The Day Our Paths Crossed

The fire at Camp Stormarrow cast flickering light over the crowd, drawing workmen, soldiers, and knights into its circle of warmth. Fancy Korac, as always, lounged with the practiced ease of someone who considered himself the most interesting man in any gathering. He tapped the edge of his tankard with a finger, his grin widening as the conversation turned to stories of past adventures.
“Shall I tell you how the Marshal and I first met?” he asked, his voice cutting through the hum of chatter.
Braga, seated nearby, leaned back against a log, her expression half amusement, half exasperation. “If you must.”
“Oh, I must,” Korac said, sitting up straighter. “It’s a tale of danger, heroism, and—of course—my own remarkable ingenuity.”
---
“It was some years ago,” Korac began, his voice taking on a storyteller’s rhythm. “I was in Highspire—a lovely place, if you like crooked alleyways and the occasional dagger in your back. Unfortunately, my ‘business’ had attracted the attention of the wrong sort of people: the Chainers.”
The crowd stirred uneasily. Even the greenest recruit knew the tales of the Chainers—mercenaries and slavers who dealt in misery, capturing people for profit and binding them in cursed chains that robbed them of their strength, will, and sometimes their very sanity.
“Now, let me be clear,” Korac said, raising a finger. “I was not their usual prey. Oh no. I was merely… misunderstood by the local authorities. An incident with a merchant’s vault, a missing heirloom, and some loose-tongued associates. You know how it is.”
“You were caught stealing,” Braga interjected.
Korac waved a hand. “Details, Marshal, mere details. The important thing is, I found myself in a rather unfortunate predicament: trussed up like a festival hog and about to be sold to the Chainers.”
The crowd murmured, a few muttering curses against the infamous slavers.
“But!” Korac said, holding up his tankard, “I had a plan. I was simply biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to escape. I had already loosened my bonds—nearly, anyway—and was about to make my daring move when—”
“When you screamed for help,” Braga said, smirking.
Korac gasped, clutching his chest. “I did no such thing! That was… a strategic distraction.”
The soldiers laughed, and Korac grinned before continuing. “And who should appear, charging in like a tempest, but the brave and formidable Dame Braga. She was passing through Highspire on one of her noble quests when she stumbled upon the scene.”
---
“I’d heard rumors of the Chainers operating in the area,” Braga said, leaning forward slightly. “When I saw a group of them dragging their prisoners—Korac among them—I acted. I wasn’t going to let anyone fall into their hands.”
“And what an entrance it was!” Korac said, gesturing grandly. “She stormed in, shield raised, sword flashing. The Chainers didn’t stand a chance. Of course, I was just about to escape on my own, but I thought, ‘Why not let her have the glory? It seemed polite.’”
“You were still tied up when I cut you loose,” Braga said, shaking her head.
“A minor setback,” Korac replied smoothly. “The important thing is, together we routed the Chainers, freed the other captives, and sent their cursed chains to the bottom of the river. Justice prevailed!”
---
“And then you ran,” Braga added, her tone pointed.
Korac paused, then nodded with mock solemnity. “Ah, yes. I recall you were quite cross about that. But I had pressing matters to attend to—namely, ensuring my continued freedom. And yet…” He leaned forward, flashing his trademark grin. “Fate, as it often does, brought us back together. And now, dear Marshal, here we are.”
---
The crowd laughed, though a few muttered curses at the mention of the Chainers. Braga, despite herself, smiled faintly. “I’d have handed you over to the guards if I’d known what a headache you’d be.”
Korac raised his tankard in a mock toast. “And yet you didn’t. A testament to your impeccable judgment.”
The fire crackled on, and the soldiers shifted to new stories and songs. As Braga turned back to her drink, Korac leaned back against the supply cart, his grin never fading. For all his theatrics, one truth remained: their unlikely partnership had begun that day, forged in chaos, and, despite everything, it had endured.