Wooden planks creaked under the weight of Soren's boots as he made his way further into the old Library. Boots that had served him well under his tenure as a locksmith. Now worn down with his big toe sticking out searching for fresh air in a musty boot, slowly tearing apart as he walked down to the library's history section.
Soren's favorite spot, at the back of the basement in an old library, stood the untouched records of history. Soren grinned, finally able to take his weekend off and burry himself under scripture and novels written by famous writers.
He'd always been a nerd, happy sitting off in a quiet corner cross referencing various segments of history to see if they match. Wondering whether stories were exaggerated and what living in one would feel like.
"Huh?" Soren snapped out of his revere and picked up a heavy blood red hardcover book. "I've never seen this around here." Soren thought as he traced his finger across the golden engravings that were embedded on the cover. "A Baron's Ballad" stoked at his luck Soren turned the cover over with wide eyes. Only one sentence ran across the page; "Prepare for thou shall arrive."
As Soren finished the sentence, the book started shimmering bright red. Soren groaned under the unbearable heat generated.
"Is this how I die?" Soren wheezed as he was brought to his knees, flames lighting up all around him setting the library ablaze.
"Fuck this shit I'm out." His last thought before he passed out.
....
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh" Soren gasped as he was knocked down. Metal clanking and the smell of dung was the first thing that hit him. Soren breathed heavy and realised that something was wrong with his vision. He looked through a thin horizontal slit and realised that he was wearing a helmet.
"Hahah, Frode! The sequence was jab, feint and then sweep!" A burly knight hoarsed at him.
"Huh?" Soren wondered what was going on as he looked around to see a rowdy group of men surrounding him, some geared up in chainmail while others having leather overalls.
He scanned the faces in the crowd, his gaze resting on one of the individuals sneering at him. The signature scar running down the right eye, and the scruffy beard caught his attention.
"Brother" Soren sneered back, a bell sounded the whirl of memories flooding in like a broken dam.
A searing headache ensued as everything from his birth, to his fights and arguments with his brothers came rushing into his mind.
Soren heard metallic clacks from heavy boots getting closer. "Get up Frode, don't make a fool of yourself in front of the crowd." Sir Bjorn whispered
Soren looked up into the seasoned yet determined green eyes of his mentor and father figure, Sir Bjorn. Giving Bjorn a slight nod, he grabbed the offered hand and heaved himself up. Bjorn bore into his eyes with a stern look.
"Now impress me boy!!" Bjorn guffawed with a flourish of his sword as he spun around to showboat to the crowd, causing a cheer from the men.
Soren nodded and used the reprieve to sort out the information in his head. Soren now knew that the event being held was a weekly contest between the three brothers. A chance to show off to the crowd and garner support for their cause.
Did he even know how to fight? Soren shut his eyes in desperation trying to remember the training that Frode had gone through.
"10 sols on Sir Bjorn there" A man raised his hand up to challenge anyone for a bet.
"Hah, everyone knows he's not taking this seriously. Do you think he'll actually hurt the young master?" "I'll match that against you!"
Smalls bets rang out around the clearing as different people chose their side, a familiar bell rang out in Soren's mind, the blood rushing to his brain. This time managing to control the onsuing headache. Soren flourished in return to signify that he was ready.
Sir Bjorn nodded and walked up to him with a slow gait. Those sharp green eyes stalking his prey with confidence that belied his age. In a split second Sir Bjorn lunged forward to jab the greatsword at Soren.
Soren's ear rang as the blood pumping reached a cresendoe and time slowed down. He watched Sir Bjorn's jaw clenched with concentration, using his hips to lengthen the reach of his blade. Soren knew exactly what he had to do to put on a good show.
He waited until the blade was but a hair's width from his chest, before twisting into Sir Bjorn's open side. Pulling his sword along with him, sending it to the neck of Sir Bjorn. With great strength Sir Bjorn managed to swing his sword back in time to block the blow. The sound of metal ringing, as sparks flew caused the crowd to cheer with their fists in the air.