Chapter 1: Prologue: Sword Saint

A man in heavy armor fought his way uphill on a steep road leading toward a burning temple. There were countless goblins and hobgoblins in between him and his destination, which was the heart of the war torn city. The city's architecture was elegant white stone, originally built in graceful curves. The beauty of the buildings was destroyed by the invader's siege weapons. 

 

Hurtling boulders from the unexpected attack had ruined the city's serenity, crumbling walls and rooftops of the decorative buildings with little resistance. There was only rubble and misery left in their wake. Screams and whimpers of unfortunate survivors left at the mercy of the goblinoid army could be heard from all corners of the captured city. Smoke from the smoldering frames of buildings blanketed the sky red, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction.

 

The man dressed heroically in full plate armor slashed with his sword. Another hobgoblin died. It silently clutched its throat before falling face-first onto the cobbled street. Corpses littered the path behind the man belonging to the city's original elven inhabitants and the goblin invaders. He reached up to grip the horsetail plume of his helmet with his free hand, pulling it off and tossing it to the side in one fluid motion. There was a clang as the metal helmet hit a nearby stone wall. The horde of goblinoids paused their attack to watch the helmet bounce down the hill, past the armored man's companions.

 

He was followed by three mysteriously cloaked figures on foot and a hooded mage dressed in robes. The mage's face could be vaguely distinguished in the shadow of the hood. It was a young man with a curly red beard. He led a horse laden with a small chest strapped to the saddle in the rider's seat, keeping a cautious distance away from the ominous figures.

 

The heroic man had the well-groomed, handsome features reserved only for nobility. Matted brunette hair clung to his sweat soaked brow, framing his piercing green eyes. He stared at the press of goblinoids in front of him with an unwavering gaze, causing the creatures to step back with uncertainty. 

 

The man took advantage of their momentary hesitation to swing his sword once more. He aimed the blade at the neck of the nearest hobgoblin, removing its head cleanly. The blade continued unimpeded to kill three more unfortunates standing too close. It was enough. The goblin cannon fodder broke ranks and began to flee after witnessing their hobgoblin leaders being effortlessly slaughtered.

 

The man ignored the disorganized horde to resume walking uphill. The hobgoblins retreated from the man's advance, finally deciding that he was too dangerous to resist. They deserted their master and fled after their lesser brethren.

 

The man paused as he heard muffled panting coming from a nearby alley. He discovered a goblin mounting a heavily injured elven woman. Her clothes were torn off, exposing every inch of her flawless white skin. 

 

The man reached down to grip the goblin's hair, dragging it off the woman. His expression contorted in disgust as he sank his sword deep into the creature's back. It released a high-pitch scream as it attempted to clutch at the blade emerging from its chest. The man lowered the fresh corpse to the ground and placed his armored boot on its back to pry the sword free.

 

The naked elven woman watched with a numb expression. Her gaze was empty and lifeless after her ordeal. Bruises covered her arms and thighs from the merciless mating of the goblins. It was unknown how long the woman had endured for after the city was taken days earlier. The goblin killed was not likely the first to have its way with her. 

 

At a passing glance, goblins and hobgoblins looked very similar. The difference was in the facial features and size. Hobgoblins were larger, of similar size to an adult human. They had short horns that grew from their brow and could grow hair. Goblins were hairless and much smaller, the largest of them was no taller than an adult's chest. Their ears were also different. Hobgoblins had only a slight point at the tip of their rounded ears. Whereas a goblin's was much longer, they extended backward into sharp points, similar in appearance to a knife blade.

 

Both had a feral appearance with a variety of different colored skin. At Least that's what it should have been. Strangely, all of the goblinoids were a uniform dark blue color. The man ignored his confusion to examine the elven woman.

 

The armored man looked deeply into the elven woman's eyes before letting out a heavy sigh. A moment later, he plunged his blade through her heart. The woman only struggled weakly for a second before her body became limp. The man removed the sword and turned to his mysterious companions.

 

"You had best keep your part of the bargain," the man warned.

 

"Do not concern yourself, Sword Saint. These people are well served by your quest," one of the three cloaked figures spoke.

 

The figure's voice was gravelly and ancient. The voice caused the man to wince after hearing it. The hooded mage approached with his horse. He reached up to remove the hood obscuring his features. The mage gripped the armored man's arm as he leaned close to whisper in his ear.

 

"My lord, we can't trust these hags!" The mage hissed.

 

"I don't trust them. You're here to verify their potion once it's been made. After that, we will part ways with the witches and return to the kingdom. The King can survive a week without his champion. This will even improve relations with the elves after I rid this city of its dragon problem. Then they can come clean up the goblin infestation," the Sword Saint replied.

 

"Be careful, my lord. I'll watch your back, as always," the mage responded with a sigh.

 

"I know you will, Eugene. I chose you to be my squire because of your loyalty and sharp mind. That's what sets you apart from your peers at the Arcane Academy. They're just a bunch of self-serving parasites, whose only ambition is to gain more power for the mage council. I'm going to put a stop to that. That's why we need to complete our side of the bargain with the hags,” the Sword Saint said with conviction.

 

“I understand, my lord. I just don’t like it,” Eugene replied as his shoulders drooped in resignation.

 

“I know, Eugene. Me either, but it must be done,” the Sword Saint said as he placed a comforting hand on the mage’s shoulder.

 

The mage nodded his head in agreement as he pulled his hood back up, shrouding his face in shadow once more. The three mysteriously cloaked hags remained silent as they waited for the pair to complete their discussion. The Sword Saint and the mage had nothing more to say to each other so they resumed their march uphill. As the group neared the burning temple, corpses became less common on the street.

 

After they passed, a pair of goblins ran out of a ruined building. They arrived at the corpse of the elven woman behind them in the alley. The pair began to fight each other in a flurry of claws and teeth. It was resolved quickly after one of the goblins shoved its rival to the ground and leaped on top of the corpse. It then proceeded to bite into the supple flesh of the elven woman’s chest. 

 

It was oblivious to its rival unsheathing a crude stone dagger while it feasted. The goblin loomed over the feasting rival with the stone dagger held above its head in both hands. It plunged the dagger into its back. The ambushed goblin shrieked in agony as it straightened upright and attempted to reach the dagger in its back. The struggles tore the hilt from the ambusher’s bloodied hands. It ignored the antics of its betrayed rival to reach for the elven woman’s arm. It growled a warning at the observing humans and dragged the corpse inside the ruined building it had emerged from, leaving behind a thin trail of blood. 

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The ambushed goblin crashed to its knees and began to twitch as it fell face-first into the cobblestone road. The surviving goblin slammed the door to the ruined building closed, causing the door to fall off its hinges. The goblin watched the humans with bewilderment as they watched it in disapproval. The mage cursed as he prepared a spell. Moments, later a fireball hurtled across the distance. 

 

The goblin was mesmerized by the flames and forgot to flee. It limply released the grip on the elven woman’s corpse as it watched the fireball approach. It only realized the danger it was in after the flames were close enough for it to feel the heat, which was too late to flee. It shrieked and scrambled backward, tripping over the corpse and falling on its ass. Flames erupted to consume the building in fire. The ground shook as white stones collapsed inward. The Sword Saint began to chuckle heartily.

 

“My lord?” Eugene asked while looking at the sword saint in confusion.

 

“Did you see the look on the little bastard’s face? It thought you were providing a light show like at the midsummer coming-of-age celebrations. I don’t know how goblins haven’t made themselves extinct from viciousness and sheer stupidity. It didn’t even hesitate to bury a knife in its friend’s back. Goblins truly are nature’s most vile vermin,” the Sword Saint replied while shaking his head in disbelief.

 

The three mysterious hags began to cackle. It was a sound that would cause the hairs to stand on end of anyone who heard it. Eugene shivered as the Sword Saint started to frown with displeasure. 

 

“You’re not much different from them, Sword Saint,” a hag spoke.

 

“Watch your tongue, hag. Lest I dissolve our bargain and slay you where you stand,” the Sword Saint responded while raising his sword.

 

“Peace, Sword Saint. That was not an insult. You will understand doon enough,” a second hag placated.

 

The second hag stepped between the Sword Saint and its companion with raised palms. The hands were covered in tattoos of symbols that were unnerving to look at. The skin was wrinkled and bloodless white like that of a maggot, ending in black claws curled over an object. In its grip was a strange talisman, it was  made from sticks and cloth with runic symbols painted in what appeared to be dried blood. 

 

“Calm your anger and accept my sister’s offering, Sword Saint. The talisman shall ensure that the dragon cannot escape after you defeat it,” the third hag spoke.

 

The Sword Saint hesitated as he considered his options. A moment later, he reached out to take the talisman from the hag’s claws. A leather string dropped from her hand, attached to the talisman, it was a necklace. The Sword Saint draped the talisman over his neck, holding it up to investigate. He let the necklace drop as he began walking.

 

“Do not let there be a second time, hag, or you shall die by my blade,” the Sword Saint promised.

 

“Of course not, Sword Saint,” the second hag replied with a mocking tone as her sister snickered.

 

The Sword Saint ignored their provocations to approach the burning temple. Once the group arrived at the peak. They could see goblins entering the temple,  clutching armloads of shiny treasure looted from the ruined city to deposit inside. A pair of hobgoblins dragged the corpse of an overweight elf by his feet inside the building. 

 

“I didn’t think elves could get fat. I wonder where they even found him?” Eugene asked the Sword Saint, standing at his side with the laden horse.

 

“High elves and dark elves can, and this is a high elf city. So, don’t be too surprised. I want to see what they’re feeding in there. I’ve never seen a dragon up close,” the Sword Saint said distractedly.

 

“I had heard that you had hunted a dragon that was terrorising the countryside less than ten years ago, my lord?” Eugene asked with confusion.

 

“It was only a hatchling that had poached a few dozen heifers across the countryside before the commoners complained to the crown. It fled into the mountains as soon as we got too close. Don’t believe every tavern tale you hear, Eugene. Most of the bard’s are trying to lighten your purse of coin and spread the bar wench’s legs. There’s usually little truth involved,” the Sword Saint admonished.

 

“Yes, my lord. I also heard that hobgoblins and goblins are magical slave races created by dragons to serve them,” Eugene said.

 

“That’s nonsense. Why would anything willingly create those vermin?... I guess it could be possible. I’ve never heard of a dragon with goblinoid attendants before seeing it today, and I’ve never seen them of a uniform color. They’re usually a mixture of greens, browns and yellows. Blue and red are less common, but not unheard of. The dragon that attacked this city is said to be ancient. From before the Draconic Dividing, when dragons ruled over any unfortunate enough to live with their territory. It may still follow the old ways,” the Sword Saint replied.

 

A goblin shrieked and pointed at the group, interrupting the Sword Saint’s musing. He raised his sword in annoyance as he prepared to slaughter his way inside the temple. Hobgoblins emerged from every direction to surround the group and cut off their retreat. The Sword Saint looked around at the armed hobgoblins with a smirk. These ones had assorted armor and weapons of superior quality that had been looted from the city’s elven inhabitants. 

 

“So these are your elites? Let’s see what you can do,” the Sword Saint goaded.

 

He surged into motion, mana filled his muscles with strength and agility. He was different from mages in that he couldn’t cast spells. He was an attuned. A warrior who could instinctively wield magic to augment their bodies to give them the strength of one hundred men on the battlefield. That was an above average attuned. He wasn’t just above average, he was one of the best. He was the Sword Saint. The champion of Gregor the third, King of Electria. Renowned for his exploits in the arena and the battlefield.

 

Born the son of a minor court noble. His title was in name only. His father was a drunk and a gambler, who used his allowance from the kingdom to bet away the family’s accrued fortune, until even his son was involved. He was removed from the Arcane Academy and forced to enter the arena by some men of ill-repute. Despite his formal training being cut short, he flourished in battle, earning himself the title of Sword Saint and the attention of the King. It was time for the hobgoblins to learn the feeling of helplessness.

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