Chapter 63. The man with the Silver Lance.

Deep into Winstead's mid-country, the cry of a dawn rooster signaled the beginning of another busy day on the farm.

Olivia crawled wearily out of bed to do the morning milking for the cows. It wasn't her favorite chore, but it was a necessary task for the small farm her family owned. Their two cows weren't always the most pleasant company. Nancy, the older of the pair, could be very fussy at times. Although she did it rarely, she had attempted to kick her handlers in the past.

That was the reason why Olivia was most often the one sent to care for them. Her soothing manner and gentle-sounding voice had a way of helping the animals retain their calm. That was a trick that her little brother hadn't yet acquired. But he would soon enough, once he had a little more experience under his belt.

As soon as she entered the barn, Olivia sensed that something wasn't right. It was too quiet. A heavy silence pervaded the air around her. Why weren't the animals making any sounds? That was far too unnatural. Sometimes, getting them to quiet down could be damn near impossible.

What was different about today?

As Olivia came closer to the first stall, she smelled the cloying scent of blood and realized that something horrible had happened. Then she found Nancy lying on her side. The cow was dead, and her side had been ripped open by something that had left deep furrows carved into the poor beast's flesh.

In the next stall over, Olivia saw that a similar fate had befallen Snapper, their second cow. But whatever it was that had killed her hadn't settled for merely clawing into her.

Snapper's head was missing. Something had pulled it right off, leaving tendrils of skin and the other connecting bodily tissue splayed out in the straw.

Olivia wanted to scream in horror. But instead, she quickly grabbed a pitchfork to arm herself. Whoever or whatever had done this, could still be here. Plotting to deliver her a similar fate.

That was when she heard something rustling through the straw.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Olivia asked nervously.

The noise continued again, although she still didn't see anyone. She sensed that the noise was moving in a clockwise motion, as though something her eyes couldn't perceive was playfully circling her; waiting to strike when she'd least expect it..

Olivia felt her heart begin to batter against the inside of her chest, as fear mixed with adrenaline began to overwhelm her. Although she couldn't see this invisible presence, she realized instinctively that it was the one responsible for the horrors done in this barn, and that if she couldn't escape, a similar fate would befall her.

So, when she next heard the noise, this time much closer to her than it had been, with no hesitation, she thrust with her pitchfork and felt its slightly rusting tips embed itself into something solid that yelped in pain and fury. Instead of letting her weapon go so she could run away, Olivia leaned into it, using her weight and the pain she was causing the creature to force it back towards the barn opening.

"DAD!" she cried out. "DAD! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!"

Olivia was a proud farmer's daughter with a well-developed set of lungs, and a voice made loud and clear from years of calling their animals in from the field. She had no doubt her words would reach the main house and summon assistance. Her father had served for years in the armies of the king before earning his retirement and was skilled with the sword he would surely bring with him when he came running to dispatch whatever it was that threatened her.

The only question was, would she last long enough for him to arrive?

She had her answer a moment later. Whatever it was that she'd stuck her pitchfork into had set its legs and began to push against her, ignoring the wounds she'd given it. Now the wooden shaft began to bend and splinter until finally, with a loud cracking sound, it split in half.

"No!" Olivia said fearfully, as a pair of red eyes flashed at her in the dark. Then she cried out in pain as something moved across her vision, faster than she could track, slicing into her face and drawing blood.

She fell to the ground, her face stinging where her skin had been split open by the invisible claws that had raked her. She wept where she lay, knowing that her end had come, not understanding why this was happening to her.

Above her, the shadowy monster prepared to strike the killing blow.

And that was when he appeared.

"Hey, ugly. Step away from the pretty lady, or I'm going to mess you up," said a cocky, confident voice.

The shadowy creature turned around, surprised to realize that a mere human had managed to approach it undetected. The stranger who had threatened it was a young male human who bore an unusual scent. He was a thin, handsome youth dressed in traveling clothes and a white coat with silver etchings stitched into its embroidery.

Over his shoulder, he carelessly held a silver-bladed spear attached to a long black shaft. Although his mannerisms seemed careless, the creature sensed that this boy was dangerous.

In response to his challenge, the monster let out a long hiss, and began quietly moving to the side. It was certain that no human would be able to pierce its magical cloak. Rather than play with him as it had with the girl, it would dispatch him immediately.

As it silently drew nearer to its prey, the boy remained where he stood. The creature grinned, anticipating his scream of horror and surprise after its talons opened his belly and reduced him to a blubbering wreck. Just as it was about to strike, the boy's eyes turned squarely in its direction as he smiled and said, "Hey, stupid. I can see you."

Before the creature could respond, the silver spear was thrust directly into its throat and then pulled out after a nasty twist. Then it collapsed to its knees, wheezing desperately for air, before falling into unconsciousness and bleeding out.

"This might have been a barn, but you were the real animal here, chum," the boy said solemnly.

This heroic stranger's name was Lance Beverly. He was a guy, and he could totally prove it. You only had to check out his mussy hair and his way of taking up as much space as possible in a public setting. He also possessed external genitals as men were known to do. Not that he'd ever show them to you unless you were a very lucky person or a registered medical professional.

The previous paragraph was a complete lie. Lance wasn't a guy at all. He was a young woman, whose name was Beverly, the second of Everly's three duplicates, who'd been given the assignment of becoming the greatest adventurer in the world.

Because her three other selves would also be running loose throughout the nation in service to their brilliant plan of conquest, Beverly decided that the easiest way to gain fame for herself without drawing any comparison to her siblings, would be to create a separate body for her mind to inhabit while her real one rested inside the memory palace. Thus, 'Lance' was born.

That was the plan of action she'd decided on. And it was a brilliant plan, indeed! For the easiest way not to be readily compared to a girl was to be a dude. And Lance Beverly was that dude! A dude who was secretly Beverly! And Beverly was a genius!

The logic was obvious to anyone who understood how these things worked.

"Hey, Miss. Are you alright?" he asked the monster's victim, after first making certain it was dead by plunging his spear into its heart. "You're okay now, babe. Because I'm here. My name is Lance. I'm not sure if you heard that correctly because you keep screaming in pain. I said it was Lance. I'm here to help."

The girl continued rolling from side to side, shrieking her head off, which didn't sound at all like a thank you, which Lance found irritating. Then he noticed that she seemed to be bleeding heavily from her face and realized that she'd been wounded or something, which explained the momentary lack of gratitude.

"Ahhh, I see what's going on here," he nodded. Then he closed his eyes, drew upon Discordia's powers of restoration and used them to heal the girl's wounds. "That better?" he asked her.

The girl sat up, awed by what he'd done. The light that exuded from his hand had soothed the pain immediately, replacing it with a gentle feeling of serene bliss as the skin and muscle tissue on her face was gently pulled back together. When the light faded, not even a scar remained from the beast's attack.

"Hero, thank you. Thank you so much!" Olivia said gratefully, before wrapping her arms around her savior and nearly crushing him to death with a hug of joy.

"Hey, think nothing of it," Lance said to her with a nonchalant nod, while wondering if a nonchalant nod could be considered nod-chalant. "Even if you were ugly, I'd still give you the same treatment. Why? Because you're like a capable person or some shit, and I'm totally a guy who isn't preoccupied with appearances."

"Well, thank you again all the same," Olivia said. "I don't know how I can ever repay your gallantry."

"I don't seek repayment," her rescuer said with a gentle smile. "Your safety is all that I sought. I mean, if you wanted to give me some money, I wouldn't say no, but I wouldn't have rescued you just to be paid, either. Because I'm not like that. Right?"

"I...think so?" Olivia said uncertainly.

"Awesome," replied Lance Beverly. Who was totally a guy. But secretly wasn't. And was totally a hero but was secretly the greatest villain in the world. Or one-fourth of the greatest villain in the world, anyway.

He wasn't sure if it was actually one-fourth. But it didn't bother him.

Lance Beverly didn't do math.

Lance Beverly did adventure.

And this is where his legend began.