Ruben Hellheart was drunk and had lost track of time. Again. Every thought he had got lost in the blissful blur of drink that dominated his mind. Even the noise of the infamously rowdy tavern had mellowed to a quiet roar, not unlike the sound of the seas, lulling him deeper into his alcoholic daze. His half-closed eyes stared at the inside of his black hat, preventing almost all of the warm fireplace’s light to penetrate it’s dark threads. His arms hung straight down while he reclined on a wooden chair, and one of his legs was held up by another. He had no idea how long he had been sitting in this position. In fact, he didn’t even know how long he had been in this tavern. And he didn’t care.
Which was why it was nearly a miracle that he could even hear the little voice talking to him. Somehow, the word “help” made its way mostly undiluted to his brain, and, while he didn’t move, his subconscious started to work again. He could tell the air around him had changed. Nothing urgent or life-threatening, but something odd was going on. It seemed like the humor and crude cheer the tavern perpetually generated was focused on something standing near him. However, he could that whatever it was wasn’t going to hurt him, and so he decided to ignore it, returning to his blissful stupor.
Then he heard the word again, and his subconscious decided that maybe this is something he should pay attention to and forced him awake. With a jolt, he sat up, his hat landing on the table in front of him next to several empty beer mugs. His head rolled forward, then to the left, and he could hear the rowdiness grow around him, causing him to suspect they were laughing at him. He might have to beat some heads later tonight. If he ever got sober.
His head rolled to the right and finally he saw what the noise was all about: a small girl, standing a few feet from him, staring at him. He had to squint his eyes to see her through all the beer in his head, but did notice that she was clearly focused on him. He also saw that she was quite scared, but determined as well. Still, he wasn’t fond of children. It’s why he preferred drinking. There weren’t any women to get pregnant and try to trick you into being a father.
However, the girl insisted on talking to him, so he did his best to pay attention.
“I need your help!” she said earnestly, “Will you please help me?”
“H-help you?” he echoed, the words stalling in his drunken throat. Then he laughed, and he thought he heard a few laugh with him. His mind reeled.at what circumstances could possibly have occurred to cause some stranger of a little girl to come to him for help. He wondered at what she saw in him, as he was a big and intimidating man. Nearly dominating the meek wooden chair he sat in, he wore a long black coat, with thick black gloves, black leggings, and black boots. He had a black beard that clung to his chin, and with his black hat, which he picked up and put on his messy black hair, he clearly was someone most people didn’t want to see cross their path.
“Why wwwwwwould you come to me for help?” he asked, truly bewildered.
“I-I heard that a man named Hellheart was the greatest warrior and adventurer in these lands,” she said, and suddenly there was a great roar from the onlookers watching.
“Whoever told you that told you the greatest truth there is to tell!” someone shouted over the noise, and this made Ruben smile. If there was anything he was proud of, it was his reputation. There was quite a bit more to him than some dark clothes and stern look, and he considered the cheers, and jeers, from this unruly crowd was a testament to his skill and experience.
He rolled his head around to get another look at the girl, The crowd had started to sober him up because now he could finally get a good look at her, and was surprised at how homely she looked. She seemed to be about ten or eleven years old and very timid. Her red hair was covered with a worn white-handkerchief and her simple dress had certainly seen better days. It may have been blue once, but Ruben was not much of an expert on such things. In any case, he doubted she had any worthwhile business just by the look of her. He figured he could humor her for a little bit before sending her away and ordering another round of drinks for everyone.
“Well, if you’re looking for Heeeellllllllheart, you fffffound him,” he said, pulling his raised leg to the floor and giving her a playful glare. “Whattya want?”
She was clearly intimated by him, as she didn’t answer right away. However, she took a deep breath and said, “I . . . heard that you are willing to take any job for money. I . . . I need your help.”
“Thhhhat depends on the job and, more importantly, uhhhh, the money,” Ruben responded, the beer in him still stretching his words out. The girl nodded her head and pursed her lips for a moment to help keep her emotions in check.
“My father has been kidnapped and I need you to rescue him,” she said. He laughed once through his nose, but she didn’t notice. Instead, she turned to a brown satchel that hung from a shoulder strap to her hip, opened it, and pulled out a small leather bag. She placed on the table in front of The Hellheart, and its insides clinked, but only once. Ruben raised his eyebrows at the audacity this girl had, and within a moment everyone around her was laughing loudly, startling her.
“Unless there are some Linian gold coins in there, I’m afraid you’ll have to take your business elsewhere!” Ruben shouted over the noise at the girl, then laughed some more. Quite a funny story, he thought to himself, and he saw that everyone around him thought the same thing as they were nearly falling over each other in laughter. Taking another peek at the girl, she was clearly distraught by it all, and looked quite pitiable, if Ruben could bring himself to care.
“Go home, girl! You’re finished here.” Ruben said after the laughter had died down, shooing her away with a hand. However, she continued to plead with him, quickly draining his patience.
“Please!, I need your help!” she cried, tears beginning to gather in her eyes. Around her, the rowdy men were becoming weary of her persistence. Whatever hope she had was quickly leaving her body.
“I said ‘Go home!,”” Ruben scornfully stated, and he brushed off her bag of money to the floor where it landed with a single clink.
“Please,” she repeated, her eyes and her fists clenched tight as teardrops began to hit the wooden floorboards. Ruben would have physically remove her from the tavern himself, if it weren’t for notion that he wouldn’t be able to stand and walk because of the amount of alcohol in his body. He was about to shout at her again, when she interrupted his thoughts.
“Please,” she said again, “Some . . . strange men grabbed him and took him away. He tried to fight them but there . . . there were too many. And . . . and they said something about blood and a place called Dvarin and . . . and someone named Hargoth.”
Suddenly, no one felt like laughing anymore, and the whole tavern went silent. The girl noticed this, opened her eyes and saw everyone staring at her, but they were all looks of pity and fright, instead of the mockery from before. She turned back to Ruben, who looked her heavily, and he felt far more sober than he wanted to be at that very moment. As the silence continued, she put a hand on her mouth, wondering if she had said something wrong.
Finally, the barkeeper, who had been cheerfully watching from a distance, came up to her from behind, knelt down, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Little miss,” he said softly, “If that’s true, I’m afraid there isn’t much anyone can do.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Hargoth’s lands are his and no one succeeds in taking things from him. Anything that goes there stays there,” one man said lowly.
“I heard he has more than a thousand soldiers at every watchtower and checkpoint he has, and all of them are trained to be brutal killers,” said another.
“Anyone trying to get through his borders just to rescue one man would have to be insane,” said a third.
“In any case, if Hargoth really has your father, there really isn’t anything we can do,” the barkeeper added, rubbing his balding head nervously with a spare hand.
“Anything?” the girl repeated, nearly choking on the word.
The barkeeper shook his head, then, after a moment, asked, “Where is your mother?” The girl’s eyes quickly hit the floor, and she looked like she was about to start crying again. Reading this sign, the barkeeper sighed heavily and looked up at the crowd, his eyes eventually resting on Ruben, who had a strange look on his face.
When the girl brought up Dvarin and Hargoth, Ruben immediately thought that there really was nothing to be done about. However, something turned in his mind, and the gears inside his head started turning very slowly, mostly due to recent lack of use. Eventually, as his mind continued to sober up, he was able to put his thoughts together and start considering some possibilities.
“Ruben?” the barkeeper said, bring The Hellheart’s attention back to the tavern.
“It doesn’t add up,” Ruben said to himself.
“What?” the barkeeper blurted, standing up. Many of the other patrons were paying attention to Ruben as well.
“It doesn’t add up,” he repeated. Then he turned to the girl and asked, “These men that took your father. Were they wearing blue armor and had metal masks over their nose and mouth?”
The girl looked down at her memory and, after a pause, started nodding and looked back up at Ruben.
“You’re just farmers, right?” he asked her.
“Um, yes,” she meekly said, her voice cracking. “We were pig farmers until last fall, when we sold our last pigs. We were going to try to start a Northwheat crop in the spring.”
Northwheat, Ruben thought, the last resort of poor farmers before giving up completely. Her folks would be the last people someone like Hargoth would be concerned about. “Something strange is going on,” Ruben finally muttered.
“What do you mean?” asked someone from the crowd. Ruben opened his mouth, then put some fingers on his lips, his thoughts firing more rapidly now.
“There have been rumors that Hargoth is sending men around, frantically searching for something on this continent. Something important that he clearly wants as soon as possible. And if that’s that case why would his men kidnap a poor farmer?” Ruben answered.
“Who can fathom the mind of an absolute tyrant who rules his lands with fear?” the barkeeper mused, shrugging. He didn’t seem to think there was much to be concerned about as long as Hargoth wasn’t looking for him. Ruben, deep in thought, began staring at the girl, who began to feel nervous. After all the reactions she had received so far, she had no idea what to expect from this development.
“Alright! You have a deal!” Ruben suddenly said, catching everyone off guard.
“What?” the girl said, confused, but her voice was drowned out by many other’s blurting the same word at him much more loudly.
“Are you crazy?” the barkeeper said, walking up to him.
“Something more is going on. Hargoth does nothing idly, and he certainly doesn’t send his men out on cheap raids,” Ruben said, feeling completely sober and clear-minded, now that he was considering the situation.
“Look, Ruben,” the barkeeper said, drawing close to him and lowering his voice, “Your reputation isn’t at stake here. We won’t think less of you for avoiding Hargoth. Who cares what he’s doing! Why would you stake your life on something like this?”
“Because it beats sitting around here for weeks on end drowning in beer,” Ruben said, his eyes glinting with an excitement the barkeeper hadn’t seen before. He stepped back to watch the Hellheart bend over and pick up the girl’s little pouch of money from his chair. As he sat back up, he regretted doing that, putting a spare hand to his head to keep it from spinning so violently. Then he turned to the little girl, holding out the small bag.
“Let’s check this out and see if we can’t find your father!” he said.
Which was why it was nearly a miracle that he could even hear the little voice talking to him. Somehow, the word “help” made its way mostly undiluted to his brain, and, while he didn’t move, his subconscious started to work again. He could tell the air around him had changed. Nothing urgent or life-threatening, but something odd was going on. It seemed like the humor and crude cheer the tavern perpetually generated was focused on something standing near him. However, he could that whatever it was wasn’t going to hurt him, and so he decided to ignore it, returning to his blissful stupor.
Then he heard the word again, and his subconscious decided that maybe this is something he should pay attention to and forced him awake. With a jolt, he sat up, his hat landing on the table in front of him next to several empty beer mugs. His head rolled forward, then to the left, and he could hear the rowdiness grow around him, causing him to suspect they were laughing at him. He might have to beat some heads later tonight. If he ever got sober.
His head rolled to the right and finally he saw what the noise was all about: a small girl, standing a few feet from him, staring at him. He had to squint his eyes to see her through all the beer in his head, but did notice that she was clearly focused on him. He also saw that she was quite scared, but determined as well. Still, he wasn’t fond of children. It’s why he preferred drinking. There weren’t any women to get pregnant and try to trick you into being a father.
However, the girl insisted on talking to him, so he did his best to pay attention.
“I need your help!” she said earnestly, “Will you please help me?”
“H-help you?” he echoed, the words stalling in his drunken throat. Then he laughed, and he thought he heard a few laugh with him. His mind reeled.at what circumstances could possibly have occurred to cause some stranger of a little girl to come to him for help. He wondered at what she saw in him, as he was a big and intimidating man. Nearly dominating the meek wooden chair he sat in, he wore a long black coat, with thick black gloves, black leggings, and black boots. He had a black beard that clung to his chin, and with his black hat, which he picked up and put on his messy black hair, he clearly was someone most people didn’t want to see cross their path.
“Why wwwwwwould you come to me for help?” he asked, truly bewildered.
“I-I heard that a man named Hellheart was the greatest warrior and adventurer in these lands,” she said, and suddenly there was a great roar from the onlookers watching.
“Whoever told you that told you the greatest truth there is to tell!” someone shouted over the noise, and this made Ruben smile. If there was anything he was proud of, it was his reputation. There was quite a bit more to him than some dark clothes and stern look, and he considered the cheers, and jeers, from this unruly crowd was a testament to his skill and experience.
He rolled his head around to get another look at the girl, The crowd had started to sober him up because now he could finally get a good look at her, and was surprised at how homely she looked. She seemed to be about ten or eleven years old and very timid. Her red hair was covered with a worn white-handkerchief and her simple dress had certainly seen better days. It may have been blue once, but Ruben was not much of an expert on such things. In any case, he doubted she had any worthwhile business just by the look of her. He figured he could humor her for a little bit before sending her away and ordering another round of drinks for everyone.
“Well, if you’re looking for Heeeellllllllheart, you fffffound him,” he said, pulling his raised leg to the floor and giving her a playful glare. “Whattya want?”
She was clearly intimated by him, as she didn’t answer right away. However, she took a deep breath and said, “I . . . heard that you are willing to take any job for money. I . . . I need your help.”
“Thhhhat depends on the job and, more importantly, uhhhh, the money,” Ruben responded, the beer in him still stretching his words out. The girl nodded her head and pursed her lips for a moment to help keep her emotions in check.
“My father has been kidnapped and I need you to rescue him,” she said. He laughed once through his nose, but she didn’t notice. Instead, she turned to a brown satchel that hung from a shoulder strap to her hip, opened it, and pulled out a small leather bag. She placed on the table in front of The Hellheart, and its insides clinked, but only once. Ruben raised his eyebrows at the audacity this girl had, and within a moment everyone around her was laughing loudly, startling her.
“Unless there are some Linian gold coins in there, I’m afraid you’ll have to take your business elsewhere!” Ruben shouted over the noise at the girl, then laughed some more. Quite a funny story, he thought to himself, and he saw that everyone around him thought the same thing as they were nearly falling over each other in laughter. Taking another peek at the girl, she was clearly distraught by it all, and looked quite pitiable, if Ruben could bring himself to care.
“Go home, girl! You’re finished here.” Ruben said after the laughter had died down, shooing her away with a hand. However, she continued to plead with him, quickly draining his patience.
“Please!, I need your help!” she cried, tears beginning to gather in her eyes. Around her, the rowdy men were becoming weary of her persistence. Whatever hope she had was quickly leaving her body.
“I said ‘Go home!,”” Ruben scornfully stated, and he brushed off her bag of money to the floor where it landed with a single clink.
“Please,” she repeated, her eyes and her fists clenched tight as teardrops began to hit the wooden floorboards. Ruben would have physically remove her from the tavern himself, if it weren’t for notion that he wouldn’t be able to stand and walk because of the amount of alcohol in his body. He was about to shout at her again, when she interrupted his thoughts.
“Please,” she said again, “Some . . . strange men grabbed him and took him away. He tried to fight them but there . . . there were too many. And . . . and they said something about blood and a place called Dvarin and . . . and someone named Hargoth.”
Suddenly, no one felt like laughing anymore, and the whole tavern went silent. The girl noticed this, opened her eyes and saw everyone staring at her, but they were all looks of pity and fright, instead of the mockery from before. She turned back to Ruben, who looked her heavily, and he felt far more sober than he wanted to be at that very moment. As the silence continued, she put a hand on her mouth, wondering if she had said something wrong.
Finally, the barkeeper, who had been cheerfully watching from a distance, came up to her from behind, knelt down, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Little miss,” he said softly, “If that’s true, I’m afraid there isn’t much anyone can do.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Hargoth’s lands are his and no one succeeds in taking things from him. Anything that goes there stays there,” one man said lowly.
“I heard he has more than a thousand soldiers at every watchtower and checkpoint he has, and all of them are trained to be brutal killers,” said another.
“Anyone trying to get through his borders just to rescue one man would have to be insane,” said a third.
“In any case, if Hargoth really has your father, there really isn’t anything we can do,” the barkeeper added, rubbing his balding head nervously with a spare hand.
“Anything?” the girl repeated, nearly choking on the word.
The barkeeper shook his head, then, after a moment, asked, “Where is your mother?” The girl’s eyes quickly hit the floor, and she looked like she was about to start crying again. Reading this sign, the barkeeper sighed heavily and looked up at the crowd, his eyes eventually resting on Ruben, who had a strange look on his face.
When the girl brought up Dvarin and Hargoth, Ruben immediately thought that there really was nothing to be done about. However, something turned in his mind, and the gears inside his head started turning very slowly, mostly due to recent lack of use. Eventually, as his mind continued to sober up, he was able to put his thoughts together and start considering some possibilities.
“Ruben?” the barkeeper said, bring The Hellheart’s attention back to the tavern.
“It doesn’t add up,” Ruben said to himself.
“What?” the barkeeper blurted, standing up. Many of the other patrons were paying attention to Ruben as well.
“It doesn’t add up,” he repeated. Then he turned to the girl and asked, “These men that took your father. Were they wearing blue armor and had metal masks over their nose and mouth?”
The girl looked down at her memory and, after a pause, started nodding and looked back up at Ruben.
“You’re just farmers, right?” he asked her.
“Um, yes,” she meekly said, her voice cracking. “We were pig farmers until last fall, when we sold our last pigs. We were going to try to start a Northwheat crop in the spring.”
Northwheat, Ruben thought, the last resort of poor farmers before giving up completely. Her folks would be the last people someone like Hargoth would be concerned about. “Something strange is going on,” Ruben finally muttered.
“What do you mean?” asked someone from the crowd. Ruben opened his mouth, then put some fingers on his lips, his thoughts firing more rapidly now.
“There have been rumors that Hargoth is sending men around, frantically searching for something on this continent. Something important that he clearly wants as soon as possible. And if that’s that case why would his men kidnap a poor farmer?” Ruben answered.
“Who can fathom the mind of an absolute tyrant who rules his lands with fear?” the barkeeper mused, shrugging. He didn’t seem to think there was much to be concerned about as long as Hargoth wasn’t looking for him. Ruben, deep in thought, began staring at the girl, who began to feel nervous. After all the reactions she had received so far, she had no idea what to expect from this development.
“Alright! You have a deal!” Ruben suddenly said, catching everyone off guard.
“What?” the girl said, confused, but her voice was drowned out by many other’s blurting the same word at him much more loudly.
“Are you crazy?” the barkeeper said, walking up to him.
“Something more is going on. Hargoth does nothing idly, and he certainly doesn’t send his men out on cheap raids,” Ruben said, feeling completely sober and clear-minded, now that he was considering the situation.
“Look, Ruben,” the barkeeper said, drawing close to him and lowering his voice, “Your reputation isn’t at stake here. We won’t think less of you for avoiding Hargoth. Who cares what he’s doing! Why would you stake your life on something like this?”
“Because it beats sitting around here for weeks on end drowning in beer,” Ruben said, his eyes glinting with an excitement the barkeeper hadn’t seen before. He stepped back to watch the Hellheart bend over and pick up the girl’s little pouch of money from his chair. As he sat back up, he regretted doing that, putting a spare hand to his head to keep it from spinning so violently. Then he turned to the little girl, holding out the small bag.
“Let’s check this out and see if we can’t find your father!” he said.
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