A Hero by any other name
As has become the new norm—night and day being meaningless—the Boiled Goat is full at all hours of the day. Food, games, lanternlight. The opportunity not to be alone. It's not hard to see why it's so popular.
And yet, a melancholic miasma hangs over the crowd. With the city under siege and the farmers training for war, running out of food has become a question of “when”, not “if”.
But then, there's a knock at the door.
Cautiously, someone opens it. A heavy wooden barrel sits on the doorstep, filled to the brim with grains. Peering out into the darkness, one could almost make out a shadecrawler in a brilliant cape, running off into the distance.
It's not easy being the Hero of legend.
With monsters and eternal night ravaging the world, Heralding has been forced to work even harder than before, spending more time on the Bird's back than on the ground.
Yet, it is what he must do, so he does it, and he revels in it. The glory, the gratefulness…
What else could he wish for?
The orchards of the Heartwood, too, crawl with monsters.
In a particularly dark and twisted corner, a Beastkin cries out for help. Several vinelings swarm the base of the tree she hides atop, slowly finding ways to crawl higher.
Then, in a flash of gold, her saviour appears. Cloak billowing in the wind, golden underbelly glittering in the light of his torch.
A new target in sight, the vinelings rush forwards, only to be held at bay by a flourish of a flaming torch. One lunges anyway, only to be sidestepped and struck down. The others don't last much longer.
“Thank you!” The beastkin yells out as she drops out of the tree with a feline agility befitting her form.
“There is no need to thank me, Citizen!” comes the reply. “I am simply doing my duty, as the Hero should!”
“…you're the Hero?”
“Of course!” Heralding turns, swooshing his cape, readying to leave.
“I thought the Hero was missing?” The Beastkin follows him, unphased by his attempt to run off.
“Well…No! For I am here! People are simply mistaken about me!”
The Beastkin chooses not to accept this as an answer, continuing her barrage of questions as the pair make their way towards Secha Town.
A Resounding Battle Cry Heralding An Assured Victory is not the Hero.
Perhaps some small part of him is aware of this.
But in truth, it doesn't matter.
At some point along the journey, it stopped being about that.
The people of Mydreign need a Hero. So, one way or the other, Heralding will help them. Do what must be done!
He's already died once, what else does he have to lose?
Eventually, the odd pair arrive at Secha Town.
“So, citizen, we have arrived! Will you now allow me to continue on my quest to save others?”
But the Beastkin doesn't get a chance to reply. A brilliant golden light fills the clearing. Far off in the distance, the sun is rising above the tree tops once more.
“See! My arrival even heralds the rising of the sun!”
“Sure, whatever you say.” But her teasing is light-hearted, overshadowed at the relief of the sun's return. “You saved me. Why should I argue?”
Deep in the forgotten swamp, there lies a forgotten temple, watched by a single guardian.
Nearby, several graves lie, their names washed away by time.
One, however, is more recent than the others. Its writing is still clear. Flowers bloom around it, covering many other gifts.
“Here lies Heralding,” the tombstone reads.
“A Hero by any other name.”