... And A Shiny New Sword - The Tale of Garbus the Malcontent

Chapter 1: How to treat a hero... not

It was the ninth day of Mountain Fall in the year 133 after the break of the Fourth Wall, or as the peasants called it "the year of the lightbrown jackrabbit with only one ear". The thirteenth year of the rule of King Rondor Thaddarian Omuskectus The Seventh. Garbus, the warrior, was granted an audience with the king.

"I am honored to greet you, noble hero of the kingdom!" King Rondor smiled over his entire face right up to his ears and wasted no precious words on this occasion. "The service you have done to me... to us... is unmeasurable and will be put in the history books for all further generations as a prime example for a true noble hero."

"Uh-huh," Garbus uttered, his voice showing the same passion as the worn grey floor tiles he was impatiently standing on.

For once His Majesty realized that stealing the time of such a big and strong warrior was not really appropriate. "Ah, yes, but you are longing for your well-earned reward, my friend. So you shall have it." He waved up two servants who held up purple fluffy cushions with items on them. One of them stepped forward and presented his item to Garbus - on whose forehead suddenly a deep chasm formed.

The sword on the cushion was blinking and shining in the sunlight that the high windows of the throne room let in. Otherwise it wasn't very remarkable. The blade was of normal steel, though polished. The pommel showed some sort of animal which the artist who did it had no grasp of, or did not have the talent to accurately portray it. The handle was wrapped in darkred velvet, which was a very impractical choice. And the whole damn thing was too small.

"Does it do anything?" Garbus asked with a distrustful tone as he picked it up and swung it a little to test it, so the servant hurriedly jumped out of his reach.

King Rondor looked at him, not really understanding what the warrior was on about. "Well... it is a sword." After a brief moment of hesitation, he added: "It is the finest one my Royal blacksmith has ever forged."

Garbus thought of his favourite weapon, the "Soul Splitter", a blade forged with mysterious arcane magic inside, powerful enough to split a demon from the deepest reaches of the underworld right in the middle - which it had actually done. The mighty two-handed weapon resided in its sheath on Garbus' back. He put the "finest sword of the Royal blacksmith" down. "Alright then... Is that all?"

"Oh, no!" the king hurried to assure him. "Of course not! After all, you have done so much to save us all, you should not fear to come short on your reward."

That was exactly what Garbus feared. With a raised eyebrow he saw the second servant step forward and present his cushion. The brown leather bag on it had a very familiar look to it.

"One hundred gold pieces, I presume?" Garbus turned his attention back to the king, his tone now with a threatening undercurrent that only the simple-minded would not register.

The king didn't. He smiled even brighter. "Your abilities with your mind do not fall behind your skills with the sword, noble hero. As always you are right, these are exactly a hundred gold pieces. A well earned reward for a task well performed."

A task? It was at that moment when the patience of Garbus, hero of the kingdom of Nivella, found it's end:

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

The smile on Rondor's face became a little smaller. "Forgive me, but I don't understand. Would you prefer silver?"

The muscles on the biceps of the noble hero tightened, nearly burst out of the the chainmail shirt as he imagined how he strangled the king in front of all of his servants. "I just saved your kingdom from the armies of eternal darkness. I set the sky on fire with the Spell of Armageddon, which I first had to get from the scroll I uncovered in the toom of Radianti the Bright, one of the greatest sorcerers of all time. I drove an entire legion of powerful undead warriors and demonic creatures right from your very doorstep - and all I get in return is a worthless sword and a measly hundred gold pieces? Is that a fucking joke?"

Still, the king stood there with a puzzled look on his face, but this time he was wise enough to not speak it out aloud.

So Garbus went on: "That is, by the way, the same amount of gold you rewarded me with when I brought you the Idol of Fertility that ended the drought in the kingdom and gave us a rich harvest for the last two years."

Again, the king looked stupified, oblivious about the matter at hand.

"And it was the same amount of gold I received when I rescued your precious little princess from the clutches of the fire-breathing dragon Maronxny," Garbus added.

With a bead of sweat running down his forehead, His Majesty tried to remember that occasion and the reward he had granted. As he came to a conclusion, he smiled brightly again. "Yes, I think you are correct, noble hero."

Garbus made one slow step forward. The servants with the cushions made five steps back - or would have, if the walls of the throne room hadn't been in their way. "So let me put this straight: I have done heroic deeds for you and your kingdom of such a magnitude that the bards would praise me through hundreds of generations to come. Every single one of your underlings owes me their life more than once - including members of your very own family. And on those three occasions, which are merely examples of the many, MANY deeds I have done... I barely get enough gold from you to buy myself a horse. Does that sum it up, or am I missing something?"

Even if the king didn't realize what kind of situation he was in, a few others who were present at this moment did. The sound of swords drawn from sheets and the clicking of crossbows that were made ready came from all around Garbus. At first he had wondered why the king treated his throne room like an armory, with all those abandoned suits of armor standing at the walls. Soon he had realized that the suits of armor were all but abandoned.

Twenty... twentyfive. Maybe on a good day I would take them on.

"Oh, you are so right, hero, as always," the king finally spoke. "I almost forgot to give you the most valuable and important reward of them all - one that will surely satisfy even you."

"Which is?" Garbus raised an eyebrow.

King Rondor grinned. "My eternal gratitude."

Garbus did not lay a finger on the king, but in his mind he had him die a hundred painful and gruesome deaths right at this very moment. With an angry grunt he grabbed the bag of gold from the cushion and heard instantly how the stitches of the bag burst, and some of the gold pieces fell out. He caught them with his free hand before they could hit the floor.

Even the bag was rubbish...