A Guard Again

A few weeks into their journey, something interesting finally happens on their journey.

As the wagons crawl along the road, Haalfrin looks all around, then turns to the caravan leader. "You should probably take another road."

A few of the other guards flinch and look at Haalfrin. Something about the quiet guy suddenly speaking up and saying something random is just a little startling.

"Why?" his boss asks.

"Look at the ground. With all the rain happening, all the cart tracks have been easy to spot. Now, look. The indent from the cart wheels stops just up ahead. The caravan ahead of us likely got robbed earlier. See? The tracks veer off the road. The bandits probably took the cart off the road."

Of course, Haalfrin knows this because Chief Grott was very particular about cleaning up cart tracks whenever they'd raid inland. Naturally, they'd only do this when they felt like camping out at a good ambush spot.

The merchant looks down in thought. "Hmm… They might be gone by now… and taking another road would be a very costly delay… However, if the bandits are still there, I'd like to NOT run into them…"

Seeing that the merchant is unable to make a choice yet, Haalfrin puts his hand on his hilt and says, "I can go ahead and see if there are any bandits – maybe poke around a bit and make sure the coast is clear."

The merchant smiles and puts his hand on Haalfrin's shoulder. "Good lad!"

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And so, Haalfrin gets off the road and glides along the underbrush to the side where any potential ambushers would be hiding.

It doesn't take Haalfrin long to see a small clearing overlooking the path. He creeps up just close enough to hear some crudely dressed men talking.

"Now, now, men," the man who was probably the leader says, "Looks like the merchants down there stopped. They might know we got an ambush."

One of the bandits looks around skittishly. "You think it's too dangerous now? They look to have as many people as we do. If we don't surprise them, then we'll die, right?"

Another of the men gets irritated hearing this. "They got ale down there! you can tell by the kegs. I'm thirsty! When're we going to have another chance like this?"

The bandit leader grimly looks down and shushes their complaints by saying, "We got a good spot for ambushing right here. Now, things don't work all the time, yes, but it's better than losing some good hands pointlessly. We take them by surprise, or we don't take them at all."

Haalfrin looks at this and considers how he's going to handle it. 'Back in my raider days,' he thinks, 'I'd certainly sneak attack them first. However… I'm on a journey looking to get killed. Doing it the safe way is no longer a good idea...'

Thinking of what he's going to do, Haalfrin gives a somewhat creepy smile. 'Perhaps I can just take them all at once? If I die, great. If I survive... Well, I probably won't survive. No matter how skilled you are with a sword, you can't do very much if you get surrounded.'

Without even trying to hide anymore, Haalfrin draws his sword and walks out of the bushes.

The bandit leader turns around and sees a lone, young man confidently walking towards him… and he instantly gets afraid...

... And he's not afraid because this young man is particularly scary; he's afraid because he's overthinking things.

'There's no way, that someone would reveal themselves on their own unless they were confident in winning!" the bandit chief quivers in his heart. 'Does this man have a dozen archers hiding in the trees or something?'

The threat of the unknown scares the bandit chief, so he frantically screeches at his men, "Run away! He's probably got friends with him!"

The bandits, who were drawing their weapons and getting ready for a fight, instantly lose their courage and flee for their lives - spooked by some imaginative terror invented by their boss.

Seeing the bandits run away without even putting up a fight, Haalfrin scowls, then spits on the ground in disdain.

"Cowards! It's just one man! Turn around and fight me!" Haalfrin raises his voice and taunts at them as he gives chase.

Of course, the bandits don't listen, so Haalfrin charges forward even faster. He's taller than all the other bandits, so his stride is longer, and he catches up to them before they can get away.

The bandits seem to be practiced in the art of running away, so after getting a signal from their leader, they all start to fan out as they're being chased down the hill.

Meanwhile, down at the bottom of the hill, the caravan guards hear the yelling echoing through the forest and a large commotion. One of the guards takes his hat off in memory of Haalfrin since they all think he got caught by the bandits and miserably killed.

As the commotion gets louder, the guards see a dozen men break out of the cover of the trees and run across the road just ahead of them…

The last bandit out is suddenly grabbed by the scruff of the neck by a large hand and yanked to the side. The young bandit crashes to the ground with a terrified scream.

Haalfrin bursts out of the forest right behind them while roaring in rage, "GET BACK HERE!"

As he runs up to catch the fleeing bandits, he swipes his sword and slits the throat of the bandit on the ground.

Some of the guards make the quick decision to pull out their bows and start shooting at the fleeing bandits, though they only nail 3 of them.

Just as Haalfrin is about to chase the bandits off into the forest with an insane look in his eyes, his boss grabs him by the shoulders. "Enough, Haalfrin. We can't leave the cargo unattended. Just let them go. They're too few now to ambush us in the future."

"…Fine," Haalfrin grumbles.

Of course, the rest of his travel companions would be talking about his little escapade later that night. Some would think he's an absurdly powerful warrior who slew a dozen bandits by himself (totally wrong), while some of the more faint-hearted would feel he's a bloodthirsty, mentally unstable man who might hurt them anytime.

Needless to say, Haalfrin is a topic of conversation around camp for a day or two. After that, they find other, more interesting things to talk about, and they seemingly forget about him again.

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While the caravan leader is calming everyone down and getting them ready to move out again, Haalfrin glances down at the corpses and notices a faint black mist rising out of them. Subtly, he moves over to them.

Of course, like moving an arm, using his Name power is a matter of instinct. All he really does is think about it, and the black mist all around him starts gravitating closer. Once it touches his skin, it sinks in and disappears into his soul realm

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While Haalfrin is in the middle of watching his Name do its work, he feels a powerful surge of death energy open up above him, and a beautiful woman with crow wings on her back materializes above his head.

Floating in the air and looking down on him with her spear nearly touching his scalp, Freyya gives a casual wave and says, "Hello there!"

Her feet touch the ground, and she studies Haalfrin's face, "You are Haalfrin… I suppose. You look younger than the last time I saw you. Too bad you became a mage."

This surprises Haalfrin. "Why would that matter to you?" he asks.

She just shakes her head - refusing to answer. Instead, she rolls her eyes and says, "Seeing a Warrior's soul like yours waving a sword around like a club… It's annoying."

Freyya reaches into her pocket and pulls out a scroll FAR too big for the tiny slit in her tunic; she likely has space magic written into her clothes.

She then hands the scroll to Haalfrin and says, "Here's a congratulations present for getting magic. Take it. It's a body-strengthening spell."

Haalfrin doesn't move to take it immediately, so Freyya grabs his hand, easily pries it open with her strong fingers, and places the scroll in his open palm. She then snaps her fingers, and Haalfrin's arms move on their own, regardless of his own will.

Haalfrin tries fighting the goddess's control over his body, but of course, he fails completely.

… He arms then lifts up the scroll in both hands and tears it in two. Instantly, a long series of information pours into his mind - details of a spell and the Laws that make it possible.

He'd heard mages had to study a spell for months or even years on end sometimes, but if it's a goddess like Freyya, she's bound to have better ways of passing on knowledge.

Despite Freyya's forceful attitude, she did give him something precious. So, there is only one appropriate thing to do now.

Haalfrin cups his hands and does a small, but polite bow. "Thank you for your generosity."

Of course, the others don't see Freyya; they just see Haalfrin standing in front of a dead body. Thus a few rumors would spread around the camp that he's a complete nutjob. What would you thank a corpse for? Is he sick?

Haalfrin ignores the other guards since their opinions of him don't matter.

Honestly, Haalfrin would have preferred to be without Freyya's gift. First off, he has no real way of paying back a divine-leveled being like Freyya, so being given something out of the blue certainly makes him anxious.

Still, she didn't give him time to refuse.

He holds back an irritated sigh... 'Now that I have it though,' he decides in his heart, 'I'll have to keep an eye out for anything I can do to repay the favor.'

Once Freyya receives Haalfrin's bow, she gives a soft smile and waves her hand casually, as if batting away his gratitude with her hands. "Oh, no need to be thankful at all. It's a really basic spell you can find anywhere; it shouldn't even be that expensive in your world... I think..."

She looks to the side with an awkward look on her face. "Anyway, I've done my job. Goodbye, mortal."

With that, she disappears in another cloud of smoke… and of course, Haalfrin is sure to absorb the residual death energy that the goddess brought with her.