Near 483 AD. Sitting underneath a tree with a hallow trunk. Wet, misty, thick air surrounds me, and I can feel a slight breeze through my clothes. My town, about 300 meters away from here, was just burned down to the ground. All the buildings and memories are now ashes upon ashes. The Mad King was furious with us since we couldn’t pay our taxes on time. What an idiot he is. Burning down towns because he can’t receive his fucking pocket money. This left me sullen. Soldiers killed my family, my wife and my daughter. Bloody bastards. *wind blows harshly* Connie is 445 kilometers away. But with this arrow in my leg will slow me down. Within 45 minutes or so I will bleed out. So if I want to make it to Connie I will have to move fucking quickly. *tries and stand up* Urgh, it hurts like hell. If only I didn’t forgot the bandages at home. Fuck sakes. *crawls for a few meters* This pain is killing me! *coughs* This is a lot of blood. *horse hooves clunking from a distance* Everything is becoming a blur. *passes out* 4 days later *opens eyes* Where am I? *sits up straight* I am unacquainted with this place. *looks around* How long have I been out? Few hours? Days? *tries and stand up* Ouch! Fuck me it hurts! *holds leg with right arm* I forgot that I got impaled with a bloody arrow. “Don’t move too much or you will tear open the bruise, you idiot.” A unfamiliar voice came from the other room. I am assuming that the voice comes from a male. Mid 30s with a bit of throat damage. Wonder who it could be. He can’t be out to kill me surely. Because why safe my life when you can slaughter me when you have the chance or maybe he will use me for his personal gain. “Who are you!” I practically yelled. My vocals hurt a bit. Wonder why. *manly figure appears from the dim candle light* “Have yer mum never teached ye manners boy? Be grateful I covered up yer cut and fed ye fer 4 days. Ungrateful bastard” Scottish? Maybe he is Irish. “My apologies mister?” “Akir MacMillan” He is definitely Scottish. “Thank you Mister MacMillan for your hospitality. I am forever grateful.” So my ass got saved from a Scottish guy with a bad haircut.*scoffs* Oh well. He did save my life. I could as well be fucking dead. But where the fuck am I? *sniffs the aroma of pig shit wrap around my face like a warm blanket * It’s possible that I am on a pig farm. “Where exactly are we?” We can’t be that far from my home town since it was surrounded with pig & cow farms. “Yer very far from home boy. As if now yer in Belum” Belum?! That’s about 1 514,7 kilometers from here. “How is that possible?” My voice cracked and my body started to shake a bit. Am I scared? I’ve never felt this unknown fear running through my body. “I saw ye passed out like a drunk near a hallow tree and felt sympathy fer ye. I picked ye up, threw ye on the horse of mine and I rode from Inn to Inn till I got home. Ye we bleeding bad. Luckily one of the Inn keeper’s helped me to bandage ye up. Beautiful girl she is. Yer should go thank that lady once yer all healed up.” So a young lady helped to heal my leg wound? Fuck that reminds me. Soldiers of the Mad King killed my wife and daughter. “I will do so as it’s your wish. Thank you for saving my life and not killing me on the spot.” I am still baffled by the fact that he didn’t kill me. Maybe he doesn’t have it in him to kill a person? “Quick question Mister MacMillian. Why didn’t you kill me? I mean, I am wounded. I won’t have any contribution whatsoever in what you’re doing here in Belum.” The man walks up and down with a slight limp while processing my words. I don’t know what answer I’m expecting but hopefully my speculations were correct, that this man doesn’t have it in him to kill people. “Mm, well you see young lad.” *he says stopping in his tracks, looking at me dead in the eye through his bushy eyebrows* “I saved your life so that you can work for me for a few years. As an ex-soldier of the Scottish king army. I thought of you as an asset.” An asset? Well rather an asset then a dead man. “Ye will heal up and once yer healed up ye will start working. Startin with the pigs and then ye will be craftin swords and axes for the King’s soldiers in trainin.” Yeah well doesn’t that sound like a fucking marvelous idea, crafting swords for the man who burnt down my town. Please I’d rather be a fucking dead man than being an asset helping that fat bastard. “Ye look puzzled lad. The job pays good, I’ve been helping the King for many years, keeps the roof over me head and feeds me wife and bairn. It ain’t all that bad and call me Akir. This ‘mister’ stuff doesn’t work for me” He is an ex-soldier. Why doesn’t he want to be called mister? It is a sign of respect. “What rank were you in the Scottish army, if I may ask?” *he looks at me sternly* “I was a Legatus Legionis back in my days. Since Scotland doesn’t have any official military ranks. I came to Rome to join the army here” Fuck me. He had the highest senior rank? I could probably learn a few things from him. “And if ye are interested in some trainin. I will think about it and maybe train ye here and there but for now lad you need to get some rest so that wound heals up” I watch his shadow on the walls as he slowly disappears into the other room. Well I won’t say no to a bit of extra experience. I am going to try to fuck up the Mad King’s army then I will kill the fat bastard myself.