drawn tight to conceal his weapons and more closely mimic the attire of a monk.

Weary and seeking refuge, the man spoke as though he were on the verge of tears. “It’s me wife, sir. Both err legs are infected, and she may never walk again.”

Wynken placed his right hand on the man’s shoulder. “And you desire for her to be well?”

The man sobbed gently, overcome by guilt and sorrow, “I should a’ve never let err work so `ard alone. That animal which bit err, I’da scared it off.” The lines of sadness deepened on his face and he looked into Wynken’s eyes. “Without err `elp, I can’t make enough fer us to live, and who’ll tend to err while I’m off tryin?”

Wynken pushed softly on the man’s shoulder in a show of understanding and concern. “The gods show pity on you this day”, he offered as he opened his other hand into the light. Four small white objects rest in his palm. “Two of these should bring her to health, but the magic in them is strong and doesn’t come cheap”.

The man blinked away his tears and a look of disgust clouded his features as he came to the see that the tiny objects were a jagged set of teeth. He had witnessed snake oil peddlers in the past and knew well enough to avoid their schemes. He also understood that the practice was illegal in Underwood. Wynken noted his anxiety as the man looked from his palm to the temple gate, which at that moment had been entered by a member of the Town Watch.

Silvius had wrestled with thoughts all the way to the temple’s entrance. In the end, necessity and the human propensity to rationalize won out and he promised for the hundredth time, “this will be the last time.” As Silvius approached, he regarded Wynken with a look of recollection. The man backed away in anticipation of the coming scuffle but was shocked to see the officer nearly embrace the suspected criminal. “I’m so happy that I found you again. This truly is a lucky day. That worked so well last time that I’d like to buy another.”

Caught off guard by Silvius’ enthusiasm, Wynken nearly dropped the ‘pills’ when he had shaken his arm in friendly greeting. “Well, you know the cost. Two hundred and fifty gold”, Wynken proclaimed.

Silvius produced a sack of coins and handed it to Wynken in exchange for two of the teeth. With that, Wynken turned again to the man and lamented, “only one dose left”.

[Wynken]

"I'll `ave em", the man said stepping forward once more. He tentatively bit his lip as he looked from Wynken to Silvius to the remaining teeth. “But I’ve only two `undered coins”, he admitted with a shrug. “And they’re back at home.”

Wynken softened his features and lowered his voice in compassion. “Two hundred is more than enough for such a worthy cause”. Then, turning to Silvius, he said, “I hope you don’t mind me offering him a reduced price. His wife is in great need.”

Silvius smiled and nodded his approval. A luster returned to the man’s eyes, this time marked not by tears but excitement. “Oh! Blessings to the both of ya”, he proclaimed; and with a skip in his step he bid the two to follow him.

As they made their way from the temple Wynken engaged the man in jovial conversation and Silvius was finally given the opportunity to more thoroughly navigate his feelings. The conversation with Jaliss still unsettled him, and the implication of his words filled him with doubt and uncertainty. Silvius quickly discerned that the source of his confliction was guilt as he came to understand how selfish his actions had been. ‘I’ve been blaming everyone. Bertha, even the kids’, he thought as he reflected on the resentment harbored within his heart. Those same bitter feelings which previously justified his feeling entitled to maintain the adventurous lifestyle of his past now rang out in accusation of Silvius’ insensitive attitude and irresponsibility.

A short distance from the churchyard gates, the man turned a corner and stated, “It’s just up ahead”. Having cleared his head, Silvius recognized the neighborhood immediately. It was very near to his own, and his property sat adjacent to those on this particular path. Ever intrigued by synchronicity, Wynken merely grinned and urged the man to lead on.

He stopped before a humble cabin, no more than a shack by Wynken’s estimation and by all accounts smaller than even Silvius’ modest home. Even by the dull light of the moon one could tell that the place had been lovingly tended. The landscape was aesthetically simple, free from cluttered or overly noisy arrangements of foliage. Symmetrical rows of white tulips lined the walkway to the front door, and they radiated a pale aura as they reflected the light of the moon. The house itself was warm and inviting. Delicately trimmed hanging flowers adorned the porch where sat two weathered rocking chairs.

Although lesser in terms of status and stature, Silvius admired the home and the caring relationship it symbolized in his mind. He wondered if he and Bertha could ever nurture or produce something so embodied of love and serenity. He tried to imagine the two of them, old and gray, occupying the chairs and merely enjoying one another’s company. Then, peering around the community, Silvius noted that they were practically neighbors. He could see that his home was immediately adjoined to the back of the property next door.

The man promised to return, thanked them again for their kindness, and disappeared into his house. Silvius thought again of his promise to Jaliss and turned to Wynken. “What’s wrong with this man’s wife?”

“What do you care”, Wynken retorted dismissively. “You’ve earned your part, and in a few moments we’ll both walk away with one hundred gold.”

Silvius toyed with the teeth in his pocket and tried to envision Bertha’s surprise at such a handsome profit as he made every attempt to stifle his conscience. It was no use. He began to feel ill as he considered the pain their ruse would cause: the monetary loss, the feeling of violation, and worst of all the recognition that the woman’s condition may worsen as a result of ingesting filthy and disease ridden teeth.

“I can’t do this”, Silvius uttered almost unthinkingly and beneath his breath.

Wynken regarded him with impatience. “What is it now?”

As he focused more fully, Silvius stated again with greater conviction, “I can’t do this. And I can’t let you either.”

[Wynken]

Wynken nodded solemnly as he said with exaggerated disappointment, “I anticipated as much”. Then a dastardly smile creased his lips and he pointed as he continued, “Which is why I followed you home last night.” His smile faded and with a wry look he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “It’s in their best interest that you just keep quiet.”

All day he had mentally and emotionally been skirting a previously unexplored boundary, and in an instant that plane was snapped someplace within Silvius’ being. For many years of his life, he had been an adventurer. Silvius had been faced with frightful foes and perilous situations too great to number, but he had never experienced fear as compelling or immediate as that which gripped him then. The adrenaline of excitement paled in comparison to that which was inspired by the terrible realization that he had placed his family in grave danger, and without warning and with little conscious control, he erupted into a frenzy.

Launching himself at Wynken, Silvius hadn’t even time to draw his sword before he hailed a flurry of kicks, punches, scratches, and even a bite or two upon his enemy. Defenseless and entirely unprepared, Wynken could do little but absorb the volley. He attempted to fall away in retreat but a solid hit found his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the rough path.

Focused only on the safety of his family, Silvius sprinted past his felled opponent in the direction of his home. “Bertha!”, he cried out as he ran.

Quickly regaining his feet, Wynken drew his graceful parrying dagger and gave chase to his mad assailant. In considerably better shape than the aging and slightly overweight Silvius, Wynken closed the distance between them with little trouble, and they had soon reached Silvius’ property and were very near to the house.

“Bertha! Get the kids to safety”, Silvius plead.

Wholly in tune with his senses, he instinctively knew that he wouldn’t make the house in time, and, drawing his sword as he came, Silvius promptly spun about with a wide sidelong swipe.

Wynken was there in an instant, and fell well within the range of Silvius’ long sword. However, he had watched the maneuver develop and this time was not surprised. With both hands on his dagger, Wynken brought the weapon across his body to intercept the forceful blow. Out of position to counter with his hands, Wynken kicked out with his remaining momentum. The heel of his boot connected with Silvius’ thigh, and the teeth within his pocket were savagely embedded into the man’s leg. Out of instinct more than a registered act, Silvius let out an anguished scream.

Alerted by her husband’s cries, Bertha had come out of the house then. Seeing the two entrenched in battle, she too was moved by the dire necessity of the situation, as well as the long forsaken heroics of her beloved. Without hesitation, she ran to her children’s room where they were huddled fearfully against their bedroom window. “Come quickly”, she said. Being a warrior and ever possessed of an adventurer’s spirit, Bertha had raised them to be courageous. With a kiss, a prideful smile, and the faithful assurance that they would be safe; she ushered them out the back door and silently away.

Silvius fought valiantly, his sheer ferocity matching the cunning of his opponent. His attacks came as though in a single series, random in design and with little time between. High, low, low, high and each swing hit closer to its mark though Wynken now faced him with two weapons to his one. Understanding that Silvius’ offensive was unsustainable, Wynken assumed a defensive rhythm. Before long, the blows began to fall with less consistency.

Silvius knew it as well, and began to muster his strength for a final offensive. He couldn’t survive this fight, but he would buy his family enough time to seek shelter, and possibly hinder his foe as well. His arms felt as heavy weights as he swung his sword with reckless abandon, and lacking essential motor control Silvius finally committed himself to an off-balanced swing. Seeing the opening, Wynken thrust his sword forward toward the man’s exposed midsection.