The sun cast crooked shadows on the stone walls of the inn, while a tall figure perched on the edge of the roof swung one leg lazily, watching the passersby. His face — even his eyes — were wrapped in white bandages. Only his mouth was uncovered; from there came occasional small whistles and sometimes songs he muttered to himself. His green, spiky hair swayed lightly in the breeze, and the loose Hawaiian-patterned shirt he wore seemed to mock the place he was in. His pants were as baggy as his shirt — comfortable but funny... just like him.
Servet chewed on a stale piece of bread and tossed a crumb to the ground. A cat approached, then immediately ran away.
"Shame on you, mister cat," he said with a slight laugh. "Don't worry, I get scared sometimes too."
He was like a child afraid of the dark trying to camouflage himself with bright colors. Cheerful by day, alert by night. Used to loneliness but craving a warm word or two. He didn't beat around the bush when he spoke; he said whatever he thought. Because of this, some found him rude. But some... strangely honest.
He took the feather from his shoulder and stared at it for a moment. Then, looking up at the sky, he muttered:
"I need to find a legend... a small piece of a target. Something I can punch."
A deep silence settled. The passersby looked at this bandaged young man with curiosity but didn't dare approach. He seemed unaware of this. Actually, he noticed but didn't care. Maybe he even liked it a bit.
But deep down... he was a kid wanting to fight legends. Maybe not to make a name for himself. Maybe just to prove he existed.
Suddenly, he focused. In the distance, on a dusty road, someone walked with fiery hair mixing red and yellow. A woman? A mage? A danger?
He smiled.
"Hah... now we begin."
And so...
The path of the boy wrapped in bandages was about to cross with the sound of flame.