Protagonist Raisin

Protagonist Raisin

                Protagonist was woken by a rudely loud hammering of her door the next morning, long before she actually wished to awake. What’s the point of having a windowless bedroom if anyone can hammer the door loud enough to wake you? she thought grumpily, rolling out of her bed to answer the door.

                The windowless bedroom and the luxurious, expensive bed had both been her idea. Spouse would’ve been happy with just the wooden floor, but Protagonist liked being comfortable. Very comfortable if at all possible. She was kind of sad she was going to leave it all behind for a while. Yet getting out of town for a while with a solid excuse was too good to pass up.

                She’d managed to spend some time thinking with it before exhaustion made her pass out last night. Saving Spouse was what she was sort of obligated to do; but she didn’t have to. So she’d wondered about whether she wanted to travel a bit (danger aside). See other towns, get out of working for a while, be a bit of a hero.

                It sounded like fun. A lot better than waiting for Spouse to be rescued. Hoping that he was okay, but powerless to do anything. Unable to even give up and look for better prospects until news came of Spouse’s fate.

                Two doors and a corridor later saw Protagonist at her front door. “Yes?” she called out, pulling the door open.

                Commander stood there. “Get your stuff together. We set off in an hour – Mayor has organised a farewell speech at the hall,” he said.

                Protagonist groaned. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll go pack. I just need some clothes, money and my spear, right? Food and armour and the other junk is handled?”

                “Yes,” said Commander. “We’ve even got a couple of spare weapons you can use if your spear breaks. Do you have a bedroll or any travelling gear? That would be handy; otherwise we’re tight on bedrolls and sharing cooking equipment.”

                “Um, I have my great aunt’s old bedroll somewhere. It should be fine,” said Protagonist. “Travelling gear no, unless you’d like me to bring my pans.”

                “Don’t worry about it,” said Commander. “But do grab the bedroll.”

                “Okay,” said Protagonist. She raised a hand to farewell Commander. “I’ll see you at the hall.”

                Commander nodded curtly and took his leave.

                As she shut the door Protagonist thought, I really don’t like packing. … I’d actually like Spouse to be here to do it for me.

                Avoiding the mayor’s speech altogether was quite tempting, but Protagonist’s impatience got the better of her after she’d finished packing. So she locked up her home, left her keys with her neighbour, and headed to the hall with a heavy pack on her back. As soon as she could, she’d dump it on a mule or something. And probably her spear too.

                She arrived just as the crowd of villagers outside was being allowed in. Once inside, rather than lurking amongst them she joined the rest of those setting off at the front of the hall. Alongside her and Commander stood Blacksmith, Florist, Obsessive, Narcissist and three militia: Swordsman, Swordswoman and Apprentice Baker.

                Mayor launched into a very long and boring speech as soon as everyone was where they were supposed to be. Protagonist quickly zoned out – unlike the previous day when Mayor had little time to speak, today he had both a captive audience and a very long speech he’d spent all night writing. Rather than accept that the rescue party should probably get moving as soon as possible Mayor was determined to have his moments in the limelight as leader of the town.

                A while later Protagonist awoke when something brushed past her. Looking around in confusion, she quickly realised that she’d dozed off against the wall and that Mayor’s speech had just ended. Someone had bumped into her as they started to move off the stage.

                Following behind the others she noticed that she wasn’t the only one driven to sleep by the speech. A large part of the audience were yawning or rubbing their eyes as they headed for the exit.

                “Good to see you’re awake,” said Commander, looking back to speak to Protagonist.

                “It was a boring speech,” replied Protagonist. Mayor had already disappeared from the balcony, so there was no chance he’d overhear her. She didn’t care if he did, either.

                “Hah! But we’re such brave heroes, heading off to rescue our fellow townspeople!” said Commander. “Surely hearing that said in seven or eight different ways was worth a listen.”

                “Ten, sir,” said Apprentice Baker. “Your eyes kind of glazed over for a couple in the middle there.”

                Commander coughed. “Yes, well,” he said, then chuckled. “Let’s get a move on. We need to make up the time Mayor spent talking.”

                Outside a column of horses were waiting – one for every member of the party, plus three loaded down with baggage. Protagonist didn’t know how to ride very well, but she’d be able to sit on the horse at least. Hopefully it won’t get uncomfortable, she thought. Surrounding the horses on all sides except the direction they were to go was almost the entire town – certainly a lot more people than there’d been inside the hall for Mayor’s speech.

                The militia and their commander took the front four horses, leaving the five townsfolk to haphazardly pick from amongst the others. Once everyone was mounted – which took a while for both Narcissist and Obsessive – Commander set his horse in motion, causing the rest to start moving as well. Protagonist was happy to have her pack of her back and on her horse instead.

                The assembled villagers cheered them, calls of ‘good luck’ and ‘farewell’ blending with more relevant calls of ‘save my relative’ and ‘teach them a lesson’. At the edge of the town the crowd waved at them for a while, slowly dissipating as people got bored. Still, when they got out of sight quite a few people were still waving – probably those who wanted to avoid working until after lunch.

                About a minute after the mounted column lost sight of Town, Commander said, “Alright. Who doesn’t know how to ride?”

                “I don’t have a clue,” said Narcissist, almost proudly. In truth, Narcissist sounded proud about everything he said. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

                “I don’t know either,” said Obsessive. She shrugged. “Sorry!”

                “Protagonist, Blacksmith, Florist?” asked Commander.

                “I can ride just fine; I grew up on one of the farms before I started training as a blacksmith,” said Blacksmith, patting her horse. “I might be a bit rusty, though.”

                “I’ll manage to stay on but I don’t really know much,” said Protagonist.

                “Same,” said Florist. “I’ve only ridden once or twice before.” That was actually a lot less than Protagonist – he had probably confused ‘not much’ for ‘once or twice’.

                Commander sighed. “I’m going to pick up the pace a bit; if you fall off we’ll shuffle you around,” he said. He flicked his reins, causing his mount to pick up speed.

                Whoa, thought Protagonist as hers did the same. They weren’t moving much faster than a brisk trot, but it felt like she was hurtling forwards. Her horse was going almost as fast as she could run! Also, the horse’s gait seemed to be bumping her up and down in time with the trot. This isn’t fun at all.

                After a while she managed to settle into a fairly comfortable rising and sitting motion kind of similar to what Blacksmith and the militia were doing. They made it look easy, but Protagonist kept messing it up and getting rude jolts to her backside.

                Still, she was doing a lot better than Obsessive and Narcissist. They’d both managed to fall from their horses within the first twenty minutes of riding, and were now holding on behind Swordswoman and Swordsman respectively. From what Protagonist could see no-one was happy with that arrangement.

                The group was making good progress, heading through terrain Protagonist remembered from yesterday’s travel rapidly. They reached the reached the point where the trail split in under an hour; Hunter was there waiting for them, although she was busily packing up her bedroll instead of loitering aimlessly.

                “I expected you earlier,” she said. “But I did enjoy my nap.”

                “Mayor made a speech,” said Commander.

                Hunter laughed. “Really?” she asked.

                “He’s not the kind to miss a chance,” said Apprentice Baker.

                Hunter finished packing her gear and disappeared into a copse of trees. Moments later – too soon for Protagonist to audibly wonder what she was doing – she re-emerged with a horse. It was quite different compared to the rest. It looks… Faster? thought Protagonist.

                “I’ve tracked their direction. They’re headed straight for Neighbouring Town, although they won’t get there for a couple of days,” said Hunter, taking the lead with her mount.

                “Really?” asked Commander. “Small Village and Hamlet are a lot closer.”

                “That’s the way they’re going. They’re going to run right through Big Farm this afternoon too; they might be aiming for there rather than Neighbouring Town,” said Hunter. She started her horse off into a trot; slightly faster than they’d been going so far. “We should get to Big Farm as fast as we can. We might even catch them there.”

                “Lead the way,” said Commander. Commander’s mount, and then the rest of the horses, copied the pace of Hunter’s. The slight change in speed completely threw the timing of Protagonist’s attempts to rise and fall with the horse properly. She was going to be very sore after all this riding.

                When Big Farm came into sight the party gave a collective gasp. The cluster of buildings in the centre of the many wide fields were burnt out husks; and it seemed the fire had burnt part of the orchard as well. Even from a distance they could see people moving about, though from the look of them they weren’t raiders. Mostly likely it was the survivors from the farm, and possibly others from nearby who had helped douse the fires.

                The party from Hometown was quickly noticed. A group of people broke off from the farm and headed towards them. For a farm in the middle of nowhere this group was very well armed – a couple were in full plate mail.

                “Hail strangers!” called out the leading stranger. He was a remarkably heroic looking guy – handsome as they come, dashing short brown hair, obviously strong yet not absurdly large and with an aura of confidence that almost condensed in the air around him.

                Beside him stood a woman whose armour was oddly tight. It was plate mail, and proper plate mail, but it managed to show that the woman was very slim despite her strength. She was an eerily beautiful brunette and beside the man looked like the other half of a traditional heroic duo. She, too, exuded confidence.

                Behind them stood another man, dressed in a mix of chainmail and leather. He wore a cloak and seemed more charismatic than the confident pair, although far less attractive. His hair was shoulder length and he seemed less interested in what was going on than the others.

                Three others rounded out the party: a cute teenage girl in a robe and strangely pointy hat who was busily puffing a pipe, a staff in her other hand; a seedy looking woman with long, lifeless hair wearing leather armour resting one hand on her axe; and tough looking man in similar leather armour, a club tied to his waist.

                “Who are you?” asked Commander, moving to the front of the group.

                “Why, I’m Hero! Surely you’ve heard of me?” said the plate-mailed man.

                Commander paused for a moment before speaking, wracking his brain. “Perhaps. You’re the ones who’ve been roaming around looking for the Artifact?” he asked.

                “Yes!” said Hero. “These are my companions, Heroine, Heir, Witch, Traitor and Ruffian. So who are you, good travellers?”

                “We’re a rescue party from Hometown,” said Commander. “We’re chasing after the raiders that I assume are responsible for burning down this farm. They’ve taken some of our people, and our artifact, the Good Harvest Bringer.”

                “Ah, how fortuitous!” said Hero. “We are also after this party of raiders, although for different reasons. We believe one of them is in possession of a map that might aid us in our quest for the Artifact!”

                “We also hope to take revenge for the poor folk of Big Farm,” added Heroine. “Two of them are dead and their home has been burnt. It’s enough to make my blood boil.”

                “Yes,” said Hero. “What I was getting to is; shall we join forces? Surely between us we can easily defeat these ruffians!”

                Commander looked back at his party, though he received only shrugs and mumbled ‘why nots’. “We’ll work with you. Assuming you have mounts somewhere? We’ll never catch them on foot,” said Commander.

                “Of course,” said Hero. “We will mount and follow your party immediately! I assume you have a tracker?”

                Hunter waved her hand. “Excellent!” said Hero. “To the mounts!”

                Hero’s party turned to leave with the exception of Heir and Witch. “Sorry if he’s a bit… Enthusiastic,” said Heir. “It can be charming but today he’s mostly coming off as a tool.”

                “He’s – you guys aren’t going to help out Big Farm with the damage?” asked Commander.

                “No need; they have it under control. The truth is we were mostly just getting in the way, especially after Witch doused the flames,” said Heir. “I must get moving.” Heir bowed slightly to the townspeople, then turned to follow the rest.

                During this, Witch was holding her staff out and breathing smoke out along its length. The wood seemed to be absorbing the smoke somehow – the smoke was being drawn inside instead of dissipating. Once she had smoked the staff from end to end, she tucked it between her legs and sat down on it.

                Protagonist expected her to take off (it was kind of traditional) but instead smoke started swirling out from the staff. Soon it formed the vague shape of a horse, and Witch was lifted up off the ground as the creature’s back formed and rose. Disturbingly, her mount had no head.

                “My apologies if you find magic fearful,” said Witch. She took a long draw on her pipe and began blowing smoke rings.

                “That’s amazing!” said Narcissist. “Could I learn how to do that?”

                “No,” said Witch. “Decades of training are necessary before one can use this pipe; and there is but one pipe.”

                “You can’t be that old,” said Narcissist.

                “I am seventy-three, thank you very much,” said Witch. “My youthful appearance is due to my slow aging, and that in turn is due to a spell my mother cast upon me when I was born. I am aging five times slower than I should; and it has not been pleasant.”

                “That sounds amazi-” began Narcissist.

                “I do not suffer fools, whoever-you-be. Do not irk me, or I shall tell you how others see you. You will not be pleased – few ever are,” said Witch.

                “Cut it out, Narcissist,” said Commander. Witch chortled.

                “What’s so funny?” asked Narcissist.

                “Nothing,” said Witch. She turned her mount around, looking for her companions. They were already on their way back, mounted on packhorses that didn’t quite match their heroic demeanour. Witch waved to them as they returned.

                Once the heroes had regrouped, Hero said, “I have expressed my condolences on your behalves to the people of Big Farm. And now, onwards!”

                Commander looked at Hero intimidatingly. “Do you know how to command?” he asked.

                “What do you mean?” asked Hero.

                “I’m afraid he just charges forwards and whacks things,” said Heir. “Heroine and I usually handle any tactics, though neither of us have much experience in such matters.” Heroine nodded.

                “Oh, that junk,” said Hero. “You can handle the planning if you’d like.”

                Though visibly irked, Commander said, “Very well. Hunter, if you’d take the lead?”

                Hunter nodded, and said, “Did you lot see or ask where the raiders went next?”

                “Oh yes, of course,” said Hero. “It was, uh…”

                “Norwest,” said Traitor. “They’re headed that way so they can get to the bridge and road that leads up to Neighbouring Town.”

                “They pinched a bunch of horses from Big Farm, so they’re all mounted now. Even their prisoners,” added Heir. “There’s also reason to suspect that they plan to join up with a larger raiding force that’s approaching Neighbouring Town from the north; we really need to catch them before then.”

                “Shouldn’t be a problem,” said Hunter, nudging her horse into a trot. The townspeople, militia and heroes clumped up behind her; Commander alongside Heir and already asking questions about the capabilities of the heroes.

                Several other conversations were also struck up. Traitor started chatting with Blacksmith, Ruffian with Florist, and Obsessive with Narcissist (Protagonist caught something about ‘don’t worry, you’re still perfect to me’). Obsessive was obsessed with Narcissist still, which kind of saddened Protagonist. A nice girl otherwise, but always looking at that idiot. Admittedly Obsessive did get kind of creepy at times…

                This time Protagonist had managed to settle into the rhythm of the ride immediately, so she considered starting up a conversation herself. Perhaps with Witch – she was pretty cool.

                Why not, she thought, gently nudging her horse over to Witch’s smoke-beast-thing. As long as I’m not a raging dickhead I’ll be fine.

                “Hi,” she said. “I’m Protagonist.”

                Witch chuckled. “Of course you are,” she said.

                When Protagonist looked at her in complete confusion she added, “Let me explain. It’ll help pass the time as we ride.”

                Protagonist smiled awkwardly as Witch started talking. She was right: it did help pass the time. Though mostly because it was all very, very confusing.