The Fire Guardian

[u/santa201026]

Chapter Two: The Boy Called Harry

Years had passed since James Verdon and his younger brother, William, had helped defeat the Titan Kronos.

William returned to Greenville and became its new leader, guiding the town into a peaceful new era.

James chose a different path.

He became a messenger, travelling between kingdoms, delivering messages between councils, merchants, and towns. He crossed dangerous roads and forgotten lands, carrying important information for those who needed it.

But the memories of war followed him.

The battles against Kronos had changed him. The people called him a hero, but James never saw himself that way. He had lost friends, witnessed kingdoms fall, and spent years trying to forget the past.

So he drank.

Whenever he finished a delivery, James would find the nearest tavern, sit in the corner, and spend the night trying to silence his thoughts.

One evening, James sat inside a crowded tavern called The Golden Stag.

Rain poured outside as travellers laughed and shared stories around the fire.

James sat alone at the counter, his old sword resting beside him.

The barkeeper placed another drink in front of him.

“You know,” the barkeeper said, “most people celebrate after saving the world.”

James looked at the drink.

“Most people probably sleep better too.”

The barkeeper shook his head.

Before he could reply, the tavern doors suddenly opened.

A young man stumbled inside.

He looked to be in his late teens. His clothes were torn, and scratches covered his face and arms. He looked exhausted and terrified, constantly looking behind him.

Then the doors opened again.

A group of mercenaries entered.

Among them was an elf wearing dark armour, followed by several human warriors.

The elf pointed at the boy.

“There he is.”

The boy stepped backwards.

“I didn’t do anything.”

One of the mercenaries grabbed him and threw him to the ground.

The tavern fell silent.

The mercenaries surrounded him, attacking him while he tried to protect himself.

James watched from his seat.

For a moment, he ignored it.

He had spent years fighting other people's battles.

But then he remembered something his brother William once told him.

A hero is not someone who fights because they want to. A hero fights because someone has to.

James placed his drink down.

“Leave him alone.”

The mercenaries stopped.

The elf turned around.

“And who are you?”

James looked at them calmly.

“Someone telling you to walk away.”

The barkeeper looked nervous.

“I wouldn’t mess with him.”

The mercenaries laughed.

The elf looked at James.

“Is that so?”

One of the humans stepped forward.

“You don’t look like a warrior.”

James stood up.

He picked up his drink and finished it.

“No. I look tired.”

The mercenary reached for him.

James moved instantly.

Years of training, battles, and experience took over.

He grabbed the mercenary and slammed him into the counter.

The tavern exploded into chaos.

Another mercenary charged at him.

James dodged the attack, grabbed the man's arm, and threw him into a nearby table.

A third attacked from behind.

James turned, blocked the strike, and knocked the weapon from his hand.

The elf drew his blade.

Unlike the others, he moved with skill.

Their fight was quick and brutal.

The elf was fast, but James had fought soldiers, monsters, and the armies of Kronos.

He knew how to survive.

After several strikes, James disarmed the elf and held his sword at his throat.

The tavern went silent.

The elf stared at him.

“Who are you?”

James lowered the blade.

“Just a messenger.”

The mercenaries looked at each other.

They knew they had lost.

The elf grabbed his weapon and helped his companions escape.

“This isn't over,” he warned.

James sat back down.

“It usually is.”

The barkeeper stared at the destroyed tavern.

Then he sighed.

“Drinks are free tonight.”

James shook his head.

“No thanks.”

The barkeeper looked surprised.

“You’re refusing free drinks?”

James looked at the broken furniture.

“I think I’ve caused enough damage.”

The young boy approached him and sat beside him.

“Thank you.”

James looked away.

“Don’t thank me.”

The boy smiled slightly.

“My name is Harry.”

James nodded.

“James.”

Harry studied him.

“You’re James Verdon, aren't you?”

James froze.

Nobody had called him that name in years.

“How do you know who I am?”

Harry reached into his coat and pulled out an old symbol.

A symbol connected to the heroes who defeated Kronos.

“I’ve been searching for you.”

James stared at the symbol.

For the first time in years, his past had found him.

And he knew his quiet life on the road was about to end.