It was the dead of night, and every light in the town had been snuffed out. Each and every torch, lantern and candle had been extinguished. Not by the cold winds of winter, not for lack of life to light them either, for the town of Harthfal was densely populated and well-off. No, for the flames had been snuffed out on purpose by the town’s citizens in anticipation of the Rebel Queen’s arrival. An occasion that was to be celebrated.

And Alric was running for his life.

He was being chased by at least four larger men, all armed with wooden clubs, mocking and teasing him as they chased him through the streets and into alleyways. But Alric was smaller, and quicker, able to outmaneuver and outpace them. They had followed him from half-way across the town, just as he was leaving the tavern after a night of fun with his friends. Now he was just trying to survive the night.

Alric’s heart was already beating out of his chest, but it felt like it might explode when he turned a corner and found himself at a dead end, his path blocked by a stone wall connecting two houses.

“Nowhere to go now huh, you little bastard?” One of his pursuers sneered. He turned to face them and they had blocked the entrance to the alleyway completely. They were all, at most, six feet tall each. Their clubs were covered in dents and dried blood, attesting to the fact that these men were not messing around.

“Karloman’s had enough of weaklings like you giving this town a bad name.” He jabbed again, grinning with delight.

“Karloman’s the one giving Harthfal a bad name. It’s men like him the Queen is trying to overthrow and I’m going to help her do it!” Alric shouted back in rebellion, holding his ground, but he could already feel the sweat on his brow and his left hand began to tremble.

“Oh are you now? Well then, warrior, why don’t you show me what you got!” The large man said, before rushing forward and swinging his club downward in a great arc. Alric dodged out of the way just before it could hit him in the head, throwing himself against one of the houses. The club hit the ground with such force that it caused the snow to explode outwards. Alric threw a fist at his assailant, but the large man was quicker than he looked and had already begun swinging the club once again. This time, it caught Alric in his side, knocking the air from his lungs and him several feet towards the rest of Karloman’s goons.

“I guess you’re not as strong as you say you are. The Queen would be so disappointed.” The thug remarked with a scoff.

“And are you any better?” A voice said from outside the alley, deep and commanding. The men looked behind them out into the streets and were stunned. Alric managed to shake off enough of the pain to look out between them and see his childhood friend, Edmund.

If Alric was a wooden fence, then Edmund was a stone wall. Although shorter than the thugs, he looked like he had been built by the Elders themselves. Alric could recall his friend once being punched squarely in the jaw by another man after a night of raucous drinking and it had broken the man’s fist. Although Edmund would complain about the bruise later, it was clear who got the worst of it.

“I asked you a question, you horse’s ass.” He repeated himself, sounding more and more agitated by the moment.

“Come to save your friend, Edmund? The offer’s still on the table. Karloman would pay well to have a guy like you with him when he sees the Queen.” The leader said, stepping over Alric and between his compatriots to get closer to the sturdy man.

“And why would I force myself to be in the company of scum like you? Alric’s not rich, not by a long shot,” Edmund admitted, causing Alric to sigh. He wished he hadn’t added that part. “But he’s my friend. It’s more likely one of you would stab me in the back.” He lifted an iron bar in one hand, which the thugs had just now noticed. One of them took a step back, but was quickly grabbed around the collar by the leader of the group and pulled back into line.

“He’s just one man, you coward! To hell with what Karloman wants with this guy, I’m-” He was suddenly cut off, as Alric watched Edmund close the gap with inhuman speed to smash the iron bar into his chest. It was soon afterward that he pulled the bar back, allowing the thug to fall like a sack of flour into the snow, groaning in pain.

One of the other men swung out at Edmund and Alric shouted for him to watch out, but he easily swatted away the attack with one hand, striking his leg with the iron bar in the other. The thug lifted his leg in sudden agony, falling to the ground as well. Edmund then turned to face the other two thugs, who had very swiftly dropped their weapons.

“Take these two and buzz off. You’re pathetic.” He huffed. The thugs did just that, while Edmund lifted up Alric with a smile. Alric took a moment to dust himself off, wincing from the pain he felt in his side where the thug had hit him. “You okay? Looks like you took quite a hit, brother. Sorry I didn’t show up sooner.”

“Why didn’t you come outside the tavern as soon as I yelled your name?” Alric questioned his friend, an eyebrow arched in confusion. “They were right outside the door when I left.”

“I didn’t hear you at first! Gavelin was singing a song about a fair maid and there just so happened to be one right next to me. I was having a great time!”

“Well,” Alric began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I am so sorry that the threat to my life interrupted your evening. Next time I’ll just lay down and die so you won’t have to worry about me.”

“Nonsense! I’d never let anything happen to you. Let’s just say you owe me a beer and call it even.” He ruffled Alric’s jet black hair, but the shorter man did not mind. He never tried to keep it tidy before, so why fret about it now? The two of them exited the alleyway, heading back to their home.

Alric sat down at the table in their small dining room, grunting from the bruise now forming on his side. He brought a hand to the wounded area, trying to feel if he had any broken ribs. Each time he pushed on the tender skin, it sent a small shock of pain through his body, causing him to hiss in pain. But, from what he could tell, nothing was broken. A relief. He would be hard-pressed to get into the Queen’s army with a broken rib.

“So remind me why Karloman wants to beat you to a blood pulp?” Edmund asked, sitting across from him. “It’s not like you’ve actually done anything to him or anyone he knows.”

“Like I said before, it’s not what I did. It’s my dad.”

“Your dad’s been dead for about two years now. What’s he on about?”

“Something between his father and mine, I don’t know the specifics. All I know is that he can’t take it out on my dad, so he’s taking it out on me.”

“Ah yes. The classic bully complex,” Edmund concluded, reaching for a bowl of bread in the middle of the table.

Alric slapped at his friend’s hand with lightning quick reflexes. “Are you actually hungry or just bored?”

Edmund was silent for a moment, before a look of shame came over him. “Just bored..”

Alric sighed, upset by the fact he had to repeat himself once again. “I’ve told you. We only have enough food for until Queen Gathra gets here. We have to make it last. So only eat when you’re actually hungry, please.”

Edmund groaned, standing up and heading to the window. “I know! But you can’t expect me to sit around and do nothing when I was supposed to be at the tavern enjoying one of my last nights before becoming a soldier, Alric. A soldier for a rebel Queen, mind you.” He swiftly turned, wagging a finger at his friend. “That’s extra deadly, y’know!”

“I’m aware of how dangerous it is, but it’s the right thing to do!” He proclaimed, standing. “We have to stand up to the King and she’s the only way!” Alric began to feel heat coursing through him, his blood hot with passion for the cause.

“I hear you, brother. I’m not saying we shouldn’t do it. I’m right there with you. I’m just saying we should live it up a bit before we go give our lives for the greater good, okay?” He turned back to the window once again to look out into the town. Alric sat, holding his trembling hand and trying to calm down. He forced himself to slow his breathing.

“I...alright. I’m sorry. Karloman’s got me all worked up. We’ll go back to the tavern in an hour or so. Okay?” He waited for a moment, looking at his hand. After some silence, he looked up at Edmund.

“Edmund? Are you mad at me?” He asked, but there was no response. After a couple of seconds, he could see a small flicker of light curving around the large man’s body. His heart sank and he was filled with terror.

“Edmund, you didn’t light the candle did you?!” He leapt to his feet and dashed to his friend’s side. But the candle was not lit, and he looked to where Edmund was staring.

The great bonfire beacon that was at the top of the temple tower in the center of town had been lit and the entire town of Harthfal was bathed in its light. Edmund spoke in a foreboding whisper,

“Someone isn’t happy that Gathra’s coming to town,”