Day 19: The Worst Hero

Fear / Silent

A single false note ended the luteplayer's blissful strumming from the corner. The dreary gossip between cardplayers around the table stopped in the middle of a sentence. A big old dog raised his ears, and was this close to also raise his neck from being tucked in a basket by the hearth.

One after another, the patrons shot curious glances at me from the corner of their eyes. For the boots that clomped into the homely tavern in their remote riverside village belonged to a figure glimmering with an aura of valor and virtue.
Namely me. Dorian Gilward. Hero of the Order of the Chief God. It’s not like I could blame them for gawking. That must’ve been the most exciting thing they ever saw in their tedious little lives.
My eyes locked on to the prettiest barmaid I ever did see. She was wiping clean the tankard in her hand, clearly as bored of that backwater bog as I would expect anyone with such resplendent beauty to be. Her hot copper locks curled from under the blue-spotted handkerchief tied over her head, slung along the length of her slender neck. Every square inch of her yearned for a charming stranger to step in and brighten her life. This charming stranger strode up to her, leaned in on the counter and afforded the dame behind it the type of reassuring smile.

“Good afternoon.” I announced, staring into her amber eyes, “Gilward is the name. Dorian Gilward. And to whom do I owe pleasure?”
“Name's Lockley, luv.” She said calmly, keeping her eyes on the tankard, “Mrs Lockley.”
She put an awful lot of emphasis on the ‘Mrs’ there. Even went ahead to flash me her ring. Ah, to be married at such a young age… Must bring flutters to her very heart.

“Well then, Mrs Lockley. Might your establishment favour me a room. For two.” I asked, wagging my brows, “On the house, of course. I am a Hero, after all. With a capital H.”
A single brow cocked on her face, as she looked me up and down incredulously. What? Did I say something out of line?
I suppose it would blow her mind to learn there really were people who became heroes at the age of eighteen.

She shrugged, "Hold on just a second!"
Mrs Lockley crouched behind the counter to lift up a heavy tome from underneath. With a heavy thud she dropped it down between us, then trailed her fingers along the spine, through the extensive index of names and dates within. She flipped one page after another. Forward and then back. A single furrow started to grow on her forehead, betraying the slightest hint of frustration on her otherwise impeccable expression of stoic calm.
“Gilward… Gilward... How do you spell it?”
I waved my hand, “Now, Mrs Lockley. Don’t bother with that. You shan’t find my name within the Ecclesiastical Register.”
"I see..." She slammed the book close, "That'll be five silver then. For a room for one."
Ah, the close-minded musings of the common woman. One cannot help but to admire it.

“Mrs Lockley… Please, consider this. Is it the ink of man which determines the hero? Or is it the spirit of the Chief God which resides within the valiant ones on which she has bestowed her blessings?”
She cocked her head, “Yeah, sure! That'd be great, if I could ask her myself. Not gonna hold my breath though. So I'm gonna tell you the deal, luv, penned down in this here book is everything you could ask about every hero who was ever baptised.” She tapped the cover for emphasis, "Their names. The dates of their baptism. The hieromancer whose done it. Wouldn't surprise me the least if I found their mothers' maiden name here too. No name. No baptism. No heroic blessing. No freebies."
“Indeed.” I looked away dramatically, holding my hand skywards in a dashing pose, “You are touching upon a sore point on my backstory. For while I knew great deeds awaited in my future, my path to herodom was always destined for a path wayward from the Sacred City. I was not born to a noble lineage, and the monastic life of the Meruvean Knights was not for an independent spirit such as I. In peacetimes like these, it seemed I was left with no recourse. But then, as fate would have it, I encountered someone upon the road, helplessly trapped with her ankle beneath some rubble. A cardinal.”
The barmaid looked up at me and cocked her brow, “A cardinal, you say? What's she doing out of the Sacred City?”
“Ah, that is a curiosity indeed. Who knows what great tasks the Chief God had engineered for her shepherds?”
It may not have occurred to me to have asked when it happened, but considering that the good will of the Chief God extends to all corners of the world, it can hardly be considered an oddity.
I continued, “I liberated her from her confinement, and that is when she discovered the noble spirit residing within me. She saw what I had always known. That a momentous destiny lay before me. She asked, would you not receive the blessing of the Chief God? To become her champion? And of course, I agreed.”

Hearing my story, I noticed a twitch upon her freckled nose, as if deep within a pain raged on. I really must have struck a cord with my tale.
“...Don't tell me you actually fell for that!"
I smirked, “Oh, ye of little faith. Does that not sound like something that would transpire for the chosen warriors of the Chief God alone? Nonetheless, the results speak for themselves. When the baptism was over, I felt a sense of calm relief wash over me, as if the door to my innermost had been opened. And I felt far stronger afterwards. I could even lift half of a log.”
Now, of course, I hadn’t tried lifting a log before, but it felt impressive.

“Sure. Sounds great. Bu how exactly is that gonna prove you're a hero to me though?” She insisted.
I sighed, “Very well then. You have twisted my arm.”
I pulled the sword from my scabbard, which I kept slung behind my back.
Or at least I tried to. It had gotten stuck halfway along the way. Seemed as if my arm couldn’t quite reach high enough to pull it out.
Perhaps I needed more training with that. Still, wearing the scabbard on the back was good enough for the heroes in the stories. So it was good enough for me.
In the end I had to unstrap the scabbard and hand the whole thing to the barmaid. Good thing we weren’t in combat.
“Here you go. A true blue monster slaying sword.” I said, my voice brimming with the satisfaction of finally silencing her good, “Now, unless you mean to suggest that someone can just snatch one of these straight from the cold dead hands of a hero….”
“This? This is just a cheap knock-off!”

I cleared my throat. The gall of that woman… Can you imagine being told that? To your face? Of a sword retrieved from the very hands of a cardinal?
The broad blade reflected the barmaid’s eyes as they trailed its length. The hilt was gilded, with a guard shaped like the Order crest. What else could it be but a slayer sword?
“Hah… I suppose these days, anyone fancy themselves an expert on swords…”
“Mhmmm.” She uttered, snapping the hilt back to the sheath, “But it doesn’t take an expert to know a slayer sword ain’t supposed to be blunt.”
She pushed the sheath back in my hands.

"But..."
“Look here, luv… I don't got all day. How about this? You pay for a room now, and then settle all this later. Sounds good, luv? I mean, not like you could hide your heroic deeds from me if it turns out to be the case.”
“Out of the question!” I shouted, tapping my chest with my closed fist, “I would never ask you to let your tavern fall into disrepute for refusing to offer board and food for a divinely ordained hero! Besides, I already gave all I had to the cardinal.”
The barmaid blinked, scratching the back of her head, "Oooh... I think I'm starting to get the picture here.”
“Indeed, Mrs Lockley! For as far as I was concerned, my travel expenses would be accommodated from now on!”
“Well, better luck next time, kid. You got ripped off there.”
“Mrs Lockley, I do beg to differ.” I harumphed, “Hieromancy of that level does not come cheap. I was astonished that she would readily accept whatever I happened to carry on me at the moment. So who is really ripped off here?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a loud pair of knocks on the door.
Our exceedingly constructive discussion would have to be resumed at a later time.
For the door opened up, just enough for a young man with trimmed beard to peer through, his hat held against his chest.

"Oy!" He shouted, earning the attention of precisely no one, "Just thought I'd say... A monster is attacking."
And with that, a completely different tune was played. A man coughed up ale from the pint he had been downing. The ash in one old man's pipe slid into his drink when his hand slumped.
The patrons quieted down, only to mumble incoherently between themselves.
A balding stout man stood up, "Now you're just pulling our chain? Right Gus?"
He got no answer from the young man, except the door shutting. Gus was going to do what everyone else in the village was doing too. Panic.

“A monster!”
“It’s coming out of the forest!”
“Ahhhh! It’s after me!”
“Run for your lives!”

The shrill screams from outside the tavern echoed those inside. The patrons didn’t wait for the fear to turn them into savage animals, as they all scrambled to get out or hide under the tables.
What a pitiful display. Well, not everyone can have the strength bestowed upon by divine providence.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.” I told Mrs Lockley and marched off.
“Now, hold on there, luv... Luv? You hearing me, luv?” She reached towards me, but I ignored her.

It is rather a tragic irony, isn’t it? After the way the village treated me, I would be the one to rise to the occasion and liberate them from this monstrous tyranny. Being a hero can be a thankless job.
Well, after I dealt with the monster, nobody would doubt I was a hero. Then, they would beg to give me their best bed. And two gorgeous virgins with which to share it.
When I marched outside, the whole village was in uproar. Only one man wasn’t running around like a stung caterpillar, apart from me of course. An old man, short and spindly, with grey moustache and straw hat on his head, which I can only presume was bald. He wielded a fishing rod over his shoulder.
Naturally, he was in the way.

“Scoot over, old man. Hero coming through!” I shouted as I walked briskly through his space, pushing him to the side.
“Mhhmhhh…”