Wind howled over the small village, the approach of winter hanging in the air on a chilly October evening. The clang of steel rang through dirty streets as night closed in, the militia practicing on targets and each other with yet-to-be-forged blades. One young man stood drenched in sweat, scaled armor and his damp skin glistening in the setting sun.

      “Faster! Don’t leave yourself open; the sword dance is a fluid motion and one misstep will leave you dead!” shouted an older man. His face and arms bore many scars, the remnants of battles past. The younger said nothing; he only heightened his resolve and tenacity. The furious noise of combat rose above the grounds of the barracks for minutes more. The last glimpse of light had disappeared over the horizon before they quit for the evening.

      “Good. That will do for today. Go home and get rest, for tomorrow you have even more responsibilities.”

      “What’s this new task, if I might be so bold?” the younger man inquired. He looked puzzled as the sweat poured from his freshly removed helm, revealing jet-black hair that hung over his glassy blue eyes. His size was impressive - he stood at nearly two and a half meters in height - and his power rippled under the polished armor he wore.

      “It'll be explained to you in the morning. Should be a note on the foot of your bed when you retire; it will tell you much more than I could say.” The old man smiled briefly at his pupil before the look of grim determination and weathered age returned. He turned and left, a ragged cloak and clinking mail trailing in his wake as the young soldier strode toward the local tavern, the Fair Maiden.

       A good mug and a hunk of cheese will finish the night nicely… he thought as his stride carried him into the warm, cozy place. Cheering and the rattling of glass, ceramic, and silver greeted his ears. Patrons of all ages lined the walls and occupied the oaken tables, from other men and women his own age to those of two generations past. Many peered up for a glimpse and returned to their drink shortly after meeting his gaze. The bartender, a woman of about thirty-five, beamed at the young man’s entrance.

      “Oi, hey there! The old geezer worked you to the bone again, I see.” Her brown hair flowed in waves down past her shoulders, hiding wide hips and an ample frame. Her face was kind and smooth, bearing amber eyes.

      “You can say that again. My muscles ache and my head is pounding. Just give me the usual,” he answered, passing a silver coin over the counter. It was exchanged for a mug of frothy, amber drink in short order, followed by a slice of pungent cheese and a hunk of bread. “He mentioned some sort of new responsibility this evening, too. He’s always speaking vaguely like that.” He began eating heartily as she grinned.

      “Right, I’ve never known him to be straight with anyone except with a blade,” she replied, stifling a laugh. “He’s smart, but his people skills are lacking. You should take it seriously though, even if he didn’t tell you much. If he sees something in you worth that kind of special attention, you should heed it.”

      “Yeah, yeah. I know, he’s older and wiser and all that yabber. I guess I’ll find out when I get to bed tonight.” He looked down for a moment, hesitant to finish the meal. A growl from his bowels broke that quickly, and he scarfed down what was left on the plate. “Thanks for the food, as usual. It’s always good.”

      “No problem. I’ll always feed ya as long as you have a coin to spare,” she said, smiling as he left. “I hope he’ll be okay, though. He always brings a lot of business…” she added once he left earshot.

      He strolled back to his bunk and made himself comfortable as he looked at the parchment envelope on his pillow. It was plain except for the very deliberate, careful black writing on its face. “To Algan, the promising,” was all it said.

      “’The promising’, huh? Let’s find out what this is about…” he muttered under his breath, using one of his daggers to open the letter. It neatly unfolded itself as he held it, peering closely at it in the dim candlelight.

       I’m sure by now you’ve recognized your differences from the others at the barracks, Algan. You’re much stronger and much more resilient than any of them. This is no accident, but a product of your birth. You are gifted with this ability beyond your peers and this is why I require you. Meet me outside the town’s church, in front of the cathedral doors, at sunrise. I will explain your new mission then. May peace find you in tonight's sleep, for there will be little peace from this day forward. “Tch, even more vague than the old man,” he growled, tossing the letter aside. After changing into his nightclothes he turned to lay on his right side. His eyes closed as soon as he hit the pillow, and morning came far too soon for him. Sunlight beamed into his face the next day and he hissed it away to no avail. “Get up!” he heard from an older voice not a moment after. It was feminine but deep, wizened as though by a century of knowledge. “Get up, I say!” he heard again, a dull pain shoving its way into his back. Algan rolled to the opposite side and opened his eyes to a short, middle-aged woman in blue robes looking down at him. Though not scarred by steel, her face was somewhat wrinkled, as if from reading too many books in faint light. “You have missed your appointment with me, so I thought it best to get you myself rather than wait for you to catch up on your beauty rest.” Green eyes peered out from behind a pair of spectacles and long brown hair peppered with silvery-gray hung down past her shoulders.

      “And who are you, comin’ in here with a stick and shoving it up my backside?” Algan answered groggily. He figured he’d had either far too little drink last night or far too much. “It’s too early to be- oh, that’s right…” The letter hadn’t lied, after all.

      “My name is Kunya, and you need to get your things prepared right away. We are leaving town.” Her voice was both insistent and urgent.

      “What for? It’s a perfectly fine day out and all but there’s no reason to go traipsing around on the plains. What about the town-“ he objected.

      “The town is not what I am concerned with, at least not at the moment. You are not yet prepared for what awaits you outside these walls. It is my job to ensure that you become prepared. You have skill for your age but that alone will not be enough for the danger that lurks outside this comfortable life. It is time to test your skill and your mettle.” More vague words made his head swim.

      “So, let me get this correct … a crazy woman that looks older than my mother is here to tell me that I have to go on some mission to get life experience and whatnot?”

      “More or less. Get your armor and your blade; I have already requested that the commander relinquish his finest armaments for your choice. You will need the best you can get.” Algan simply shook his head and went along with it, prying a large spear and a round metal shield from the armory with the woman ‘Kunya’ following his every step. She said nothing about Algan’s choice of equipment, though she grunted in approval.

      “Good, good. Then, you are ready to go?”

      “Except for the lack of reasons why I’m in full gear to go on some field trip, yes. Where are we going and why?” Algan retorted, clearly displeased with the lack of explanations. His scale armor rustled as the young man's breathing was irritable and strained.

      “You know of the goblin tribes to our northwest, correct? They are becoming a nuisance in ways that goblins should not be. Someone is rallying them and I am hiring you to put a stop to it.”

      “So what, you want me to go alone? That’s a death wish, even for someone as tough as me.” He puffed his chest, displeased with this information. Though he was willing to help, he dared not go on his own.

      “Not alone. I am going with you,” Kunya answered sternly. Algan cracked into laughter.

      “You, come with me, old woman? That’s funnier than the crazy fellow that went unconscious over his ale last night, blabbering about some strange beast.” Kunya didn’t move, not even to show the barest of a smile. “You’re … you’re serious. Fine, just don’t be a hindrance. It's not on me if you get killed out there.”

      She said nothing to Algan for a moment, instead muttering under her breath in some language the lad couldn't understand. “I assure