Short: The Price Of Leadership
Choices today are consequences tomorrow
Leifr stood upon the town’s square, spurred by the combination of curiosity and suspicion over the stranger at the far end of the stone paved plaza. It was the 50th anniversary of the hero Octavian’s arrival to the then-small village of Altenturm and the town was bustling with the coming of the day’s festivities and parade. But despite the hustle around him, Leifr spotted the unknown bearded man the moment eyes were laid upon the square. It was hard not to, seeing as the stranger was the only one not in a rush.
Cassandra, the girl Leifr grew up with and who he intended to court once he was accepted into the town guard, came up from behind him. “Hey! What are you doing? We have to get the pennants ready for the parade.” She nudged him in passing as she carried a wicker basket of flags toward the weaver’s house, where they were setting up.
Leifr caught her by the elbow of her linen dress. “Do you know who that is?” He pointed to the stranger.
The sudden snatch caught her by surprise, and she whisked her strawberry blonde hair as she wagged her face. “No, maybe just a traveler camecome to visit for the day. It does happen on days like this, Mr. Guardsman.” She spoke with a playful, mocking tone.
“That’s true but there’s something about him that’s strange.”
“Oh, is Leafy finally starting to understand how I feel about him on most days?” Cassandra batted her eyes and spoke in a sarcastic tone.
With a relenting sigh, Leifr let go of the cloth between his fingertips and Cassandra bounced back into motion with a smirk, to continue preparations. She was right, but something about this particular fellow rustled a caution that most other travelers didn’t. For one, he was clad in a dark blue cloak with an elegant gold embroidery. At first sight, the man’s clothing would have singled him out as a noble of some sort.
But his unkempt blonde beard and road-worn complexion said otherwise, despite being much younger than Leifr’s father. Hedge knights did show up to Altenturm from time to time, but even they kept themselves scarce around the commoners, preferring to linger around the Old Tower district, where the local nobility settled. Matters like today’s festival were left to the commoners, often at the patronage of the nobles unseen.
Finally summoning up the courage, Leifr urged himself into motion and approached the stranger. He wanted to ask if the man was lost, but that was too aggressive. Leifr settled on standing next to him, at a distance, and following the stranger’s gaze. The two stood, observing the massive bronze statue of Octavian, the morning sun at their backs.
Leifr expected some sort of commentary from the man, now that there was someone present. But the silence between them nearly drowned out the bustle of the plaza around them. Unable to stand the stillness, Leifr spoke up. “Come to see the parade today?”
The man shifted and adjusted a grimoire under his arm. The leather bound, gold-embossed tome with four gems, an emerald, ruby, sapphire, and topaz embedded in a circle upon the cover. The book itself must have been worth more than anything the local nobility could ever hope to afford. “Aye. Hoping for a good showing.”
Leifr was caught off guard by the stranger’s common manner of speech. “Do…” He readied to ask if he had any other business here but felt it would put the man on edge. “...you know the story about the hero?”
The stranger turned to lock eyes. Leifr saw deep remembrance in the gaze, like when his father would sometimes talk about his old war brothers, long-since gone. Then a warm breeze rustled the two, and the stranger’s expression eased to a slightly more jovial look.
“No, I only know a bit in passing. Can you tell me about him?” The man smiled gently.
Leifr took a deep breath. “Uh, well… 50 years ago to the day, the hero Octavian and the Band of Five came into town, on their way to um—” Leifr thought for a moment, his memory about the specifics a bit hazy.
“Castrum Lucis.” The man interjected.
“What?” Leifr hadn’t ever heard of a place like that.
The stranger cleared his throat awkwardly. “That’s the old name. I meant Obersthalde.”
“Right. Obersthalde.” Leifr wondered how he knew such specifics as he continued to explain. “But as the Band arrived, the village, which was just what is the Old Tower district today, came under attack.” He pointed toward an ancient stone tower upon the hill of the district at the far end of town.
“By Esperitus.” The man continued the thought with a stern tone.
Leifr nodded. “Vicious beasts. For three days and three nights the five fought off endless attacks. Every time, the hero and his men turned them away.”
“His men.” The man muttered with an entertained smirk. Then, realizing what he just did, caught himself and grunted. “His men, yes. Continue, please.”
Shifting awkwardly, Leifr’s attention was caught for a moment by a group of children play-fighting with sticks in front of the statue afar. Then he looked back to the stranger sheepishly. “That’s all I know.” There was more to the story, especially regarding his family, but Leifr wasn’t about to divulge that to this odd fellow.
“Surprising.” The man turned and sized up the statue.
“What is?”
“It seems you left out a few details, especially considering you wouldn’t be here without the hero’s intervention.” The stranger watched the children sword-fighting with sticks.
Leifr couldn’t hold back a gasp from shock. “That’s a family secret. How could you know th—”
“Octavian served as my captain and was traveling under my orders.”
There was no way this one was right in the head. If the hero somehow served under this stranger, that would put the man at almost a hundred years old, if not more. It wasn’t possible. At best, he could pass as Leifr’s older brother.
“Those demons killed your grandparents on that day. And if it wasn’t for Octavian’s valor, your father would have been counted as another tragedy among them.”
Leafr had to do something to get this madman away from everyone else. He reached for the stranger’s arm and ushered him toward the gatehouse. The guards could get him on his way, hopefully nowhere near here.
The man reached into his cloak.
Feeling like he was suddenly about to be attacked, Leifr resented letting Cassandra talk him out of putting on his sword, as he always did. But instead of a weapon, the stranger produced his hand, knuckles up, offering what he held to Leifr. A wave of relief washed over him as he produced his palm to accept what the man had to give. A small brass compass fell into Leifr’s hand.
“You are the first and only son of your father, Rainer and are soon to come of age. The time has come.”
“Time for what?” Leifr blurted, staring at the ever-spinning, useless compass.
“Pacta sunt servanda.”
Leifr hesitated. “What does that mean?”
“Promises must be kept.”
A gale swept in from across the far plains, over the buildings and swirled in the plaza for a moment, then dissipated. Leifr covered his face to not get blinded by the dust kicked up by the immense wind.
When he opened his eyes after the air calmed, he found the stranger gone. The compass stilled and righted itself.