The Oreans

Prologue

Prologue

Saved for a towering yet crumbling edifice not far, a neglected castle, nothing else could be made out but pitched blackness outside the window, but the hooded, cloaked figure kept its eyes fixed on it, lost in its own thoughts. Sitting alone by a small round table in that inconspicuous countryside inn, this person had been attracting the attention of the habitués since it had entered because it had violated the code of the establishment: Be a doe or meet a foe. It seemed not to heed them at all though.

"Hey there!" a bulky man with breath smelling tobacco and liquor approached the stranger. "Arrogant, ain't you? Don't you even know how to say hello?"

The banter fell on deaf ears. The figure did not even shift.

"Teach 'im a lesson if I're you," said a horsy-faced man as smoke billowed from his mouth.

"Hey, you fool! Why don't you look? Ah! Aaarh!"

The man's cry of pain made everyone in the room stand up in alarm. All the men rushed to his side to see what had happened, for the last thing they had seen was when he had reached out to grab the stranger by the shoulder. As if taunting them, it did not even spare them a glance.

"Why? What happened?" a short man asked.

"I don't know," moaned the man, casting a pair of terrified bloodshot eyes at the stranger as he showed the onlookers his hand. The palm was skinned in places and showed raw, scorched flesh as if it was burned.

"What have you done to him?" someone asked as some of the men surrounded the stranger's table ominously.

The stranger cast them an indifferent glance through slits between its lowered hood and muffler and went back to staring at the window. Feeling insulted at this, they would have lunged at it altogether when a feminine voice spoke: "Leave my lord alone!"

The men turned as one to the speaker: a young woman with handsome features, herself wrapped in earthy brown cloak, pushing her way through them. They exchanged looks and snickered.

"Lord! one of them repeated then addressed the stranger disdainfully, What do you rule over, my lord? A tiny portion of Frieda?"

The stranger, glancing at the speaker icily, stood up abruptly, nearly upending the table, and stood before everyone with clenched fist. Though barely rising above everyones shoulders, the defiant stance caused the inn to fall into silence.

"Get out of my way," a youthful voice came through the muffler that concealed half of the strangers face. "I do not wish to hurt anybody, but if you force me you will be sorry."

Perhaps due to the coldness of the voice or the quiet power they could not see but sense, all the men stepped back, paving a way-except one, the strangers mocker earlier. He had a muscular frame and a cut across his left cheek that only showed clearly a rough existence.

He growled, "Let's see if his boasts worth anything."

With that, he made to seize the cloaked figures arm.

What happened next came so fast it was a blur. All but those nearest swore afterwards they only saw the cloaked figure dodge the attacker by turning around and pat him lightly on the back, but the man fell promptly and refused to rise any further. There was a question in everybodys eyes, but nobody dared ask. They were now eyeing the stranger cautiously.

"He's only asleep," the stranger said coolly as with a final glance at the fallen man moved through the crowd briskly and, passing by the woman, told, "Pay the bill. I'll just get our things. We're leaving."