Lieunoir woke up, his head aching from the fall he’d made. His vision was blurry at first, but soon appeared more clear. He felt the hard, rocky ground on which he was lying, and could feel the damp air on his skin.
A light flickered in the distance. Looking at the stone walls and the starless sky, he knew he found himself in a cave. Lieunoir stood up with care, as he clutched his arms around his chest, the pain in his muscles and bones was unbearable.
He limped towards the light, there was a gentle warmth surrounding him as he got closer. It was a campfire, a broad man in shabby, leather clothing was lying next to it. His focus was on his knife, which he was sharpening, but his mind was still sharp.
Without moving an inch, or making a gesture of notice, he said “Ye are awake, boy.” His voice was high-pitched, which one would not expect from a man of that size.
“Where am I?” Lieunoir replied with suspicion.
“Somewhere far from whence ye came.” The man still had not moved, “I saved yer life. Found yer body in one o’ them damn marsh puddles, that is. Ye are lucky t’be alive.”
“Who am I?”
“The gods know. One o’ them nobles, me thinks.” The man turned around and reached out his hand, with hesitation Lieunoir gave him his, he had a firm hand grip, squishing his hands together, he tried to pull it back, but the man did not let loose, “Me name‘s Frederic of the Eglain. I’ve left me peoples t’ see the world, far away from the soothing campfires in them old ruins.”
The man let Lieunoir’s hand go free, he stood up and walked to the shadowed back of the cave, where he grabbed a bow. He turned around and showed it to the confounded Lieunoir, “Can ye shoot?”
