You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Aletta falls to the cushion, exhausted, finally letting the pack that's rested on her shoulders for days slump violently to the ground. She lets out an exasperated sigh.
"Ahh, wow, this is some nice fabric," she says, twirling a few stray strands fraying off the cushion between her fingers. "Where'd ya get it? I wanna word with their shepherds, they must treat their sheep like royalty..." Aletta notices the old woman staring, her expression frozen. "Oh! Sorry about that, what's it you wanna hear? My story?"
Aletta settles in, reaching over to rummage through her pack. "I come from a farm in Aaun, it's huge, fields that roll over the horizon into rivers that flow even further. My pa doesn't seem to think much of it, but I'll tell you I've traveled a good way from home and I still haven't seen one bigger!" she smirks, her eyes still fixed on finding something in her bag. "We raise our sheep as tailors, we make folks clothes—these rags are a family secret, they'll outlive my grandkids." Aletta looks up for a moment to gesture at and brag about her visibly-worn canvas shirt before returning her attention to her search.
"Anyway, I grew up nice and strong, I've been helping with the sheep since I was little, and when my parents are out, it's on me to protect the farm. That said, it's not like there's much out there that wants it—" she slows down, her stare going past her bag, as if she was staring through the ground, "that's what I thought, anyways."
"My parent's came back from a market trip to Petra. I was so happy to see them, it had been such a boring week without them. Pa said he would teach me how to use his blade—this old, antique, worthless strip of iron that he arguably loved more than his own daughter—and I was thrilled. It felt like he finally saw me as more than some little girl. I was finally going to learn how to defend myself, defend my home, my parents, my sheep, be the strong woman I've been telling myself I had been for years. That night, however, the hills lit up with torches." A small tear formed in the corner of Aletta's eye. "Bandits came down from all around like the divine were seeking to wipe us off the map, leaving fire in their wake. Houses all around us crumbled to the ground until they marched down through our front door. We were hiding in the floorboards, hoping—praying—they didn't find us, but it was no use. They tore up the floorboards, lifted us out, and sat us on the ground. Our fate was sealed." She shakes her head, focusing again on her bag, moving with more conviction.
"They thought I would be the easier target, their sick, bloodied hatchets aimed towards my neck. That was when my father, in a flash, reached for his blade, shoved me out of the way and sought to deflect the blow."
Aletta's eyes widen for a moment as she pulls out a shard of polished black metal from her sack, letting it flop down to its side.
"It didn't stand a chance. The sword shattered everywhere, but it didn't matter. In the chaos, my parents screamed for me to run, my father shoving me towards the door as my mother threw a pack into my chest, an emergency pack that we saved for times like this. I didn't have time to think—think about how my home was in flames, how I wasn't strong enough to save anybody, how I had to be saved, how saving me sealed their fate. I didn't have time to wonder why they didn't chase me out, why they couldn't find me, none of that. I ran."
For the first time, Aletta looked up into the old lady's eyes.
"Nobody will ever need break their blade for me again," she says, clutching tighter to the metal shard, drawing blood from her fingers, "—ah, ****." Aletta shakes the pain away. "I'm headed to become a knight. Who knows how many families there are out there who can't defend themselves. Even if it has to be me alone, I will guarantee there is someone there for them."
The old lady smiles, breaking her stale expression for the first time since Aletta arrived.
"You're a very honorable lady, young Stonecloud. The fact you made it this far is proof of your conviction. Very well, you shall have the aid you need. Show her to her steed." She waves Aletta out of the room.
Aletta stops, confused. "How do you know my—" her sentence is cut short as the two men on her flank lift her and her belongings and carry them out of the tent, as another man comes out with a horse. Aletta, still confused, looks into the horse's eyes and, for the first time in her long journey, feels the energy of hope and smiles.
