Lucas Bardsson awoke to the sound of scratching at his front door. He sprang out of bed and seized a small lantern resting on his night stand. Quickly grabbing a match out of the drawer, he lit the lantern and bolted out of his room. As he made his way toward the source of the disturbance, he collected a battered sword from the kitchen table.
He pressed his ear against the door. The sound of claws digging into wood was accompanied by a low growling.
“An imp,” he softly whispered, gently hanging the lantern nearby. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his weapon, slowly reaching toward the doorknob with his free hand.
“Go back to bed,” a voice behind him said. He glanced back to see his grandfather, Marvin. “Give me the sword, Lucas. I’ll take care of it.”
Lucas shook his head. “No, Grandpa. I told you, I don’t want you doing this anymore. Let me handle it.”
“Those beasts are dangerous, Lucas.”
“I know,” Lucas responded sternly as the scratching and growling grew increasingly furious. “That’s exactly why you need to let me handle this. Losing dad was hard enough.”
Reluctantly, Marvin took several steps back. Again, reaching for the doorknob, Lucas prepared himself. In one swift motion, he swung the door wide open and thrust his blade into the beast. It screamed in agony as it fell to the ground.
These visits from strange monsters had become a regular occurrence for the Bardsson household. Most often they were imps: short, aggressive hominoid creatures with sharp teeth and claws. For the first few months or so, Lucas found these encounters frightening. But with time, it became a normal part of his life.
It had been two long years since the day these beasts first began appearing in his homeland of Aria. They arrived without warning, their origin unknown, quickly sweeping across the land, overtaking cities and wreaking havoc. In an attempt to quell the onslaught, King Ashraf sent massive armies of his finest warriors to combat the bizarre invaders. The brutal fighting lasted for several days, and despite the tremendous number of casualties, the monsters only continued to resurface.
Suddenly, when all seemed lost, a mysterious group emerged calling themselves the “Knowms.” They arrived in the royal city of Cymbeline dressed in dark-green cloaks. Promising safety for the cities of Aria, they asked only that the king fund their campaign. Quick to seize any advantage over the seemingly unstoppable foes, he agreed. With the full financial support of the royal crown, the Knowms were successful in keeping the cities of Aria clean.
Considering they were no longer needed within the cities, the king’s knights were assigned the responsibility of delivering mail and transporting goods throughout the land. The battle-hardened men were not pleased by the idea of being demoted to such mundane duty. Regardless, with the presence of the wild beasts, their experience in combat proved to be absolutely essential in completing these once simple tasks.
While King Ashraf had managed to gain control of the situation, the city limits became a type of gilded cage for many of the Arialites; most citizens were far too afraid of monster attacks to traverse the land between cities. Though the majority of Arialites outside of the urban areas had relocated to neighboring towns and cities, the Bardsson family remained in the small house in a vast field just west of Cymbeline. A bold move, but it came with a terrible price.
* * * *
Lucas awoke the next morning to the sound of his grandfather preparing breakfast. The aroma of boiling potatoes filled the house. “Smells good,” Lucas commented as he passed through the kitchen, making his way to a large iron pail resting on the countertop.
Marvin turned to his grandson. “If you get some milk while you’re in town today, I can make us porridge.” Lucas inspected the inside of the pail. It was nearly empty; almost no water remained. He picked it up and turned around to collect the sword from the kitchen table.
The water pump was in the backyard. Lucas’s eyes darted around the landscape as he closed the front door behind him and made his way around the side of the house. The field appeared to be peaceful, but he knew better than to let his guard down when he wasn’t in the safe confines of his home. Placing the pail under the spigot, he began pumping. As he did, his eyes wandered to a large oak tree in the distance. Every time he saw it, he was reminded of that day. Two decaying wooden crosses were planted in the dirt beneath its branches. I need to replace those again... Mom, Dad... I miss you every day.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud buzzing sound coming from the woods behind him. He looked over his shoulder, continuing to pump as the noise grew louder. All too familiar with the sound, Lucas knew that he would have no choice but to run if its source were to emerge from the trees. Startled by a splash of cold water on his leg, the pail overflowing, he turned his attention back to his task.
Returning inside with the pail in tow, he placed the sword on the kitchen table and made his way into the washroom. Splashing some water on his messy, blond hair, he attempted to tame its wild appearance with a small comb. As a result of the restless nights, thick black rings were visible beneath his green eyes. Here he was, only eighteen years old, yet he had the worn face of an experienced adult. Using the water he had fetched, he cleaned himself up and got dressed.
Lucas entered the kitchen wearing a brown, long-sleeved shirt with dark-gray pants and a black belt. He seated himself at the table and put on his boots as his grandfather placed a plate of sliced potatoes in front of him. “Thanks,” Lucas said. He picked up one of the slices.
His grandfather sat down across from him and began to eat. “I wrote another poem yesterday. You’ll have to tell me what you think of it when you get home.”
Lucas nodded, “I’m sure it’ll be good.” Marvin smiled, a small piece of potato stuck to his thick gray beard. There was a short pause as the two ate. “About last night,” Lucas said, breaking the silence. “I want you to promise me you’ll let me handle all of the monsters from now on.”
“I’m a grown man,” his grandfather replied. “I don’t need protecting.” He ate another potato slice.
“It worries me when you go out there,” Lucas asserted.
Marvin glanced across the table at him. “Do you think I don’t get worried when you do the same?”
Lucas sighed. “Grandpa, you’re getting older. You’re a lot more vulnerable than you think you are.” Marvin did not reply to the remark. The two completed their meal in silence.
Lucas cleaned his plate and collected a sheath from his room. After securing it to his waist, he took the sword from the kitchen table and slid it inside. “I’ll try not to be too long, but I can’t make any promises,” he said as he opened the front door. “Hopefully the blacksmith isn’t too busy today. If any imps show up while I’m gone, don’t try to fight them. Just stay inside. The axe is by the washroom door, but I only want you to use it if it’s absolutely necessary.”
Marvin nodded. “Be careful.”