Knights of Valor

A Turn of Events

Matthew sighed as he walked through the thick, red Oak. He looked around, seeing life flourish everywhere. From the little builder ant, to the furry red fox that stalked across the path.

The forest itself felt dense, moist, and oddly humid, since it was summer time. He looked around to find a place to sit and look through his equipment . He found a cut down red Oak stump, which was partly covered in a red-ish moss. The moss itself seemed to be sentient, like it had a mind of its own. It moved away from Matthew when he sat down on the stump. He opened up his travel pack and checked over his rations. He had two red apples, a few pieces of bread, and a few raw slices of deer meat.

He pulled out a apple and took a bite out of it. The taste was sweet, but a bit mushy. As he ate the apple, he continued to look through his equipment. He saw his pouch of gold and three rubies, including a few silver pieces. He moved the pouch aside, and saw his sheathed dagger, which had two Nordic symbols on it. Finishing his small meal, Matthew closed his sack and stretched, running a hand through his blond hair before he continued along his trail.

Matthew walked along the forest trail until he got to the Village of Alþjófr. A shady little town off the bank of the rauða, one of the more minor rivers throughout the land. He clutched his satchel close as he passed the pub, which was flooded with various species. Halflings stumbled out drunkenly, while Teflings howled out old drinking songs. He sighed in relief as he passed the pub without being stopped, until someone decided to stop by and mess up his day.

A much shorter figure in a cloak slammed into Matthew and both went sprawling across the dirt street. They both went unnoticed by the people until a patrol man shouted, presumably at the mysterious person, to stop and come quietly. They shoved a small, but weighted bag into Matthew's hands and ran. All the while, their hood obscuring their face.

The officer sped past him and chased after the person's already fleeting figure, their cloak billowing out like a cape. Matthew stood and brushed himself off and slightly opened the bag the person had forced upon him. Inside was a good amount of gold, silver, and a few small random jewels.

The boy shivered, because usually when one had a run-in with a thief, one tended to end up six feet under. Matthew knew it was wrong, but pocketed the oh so obviously stolen goods anyways. Any form of cash was welcome, seeing as he didn't have much.

Matthew closed his eyes and tried to forget that any of that just happened, yet all he could think about was that moment. He slowly walked away from the scene and proceeded to the nearest inn. The entrance to the inn looked like it belonged to a much classier city. It had polished wood walls and waxed pine wood floors. He pulled out his gold pouch and cautiously paid the clerk behind the counter, deciding that it was in his best interest to not argue with the clearly overpriced charge.

As he trekked to his room, he observed that the hallway was covered with various paintings. Some were based on the gods, like Odin and Frigg. Some were of the kings of the five kingdoms. Matthew quickly located his room and proceeded to walk in.

His room was a bit plain to say the least, but a nice mahogany dresser was off to the far corner, and at least it looked nice. The bed was fair enough, though did seem sort of lumpy. That was sure to leave a ache in his back in the morning. There was a small room off to the side he could only assume was the bath, or a closet. And there was a dirtied widow just to the left of the bed. The walls and floors were like those of the lobby, except they weren't as polished and shined.

Matthew was starting to think the lobby was more for show to draw in unknowing tourist and passerbys. Not to mention their coin.

The young boy set his now two bags on the bed and sat down, relieving the pain in his feet from walking for so long. He takes off his shirt, only to reveal a few scars along his back and one across his forearm. They seemed to be more jagged then clean cuts. He yawned lightly as he arched his back, extending his sore muscles.