The Champion

Prologue

"I see," a tall man clad in armor stroked his chin, eyeing the land before him, "something green."

"Eh," his partner remarked, gathering all the intelligence he could muster. "Ah! The grass!" He pointed ahead wildly, like he had an epiphany.

"Yeah, it's the grass," the guard mumbled, unsure of why his luck was so terrible in this game. "You go."

The two soldiers were on duty in front of the western gate that led into the kingdom of Might, home of the humans. Cozied up in the bottom-right corner of the land on a map, the kingdom had only two gates: North and West. To the south and east lay water for all the eye could see. Somehow, these two had managed to catch the long, grueling midday shift. The soldiers shielded their eyes from the sun that shined down on them.

"I see... something..." His partner's jaw dropped. "Something big?"

"Big? What—" the guard began to ridicule him, but widened his eyes instead. Surely enough, there was something big—almost the size of the wilting tree's trunk that it walked past—coming right their way.

"Should we call for reinforcements?" his partner asked, gripping onto his spear with sweaty hands. The guard only stared ahead, unable to identify the bulky figure. It wasn't a monster—there were civil features in plain sight, like the armor and bold posture—so there was no need to panic. As the more experienced and confident of the two, he would make the better decisions.

"No, we..." the guard trailed off. A caped figure wearing a knight's helm came toward them, his armor gleaming from the sun. Observing his slow, gentle trot, the guards eased their readied spears to the ground but retained their tight grasp and stance.

"Who's that?" his partner asked, confused. The guard heaved his shoulders for a response.

"Well, it's not an elf." He scanned the oncoming figure from helmet to boot. "Too wide."

"Not a dwarf, either." His partner chuckled. "Too tall."

"A human?" they both decided simultaneously, then looked at one another to see their red faces. Humans were average, but the figure was too tall and wide to be a human. What then could it be? Smiles appeared; they were eager to see such a mysterious sight.

"Hello!" the guard hollered, waving his free arm around. The knight finally stopped once he was in front of the guards and cast a shadow upon them. He was massive, which had the guards trembling—temporarily of course. They were guards and wouldn't show their cowardice, even if they were facing Death itself.

"And you are?" his partner asked, an awkward moment of silence following.

No response.

All the knight did was keep his gaze trained on the gate behind the guards. He did nothing but stare; it even seemed like he wasn't breathing, like a statue.

"Will you at least lift your visor up so we can see your face?" the guard requested.

"I can't," the knight answered. The visor looked like it was stuck to him. The guard was unsure of where the armor ended, and where the knight—the man that existed beneath the armor—began.

"Where did you come from, then?" his partner asked hesitantly, unsure of where to go with his questioning.

"I don't know." The knight genuinely seemed confused. He looked around, still trying to soak in his environment. How could somebody as great as this knight have no origins? There was no way he wasn't born and raised in the great kingdom of Might. Surely he was from there, but perhaps had taken some knight training elsewhere.

"Okay, let's start slow, then." The guard coughed for attention, elbowing his partner in the side. "I'm Raboo, and this is my second-in-command... Jerryl." Raboo knew without a doubt his partner was glaring right at the side of his face, yet he was too focused on the knight to acknowledge it visibly.

The knight retrieved a greatsword from his back and held it in front of him horizontally. The red blade glistened in the sun, sending more fear rushing into the guards. He had a weapon—not just any weapon, but a great sword?

"That's... that's a nice weapon, sir," Raboo whispered, a fake smile plastered on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was show the knight—who seemed a little drunk—his weakness. He was a guard. A human. He would make sure that it was clear to whoever dared to pass through the gate that he guarded it with honor and resolve.

"Humans..." the knight echoed, his voice bold, clear, everything a hero would sound like. It was as if a grand speech were to come, with the audience falling into a trance. He would dispel their doubts, worries, and fears just by voice alone. Even Raboo was calmed at his presence, though he shook his head.

"What's your business here?" Raboo demanded, standing tall and thrusting his chestplate out. The knight didn't even glance at—

"I have come to serve Good." The knight lifted his gaze up, staring right into Raboo's soul, which made him uncomfortable. It was more than what a pair of eyes could accomplish by a long shot. "Where is the enforcer of Good that I may serve?"

"Enforcer of... Good?" Raboo sputtered, looking at Jerryl for aid. His partner did nothing of the sort, for he was standing tall and holding his spear at his side--frozen in place. Raboo was alone on this one.

"Yes. High position, high power and responsibility," the knight replied, lifting his sword over his shoulder and clenching his right gauntlet. His visor was dipped toward the ground, some sort of internal conflict unraveling.

"Uh... the King?" Raboo answered, then nodded his head to himself. He didn't know what to do. The knight was acting so strange, so maybe the king knew what to do. He always did, anyway. "Yeah, the King. He's the one you're looking for, isn't it!"

"King?" The knight repeated the word, receiving a nod of the head from both guards. "Yes."

"I'll show you myself--just follow me," Raboo requested, and turned around. "Clear!" The gate opened with a loud creak of rusty machinery, revealing a cobblestone street straight ahead with a thick mob of civilians rushing about. It was midday; of course it was hectic. Raboo could hear the commotion even with the gate closed.

"Oh, pardon me for my curiosity, but what's your name?" Raboo asked, as he and the knight ventured inside the kingdom. The knight was at least a head taller than all the humans around him. He looked like... a god. He couldn't be human. He was something else entirely. Raboo just hoped he wasn't a monster about to destroy his beloved kingdom. Raboo would be remembered as the man who let the destruction happen; his worst fear.

The knight's visor darted from left to right as he absorbed his surroundings intently. It seemed as if he had never been here before. But finally, like the question had just reached him, he set his gaze straight ahead with the utmost focus. Minutes passed of pure thinking until an answer came out of him in a quiet manner:

"The Champion of the Realm."