Tales from Mortia: Rilly

Epilogue

"The end."

The man finished his tale just as he finished his large mug of beer. The patrons of the tavern shared glances, unsure of what to say. Finally one near the back cleared his throat.

The man sitting at the centre of attention bulged with muscles. He carried a large sword on his back and had enough scars to suggest he was not afraid to use it. His clothes were well worn and it was obvious the man was well-travelled. There was no doubt he was some kind of warrior or hero. No one interrupted his story and only a fool would question him.

"That's ... quite a story," the throat-clearer finally said.

"It's true," said the man as he stood up from his chair.

"But it sounds impossible," said the throat-clearer. "Why should we believe that?"

He suddenly found himself sitting alone. The other people sitting around him shuffled away as one being. He looked around at them before turning his attention back to the man with bulging muscles. The story-teller now stood over him and looked down. The throat-clearer gulped, afraid he had made a mistake.

"Ah … "

"Trust me," said the man with the sword. He spun around and strode out of the tavern, his cape billowing out behind him. It made him seem very important.

"What a load of bunk," said the throat-clearer after a few moments of silence.

The bartender shook his head. "You don't know what that was, do you?"

"Just some muscle-head with no brains like all the others."

"Actually he wasn't just another hero," said the bartender as he wiped a glass. "He's the hero."

Everyone in the tavern shared amazed glances before turning to the bartender.

"You mean … ?"

The bartender nodded. "Son of Dave and Zel. That was Delon."