With things progressing smoothly and our lives finally settling into a routine, I never thought we would be troubled again. But trouble, it seems, has a way of finding us when we least expect it.
One evening, as Eric was on his usual patrol, he noticed a group of men harassing a young girl in a dimly lit alley. The girl was clearly distressed, trying to escape their lecherous advances. Eric's sense of duty and justice flared up immediately. He approached the men, his hand resting on the hilt of his cutlass. "That's enough," he commanded, his voice firm and authoritative.
The man leading the group turned to look at Eric with a sneer, his eyes filled with arrogance. He was well-dressed, with an air of entitlement that made Eric's blood boil. "Mind your own business, guard," the man spat, dismissing Eric as if he were nothing more than a minor annoyance.
But Eric wasn't one to back down, especially when someone was in danger. He unsheathed his cutlass, the blade gleaming in the fading light. "I said, that's enough," Eric repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. When the man ignored him again and reached out for the girl, Eric acted swiftly. He struck the man with the flat of his blade, sending him sprawling to the ground. The man, enraged and humiliated, muttered a few words under his breath, and suddenly a small flame ignited in his hand—a weak fire spell meant to intimidate.
Eric didn't flinch. He knocked the man's hand aside with his cutlass, disarming him with a single, well-placed blow. A scuffle ensued, but it was clear that the man was no match for Eric's combat skills. Within moments, the man was subdued, his friends scattered, and the girl was safe.
Eric wasted no time in dragging the man to the town prison, where he was met by one of the head guards. However, instead of the praise Eric had expected, he was met with fury. The head guard's face turned red as he recognized the captive. "Eric, what have you done?" he growled.
Eric was taken aback. "I stopped a criminal. This man was harassing a young girl—"
The head guard cut him off, shaking his head in frustration. "That 'criminal' is Abdul Malik, the son-in-law of the town's lord! Do you have any idea what kind of trouble this will cause? We could lose our jobs—hell, we could lose our lives over this!"
Eric felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach. Abdul Malik wasn't just any man—he was connected to one of the most powerful figures in Granada. The implications of his actions began to dawn on him, but he knew he couldn't stand idly by while someone was being hurt, no matter who they were. Still, he realized this situation was far more complicated than he had anticipated.
"Malik was attacking an innocent girl," Eric said, his voice steady but laced with concern. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."
The head guard sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache. "I understand, Eric. But this isn't just about right and wrong. There are politics at play here. The lord will not take kindly to his son-in-law being imprisoned, especially by one of his own guards. We need to tread carefully."
Eric nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had done the right thing, even if it might lead to dire consequences. The town's lord would likely hear of this, and whatever happened next, Eric knew that his life—and the lives of those around him—could be about to change drastically.