On the 12th of May 1515, in the grand capital of England, a rainy day cast its gloom over the city. The old cobblestone streets were covered in muddy tracks left behind by the carriages that traversed them daily. Amidst these filthy roads, a tall man with a muscular frame stood out. His hair was a striking golden hue. A rare sight for the ordinary citizens of London, for this man was far from ordinary. Not only his hair possessed a golden sheen, but his eyes as well. They defied the conventions of typical eye colours, neither blue nor brown nor even green. No, they, too, appeared to be a radiant shade of gold. How could it be? Was it a birth defect, perhaps? That seemed a likely possibility. Or could it be the result of some enchantment? That explanation would undoubtedly fit the man’s attire. He donned a blue linen coat. The belts of which dangled around freely in the air. His shirt was neatly fastened around his torso and boasted a vibrant shade of grey. Adorning his left hip was a sword, its pommel adorned with a gleaming golden diamond., a jewel whose worth exceeded that of the entire block where the man found himself. Yet he didn’t show any fear that someone might try to pilfer it. How could they, after all? This man’s physique made a cow look like a tiny, innocent ant. Around his neck hung a peculiar ornament, more than just a mere necklace. It was an amulet. This amulet bore a multitude of intricate symbols. Inscrutable to any observer. At its centre, an emblem caught the eye. A blue shield with a golden bridge at its core, surrounded by a circular arrangement of three golden stones, representing the magic of the Elements, Arcane magic and the most powerful of all, the magic of the Runes. Golden flourishes adorned the shield with two swords aligned diagonally on both edges. Atop the shield, a proud golden knight faced to the right. On the front portion of the shield, a parchment held a Latin motto: “Virtus ad Auro” meaning “Virtue per Gold”. People stared at the man, as he passed through them, indifferent to their curious gazes. He continued through the rain, finally arriving at a pub named “Liquid Joy”. Despite the singing and yelling emanating from within, he paid little attention. Taking a sharp right, he entered the establishment, finding it seemingly occupied. The wooden floors squeaked with every step, the walls showed signs of fading colour, and the bar had its share of drunken patrons. The attendant appeared frustrated, but he tried his best to remain composed.
© Ioannis Argyropoulos 2023-08-18