arealhero

A Real Hero

Barley made an obscene gesture at the stage coach as it passed. Earlier that day he had tried to book a ride on the luxurious conveyance, but the driver had asked for ten gold keggins. Back home that could have bought Barley a small farm, and he had said as much. Which was how Barley learned the gesture he was currently giving the coach.

Barley was getting use to the inflated prices and rude behavior of the people of Bi-Tejicka. The issue of money should have never come up. After all, Barley was an Epic Hero, on a quest to free Bi-Tejicka City of the tyrannical oppression of the Dark Wizard Zobex. In Southland, where Barley was from, there was an EHA, Epic Hero Allowance on items such inns, and coaches.

The main reason Barley had chosen epic heroing as a vocation was because of the excellent benefits package - the pay was mediocre, and the hours horrible. Barley could certainly understand Bi-Tejica's current lack of heroes and its need to import one, especially when everyone seemed to treat heroes so rudely here. The coach driver had laughed at him, actually laughed .

Barley shook his head, trying to clear his mind. It was improper to look down on a people because their customs were different, even if they did live in a country with an unpronounceable name.

He pulled his mirror out of his pack, checking his reflection. Few people realized how much of a necessity a mirror was to an Epic Hero. It was a must have item.

Long flowing golden locks?

Check.

Shimmering smile that glistens in the sunlight?

Check.

Deep blue eyes that looked like still mountain pools in the spring?

Check.

Barley did not consider himself a vain man. Appearances were all that separated an Epic Hero from The Guy Who Saves The Day, and Barley did not want to have another case of mistaken identity. The forms he had to file whenever that happened took the better part of a weekend to fill out and Barley had better things to do on weekends, like sleeping, and watch sporting events.

Oh well, as Barley's mother was often heard to say “things were tough all over”, and he was almost in Be-Tijicka city. He could see the city's closed gates and open walls from here. They seemed to do everything backward.

He carefully put the mirror away and pulled out his work order. He did not want to go Epic Heroing in the wrong place. It had nearly cost him his job when he rescued the Princess Jade from the Ruby Tower when he was supposed to rescue the Princess Ruby from the Jade Tower. It had been an honest mistake, one that he whole heartedly blamed on the Princesses parents, for the name they had chosen for their daughter.

This job looked pretty straight forward, just the way he liked it. His work order laid everything out. He was going to do this one by the book and get the hell out of Be-Tijicka.

He strode into the center of town, being sure to look “Impressive” as he did so. A large part of his job was looking “Impressive”. It had taken three training seminars to learn to do it properly. Barley still had nightmares featuring an overly happy man screaming “Find the Impressiveness in you,” and “Your inner Impressiveness is right around the corner.”

He drew his sword, making sure the sunlight reflected off of it, making it shimmer in the noonday sun like the hand of god - a feat that had taken him many months of practice to get right, but thank the gods no training seminars.

“I am the Epic Hero Barley!” He announced. “I have come to free you of the tyrannical oppression of the Dark Wizard Zobex!”

No one cheered, none of the women swooned, and the wizard did not appear to challenge him. Barley scratched his head. Nothing was going right. The people of Bi-Tijicka simply refused to follow the established traditions of the land. It was frustrating. He tried again, only louder.

“I am the Epic Hero…”

“Shut up! We heard ya the first time,” an elderly woman yelled. “Ain't no Zobex around here. The only wizard is old Rat Face Harry.”

“But I'm here to free you of tyrannical oppression! I have a work order and everything!” Barley whined.

“Dear lord, let me see that,” the woman said briskly as she snatched the work order from his hands.

As she read through it she erupted in laughter.

“So your name is Barley…”

“It's pronounced Boot-fooker. B-u-t-f-u-c-h-e-r. Boot-fooker,” Barley said with venom. He had spent his entire first day in Bi-Tijicka explaining how to say his name.

“Will Mr. Boot-fooker,” the woman stopped to giggle, “your work order appears to be correct. Maybe you should ask old Rat Face. If there were another wizard about, he would know. Just don't ask him to do any spells. My cousin went to him to get a boil lanced and ended up with a third eye.”

“Thank you. Where could I find this Rat Face Harry?”

“He's right across the street. Hey, Rat Face, come here,” the woman called before walking off.

A morbidly obese man in a tiny little shirt that left nothing to the imagination waddled across the square. He was thrusting his arm into a bright blue robe that boasted crudely drawn stars and moons painted in yellow on the hem. His long grey beard, had dark roots, obviously poorly dyed. On his head he wore a large paper cone colored blue with crayon.

“Hi, Harry. I'm Barley, an Epic Hero here to free you of the tyrannical oppression of the Dark Wizard Zobex. But I'll be willycoxed if I can find him.”

Rat Face Harry raised one of his arms over his head and began to wiggle his fingers. Tiny sparks shimmered in the air.

“I am the great and powerful wizard, Harry Zobex! It is time for you to die!” the fat man mumbled as he fumbled through a small stack of note cards, with his other hand.

“Harry, I need some more of that elixir for my wife. Her allergies are acting up,” a man said from behind him.

“Damn it, David Blacksmith, I'm busy being a Villainous Dark Wizard. How the hell to do you expect me to tyrant properly with you interrupting? ”

“I don't give a willycox about that! You have it for me by this afternoon or I'll beat ten kinds of shit out of you.”

The flummoxed wizard twitched, his hands resting at his sides he turned back to face Barley jumping when he saw Barley's glistening Hero's Blade. He tripped, falling over backward into a large pile of what Barley hoped was mud. The note cards floated in the puddle next to him, taking on a the gray green color of the murky water.

“If you're the Dark Wizard, why is everyone ignoring us? Who sent the work order?” Barley asked.

“It's no use. I sent the work order. I thought if I could defeat an Epic Hero that I might get some respect around here. But everything is going wrong. No one cares,” the wizard's chin quivered, and tears began to roll down his face.

“There, there. It'll be okay,” Barley said, sheathing his blade, feeling uncomfortable.

“No, it won't. I'm just going to be old Rat Face Harry forever. This was my shot at the big time. I saved up for three months to hire you.”

Barley led the distraught wizard into a nearby alley so no one would see him cry. Once they reached the enclosed space, he was sure of one thing. The wizard had not fallen in mud.

“So, you're my employer. That's a problem. I don't get paid unless you say you're satisfied. But you hired me to kill you, so I don't know how this is going to work.”

“It's okay. I'll pay and tell your supervisor you did okay. It wasn't your fault I screwed everything up again.”

A thought occurred to Barley.

“A thought has just occurred to me. Why don't you come with me? The people of Bi-Tijicka have no respect for their cultural traditions or heritage. Why don't you come back to Southland with me? They know how to treat a Villainous Tyrant there. You can set up shop as a Dark Wizard, maybe get a small business loan to start things out. You can really do it right.”

“Really? I could go with you? That would be wonderful. I always wanted to start a necromancy business. I could be my own boss! I would start out small, just pillaging tiny villages and the like…” Harry's voice trailed off as he walked home to pack a bag.

Barley felt good. He was leaving Bi-Tijicka., and he had really helped out his client.

Sometimes being a hero was not about swinging a sword.

Sometimes it was just about helping people.