An unconscious man stirred, his eyelashes fluttering. With difficulty, the man opened his eyes. He then pushed himself up, rotten leaves squelching underneath his hands. He looked around and found himself in a forest. Dappled sunlight shone through the leaves, and whispers of beasts and chirping of beetles came from the depths within the trees.
At first, the man was confused, but then he was surprised. "Where am I? What happened?" Roy massaged his temples and freshened his groggy mind up. Then he stood, wobbly like a drunken man just waking up with a hangover. "I remember the drinking contest back in the inn. So what's the deal with this forest? How did I get here?"
Roy turned his attention to the character sheet. He was now drunk. To his surprise, all his gear was still with him. "Must be a prank. Jon and Sam must've dragged me all the way out here when I was drunk. Wait, that couldn't be." Jon fell after fifteen bottles. Sam and I were left. We went on and on and on. Roy could feel his belly filled to bursting point with alcohol, but not once did he use his inventory to cheat. He wished to vent all his frustration through the contest, though he did ask Arvel to keep an eye on him.
Roy could hear the crackling of the inn's bonfire even though he was groggy. Just when he was about to fall unconscious, Sam succumbed before he could. He fell on the counter, snoring away. And then the air was filled with cheers and applause from the Nordlings.
Then everything went black. "It was dusk back when I was in the inn. And it's still dusk now." Was I out for a whole day?
Roy tried to contact Arvel, but there was no response from his servant, nor could he teleport away. It felt like some strange power had locked this space he was in. A frown creased Roy's forehead, and a sense of unease took over him. Most people don't have this kind of power. Heck, most mages don't have this kind of power.
He was suddenly reminded of that mage who joined their little contest back in the inn. The one with a nonchalant smile. And then, as if the witcher had pulled a trigger, he heard something speak.
"Find me. Hold me. Take me. Find me. Hold me. Take me."
***
"Who is this Sam guy? He's more powerful than I thought. And why did he pull this prank on me? Just because I won that contest?" Hm, but he meant me no harm. Or he could've just killed me when I was drunk. So why did he bring me here?
"Fine, if that's what you wish for, then that's what you get. Let's find out what you are."
The bizarre, disembodied voice that echoed through the air did not scare the witcher. He had seen many strange events in his life. Quickly, he composed himself and walked in the direction his heart was pointing him. Through the plains, the witcher walked. Time and time again, he tried to teleport back to his servant, but alas, all his attempts ended in failure.
And then he ran into a wooden fence. Roy walked through the fence and ran into a Nordling.
"Hello, friend. It's getting dark. What brings you here?" A man in hunter attire with a bow strapped to his back greeted Roy. "You shouldn't go around at night. The beasts will eat you."
Roy scanned the man. A regular Nordling. Nothing special about him… Hey, wait a minute. At this point, the witcher's mind had sobered up, and he realized something weird. Arvel's not here, so how did I manage to understand this guy?
It was a situation Roy had never met before, and he took some time to process it, though he still had no answer to any question he had. And so he said, "Sorry, buddy. I was looking for someone, but I got lost. And… well, tried to run around, but now the sun's setting. What is this place, anyway?" There must be a reason why he left me here. Maybe this place holds some clues to his whereabouts.
"Redmount."
"I'm looking for one Sam Guevenne. Have you seen him?"
The guard shook his head. "No idea who that is, but maybe someone in the village does." He looked at Roy again and let out a hearty laugh. His beard trembled, and he warmly invited, "It's getting dark, lad. Staying out alone is dangerous. Why don't you come in and look around the village? Kelly's got some good ale. Maybe it'll jog your memory."
Roy took a deep breath. Well, when in Rome…Show me what you got, Sam. "Appreciate the invitation, but spare the booze."
The guard let his guard down, and then Roy quickly cast an Axii. A shudder coursed through the guard's body, and his face blanked. Now he was as obedient as a puppet.
"Now let's start with an introduction."
***
Roy gained nothing from the questioning. Five minutes later, the guard led him into the village, then he returned to his post.
Roy looked up and saw a mountain standing behind the village. The village was surrounded by lush greenery. Houses made of mud, wood, and stones were strewn everywhere, and fields of bountiful crops stood at the sides of the village. A clear stream gurgled in the west side of the village, and a watermill turned round and round in the corner, stirring up a blanket of wet white fog.
Goats stampeded and rampaged around the alleyways, while villagers strolled down the streets, languid smiles hanging from their lips.
'Twas a typical, peaceful village of farmers.
On the east side of the village was a beach covered in golden sands, and a great ocean unfurled beyond it.
Roy said hi to a villager.
"Oh, you must be an outsider." The man wore a friendly smile as he looked at Roy. "Never seen you before."
"Yes. I'm from Whiterun. You ever heard of it?" Roy was looking at the man closely, hoping he would have clues leading to the mage's location.
"Ah, it's in the far north, isn't it? The journey alone takes a month, and that's with a carriage. Heard it's a lot colder than Redmount. So what brings you here? Some sightseeing?"
Roy shook his head, smiling. "I'm looking for one Sam Guevenne. Ever heard of him?"
"I think I have. Oh, right. Sherry mentioned that name before."
"Who's Sherry?"
"Oh, she's a wonderful girl. The village only got this good by virtue of her. Thanks to her, we're all living happy lives."
"She must've done a lot for the village, then." Okay, this might be a clue.
"Yep. She's beautiful and kind. Ever since she found that mine in the woods, life has gotten a lot better for us. Everyone loves her." The man had a big grin on his face. He seemed to have nothing but love for the girl, and he kept on with his praise, "And she knows a lot. You should go see her. Maybe she can help you. Just walk down this street until the very end. She's in the house right by the mountain. Knock on the door before you go in. She lives with her mother, Caroline. The lady's as kind as her daughter."
Roy rubbed his chin. Hmm…
Warmly, the man continued, "Or you can try your luck at Firefalls Inn. The innkeep probably knows what you're looking for. She knows a lot of stuff, too. Eleventh house down this street. If you need supplies, you can find Balrog's general goods store in rural Redmount. Or you can buy some stuff from Tharken in the marketplace. Have a nice stay. We don't get a lot of visitors here in Redmount."
"Thanks for your help." Roy nodded and slowly walked down the street. He was in no hurry. Like a tourist, he looked around the village, soaking in its scenery. Smoke billowed from the chimneys of Redmount's houses, glimmering under the sun like stars shining in an ethereal river.
The villagers here didn't seem to close their doors. Roy could see the cauldrons bubbling over the fire pits within these houses. The scent of meat and fruits wafted through the air, tempting those who took a whiff to sit down and have a meal.
Some of the ladies waved at the witcher and invited him in to dine. Roy rubbed his belly—still filled with wine—and shook his head.
As he walked down the street, a few more villagers smiled at him. He asked them a few more questions, and the villagers—driven by their curiosity—patiently answered the witcher's questions. Though they either had no idea who Sam was, or they told him he should talk to Sherry about it.
Eventually, he came to the end of the street, and here, a short little house stood. In the yard was a black-haired woman in a red apron swinging her axe away at the firewood. She looked to be in her thirties. Beautiful face, rosy cheeks, and a plump body. Beads of sweat hung from her chin, dazzling like a drop of liquid rainbow gleaming under the sun.
"Ahem. Might this be Sherry's home?"
"Yes. And who might you be? I don't remember seeing you in the village." The woman put down her firewood and held her axe with one hand as she wiped away sweat with the other. "How may I help you?" She smiled.
"Hi. I'm a traveler from Whiterun. You can call me Goldeneye. I'm here for a girl named Sherry. Let me guess, you're her mother, Caroline." Roy looked at her hand. An ugly scar stretched across the back of her hand. Wonder if that's from all her lumberjack work.
The woman nodded. "Yes, but why do you ask? How do you know of her?"
"The villagers told me she might be able to help me. I'm looking for one Sam Guevenne. It's urgent."
"I see. Well, you are a guest." Caroline smiled gently. "Her room's on the left right after you go in. She's practicing her dance, and you might be the perfect audience for her. Go."
"Are you sure you want me to watch your daughter dance, ma’am? I'm a guy."
"Why not? You seem like a decent lad." Caroline beamed. "You won't hurt her, will you?"
***
Sherry's room was hidden behind a reddish-brown curtain. It was a simple, clean, and neat room illuminated by candlelight. On the left side was a pink bed standing close to the wall, with a doll in a red dress lying quietly by the pillow. On the right was a bookshelf filled with romance novels and poetry.
In the center of the room was a girl in a yellow dress. She stood up straight, pirouetting like a top. Her left foot—covered in a shoe—rested against her right knee. She held her hands up and spun along with the rhythm just like a dancing swan.
Her skin was as white as snow and as smooth as silk. Her beautiful, lustrous hair was tied up in a ponytail, gleaming under the candlelight. She had a petite face and a pair of eyes the color of bright emerald. Her eyelashes were long and her nose aquiline, her lips were as soft as flower petals, and her ears were hidden beneath her hair.
The girl looked sweet and slender in form. And young. She was only tall enough to reach Roy's chin. Like a blooming flower, she seemed fresh and full of life.
'Sherry
Age: Thirteen years old
Status: Redmount villager.'
***
After three more spins, the girl finally stopped and opened her eyes, surprised to find a stranger in her room. "Who are you?" And then a hint of delight filled her eyes. "Oh, a visitor?"
"Yes. And you must be Sherry. Call me Goldeneye. The villagers told me you… know a lot. And your mother told me I could come in." Roy turned his sight away. The last lady to impress him this much just with her looks alone was Vivienne. A girl this beautiful, living in a village like this. I can see why she's loved by the villagers. "You're a great dancer, Sherry. Especially for someone your age," Roy praised. I need her help, so gotta make her happy.
"Really?" The girl stared at the witcher with anticipation twinkling in her eyes. She held her beautiful hands before her chest, and excitement welled on her face. "I've been dancing for a long time now. I love to dance."
She had a voice as warm and soothing as a spring breeze. Roy felt his heart melt just listening to her speak.
"It's an art of expression. An expression of your feelings through movement. I… I feel happy when I dance."
"Good opinion. You'd be a marvelous dancer if you could perform in the city. Why didn't you dance on the streets anymore? I'm sure everyone would love to watch you dance," Roy said. "They love you."
"Oh. I've danced plenty. They're bored of it now. I need to come up with some new moves. I need… inspiration." And then she hung her head low like a despondent little cat abandoned by her friend. "Oh, and you are…"
"Goldeneye."
"So why did you come? I know it's not just because of my dancing," she asked cutely.
"This might sound strange, but I'm looking for someone named Sam Guevenne. He tossed me into this… quaint little village," answered Roy. "I wish to go home, and he's the key to it."
"I see. I think I know who you're talking about?" Sherry stared at the ground again, musing over the matter. She looked a little reluctant at first, but then for some reason—perhaps because she was being helpful—she bit her lip and looked at the witcher. "I can take you to him, but I have three favors to ask."
The witcher hesitated. Should I just cast Axii on her and make her talk? But he couldn't. She was too sweet and frail. Even a battle-hardened witcher like Roy couldn't take advantage of her. But more importantly, this could be a test from Sam to see if he was worthy. Gotta be careful.
"Name them. But I make no guarantees. And three favors is a lot to ask. I can do one, so what do you say?"
"Oh, they're simple favors. Help me, and I'll take you to him. They're really fun, so don't worry." Sherry stared at him again with anticipation in her eyes, her eyes glimmering like stars. "So do we have a deal, Goldeneye? Can I call you Goldie? I've always wanted a brother, and that sounds like a brotherly name."
Roy extended his hand and shook hers.
Sherry beamed, and gorgeous dimples formed on her cheeks. "Wait for me at the watermill to the northwest. I'll be there soon."
"Now?" Roy frowned. "It's a bit late, don't you think?"
"Oh, we can make it."
***
***
