The Protagonist: Part 2

A maid led Victor to a long, elaborate dining table where the children ate. He was given water and a slice of cake.

In one corner of the dining room, part of the wall was scorched black.

The maid who waited with him looked anxiously at Victor when he observed it. She assured him that it was just an accident.

Victor bounced his leg, replaying the interaction at the gate in his head. Perhaps the part about the slayers was unnecessary. He wanted to instill in their heads that he wasn’t cowardly or at least eliminate the suspicion that he was too accepting in leaving him behind. It was good to get confirmation that they most likely wouldn’t go looking for the body, but what if he accidentally provided them something to look into?

As a writer he often obsessed over character exchanges like this, and his partner and editor both had to calm him down, urging him not to overthink things. How could he not stress over fine details in this instance? Getting caught would spell ruin for him.

Victor was looking down at a blank page.

Black words bled into existence, breaking him out of his head.

Nervous, are we? ~

Victor scoffed and took up his pen.

What do you think?!

A new sentence appeared right below Victor's.

Meeting the protagonist must be very nerve-racking. I could only imagine what it must feel like ~

He then heard footsteps approaching and closed his book. All prior thoughts flew out as he held his breath. He wouldn’t use the tome on this occasion.

Carissa and Tholm arrived with a boy.

The sight of him caused time to stand still for Victor. A myriad of emotions and memories rushed through him from a mere glance.

The boy’s unkempt hair was fiery red—the same shade Victor chose after spending several hours trying to draw his hair just right. Burn scars marred the right side of his neck and just below his face. Those burns and the empty sleeve where his right arm should be were not just injuries; they were keystones of a backstory Victor had painstakingly built, over many sleepless nights.

The boy seemed tired. Beneath his long lashes, his eyes seemed devoid of light. Victor had poured all of his past trauma and frustrations into this character.

When their eyes locked

Victor couldn’t put it into words. To be given the chance to behold the culmination of years of hard work and ambition. A fictional being that is made of your love, passion, obsessions, hatred, hopes, dreams, fears, imagination- your life! For the creation that you had cared for and watched over, finally look back at you...

Like holding your own child, you can only relate once you become a parent yourself. However, Victor imagined no one else on earth could ever truly understand.

He was a father to a being that encompassed his entire existence.

“Please sit, young master.” The head servant gestured to take a chair adjacent to Victor.

The boy sat down across from him. As the stranger stared at him with intensity, he grew unsettled and looked to the others.

Victor realized that he was acting odd and cleared his throat. “Please forgive me. My head wanders at the worst of times!” He gave an awkward laugh. “Where are my manners? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stuck out his right hand.

Enderan frowned as he held up his left hand to shake the back of Victor’s right.

Victor’s mouth went slack. “I’m so sorry! Habit! Please forgive my rudeness.”

Then he heard laughter from Carissa and the maid. Tholm was obviously trying to fight off a smirk.

“It’s alright.” The boy smiled at him. His voice was worn down like he hadn’t talked in a while.

“Let’s try that again.” He held out his left hand. “My name is Victor Troika.”

The boy hesitated for a second before taking Victor’s hand, as if trying to remember his own name. “Enderan Ember.” They finally shook hands.

A liveliness and light suffused Victor’s eyes. If he didn’t try his hardest to control his expression, his smile would come off as too joyful.

After releasing his hand, Victor took on a more somber tone. “Do you know the knight, Sir Baylor?”

Enderan shook his head.

“He was known as the Boar Knight. A long time ago, a giant boar tore up the countryside, and Sir Baylor hunted it down by himself with just a run-of-the-mill sword. In a mighty blow, he nearly cleaved it in half.”

Enderan appeared to be more engaged with the conversation. “I think I have read about him before. It’s been so long though.”

“He was a friend of your father and mother as well,” Carissa said. “He actually visited here once when you were very young.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about him?”

“Well, he just never came up in conversation,” she said.

“So you forgot to mention him during our many talks about knights?” He almost glared at Carissa. “Whatever, you all just love your secrets.”

A tension filled the room before Victor spoke. “Well, Sir Baylor’s exploits are fairly old. About forty years ago, he cut down an infamous bandit named Winfred the Red Hammer.” Glancing at Carissa, Victor thought it might not be an appropriate story to elaborate upon. “Sir Baylor was a knight of great valor and prestige. And that very same knight was supposed to be the one sitting across from you today.”

Enderan sat up straighter as he anticipated his next words.

Victor took a deep breath. “Sir Baylor’s last act of valor was saving me. I had the pleasure of sharing a fire with him, but we were attacked by a skin stalker.”

This caused Enderan’s eyes to open wide. “You came out unharmed?”

“I did. But at Sir Baylor’s sacrifice. The monster was wearing the body of a long-dead traveler, but in the dark he looked like an injured stranger. I thought he needed help, so I went to him. However, Baylor’s instincts were sharper than mine, even at his old age. Before the skin stalker deprived me of my life, Baylor attacked the skin stalker.”

Carissa and Tholm were paying close attention to the story. He hadn’t given them the full picture at the gate.

“They fought and he killed it. Unfortunately, he was mortally wounded. It sank its claws just under his ribs. Just as I was trying to treat his wounds, we noticed figures approaching the fire. It turned out the skin stalker had friends nearby.”

Enderan paled. “How many?”

“It was hard to tell, but I saw at least four more.” Victor’s gaze went distant as if stuck in the memory. “For us to escape he told me to run while he held off the skin stalkers. But before that, he handed me these.” Victor took out a wrapped box and a sealed letter. “He told me to take these to the Ember Estate in Amberill. To find you and deliver them.”

“So, Sir Baylor is dead?”

“As much as I want to stay optimistic. It was a miracle he got me out of there alive.” Victor grimaced but then looked at Enderan and smiled. “His last words were a request, for me to tell you something after giving you these.” Victor slid them over to him.

“Happy Birthday Enderan,” Victor said with a big grin that reached his eyes. 

Carissa and Emily began to shed tears. The head servant closed his eyes in remembrance for Baylor.

Enderan touched the box then picked up the letter. “May I read it now?”

“They’re your presents. I’m just the delivery man.”

Enderan broke the seal and his eyes slowly trailed down the letter.

Victor couldn’t recall the exact words, but he knew the gist of the letter’s contents.

After finishing the letter, Enderan sighed and put it down. He took up the box.

“Want me to help?” Victor asked.

Enderan nodded, and Victor untied the twine and removed the brown wrapping paper.

It was an opulent deep blue jewelry box. Enderan pried it open with his hand, and the lid snapped back, revealing its contents.

Sitting atop a small silk cushion was a sapphire gem framed in silver that glowed slightly.

The women gasped at the luxurious gift. 

“It’s an enchanted amulet,” Enderan said. He picked up the amulet and a silver chain trailed behind it. “In the letter, it says that it will slow down the curse’s progress, delaying the full transformation from two to five years.”

The room gasped in shock and delight.

Victor recalled a scene from the story. Baylor sitting across from Enderan, awaiting his reaction to the gift that would add more years to his life. Enderan was disinterested with the amulet in his hand, just like he was now.

“Who was the gift sender? We have to thank them and send our condolences for Sir Baylor,” Carissa said.

Enderan folded up the letter. “From a family friend who resides in the capital.”

Before Carissa could press for a name, Enderan cut her off. “Give the amulet to Revian.”

They all gasped, with Victor joining on cue.

“But why?!” Carissa demanded. “This was meant for you!”

“Aunt Carissa, Revian doesn’t have long before his transformation is complete. Shouldn’t you desire more time with your son?”

Carissa was taken aback. “But Enderan, your…” She bit her tongue.

Enderan had just turned thirteen. This meant he had a little over four years left before his time came, if he was lucky. Revian had much less time at seventeen years old.

“Very well, I’ll ask him. But are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to spend more time with my cousin. Will you deprive me of that?”

Carissa wrapped her arms around Enderan. “You are an angel, Enderan. You are a saint.”

Enderan looked at Victor.

Victor shrugged. “I thought it was a very touching gesture. I’m sure Baylor would have approved.”

“Mr. Troika, please stay for dinner as thanks for delivering Baylor’s gift,” Carissa said.

“I’d be honored. Actually, if you don’t mind I would like to ask you certain questions.”

“What questions?”

“As I had stated earlier, I am an arcanist and a scholar. And I’m researching curses.”

He felt a heightened sense of attention. He continued on. “I’m trying to learn about all sorts of curses so I can break them.” He chuckled to himself. “In truth, delivering Baylor’s package wasn’t out of my way, as I was already traveling to Amberill to meet you.”

Victor told them a quick retelling of the night they met. He emphasized the hope that Baylor had in Victor, that he would be the first to break a Circle Witch’s curse.

“I don’t know why he had so much faith in me, but he was willing to introduce me to you. Then, shortly after… you know the rest.”

“So you were going to join him either way,” Tholm said. “It would have been a great pleasure to have hosted you both here for Enderan’s celebration.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to ask your questions.” Carrissa smiled. “It has been a while since someone came along to research dragon curses. I was beginning to believe that people had given up.”

“I can only speak for myself when I say, that so long as I breathe, I will try to break every curse in the world.”

The women looked on admiringly while the head servant sighed. “The daunting nature of youth,” he said.