Second chance swordsman.., p.45
Second Chance Swordsman (A LitRPG Adventure, Book 1), page 45
After the first three shots, the competition got even fiercer.
Both Curtis and Brock’s cheeks were flushed red, but neither one looked as if they had had enough.
Ten shots later, their bodies were both shaking.
“Another!” they both declared.
The wait staff shivered, “That was our only bottle of dwarven whiskey, we ran out.”
Both Brock and Curtis stared venomously at the waiter.
Then Brock turned to his elf companion, “I guess we’ll have to keep calling it a tie for now.”
“That’s fine by me,” said Curtis, who looked like he might fall off the table.
Brock put his hand on Curtis’ shoulder and said, “You know, Curtis, I don’t say this enough, but I want you to know, I love and respect you, elf.”
Tears formed in Curtis’ eyes and he swatted the dwarfs hand away before giving him a big hug.
“No, I love and respect you!” said Curtis back.
With tears in his eyes, Brock said, “Why can’t we say this to each other more often?”
“I don’t know,” said Curtis. “We’re foolish, so foolish. You’re my best friend, I want every one to know!”
“You’re my best friend too,” sobbed the dwarf.
As the two pals admitted to each other their undying platonic love for one another, their captain Olivia Reeves walked by in a beautiful red dress.
They both turned, awed by their captain’s stunning attractiveness.
Both tried to get her attention but she was already out of earshot, heading across the party to talk with somebody else.
No longer hugging, Brock said, “Alright, how about for this evening we call a peace treaty on Olivia. Neither one of us will fight over her tonight. Deal?”
“Deal,” said Curtis.
“Shall we continue our contest then?” said Brock. “We can switch from whiskey shots to pints of ale?”
“Sounds excellent,” said Curtis.
The new contest began and the two friends started chugging down beers, each with their own secret plan to ask their captain Olivia to dance as soon as the other passed out from drinking too much.
123
Mildred sat proudly beside Queen Alice at the high table of the young girl’s royal coronation party.
The day had been a huge success.
Alice was now queen and with the celebrations of her royal coronation underway, the most recent horrors that had engulfed the city could be replaced with now fonder happier memories.
“How are you feeling, my lady?” asked Mildred, sipping a cup of tea.
“Wonderful,” said Alice.
The former princess was beaming.
She looked radiant and composed.
The two women looked out to the group of people dancing in front of the live minstrel band.
“Do you plan to dance with anyone tonight?” Mildred asked.
The queen shook her head.
“I am queen now, I must be diplomatic with who I show my affections to.”
“Certainly,” said Mildred. “So I’m guessing you won’t dance even with a young shaggy black-haired boy who saved you and the city?”
Queen Alice’s face went a deep red and she shook her head vehemently.
“I have rewarded him with the privilege of our council should he ever seek it in future times of great danger. At best, we are colleagues, nothing more.”
Mildred gave the young girl a knowing look. “Your words say one thing, while your face says another,” said Mildred.
The new queen crossed her arms and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about. Besides—I think someone is after your hand to dance, Mildred.”
Approaching their table was Guildmaster Redfield.
“He’s coming,” whispered the queen, gleefully. “What will you say if he asks you to dance?”
“I will politely decline,” said Mildred.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” giggled Alice. “You spent every day beside him while he was at the healer’s wing after the Battle of Resfall.”
“Quiet,” said the handmaiden, just before the guildmaster was standing beside them. “He doesn’t know that. He was unconscious the entire time.”
Edgar smiled at Mildred and bowed.
“Beautiful Mildred—can I have the pleasure of a dance?”
Mildred, who was very good at not showing any emotion, for the first time in many years, blushed.
Edgar took Mildred’s hand and walked her out to the dance floor.
The handmaiden wrapped her arms around the older man’s neck as he placed his hands on her waist and they danced slowly to the music.
There was a comfortable familiarity in the way they held each other, mixed with a sense of melancholy.
It was both familiar and yet distant like a fading memory.
Edgar smiled at Mildred, whose cheeks didn’t stop blushing.
“Don’t get any ideas,” said Mildred.
“I wasn’t.”
“I know you,” said Mildred. “You definitely were. You always have ideas.”
“After seeing the light that awaits one at the brink of death, I have learned to cherish being in the present, rather than chase the promise of the future.”
“Nice little speech,” grinned Mildred. “But I don’t buy it for a second.”
“Seriously, Mildred,” said Edgar. “We haven’t been like this in so long. I am like a man in the desert dying from dehydration, and so I can cherish even the tiniest morsel of water.”
“Well, if you keep it up with such romantic metaphors, who knows where the night will take us,” said Mildred.
Edgar smiled wistfully and then his mind turned to other things.
“The dungeon gates—I don’t know what they mean for us, for the world,” said Edgar. “I fear dark times are coming our way.”
Mildred stepped a bit closer and rested her head on Edgar’s shoulder as they danced.
“Let’s just enjoy this moment of respite,” said Mildred softly. “You know as well as me that we get so precious few of them across a lifetime.”
124
Klara looked around the royal coronation at a loss of who to speak with or what to do.
Every noble who made eye contact only made her bristle with disappointment.
Where the heck is he?
All she wanted was to spend the night with her best friend, Toby. She realized after fighting together during the battle of Resfall, she never wanted to be far from him ever again.
More than that, she felt herself admiring her friend more and more as she thought about him. She had always thought she was the braver one, pushing away her fears, not letting anyone see them or knowing that they were even there; but there was something deeply courageous the way Toby didn’t shy away from his fears. Occasionally annoying, yes, but somehow special too.
I wish I could be more like you, Tobes, she thought quietly to herself. Now, where the heck are you!?
She asked the others in the guild whether they’d seen him, but Toby had seemingly disappeared from the party.
Did he go back to the guild for an early night?
Or did he, and she felt a flutter of sadness in her stomach, just not want to spend more time with me?
As the royal coronation party progressed, Toby found himself in a position he was quite familiar with.
He was hiding and terrified.
He stood behind a fountain of red wine, furtively glancing over at Klara who was standing alone near the dance floor.
She clearly wants someone to ask her, he thought. Why shouldn’t it be me?
The question seemed simple enough but Toby’s brain was good at cataloguing potential disaster.
He could ask her and she’d beat him up for ever considering the idea of them dancing together.
He could ask her and she could tell him that she was actually waiting for one of the noble guys who was attending to ask her and then Toby would subsequently die from the most severe form of heartache ever witnessed in all of Westria.
He could ask her and the universe recognizing that it was such an absurd idea that someone like him could ever dance with someone as amazing as her that he would accidentally rip open the space-time continuum and cause the entire universe to implode on itself.
All of those things might happen, he thought. Or we might just dance and it might be really nice.
He gulped, struggling to believe there might be any hint of truth in the latter.
He took a sip of water and thought of the words Brock had said to him at the winter ball all those months back.
Drink hype juice, not hate-o-rade, and do what you gotta do fella.
He chugged back the glass of water, wiped the sweat off his brow, and started walking across the garden party towards Klara who was standing all alone.
The walk across the party may have been the longest walk of Toby’s entire life.
He felt every step he took. Every beat of his palpitating heart.
He was practically hyperventilating by the time he was standing in front of her.
“Hey Klara,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Do you maybe...wanna..sort of...it’s not a big deal or anything...but you know...dance? With me?”
Klara smiled.
“Yeah, Tobes. I’d love to.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. Not a big deal or anything. I don’t want to put pressure on you, or mess with our friendship or whatever. Totally understand if you’re waiting for a noble—”
Toby’s fear had taken over and he’d been rambling and it took a moment for his thoughts to catch up with his voice.
Wait, he paused. She said yes!
“Tobes?” Klara looked up at him with her gorgeous green eyes.
If his heart had been beating rapidly before, it was going even faster now.
Oh man, I was so worried about asking her to dance, I’d never considered what would happen afterwards. I don’t know how to dance!
Klara took Toby’s hand and they walked out to the dance floor.
Once they started dancing, Toby felt himself calming down as they swayed to the slow gentle rhythms of the band’s soft romantic song.
As the music continued, they moved closer and closer together as they danced.
If Toby’s hands started on Klara’s waist, they were soon on her lower back. If Klara started the dance holding onto Toby’s shoulders, they were soon wrapped around his neck with her head resting on his chest.
As the song came to a close, Klara pulled away and kissed Toby on the cheek.
She whispered, “You’re the bravest guy I know, Tobes.”
Toby’s whole face blushed.
In that moment, he was the happiest young man in all of Westria.
125
Sam sat alone at his table at the Royal Coronation party.
He was happy just sitting there.
After the most recent events, he was happy to take a quiet tranquil break.
He smiled at the sight of his friends Toby and Klara holding hands as they went for a walk following their dance.
I’m happy for them, he thought.
In the distance, he saw the new queen surrounded by noble gentlemen all trying to impress her and get her to dance.
For a second, his eyes locked onto hers and he felt a strange feeling in his stomach.
The queen herself blushed and looked away.
Should I maybe go and—
He shook away the thought.
Alice Grace was now the freaking Queen of all of Volsungar.
Who knew what mayhem Sam could cause in the ripple of time and history if he pursued her romantically?
Not that he even necessarily wanted to.
For one thing, he was a few years older than her.
Though only by a few.
And, then there was the fact that she was incredibly annoying.
Sam had forgotten about that for a second.
He crossed his arms, contentedly.
That’s right, he thought. The Queen is no good for you. Plus, you have other things to worry about anyway.
He sighed with a wistful smile and looked at her once more. She was preoccupied with the nobles surrounding her now.
She is pretty, though.
Sam had figured he had had enough partying for that evening and stood up to go when he saw two nearby gentleman who were staring at him oddly.
“There he is,” whispered one of them. “Let’s go talk to him.”
They were both wearing the finest suits, yet looked a bit scraggly and uncomfortable, like they weren’t quite used to wearing such fine materials.
Sam looked at them oddly and then walked towards them. “Um, do I know you two?”
The two men looked to each other nervously and then one of them began speaking, “You probably don’t remember us, but we wanted to come say hello to you and say thank you. You changed our lives.”
Sam smiled. He had no idea what these two were talking about. He assumed they were just thanking him for his contributions during the battle of Resfall.
“No problem at all,” said Sam. “Just doing my job.”
“See—he doesn’t remember us,” said the other guard.
“We met just under a year ago now, at the end of Septremble last year,” said one of them. “You probably don’t recognize us as we’re dressed a bit differently, but we were on guard duty one night when you decided to go out into the woods and fight against monsters with your crummy equipment. We thought you were a dead man. A goner. When you showed up the following morning, more determined than ever—I don’t know, something sparked inside of me and then later my friend here as well. See, I realized I wasn’t living my truth. I may have been a mere guard, but my passion was for birds and bird-watching.”
“And boring the heck out of me about it,” chimed in the other.
“Well, I decided, I was going to retire from being a guard and use whatever resources I had to create a book to help people get better at bird-watching—”
“And I wasn’t going to just let him abandon me on guard duty, so I quit alongside him! To support him in his annoying birdwatching habit!”
“And together,” they smiled, “we created the book and it was a huge bestseller. We’re now opening a shop to sell bird-watching equipment.”
Sam looked at the two men aghast. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” said one of the former guards. “We just wanted to let you know how much you changed our lives. Thanks again.”
The two men then walked away and Sam stood there, stunned.
Since being sent back to this new timeline, Sam had been so focused on stopping the big events from his past that he hadn’t really considered some of the smaller details.
The threads of time were truly rich, complicated, and mysterious.
He was realizing as much as he could influence some of the bigger dominoes of fate, there would still be a ripple effect that would expand outward and influence so many different people beyond Sam’s own ultimate goals.
It wasn’t just the major differences in the timelines that could alter people’s lives, but the small changes as well.
Watching the two former guards walk away into the garden, presumably to look at more birds, Sam couldn’t help but smile.
126
The following day, the entire Traveler’s Guild was in shambles.
Brock and Curtis had fallen asleep in the front hallway.
Food was strewn all about from the late-night snacking provided by the dining hall.
Some Travelers were even sitting around still drinking, having stayed awake the whole night, never making it to bed.
Even Roxy the unicow was snoring louder than usual in her stable having stayed up late at the celebrations as well.
The only person bright-eyed and awake was Sam.
He got up first thing, had a quick bite to eat in the dining hall along with a large cup of coffee, and then stepping over Curtis and Brock’s drunken sleeping bodies, he moseyed over to the mission board.
He was very pleased with how many terrible cataclysmically awful things he’d stopped from happening so far.
He’d saved his friends and survived the white gate.
He’d stopped the assassination of Alice Grace and the hostile takeover of Resfall.
Not to mention all the more smaller benevolent changes as well.
Sam was pleased, but he also knew his job was far from done.
In just under three more months, he’ll have been back in time for a year now. Meaning, they had just barely over four more years to prepare for the apocalypse brimming on the horizon.
And before that, there was still the dwarven cataclysm and the elven genocide to worry about.
He went to the mission board, picked up an assignment and headed out of the guild towards the city gates.
He had a lot more work to do.
Edgar Redfield had fallen asleep at his desk and had been woken up by the sound of movement in the guild hall below.
“Who’s causing that ruckus,” he grumbled out loud as he rubbed his eyes to wake up.
He heard the guild hall door slam shut and then walked over to his window to see who was causing so much noise at such an early hour after such a big celebration the night before.
He smiled as he saw the shaggy black-haired boy run off towards the city gates on a new assignment.
Why am I not surprised?
The kid was something else.
He was pure potential.
It was like he knew what was going to happen a second before it actually happened.
Maybe whatever dark things were still approaching on the horizon—this kid might be their one and only hope.
Meanwhile, a similar sentiment to Edgar Redfield’s, was being composed in a deep forgotten and obscure basement of Resfall’s ancient libraries.
A forgotten historian was writing upon a scroll the events that had just passed.
He wrote about a young man with black hair and crimson red eyes.
Both Curtis and Brock’s cheeks were flushed red, but neither one looked as if they had had enough.
Ten shots later, their bodies were both shaking.
“Another!” they both declared.
The wait staff shivered, “That was our only bottle of dwarven whiskey, we ran out.”
Both Brock and Curtis stared venomously at the waiter.
Then Brock turned to his elf companion, “I guess we’ll have to keep calling it a tie for now.”
“That’s fine by me,” said Curtis, who looked like he might fall off the table.
Brock put his hand on Curtis’ shoulder and said, “You know, Curtis, I don’t say this enough, but I want you to know, I love and respect you, elf.”
Tears formed in Curtis’ eyes and he swatted the dwarfs hand away before giving him a big hug.
“No, I love and respect you!” said Curtis back.
With tears in his eyes, Brock said, “Why can’t we say this to each other more often?”
“I don’t know,” said Curtis. “We’re foolish, so foolish. You’re my best friend, I want every one to know!”
“You’re my best friend too,” sobbed the dwarf.
As the two pals admitted to each other their undying platonic love for one another, their captain Olivia Reeves walked by in a beautiful red dress.
They both turned, awed by their captain’s stunning attractiveness.
Both tried to get her attention but she was already out of earshot, heading across the party to talk with somebody else.
No longer hugging, Brock said, “Alright, how about for this evening we call a peace treaty on Olivia. Neither one of us will fight over her tonight. Deal?”
“Deal,” said Curtis.
“Shall we continue our contest then?” said Brock. “We can switch from whiskey shots to pints of ale?”
“Sounds excellent,” said Curtis.
The new contest began and the two friends started chugging down beers, each with their own secret plan to ask their captain Olivia to dance as soon as the other passed out from drinking too much.
123
Mildred sat proudly beside Queen Alice at the high table of the young girl’s royal coronation party.
The day had been a huge success.
Alice was now queen and with the celebrations of her royal coronation underway, the most recent horrors that had engulfed the city could be replaced with now fonder happier memories.
“How are you feeling, my lady?” asked Mildred, sipping a cup of tea.
“Wonderful,” said Alice.
The former princess was beaming.
She looked radiant and composed.
The two women looked out to the group of people dancing in front of the live minstrel band.
“Do you plan to dance with anyone tonight?” Mildred asked.
The queen shook her head.
“I am queen now, I must be diplomatic with who I show my affections to.”
“Certainly,” said Mildred. “So I’m guessing you won’t dance even with a young shaggy black-haired boy who saved you and the city?”
Queen Alice’s face went a deep red and she shook her head vehemently.
“I have rewarded him with the privilege of our council should he ever seek it in future times of great danger. At best, we are colleagues, nothing more.”
Mildred gave the young girl a knowing look. “Your words say one thing, while your face says another,” said Mildred.
The new queen crossed her arms and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about. Besides—I think someone is after your hand to dance, Mildred.”
Approaching their table was Guildmaster Redfield.
“He’s coming,” whispered the queen, gleefully. “What will you say if he asks you to dance?”
“I will politely decline,” said Mildred.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” giggled Alice. “You spent every day beside him while he was at the healer’s wing after the Battle of Resfall.”
“Quiet,” said the handmaiden, just before the guildmaster was standing beside them. “He doesn’t know that. He was unconscious the entire time.”
Edgar smiled at Mildred and bowed.
“Beautiful Mildred—can I have the pleasure of a dance?”
Mildred, who was very good at not showing any emotion, for the first time in many years, blushed.
Edgar took Mildred’s hand and walked her out to the dance floor.
The handmaiden wrapped her arms around the older man’s neck as he placed his hands on her waist and they danced slowly to the music.
There was a comfortable familiarity in the way they held each other, mixed with a sense of melancholy.
It was both familiar and yet distant like a fading memory.
Edgar smiled at Mildred, whose cheeks didn’t stop blushing.
“Don’t get any ideas,” said Mildred.
“I wasn’t.”
“I know you,” said Mildred. “You definitely were. You always have ideas.”
“After seeing the light that awaits one at the brink of death, I have learned to cherish being in the present, rather than chase the promise of the future.”
“Nice little speech,” grinned Mildred. “But I don’t buy it for a second.”
“Seriously, Mildred,” said Edgar. “We haven’t been like this in so long. I am like a man in the desert dying from dehydration, and so I can cherish even the tiniest morsel of water.”
“Well, if you keep it up with such romantic metaphors, who knows where the night will take us,” said Mildred.
Edgar smiled wistfully and then his mind turned to other things.
“The dungeon gates—I don’t know what they mean for us, for the world,” said Edgar. “I fear dark times are coming our way.”
Mildred stepped a bit closer and rested her head on Edgar’s shoulder as they danced.
“Let’s just enjoy this moment of respite,” said Mildred softly. “You know as well as me that we get so precious few of them across a lifetime.”
124
Klara looked around the royal coronation at a loss of who to speak with or what to do.
Every noble who made eye contact only made her bristle with disappointment.
Where the heck is he?
All she wanted was to spend the night with her best friend, Toby. She realized after fighting together during the battle of Resfall, she never wanted to be far from him ever again.
More than that, she felt herself admiring her friend more and more as she thought about him. She had always thought she was the braver one, pushing away her fears, not letting anyone see them or knowing that they were even there; but there was something deeply courageous the way Toby didn’t shy away from his fears. Occasionally annoying, yes, but somehow special too.
I wish I could be more like you, Tobes, she thought quietly to herself. Now, where the heck are you!?
She asked the others in the guild whether they’d seen him, but Toby had seemingly disappeared from the party.
Did he go back to the guild for an early night?
Or did he, and she felt a flutter of sadness in her stomach, just not want to spend more time with me?
As the royal coronation party progressed, Toby found himself in a position he was quite familiar with.
He was hiding and terrified.
He stood behind a fountain of red wine, furtively glancing over at Klara who was standing alone near the dance floor.
She clearly wants someone to ask her, he thought. Why shouldn’t it be me?
The question seemed simple enough but Toby’s brain was good at cataloguing potential disaster.
He could ask her and she’d beat him up for ever considering the idea of them dancing together.
He could ask her and she could tell him that she was actually waiting for one of the noble guys who was attending to ask her and then Toby would subsequently die from the most severe form of heartache ever witnessed in all of Westria.
He could ask her and the universe recognizing that it was such an absurd idea that someone like him could ever dance with someone as amazing as her that he would accidentally rip open the space-time continuum and cause the entire universe to implode on itself.
All of those things might happen, he thought. Or we might just dance and it might be really nice.
He gulped, struggling to believe there might be any hint of truth in the latter.
He took a sip of water and thought of the words Brock had said to him at the winter ball all those months back.
Drink hype juice, not hate-o-rade, and do what you gotta do fella.
He chugged back the glass of water, wiped the sweat off his brow, and started walking across the garden party towards Klara who was standing all alone.
The walk across the party may have been the longest walk of Toby’s entire life.
He felt every step he took. Every beat of his palpitating heart.
He was practically hyperventilating by the time he was standing in front of her.
“Hey Klara,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Do you maybe...wanna..sort of...it’s not a big deal or anything...but you know...dance? With me?”
Klara smiled.
“Yeah, Tobes. I’d love to.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. Not a big deal or anything. I don’t want to put pressure on you, or mess with our friendship or whatever. Totally understand if you’re waiting for a noble—”
Toby’s fear had taken over and he’d been rambling and it took a moment for his thoughts to catch up with his voice.
Wait, he paused. She said yes!
“Tobes?” Klara looked up at him with her gorgeous green eyes.
If his heart had been beating rapidly before, it was going even faster now.
Oh man, I was so worried about asking her to dance, I’d never considered what would happen afterwards. I don’t know how to dance!
Klara took Toby’s hand and they walked out to the dance floor.
Once they started dancing, Toby felt himself calming down as they swayed to the slow gentle rhythms of the band’s soft romantic song.
As the music continued, they moved closer and closer together as they danced.
If Toby’s hands started on Klara’s waist, they were soon on her lower back. If Klara started the dance holding onto Toby’s shoulders, they were soon wrapped around his neck with her head resting on his chest.
As the song came to a close, Klara pulled away and kissed Toby on the cheek.
She whispered, “You’re the bravest guy I know, Tobes.”
Toby’s whole face blushed.
In that moment, he was the happiest young man in all of Westria.
125
Sam sat alone at his table at the Royal Coronation party.
He was happy just sitting there.
After the most recent events, he was happy to take a quiet tranquil break.
He smiled at the sight of his friends Toby and Klara holding hands as they went for a walk following their dance.
I’m happy for them, he thought.
In the distance, he saw the new queen surrounded by noble gentlemen all trying to impress her and get her to dance.
For a second, his eyes locked onto hers and he felt a strange feeling in his stomach.
The queen herself blushed and looked away.
Should I maybe go and—
He shook away the thought.
Alice Grace was now the freaking Queen of all of Volsungar.
Who knew what mayhem Sam could cause in the ripple of time and history if he pursued her romantically?
Not that he even necessarily wanted to.
For one thing, he was a few years older than her.
Though only by a few.
And, then there was the fact that she was incredibly annoying.
Sam had forgotten about that for a second.
He crossed his arms, contentedly.
That’s right, he thought. The Queen is no good for you. Plus, you have other things to worry about anyway.
He sighed with a wistful smile and looked at her once more. She was preoccupied with the nobles surrounding her now.
She is pretty, though.
Sam had figured he had had enough partying for that evening and stood up to go when he saw two nearby gentleman who were staring at him oddly.
“There he is,” whispered one of them. “Let’s go talk to him.”
They were both wearing the finest suits, yet looked a bit scraggly and uncomfortable, like they weren’t quite used to wearing such fine materials.
Sam looked at them oddly and then walked towards them. “Um, do I know you two?”
The two men looked to each other nervously and then one of them began speaking, “You probably don’t remember us, but we wanted to come say hello to you and say thank you. You changed our lives.”
Sam smiled. He had no idea what these two were talking about. He assumed they were just thanking him for his contributions during the battle of Resfall.
“No problem at all,” said Sam. “Just doing my job.”
“See—he doesn’t remember us,” said the other guard.
“We met just under a year ago now, at the end of Septremble last year,” said one of them. “You probably don’t recognize us as we’re dressed a bit differently, but we were on guard duty one night when you decided to go out into the woods and fight against monsters with your crummy equipment. We thought you were a dead man. A goner. When you showed up the following morning, more determined than ever—I don’t know, something sparked inside of me and then later my friend here as well. See, I realized I wasn’t living my truth. I may have been a mere guard, but my passion was for birds and bird-watching.”
“And boring the heck out of me about it,” chimed in the other.
“Well, I decided, I was going to retire from being a guard and use whatever resources I had to create a book to help people get better at bird-watching—”
“And I wasn’t going to just let him abandon me on guard duty, so I quit alongside him! To support him in his annoying birdwatching habit!”
“And together,” they smiled, “we created the book and it was a huge bestseller. We’re now opening a shop to sell bird-watching equipment.”
Sam looked at the two men aghast. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” said one of the former guards. “We just wanted to let you know how much you changed our lives. Thanks again.”
The two men then walked away and Sam stood there, stunned.
Since being sent back to this new timeline, Sam had been so focused on stopping the big events from his past that he hadn’t really considered some of the smaller details.
The threads of time were truly rich, complicated, and mysterious.
He was realizing as much as he could influence some of the bigger dominoes of fate, there would still be a ripple effect that would expand outward and influence so many different people beyond Sam’s own ultimate goals.
It wasn’t just the major differences in the timelines that could alter people’s lives, but the small changes as well.
Watching the two former guards walk away into the garden, presumably to look at more birds, Sam couldn’t help but smile.
126
The following day, the entire Traveler’s Guild was in shambles.
Brock and Curtis had fallen asleep in the front hallway.
Food was strewn all about from the late-night snacking provided by the dining hall.
Some Travelers were even sitting around still drinking, having stayed awake the whole night, never making it to bed.
Even Roxy the unicow was snoring louder than usual in her stable having stayed up late at the celebrations as well.
The only person bright-eyed and awake was Sam.
He got up first thing, had a quick bite to eat in the dining hall along with a large cup of coffee, and then stepping over Curtis and Brock’s drunken sleeping bodies, he moseyed over to the mission board.
He was very pleased with how many terrible cataclysmically awful things he’d stopped from happening so far.
He’d saved his friends and survived the white gate.
He’d stopped the assassination of Alice Grace and the hostile takeover of Resfall.
Not to mention all the more smaller benevolent changes as well.
Sam was pleased, but he also knew his job was far from done.
In just under three more months, he’ll have been back in time for a year now. Meaning, they had just barely over four more years to prepare for the apocalypse brimming on the horizon.
And before that, there was still the dwarven cataclysm and the elven genocide to worry about.
He went to the mission board, picked up an assignment and headed out of the guild towards the city gates.
He had a lot more work to do.
Edgar Redfield had fallen asleep at his desk and had been woken up by the sound of movement in the guild hall below.
“Who’s causing that ruckus,” he grumbled out loud as he rubbed his eyes to wake up.
He heard the guild hall door slam shut and then walked over to his window to see who was causing so much noise at such an early hour after such a big celebration the night before.
He smiled as he saw the shaggy black-haired boy run off towards the city gates on a new assignment.
Why am I not surprised?
The kid was something else.
He was pure potential.
It was like he knew what was going to happen a second before it actually happened.
Maybe whatever dark things were still approaching on the horizon—this kid might be their one and only hope.
Meanwhile, a similar sentiment to Edgar Redfield’s, was being composed in a deep forgotten and obscure basement of Resfall’s ancient libraries.
A forgotten historian was writing upon a scroll the events that had just passed.
He wrote about a young man with black hair and crimson red eyes.
