David was only four years old, tiny feet pattering across the living room floor. His parents sat on the couch, eyes glued to the glowing TV, laughter erupting from whatever sitcom played.
"Papa, Mama, look!" little David said, beaming as he held up a dirty old wristwatch. "Me and Puppy found a watching!"
Behind him, the small brown puppy wagged its tail, barking happily, proud of their discovery. David tugged the watch out of the pup's mouth and lifted it with both hands, eyes sparkling.
His parents didn't even look.
"Mm," his father grunted, eyes never leaving the screen. His mother waved dismissively.
David's smile faded. He lowered the watch, lip trembling. "O-oh… okay. I-I guess you're busy…"
The puppy whined softly. David bent down, patting its head. "It's fine, Puppy… let's just go play outside."
The next day, a loud knock rattled the front door. BANG. BANG. BANG.
David stirred awake, rubbing his eyes. Normally, Puppy would be curled at his side, but today… the space was empty. Confused, he slipped out of bed and shuffled barefoot to the door.
He opened it.
His father stood there, smiling, a large black trash bag dangling from his hand.
"Hey, son," the man said casually. "How was your nap?"
David's eyes lit up. "Good! I was dreaming about—"
"Eh, I don't care." His father cut him off with a chuckle, thrusting the bag into David's tiny hands. "Anyway, here's your early birthday gift. Got it just for you."
David's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Of course." His father's smirk stretched ear to ear.
Excited, David fumbled with the bag, tugging it open. His smile froze.
Inside was Puppy. Or half of him.
Blood. Fur. A limp paw sticking out.
David's small hands shook violently. His chest heaved, vision blurring with tears. "N-no… no… PUPPY!!" His scream ripped through the house, echoing with a child's terror.
The father's smirk lingered as he turned and walked away.
David's world shattered.
David jolted awake, gasping, drenched in cold sweat. His chest heaved as he clutched his cloak, heart racing.
Beside him in the wagon, Daryl stirred. He glanced over, brow furrowed.
"Mr. Hawk… are you alright?"
David forced a shaky grin, wiping sweat from his brow. "Y-yeah, I just, uh… had a good dream."
"Oh, really?" Daryl asked dryly, narrowing his eyes. "And what was this… good dream about?"
David hesitated. His throat was dry. "Uhhh… females. That's all I'll say."
Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Of course."
The old man from the front of the wagon chimed in cheerfully, "Don't mind him, young Tetsu. Folks dream about strange things all the time. Why, just last week I dreamt my donkey here was the mayor of a village!"
The donkey brayed as if agreeing.
Daryl leaned back, unimpressed. "Mr. Hawk, you are a mess."
David chuckled weakly, trying to play it off, but his hand drifted to his temple, rubbing slowly. His thoughts whispered in circles.
Why… why did that memory come back now? I buried it. I wanted to forget. But it keeps dragging me back… That moment, that pain… it won't leave me.
His smirk faded into silence as the wagon creaked toward the horizon.
After a long, bumpy ride down the dusty trail, the wagon finally rolled to a stop. The sun hung low, casting orange light across a sprawling town surrounded by moss-covered stone walls and wooden windmills that turned lazily in the breeze. Signs creaked above crowded market stalls, and the smell of roasted meat, ale, and horse manure filled the air.
"Ah, we're here," the old man said proudly, tugging on the reins. "Horax Town — home to the loudest drunks and the stingiest merchants in the kingdom."
David stretched his arms and jumped off the wagon, wobbling a bit from the ride. "Well, I'll drink to that—if I had any coins left."
Daryl stepped down after him, landing with a soft thud. "Thank you kindly for the ride, sir."
David added quickly, "Yeah, yeah, thanks old timer. Appreciate not dying on the road."
The old man grinned, adjusting his straw hat. "It's the least I could do after you two saved me and ol' Donkey here. Ain't that right, boy?"
The donkey brayed and nodded its head like it understood perfectly.
David smirked. "Smart donkey. Smarter than half the folks I've met."
The old man laughed, climbing back onto the seat. "You take care now, and try not to cause trouble, you hear?"
"No promises," David said with a wave.
The wagon rolled off, leaving the two standing at the edge of the bustling town square.
Horax was alive with chaos — blacksmiths hammering, kids running between carts, women gossiping at fountains, and banners flapping from wooden beams that creaked under the weight of years. But as David and Daryl began walking through, something felt off.
People's smiles faded when they saw David.
A mother tugged her child away from the path. A merchant stopped mid-sale, glaring as David passed. Two men whispering at a fruit stand went silent, one spitting to the side.
David scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Jeez… it's like everyone hates me here. Do I smell that bad?"
Daryl's tone was flat. "No, Mr. Hawk. They just hate you."
David blinked. "Wow. Thanks for clearing that up."
As they continued down the cobblestone road, a group of kids peeked out from an alley, eyes wide with fear before darting back behind a barrel. David let out a long sigh. "Man, it's like I committed a war crime or something."
"You probably did," Daryl muttered under his breath.
Finally, they arrived at a tall, rickety building with peeling red paint and a sign that read The Drunken Basilisk Inn. Laughter and shouting poured out the windows.
Inside was pure chaos. Men brawled in the corner, tankards crashed to the floor, someone played a horribly out-of-tune lute, and a few drunk knights were arm-wrestling on a barrel table. The air smelled like cheap ale, smoke, and sweat.
Daryl exhaled slowly. "Civilization at last."
David grinned. "I love it already."
They made their way through the crowd toward the counter. Behind it was a young woman — bright blonde hair tied in a ponytail, emerald eyes sharp as daggers, dressed in a fitted maid outfit that looked out of place among the chaos. She was wiping down a mug when she spotted them.
Her smile vanished.
Her gaze locked on David. "Oh, gods… you."
David froze, then smiled nervously. "Heh… surprise?"
She slammed the mug down so hard ale splashed out. "Why the hell did you bring him back here?" she snapped at Daryl. "Do you have any idea how much trouble followed him last time!?"
David's jaw dropped. "Wait, hold on—I didn't even do anything this time! Not yet, anyway!"
Daryl held up a hand calmly. "He's not important right now. We're looking for the Duke and his son. They're expecting Mr. Hawk."
The woman scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, them? You just missed 'em."
Daryl's expression tightened. "Missed… them?"
She nodded, flipping her hair back. "Yeah. The Duke and his brat left town yesterday morning. Said something about 'unfinished business' near the northern ruins."
There was a pause.
David blinked slowly, then groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Daryl's hands clenched into fists, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "They left yesterday?"
The noise of the tavern continued around them — laughter, singing, mugs clinking — but for David and Daryl, everything seemed to still for a moment.
"…So we just fought a spike boar, nearly died, lifted a wagon, and rode halfway across the countryside… for nothing," David muttered.
Daryl didn't answer. He just stared at the maid, the tension in his shoulders rising.
The maid gave a small smirk, enjoying their frustration. "Guess you two have splendid timing, huh?"
David sighed and leaned on the counter, face in his palm. "You have no idea."