“Oy there, Sir!” Blurted one of the Varrock guardsmen. “Ave you heard? A lass went missing last night.” He held out a crinkled piece of parchment. It was a rough portrait of a plain young peasant, sketched in charcoal. She had short, shaggy black hair, and looked quite ordinary.
Sir Norman laughed, “What is so special about the death of a peasant woman? People go missing every day in this city. Between wild animals and savage rivalries, it is a wonder that we have not all gone missing.”
“Aye, what you say is too true. The guard has lost several good men this month. But it’s not the girl, it’s the brother. We don’t know she’s dead, we haven’t any body or evidence, you see. The poor little fellow has his heart set on rescuing her.”
“Is she the sister of a Guardsman?” Norman asked.
“No, but the boy is as good as a guardsman. He will be, once he’s of age. He would already, but the king forbids it. It’s no job for a child. He’s a peasant boy, of course, but he learns fast. At this point, with so many casualties, we’ll take any man who can hold up a sword.”
“I believe I have heard of the lad. Who in Varrock does not know of young Bweer, and his many attempts to join your guard? I have seen him train with you. He learned the sword at an impressive speed.”
“That he has,” replied the guard, “And he’ll search the ends of the world for his sister.”
Sir Norman’s eyes went blank for a moment, but their sparkle returned. “If I hear anything, I shall notify the guard.”
“Frankly, Sir Norman, I wouldn’t bother looking,” The guard said. His face fell. “She’s as good as dead. We just can’t bear to say it to the boy.”
Replacing his helmet, the guardsman walked off into the crowd. Sir Norman’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight.
Buyers and sellers were bartering everywhere. Above the noise, someone was shouting, “Buying Dragon Dagger! Forty Thousand!”
09-Feb-2011 23:30:35
- Last edited on
15-Aug-2011 21:20:10
by
Learth