The sun had grown weary to shine upon the violent world as its light dimmed and was replaced by darkness. Sky bleeds and night had fallen. The population had a tough day, but everything will be alright just like everyone else said. They closed the door tightly, ensuring no gap behind, fearing for evil might slip through. What more could they be looking for a shelter, a safehouse, a place to protect them unless their humble dwellings after everything happened.
Magnar still inside the old man's house, relaxed just slightly from earlier fury. His muscles softened–the tea worked well. He put down the cup, not wanting any unnecessary commotion, but still, imagining the suffering of locals always made every fiber of his body tensed up. Magnar's gaze sharpened. "What is your name?" He said. "I'm the chief of this village. Karl."
He hummed, looking up and down. In front of him, sat a man. Tired look, baggy eyes and wrinkles painted on his face, perfectly portrayed a fresco of drought field. Simple clothing that seems to haven't changed for a while, judging how dirt stains are decorated on worn textiles, unmoved like a shadow. Truly a simple man, maybe too simple to hold a chief title and take responsibility for his people. He should be on the bed, just like the other elder. Resting peacefully on his final day, but was forced to handle desperate flocks surrounded by wolves. But what made it truly ironic was the shepherd–he is nothing but an old sheep.
He coughed, as if it would take his soul out of his body. "Tell me something... Chief." Magnar said, his eyes are sharper than a blade–making those weary eyes of him sliced open. "Uh... what do you mean by that?" He said. Magnar straightened his position, asserting an aura of authority. "The leadership... the rule... the lords and everything that is going on. Don't you feel tired at all?" He stared, eyes met each other, a fierce one. "I saw and knew everything. Everything. Margaret had told me about what's going on with your condition. And I have a proposal for you." He stated.
Karl startled, he doesn't understand nor sure what Magnar tried to say. "I'm not sure what you are talking about, anyway, where's Margaret?" He asked, brow raised. "She needs to take care of her grandson. Now, that's not important, I'll tell you one more time, will you accept the proposal?" Magnar urged, dissipated the chief's unnecessary question. Karl backend, eyes glared left and right, alarmed as something funny might happen. "Do tell me, good sir. What is this proposal? If you are being vague, how can I trust you?" He said. Try to fight back and turn the table from Magnar's dominance.
"Bold of you, fine. I'm here to help you to get out of this tyrannical grip that has plagued this village." Magnar said, leaned as he left those piercing gazes, and tried to be more relaxed. Karl scratched his unkempt hair, unsure how to react to such a statement. A man of nowhere, thinking he's some sort of a hero, giving false promises? While in the end, they were all doomed for life. How smug Magnar, Karl's thought. "And who are you to say such a thing? You're nobody here, a stranger, who claimed to know our condition? Last time I had someone like you were nothing but a fraud." He spits. Once a weary face turned into a distasteful look of someone who's been deceived for ages. Brow furrowed as he could kick Magnar out of his humble abode anytime.
This old man had lived a rough life, his upbringing as chief of the village led him to plentiful distressing events. No wonder he will be some kind of hard headed. A normal reasoning might not be needed or helpful, but Magnar dared to play dirty as pigs drowned in a pond of clay. "I am not someone you can dismiss that easily, chief. Neither I was nobody. I have come to save you and your kind, is this how you are going to thank me?" He declared. The air grows cold, a chilling sensation stings Karl's spine. Slowly grasped his body and coated it within the blizzard temperature. He unmoved, solidly froze as a realistically carved ice statue. His mouth twitching, something he cannot utter from unknown fear.
"You see? I simply don't like the idea you reject my help. All I asked is for you to believe in me. Well, whether you accept it or not, I shall get what I want," Magnar uttered. "For how long do people have to suffer under your weak rules? How much blood should those corrupt leaders shed just to fulfill their entertainment while you cannot even protect a single drop of your people's tears?" Magnar stands from his seat, the whole room now feels like a tundra, he barraged the poor man with unending questions that would ask his own competency. "Tell me," he grabbed Karl's head firmly–his nails embedded on his scalp then swayed it over, his neck surely is frail and could snap in no time. "How long will your ego keep your ass sat on the ruling seat for you giving them no more hope!" He hissed. "What else you can give them? None." Magnar let go his head.
Karl eyes widened, his mouth stuttering, inaudible rambles are crystal clear to Magnar's ear. "W-who are you!?" He finally snapped back to reality, hands covered his face as he dropped his body on the ground, tried to backend away from him. Masks of fear and despair were perfectly fitted on Karl's, still with dropped jaws, showing his crooked teeth. But no answer came, just Magnar's shadow looming over him. "Who am I is none of your concern." "Please! Don't kill me! I'll give whatever you want." Karl's mumbled.
Just like a snail, he moved his body away from him, unwilling to face any threat that Magnar possessed. His guts were right, he is no stranger at all, but rather strange. "You made a deal? Very well, I'll take this village with me then. And for you? Go to bed, sleep well and behave like people your age. No more ruling, rest well." Magnar said. "What!? You crazy! Fine, just take it then, you'll pay for this." Karl growled and made his way towards the door and vanished.
The disappearance of Karl does not made him any better, he still had something in mind. Now the house within his possession, a little wouldn't hurt anyone. He looked over a polished carved wooden door. Its sturdiness is a testament of time of how well this was made, a creak as he opened it. There he saw a simple bedroom. A single bed lies on the middle, its blanket and pillow neatly positioned. On the right, a humble desk with a candle, illuminate a stack of paper. Mostly were just empty, but beneath it, a letter and an envelope with a noble stamp. Perhaps, it's Karl's belongings. He had written this, looks like he about to deliver it to some kind of authority. Magnar picked it up and read it.
His face grimaced, frowned. He slammed the desk. "That bastard!" He threw it mid air then fell on the ground. The letter that made him furious was no other than a treacherous plot of Karl who is actually a Baron's servant. The raid, the dead, all of them were this sickening orchestra to put more suffering and nauseating profit of slave market. "They will pay for this!" He snarled.
What a night had befallen upon them. As for Magnar, he realized what he was doing earlier, from this day and onward, he shall take responsibility over the village. He already made a commitment, no more room for doubt, no more room for regret. Doomed or saved, his legs ready to take whenever the path shown towards him. Be it bad or good, through hardship and laughter, he shall triumph over whatever he might face in future. Let the world judge his actions, let the moon witness this tragedy, let the sun show his destiny and let the wind carry his will–for a new legend has born.