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. At least that was what Torbin had believed.
Yet, they did little more than eye him suspiciously and then
disappear into their respective homes. They seemed more
frightened than surprised.
Those standing nearest to him - those that did not run or
sneak away - watched him with narrowed, covetous eyes.
His personal wealth amounted to little, but it must have
seemed a king's treasure to these folk. His hand strayed to
his sword just long enough to warn potential bravados. The
message shot home with the swiftness of an arrow. Torbin
soon found himself alone in the midst of the very village he
had come to protect.
A young knight, he had a tremendous desire to prove
himself to the world. He wanted to make a name for
himself, something that would gain him the respect of the
elders of his order, something that would make the common
folk gaze at him in wide-eyed admiration. In short - though
he would not have admitted it to himself, much less to
anyone else - Torbin wanted to be a hero.
Most of his fellows had chosen to go south toward the
more populous regions. They would fight a few bandits,
stare down a few peasants, and come back boasting of their
great struggles. Torbin wanted much more than that
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