"Unlike you, elf, I am not so wasteful that I would throw my life away like a duke would his own daughter," Ernst shot back at Jespir, apparently tiring of being called a mere boy by everyone. He was twenty-too, dammit, a
man! And not even half a damned minute in the tavern this elf has been, and he had already pledged himself purse-and-honor to this gargantuan undertaking, like he hadn't been thinking. Meanwhile, himself, having idled and having been there since the start, continued his contemplation, weighing the risks and the rewards.
"No offense," he finished, after a beat and examining the pirate's outfit. What a uniform! Yet
another noble?
Mild surprise at that seeming fact aside, Ernst was finally coming to a conclusion. Letting go of the handle of his sword and putting a knuckle upon his chin, he began to monologue:
"You know, my sister and I went hunting in the forests near my home village many, many years ago. We had spotted a group of elks, and were about to fell one, but then this voice came from the depths of the wood, telling us that we trespassers and evil people for hunting. Freya, having a sharp wit and more courage than I ever did, told the spirit to forgive us for being hungry and that it could go fuck itself, meanwhile I was soiling my pants. We were still children, see. Heh.""'Course, the elks all suddenly started having glowing eyes and began to chase us through the underbrush. It was hell. I swear, my legs felt like they were burning, I ran so fast. Now, our feet weren't very fleet so we were surrounded pretty quickly. The elks formed a circle around us, and I shit you not, that a woman then began to emerge from the bark of the tree we were trying to climb for safety. Nowadays, I like to joke about how big the spirit's breasts were," Ernst brought his two hands near his chest and squeezed to emphasize,
"but at the time, I was just scared shitless. So shitless that I've forgotten most of what she had yelled at us, educating us of our family, village, and Empire's sins against nature. Sister, of course, had more spine, and she took my dagger and plunged it straight into the spirit's throat just was she was going to make her final judgement.""The blood was too bright to be that of a mortal's, but it still gushed out of the wound regardless. Leaves fell around us as the tree she was attached to wilted, darkened and died. The elks around collapsed and seemed to fall asleep. Eventually, the spirit gurgled its last curse and went limp. It was... fucking terrifying," Ernst laughed.
"Now, when we came home covered in blood and with enough pelts and venison to sate the Emperor's hunger for a hundred years, we were, at the same time, village celebrities and in deep trouble with our parents. Regardless, my point is that the stories old people and bards like to tell us about spirits and the supernatural are probably exaggerated." Ernst then took a seat before the table and the document, looking at each of his would-be companions’ eyes, his voice taking on a solemn tone.
“I saw that blade sink into that spirit’s throat and cut every vein one by one. I saw her double over, try to screech with her severed throat, and reach at her neck in extreme agony. I saw her die, miserably."He took a moment to let that fact sink in, both for himself and the people around.
"She was a spirit, yes, but we killed her regardless. And if she could supposedly turn men into trees, lead a troupe of pixies to steal the local village's children, and make hunters like my sister and I disappear without a trace, then killing a dragon should be only a little bit harder. Huh. Funny how you don't know what you believe in until you actually say it. What the hell was I even being afraid of? Let me sign!"Confidence restored, he reached into his gambeson, tore away the only silver coin he had from its cloth, and slammed it onto the table with gusto. Then, he took the quill with a determined smirk on his face and signed his name decisively. To say that it was ugly was a severe understatement:
In his defense, he was but a humble farmer and woodsman.