The Forsaken Hero

I stared at the small leather pouch in my hand, slowly testing its weight. Soltair was always going on about loot and drops, and it was surprising to find it was actually just money. Supposedly, the party also collected other items of value with the intent to sell them once they returned to Heartland, but for me, just this small sack was already baffling.

Twenty gold coins. It was an amount of money I had no reference for, or understanding of. Money was something I was feeling rather nervous about using, as it felt like an essential step in gaining more independence. Slaves were allowed only what was given them, so in a way, possessing money in and of itself was another step toward truly embracing my freedom.

No sooner had I opened the pouch than a shadow fell over me. I flinched, my hands gathering protectively over the pouch, and looked up. Believe hovered over the table, smiling his oily, business smile he used when dealing with the merchants who visited the town.

”So, Starlight,” he said, sounding as nonchalant as a back-alley peddler. ”I hear the questing’s been good. Any chance you can afford your back pay?”

For some reason, the Glory Chasers all glared at him. ”Greedy bastard. It’s been like ten minutes since we got back,” Dyson muttered.

Bilev’s smile wavered for a second, but it was back as though nothing happened. ”My family’s mouths don’t feed themselves,” he replied smoothly.

”H-how much is it?” I stammered, hesitantly opening the leather pouch.

The innkeeper’s smile widened as he caught a glance inside the pouch. ”Ten gold.”

Tana sucked in a breath. ”What the hell? Ten gold for a few nights?”

Bilev cleared his throat, looking annoyed. ”I’ll have you know it’s been over a month since I picked her up out of the forest. Ten gold’s already being generous.”

Had it been that long? I’d slept through much of it, trying to recover some strength, but over a month? It was so quiet and peaceful here that time just sort of slipped by. It was a little disheartening to know that time was coming to an end. Even if I tried to hide and avoid going out with the Glory Chasers, the Circle of Chains had declared their intentions. No matter what followed, there would undoubtedly be more conflict.

Carefully, I counted out ten of the gold coins, marveling at their weight. Dyson and Rasce stared at the small pile with pained expressions, and even Sorrin’s face looked a little tight. Money was the reason behind my desperation in my previous life. I forced myself to suffer through countless horrors to simply afford to eat for the day, or sleep in the warm bed of a stranger, often alongside them. But in Enusia, it was a new and exciting wonder, and I didn’t want my first transaction spoiled by anything. I was determined that money should be an opportunity, not a shackle.

”Thank ya kindly,” Bilev said. The coins disappeared far faster than I had withdrawn them, and I took a shaky breath. It was at this point he would tap his chin and deviously recall some other favor he’d given me, requiring me to pay it back through means other than money.

But strangely enough, he turned away, as though to leave. I couldn’t help myself but ask, my voice quiet and tentative, ”Is that all?”

He glanced back and raised an eyebrow. ”All? Many would say ten is a rather large sum. What were you expecting? Me to force you to warm my bed or something?”

His jests fell flat as I cringed, my cheeks flushing in shame. The innkeeper scratched his head and gave the rest of the party a shrug before ambling off, bouncing the coins in his hand and whistling happily to himself.

”What a scoundrel,” Dyson muttered.

Sorrin shook his head. ”Setting aside his poor taste, ten is a fair price for lodging for so long.”

”Isn’t ten still enough?” I asked, quickly counting the remaining coins in the pouch.

Dyson glanced at me, eyes widening as he realized the genuineness of my question. After some thought, he shrugged. ”I guess. We’ll be getting another payout once we return to the guild in a few weeks, so it should last at least until then.”

”That’s when we get paid for the requests we accomplished. This was all just loot,” Sorrin added upon seeing my confusion.

I nodded slowly, and carefully tucked the pouch in my spatial ring. The remainder of the evening passed slowly, filled with laughs and stories. As it grew late, the inn filled with villagers, creating the overstimulating bustle I’d grown to dread. But the others seemed right at home, cheerfully sharing stories of our quest and battles to anyone who even seemed semi-interested. Somehow, the stories got bigger with every telling, and my role more exaggerated. By the time I finally retired from the night, it sounded more like one of Soltair’s battles than a humble, lower-level adventure.

The following days were slow and tranquil. The Glory Chasers were content with taking time to recover from the grueling battles with the slavers. Their wounds had been healed by Life Magic, but engaging in such a high-level battle was severely mentally draining.

The woods grew greener as the final, lingering fingers of winter withdrew, and the nights grew warm enough to sleep without a roaring fire. I spent the warm bright spring days walking around the town or meditating deep in the woods. The villagers had grown used to my presence, and now no longer even noticed my tail or horns. It was serene and peaceful, and although I enjoyed every minute, I knew it wouldn’t last. The fateful encounter with Vithrass was a harsh, unwelcome reminder that the darkness of this world was never far.

”What are you thinking about?”

I looked up, broken from my inner broodings by a young, cheerful voice. Sari and Ror sat crosslegged before me, staring up with bright, sparkling eyes. The two foxkin almost always spent their evenings with me in the woods, and today was no exception.

I reached out and ruffled Sari’s hair, for it was she who asked. ”Something sad.”

”You’re always thinking about something sad,” she replied thoughtfully. ”Don’t you have anything happy to think about?”

The question took me by surprise, and I sat back, looking up at the sky. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, and the sun beamed directly down on us. For some reason, it reminded me of Soltair, which in turn made my shoulder ache.

”Not really,” I said, sighing. ”Though there’s no need for you to dwell on. I pray you never see the things that I have seen, nor known the sorrow I have.”

”Did someone hurt you?” Ror asked, jumping to his feet. ”Where are they? I’ll make sure they never do it again!”

I shook my head, amused by his childish rashness. ”That’s very sweet, but I doubt even you can handle them. They’re gods and heroes after all.”

”Heroes?” his eyes grew wide.

I nodded, lazily stroking my horn. ”It wouldn’t be good if you were to beat them up. Then they wouldn’t be able to save the world.”

Sari blinked and leaned forward intently. ”But they hurt you? I thought heroes were supposed to be good!”

”Heroes are people,” I whispered. ”They aren’t good or evil, just strong. Strong enough to do whatever they want, praised by a populace who knows nothing of their vices.”

”Not the Sun Hero! He closed a gate all by himself!”

A tremble rolled through my body, but I quickly gained control of it. I was getting better at suppressing the fear and anxiety, although it refused to go away completely.

”He did?” I asked slowly.

”Yeah. The peddler said so! It was a big gate too, like a hundred feet wide,” Ror said excitedly. ”He said the Sun Hero stopped the army from going in so he could protect them. The next thing they knew, he came out again with a Demon Lord’s head on his sword.”

”I doubt it,” I murmured. I knew beyond a doubt even Soltair would perish before a true Demon Lord. The one we fought at Western University was simply an avatar, a mere sliver of one’s true presence. That alone had pushed us to the brink of destruction, nearly killing Elise in the process.

”Was it the Sun Hero?” Sari asked suddenly, her eyes deep and thoughtful. ”Was it him who hurt you?”

I took a short breath before answering, careful to keep my voice neutral. ”What makes you say that?”

She pointed behind me. I followed her finger to my tail, which was lying limply on the stump.

”Your tail always twitches whenever we talk about him. I thought it was funny at first, but then I saw your eyes,” she admitted shyly, ”they look like mom’s did when grandfather passed away, or whenever father talks about the Beast Kingdom.”

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump growing in my throat. Sari was unbelievably perceptive, something she seemed to unintentionally hide behind her childish naivety.

”Let’s not talk about this anymore,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. The Sunpurge was starting to hurt now, inflamed by the constant reminders of its inflictor. ”Would you like to see the new spell I learned?”