Not very far from Orma, in Fiercelake Nation

A woman dragged a girl to the door, desperate. “See, that lunatic is still there! Still there!" She pointed to a big man two meters tall and had tears in her eyes. “They tried to chase him away, to send him away. They also hit him! But nothing, it's always there, staring at nothing for days!"

Just in front of the woman's shop was standing a very tall, muscular warrior, staring at nothing as if with his eyes he could cancel the brick buildings and look at the distant horizon. With strong hands, he clutched the two swords that rested on his waist, going down on his hips.

He had appeared out of nowhere in the village, nobody knew him and everyone feared him. The citizens only knew that one morning they had woken up and found him right there - and then he had never moved from that spot. He hadn't moved a finger or a leg, hadn't sat down, hadn't yawned, hadn't even seen him take a sip of water.

"And what am I supposed to do?” asked the girl, exasperated.

"If you want to earn your wage, you better go and see if you can get any information from that guy!" Just as the girl was about to reply, the woman opened the door and pushed her outside: "Or sent him away!"

The girl took a deep breath.

The woman looked at her from top to toe. The girl's rigid behaviour betrayed some fear.

In fact, the thug looked terrifying, he had two huge weapons in sight and he had never answered any questions. He must have been a tremendously lethal warrior. To stay so long standing, always in the same place, he also had to have an incredible level. One more reason not to want him in the village.

Their village was very close to the largest city in the region; it was very large, but it was renowned for being one of the most peaceful and calm places around there.

A glance at him was enough to understand it was a barrel full of trouble. And nobody there was looking for trouble.

The scarred face and arms suggested that the man liked to fight. Some recent injuries must have been caused by a lethal duel.

At best, it had to be someone who had not passed the entrance exam for a nearby academy; in the worst case, however, it had to be a violence-loving brawler.

Everyone was looking at the old hag, who owned the supply store, sending the new girl to the brute.

"Poor girl," sighed one of the passers-by.

"That man is really young, he will not be more than twenty years old, despite all those scars," murmured one of his friends, who walked beside him.

“He has been standing in the same spot for a week. It seems that something broke his soul and that he is no longer able to recover."

"Lately there have been several conflicts on the borders, he may even be a deserter."

At those words, someone exclaimed in terror. The crowd began to thin out: it was better to stay away from a deserter.

But the young apprentice approached the brute without apparent fear. While leaving, many watched her, terrified of the outcome of that meeting.

The girl had to be the same age as the warrior, but her build was much more slender and her skin was delicate and free of imperfections, as if she had been protected from any bump in life.

She was not particularly beautiful, but she had dark eyes as deep as the universe, which gave them an indescribable charm.

Her cheeks were slightly plump, but the elongated shape of her face gave her a vague squirrel-like look. The badly cut hair on the bangs, on the other hand, gave her a cheeky and naive appearance.

She was tall and had a rather slender figure.

Still, her beauty would not bring down whole kingdoms.

Approaching the warrior, at least a span taller than she was, she did not even smile.

"Hello," began the young woman, with a little naivety.

The warrior didn't even seem to hear her.

She was certainly not the first to speak to him. At least a hundred people had already tried, and nobody had managed to make him say anything.

Someone, terribly frightened, had also tried to approach and hit him with weapons, but any tool used would bend or break in contact with the warrior's skin, hard as steel. The swords had lost their edge, the clubs had broken in two after the first hit.

And none of those who tried had managed to hurt him.

The girl took a deep breath before speaking again. “So, are you sleeping or what? You have been scaring the whole village for more than week. Of so many places to be a scarecrow, why have you chosen this?" For a few seconds, she waited for an answer that showed no sign of coming. “Look, I just got here and I'm not going to get kicked out of the store. I just want some peace."

The girl's words seemed to contain a strange magnetism that made the warrior's gaze turn away from his horizon.

Looking straight into her eyes, the man slightly opened his mouth to say something.

The girl, tired of waiting, motioned him with both hands to leave: “Come on, come on, go away. Go somewhere else."

In response, the warrior sat down, his first movement after a week.

All those who had stopped to watch the show and those who were passing by began to rub their eyes. After countless attempts, had it been a skinny girl of mediocre beauty who made the thug react? Had he finally shown a reaction?!

A boy who had witnessed the scene was stunned: “He really has strange tastes. Girls much more beautiful than her already tried to talk to him." Although he had only whispered it, the surreal silence into which the path had fallen had amplified the sound, and had been heard by everyone. A companion of his nudged him and ordered him to be silent.

The warrior seemed to pay no attention to what was going on around him and finally said: “I ended up here because I'm waiting for a friend. He's in danger because of me, also, and I'm waiting for his clan to make the next move. When the time comes, I will leave and I doubt you will see me again. Mine was not an easy choice, I ask you to have a little more patience with me. I doubt it will take much longer, a couple of months at most.”

He had really spoken!

The girl scratched her head: “Ok, but please, if someone asks you, tell them that you are not a deserter or troublemaker. All the inhabitants of this village are here for a reason, and do you know what it is? They love peace and want stay out of trouble," answered the girl.

At that moment, the warrior shifted his gaze to the yellow tunic the girl wore. My clothes are in a really bad shape, but such a tunic is really terrible. She looks like a canary.

The girl noticed the inquisitive look and asked: "Why are you staring at me?"

"Um, that tunic is ... nice?" said the warrior, holding back laughter. Hell, lass, did you really had to wear that?!

"Thanks, how nice!" she laughed.

She laughed too, the fool.

After stifling his own laughter the warrior sat cross-legged with his swords over his legs and said, "I will wait here until the right moment arrives."

"I'll bring you something to eat, then," replied the girl, winking.

"Lass, what are you waiting for to? Will it take long?" a croaking voice was calling the girl. Apparently, her task had been completed and it was time to get back to work.

"I have to go now," the young woman observed, pointing to the door from which she had been pushed out. “I am here temporarily, too. I have yet to decide what to do when I grow up, although kneading bread doesn't seem to be my dream job!”

She laughed and ran away, to the shop owner who kept calling her.

The warrior raised his chin to the sky, inhaling the air all around. He felt a lump in his throat and a rush of sadness ran down his spine.

From afar, behind a window, the girl looked at him while her hands were covered with water and flour.

“Hurry up or that bread will never be ready in the morning! It's practically rising in your hands, you idiot!"