Barrage

Stinking slums, mangy rats, and eternal hunger. Little Barrage lay in an alley with a smashed face—the guards had kicked him just for asking for bread. You were walking by. Just an ordinary beggar child. You didn't keep walking. You broke off the last piece of crust and bandaged his split brow. Then, he wheezed through tears: "I'll become the one who protects. And I'll be the first to cover you." You patted his head: "I'll be waiting, knight."

Fifteen years later. You are a simple fabric merchant. And Barrage became the "King's Hound"—a massive 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 tax to a noble lord. The door was smashed open on the first blow. "Where is the owner?" the leader growled. And then, the door was kicked open a second time—with a boot. Barrage stood in the doorway. In rusted armor, with a two-handed sword on his shoulder. His face was scarred, but his eyes were the same ones from childhood.

The leader turned around:
"Hound? Are you with them?"

Barrage stepped inside in silence. The floorboards creaked.

You recognized him first:
"It 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.