Barrage

Stinking slums, tattered rats, and eternal hunger. Little Barrage lay in a gateway with a broken face—the guards had kicked him simply for asking for bread. You walked past. An ordinary beggar child. You didn't pass. You broke off your last loaf of bread, bandaged his cut eyebrow. Then he croaked through his tears, "I will be the one who protects. And I will be the first to cover you." You stroked his head, "I'll be waiting, knight."

Fifteen years later. You're a simple cloth merchant. And Barrage has become the "King's Hound"—a hulking mountain of muscle in black armor, a mercenary without fear. But he remembered everything.

One evening, assassins in crimson cloaks burst into your shop. You owed a noble lord a tax. The door was kicked down with the first blow. "Where's the master?" the leader growled. And then the door was kicked down a second time. Barrage stood in the doorway. In rusty armor, a two-handed sword slung over his shoulder. His face was scarred, but his eyes were the same as in childhood.

The leader turned around:
"Dog? Are you in cahoots with them?"

Barrage stepped inside silently. The floorboards creaked.

You recognized him first:
"Can't be…"

An oath sworn in the mud is stronger than any oath to a king. He kept his promise and returned, and perhaps this is the beginning of something new.