A Lack of adventure
“What do you mean no adventurers?” I asked, as loudly and rudely as possible. I wanted everyone around me to hear and see me.
“Read the sign.” Said the bored city guard, thumbing a dirty digit lazily at a battered wooden sign hanging at a jaunty angle to the left of the gate.
I had read the sign. It said, “No adventurers allowed.“ I just didn’t believe that it applied to people like me and wanted clarification.
“Do you know who I am?!” I demanded. Puffing out my chest and whacking my ample muscular chest with a gnarly fist.
The guard looked me up and down with disdain, taking in the small armoury I carried with me. Eyeing my bulging money purse, his eyes flitted from gash to scar across my toned but battered body. When he was finished giving me the once over, he surveyed the long line of people waiting behind me and sighed with the tone of someone who had this conversation a lot.
“No, sir, I do not. And I don’t care. I can see what you are and that you’re here for adventure. And your type is not welcome, sir. Read the sign.”
I was enraged. Who did this young hoodlum with a helmet think he was talking to?
“Who wrote this nonsense?” I asked, pointed my shield butt at the offending sign. “I demand to speak to whoever is in charge here!” I thumped my shield to the ground in defiance.
The guard sighed. “Very well, Sir…” He shouted a name at the guard tower behind him, “…If you could just move aside while you wait, so I can handle these other people…” The guard casually gestured me to a small bank, manoeuvring me with little care as a swathe of the unwashed masses took my place. I stood tall and proud. Surely one of them would recognise me and tell tales of my bravery and derring-do.
Fifteen minutes later, a woman with a high plumed helmet shuffled out of the tower, adjusting her armour and finishing a sandwich. Was this who I was wasting my time over? I drew myself tall and proud as they approached the guard, who whispered something in her ear and gestured in my direction. She rolled her eyes and shuffled in my direction, wiping crumbs from her mouth.
“Yes?” She said, looking bored.
“I am a Morag the Mighty!” I said, thumping my shield against the ground and smiling proudly. “And I wish to enter your city!” I demanded with overconfidence.
“You’re an adventurer?” She asked.
“Why… Yes…” I said, unsure what I should say.
“Did you read the sign?” She asked, pointing bored eyes in its direction.
“Well… Yes… But–”
“- Then you can’t come in.” She said.
“But… But… Why?” I stuttered.
She looked at me like I was a piece of trash floating on the breeze, not the slayer of mighty fiends, upholder of rights, finder of treasures!
“You adventurers. You’re all more trouble than you’re worth.” She said, eyeing my scars. “I mean, you bring business to the taverns and all, but there’s always some foul beast on your trail, and who has to clean up the aftermath?” She looked at me, raising her eyebrows.
I hadn’t ever really thought about it, to be honest.
“That’s right, ‘us’.” She said, gesturing at herself and the guards around us.
“I see…” I said.
“Now, if you’re looking for somewhere to sleep.” She said.
Indeed, I was. I was exhausted after chasing marauders up and down the coast.
She pointed the direction I had come. “I have heard there’s an excellent ditch half an hour’s walk that way. ”
If you like what you're reading, support my work
Sudowrite is an AI-powered writing assistant that helps you brainstorm, outline, and write your stories.
Sign up for Sudowrite