Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

off.”
    Samuel quickly grabbed the sword with both hands and dragged it away, without questioning the man’s order a second time.
    “And put something on your head, for God’s sake,” he heard the man bark at him.
    The sword was even heavier than he had expected, and Samuel could barely lift it from the ground. As soon as he was out of sight of the others, he dropped the weapon. It would simply be impossible for him to carry that thing around with him. Plus, he had nowhere to put it.
    Looking down, Samuel realized he was still wearing the garments that his sister had given him, only a few minutes ago … or maybe several centuries had passed since then. He also realized he was not wearing boots and that his socks were now so dirty they would have been perfect for a detergent commercial.
    Somehow, Samuel doubted there was any detergent around here, and decided to lose the socks completely. He had a million questions in his mind, but he decided that the first thing to do was to get a proper sword and find suitable shoes to protect his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was to walk around unarmed and risk stumbling upon the old man again. If he were spotted without a weapon, it might raise further suspicions and he certainly did not want to draw any more attention to himself. At least, until he could calm down and figure out what was going on.
    Leaving the claymore behind, Samuel walked over to a rack of shorter swords and examined them. Finally, he spotted a short gladius, which was already in a sheath and had a leather belt attached to it. He decided it was probably his best option. The sword was not that heavy, and Samuel was able to take a few steps without noticing it too much. As he was about to leave the rack, he spotted a small dagger and decided he might as well take that, too.
    Once the dagger was secured around his waist, he examined a few of the helmets displayed on a table next to him. They were all fabricated in the same, simple way, with leather and metal plates attached to them in a haphazard manner. He tried one on, but it kept sliding off, so he decided to forget about wearing a helmet. Hopefully, no one would take offense or yell at him again for not wearing one.
    Finally, he saw a few pairs of worn-out leather boots under the table and tried them on. The third pair did not fit his feet perfectly, but they were close enough that he could walk without risk of losing them.
    Once he was satisfied, Samuel decided to walk away from the table and the tent reserved for the equipment and gear. Upon reaching one of the dusty roads, he instinctively walked toward the center of the camp, hoping to would find answers there. Very quickly, he found himself looking around again, unsure of what to do next. The thought of being in a dream quickly passed through his mind once more, but he knew it was not the case. Everything was so real and genuine. Nevertheless, it should have been impossible for him to be in such a place.
    Had someone drugged him and then brought him here for some unclear purpose?
    As he was walking down the road, he tried to recall his last actions before he had woken up in this strange world. He remembered getting home from school, having dinner with Shantel and then going up to his room. He had sat down at the workbench to look at the dice and had inadvertently rolled them. A strange light had then appeared and spread across his room. That was the last thing he could remember.
    It could only be the dice! They must be responsible for his predicament.
    Searching the pockets of his leather pants, he found the small bones. Each face now had a strange symbol on it, burning softly, like the last cinders of a dying fire. What did it all mean? Had the dice transported him here, after he had rolled them? It seemed like the most logical explanation, but if that were the case, then one obvious question needed answering. How could he go back to his room? Back home? Should he cast the dice and hope for the best?
    Before he could decide what to do, someone grabbed him by the shirt and violently jerked him backward, throwing Samuel on his back.
    “Watch out!” said the young man who had pulled him. “You have to pay attention, friend, or you will get run over.”
    Looking past the stranger, Samuel saw a group of horses galloping his way, stomping the ground where he had been standing a few seconds before. About a dozen cavaliers passed in front of him, each of them wearing iron chainmail armor and