Dusk had draped Stonevale in a cloak of deepening shadows when Ethan finally sought refuge. Tired from his long, arduous journey and still burdened with the bittersweet taste of flares from recent conflict, he made his way to the modest Stonevale Inn—a weathered but welcoming establishment known among the locals as a haven for weary travelers. The inn's wooden sign, painted with faded gold letters, creaked gently in the evening breeze.
Inside, the common room emitted a warm glow, its low chatter and the aroma of hearty stew mingling with the scent of burning logs in the fireplace. After settling into a sparse room near the back, Ethan approached the innkeeper—a stout, weathered man with kind yet wary eyes who seemed to know every secret that the town held.
Clearing his throat, Ethan asked in a low, steady voice, "Good sir, I couldn't help but notice the soldiers posted at the gates earlier. What is the cause of such vigilance?"
The innkeeper's eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the mysterious traveler with his branded chest and battle-worn demeanor. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Stranger, you have an air about you that suggests more than mere wanderlust. I'll be honest—there's talk on the wind that a fearsome bandit crew known as Blackwood is on the move. They're planning to come for us, to loot our town like cattle. Lord Samiel, ever protective of Stonevale, has managed to secure a request for aid from the King of Eldoria. But until help arrives, we brace ourselves for a storm of malice."
Ethan's brow furrowed as he absorbed the news. He had encountered bandits before, but the notorious reputation of Blackwood stirred unease in him. "Blackwood…" he murmured, the name echoing ominously in the quiet of the inn. "And you're saying they intend to strike tonight?"
The innkeeper nodded gravely. "Aye. The sentries report dark figures gathering under the cover of night at the town's entrance. We all fear what they might bring—death, destruction… and worse. The town lord's orders are clear, but for now, Stonevale stands on fragile ground."
Ethan exchanged a thoughtful look with the innkeeper before returning to his room, his mind churning with the gravity of the situation. He settled onto a rough-hewn cot, yet restless sleep eluded him. Memories of past battles intertwined with nightmares—faces of foes and the savage fury of wild beasts. Amid these ceaseless visions, Ethan's thoughts kept returning to the fate of Stonevale and what role he might yet play in defending it.
Morning's light was still a promise when Ethan awoke. The village, scarred by recent calamity, prepared for potential conflict. As he gathered his few belongings, he couldn't shake the feeling that destiny was not content to let him rest. Before departing the lone sanctuary of the inn to inspect the town's defenses, he decided to find out more.
Ethan stepped outside and found a small crowd of townsfolk assembling near the gate. Their expressions were tense, eyes darting between distant sounds of clinking armor and the gathering murmur of an approaching threat. He listened intently as one of the men, his voice quavering with both fear and anger, recounted the day's grim tidings. "They say the bandits of Blackwood come with cruelty in their hearts. Even more, one of them—by the name of Grim—spoke of a wanderer with a burning mark on his chest. He claimed, somehow, that this man must be dealt with. He reported that his boss, Blackbeard, has ordered that he be found and killed."
Ethan's pulse quickened at the mention. He knew well that he was being noticed by enemies who now saw him as a threat to be eliminated—and that his journey was only becoming more perilous.
Later that day, as the chill of approaching night settled upon Stonevale, the sound of heavy boots and low, angry voices echoed out along the road toward the town entrance. The soldiers had not left their posts, and the tension in the air was palpable. From his vantage point near the inn, Ethan watched shadowy figures assemble like sinister puppets. The dark shapes slipped from behind crumbling walls and into the corridor leading to the gate.
Among these figures, a rough, scarred bandit with a cut across his cheek paused as if struck by a memory. He whispered harshly to a nearby comrade, "That's him… I recognize that look. The one with the burning mark. If Blackbeard's orders are true, then we'll have our target tonight."
The fellow bandit's eyes glinted with cruel delight as he replied in a hushed murmur, "Then see to it that word reaches Blackbeard. We'll take him down before he causes more trouble for us." The message was clear—a vendetta had been set, and the notorious bandit leader Blackbeard was about to have his orders executed.
Inside Stonevale, the atmosphere was one of anxious anticipation. Lord Samiel's guard roamed the length of the town with an unwavering gaze, and every citizen knew that the coming hours might be fraught with the clash of arms and the drumbeat of violence. Yet for Ethan, the situation had taken on an even darker hue. His past had begun colliding with his present—and those who sought to destroy him were about to fan the flames of that very collision.
Returning to the safety of his room for a brief pause, Ethan sat beside the narrow window, watching the dark shapes of the bandits converge slowly toward the gate. The roar of distant voices, the clash of metal, and the unified grunts of battle were already faintly audible. In the murmur of the encroaching chaos, Ethan's thoughts turned to Rilan, whose innocent faith in him had given purpose to his wandering. Now, this purpose was being contested by hunters in the dark.
Determination steeled his heart. Though foes grew bolder by the hour, Ethan knew what he must do. The safety of Stonevale, however fragile, and the future of a young orphan who dreamed of being a warrior, were obligations he could not shirk—no matter the cost. Moreover, with Blackbeard's orders lingering ominously in the shadows, time was slipping fast.
As nightfall descended upon Stonevale, the bandit crew known as Blackwood began their chaotically orchestrated assault. With torches in hand and malice in their eyes, they crept closer to the town's gates. The tension grew with every flicker of flame, every distant shout in the dark.
Ethan steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation. With the town's fate—and his own survival—inextricably linked to the outcome of the coming night, he clutched his sword and silently vowed to stand against the darkness no matter how fierce the enemy. And as the bandits drew near, one voice among them rose above the rest with a venomous promise: the one who remembered Ethan's burning mark was ready to deliver Blackbeard's dreaded command—to hunt down and kill the stranger who threatened their wicked enterprise.
Within the cold, looming night, Stonevale braced for a showdown. For Ethan, this was not merely another battle—it was the collision of his past and his fate, and with each beat of his resolute heart, he accepted that destiny had come calling at the gates of the town.