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Chapter 1: The loner Garcia


Soft music played on this quiet day, coming from the tavern's harpist. It was a soothing tune and seemed to match the mood here; slow, sad and gloomy. I sat on my own at my own table, the same table with the same food and the same atmosphere these past few weeks. The past few days here have been exceptionally depressing. No matter the drink I consume to fog my brain or the pleasure of a woman's touch I take to the bed, it has all been the same.

Many know me by names my reputation puts out; The Bane of Wolves, Swordsinger, and many other ridiculous names that the common folk beguile their simple minds with. I am only one person with one name, and that is Garcia Swiftfoot. Born a b*****d son and no biological parents to care for me. I share no family name yet I was raised by a priest of the Church. The very same man I call my father in both religion and relationship.

I had been a follower of Alsa, but always found it dull. I thanked the priest when I was older, when I was an assistant for him in the Church. He wanted to adopt me, to share his own family name. Tempting as it was, I couldn't do it. I refused his offer and still refuse to this very day.

I am what I am, a sellsword, a mercenary, the lowest type of filth in all of Saiken. But that's what I say, not them. Born with blue eyes and sand colored hair, I was seen as the social attraction to some and a pariah to many others. This was because the Northeners were rarely seen south of their tight nit. This only further makes me question myself, question of who my parents were in this backwater town. I shrugged the idea off as I continued the same revolting meal.

Heaving a great sigh, I snapped back to reality as I realized I was starting to nod off. Perhaps this devil drink had started to turn my brain to mush afterall. If not, then my worries are far greater than I had thought of myself. Thinking back to the war, Deinka was put into the most castatrophic event any little kingdom could face. The might of the Iron Empire's military had practically forced the king to surrender, to bow his royal blood to soldiers of peasentry.

I was there, hired out of desperation from the lack of the royal guard. The same red iron clad soliders broke down the oak doors to his majesty and marched in total unison. The King told us to surrender, seeing the general Selendril come. I saw this man, this man's hate and lust for power a kilometer away. That was when I fled from the throne room, turning my back on my liegelord. As I said, I was only a sellsword.

The Iron Empire executed the King and his entire guard. This very act struck fear in the royal family. The young prince was critically wounded by a spear as he tried to intervene. From the very moment he surrended, those red coated bastards slew the king in cold blood! This was only a conquest, an invasion of the Emperor to take over another small kingdom to add territory to it's borders. General Selendril, rumors of his necromancy were know all through Saiken. He was the head of this invasion and I saw that black raven colored hair of his. I wouldn't be surprised if he played with the King's body after the kill, sating his sadistic ways.

In just one month, the Empire declared Deinka their's, an official province of the Iron Empire. Everything practically changed, while some things remained the same. Some of the changes were good for the peasents, some were more severe. But one thing that caused a dramatic anger all throughout the land, was the abolishment of the worship to St. Alsa. The very same woman who founded the Kingdom and slew the Wicked One. Her worship was the sole purpose of the land, priests worked her magic and healers devoted their studies to her. The word Tax became like the Wicked One's word, higher taxes came and more "executions" came to holymen. The same thing happened to Father. I was there, in the public display of his death as the Rinji Johfu executed him. The shadowy bastards of the Empire, hung him until the man who raised me choked to death.

"Garcia," came a familiar soft voice behind me. It interrupted my thoughts as I sat there in silence, drowning my sorrow in the devil's drink and eatting the food that tasted like ash. I looked up to see the attractive young woman, her figure was alluring like a siren and eyes like emeralds. The name of this woman eluded me as I admired her. The voice spoke again as I felt the warmth of her hand on my shoulder, hearing the soothing harp music and the chattering men in the background. "You look down, would you--" No! Sudden anger came over me as I slapped the woman's hand away. The thought of burying myself with pleasure had to stop, my anger seethed through my body as I stood tall and firm.

"Get away from me! Stay away you wench!" I shouted as she took a few steps back, intimidated by the short haired man before her. Just a few nights ago, he was as gentle as a baby bear. Now he had the fierce nature of a tiger. I was surprised suddenly, surprised by this sudden rage that possesed me. I needed to be alone. The harpist stopped briefly, as well did the conversations in the room as they stared at me like I was about to kill. The scene unfolded into something dramatic as the woman had a scared look on her precious face. Quietly, I apologized, putting one hand on her shoulder as I walked by. She didn't deserve that I thought, the girl who's name I did not know but her beauty remained ingrained in my mind.

It was time I left and tried to do something. Up at the counter, I spilled out a collection of coin to the tavernmaster as I quietly thanked him. He took a step back, weary of this man before him but went back to get his things. I waited as the man came back with my supplies, placing them onto the counter. My sword, dagger, pack, and everything else a sellsword would have. For the past week, this man cared for me and my horse. I saw this man, but never managed to learn his name. I didn't bother, someone like me didn't need to know. Nor did I want to be in his favor in the distant future. As I buckled my sword belt on, I heard a commotion outside. Shouts of anger and desperation as I knew immediatly what it was. Imperial Soldiers.