Katar and the Warriors of the Lost Treaty

"You see that?"

"Sure."

"He's big."

"Yes, he's big."

"That's an axe. He could cut a tree with that. Or my head off."

"Yes, he could do that."

"I don't want him to do that."

"No, I don't think you would like that very much."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, but I think we should go and talk to him. We need to be polite and not make him angry."

The old man smiled down at the young boy beside him. He was eating the sweet rice cakes he had been carrying with him. They were his favorite—the kind the boy's mother made for him when he was sick or sad. It had been some time since they'd last met, and even though the boy had grown so tall in such a short time, his eyes were still as wide as when he was little—when he used to chase after the butterflies in the fields around their village.

The two walked through the meadow together, avoiding the tall grass and flowers on their journey towards the imposing figure ahead of them. They had become good friends over the past few years, even though they lived many miles apart from each other—but then, who did not know of their friendship? If you asked anyone who lived in town about the strange old man and his young companion, they would tell you about how they spent most of their free time together in one way or another. Sometimes it was hunting or fishing trips into the mountains near their villages; sometimes it was just walking through the forest and looking at all of God's creatures; some days they would spend hours talking about things neither one had ever seen before.

The stranger they were approaching now was no different than any other day in terms of their activities—though this day would turn out to be more important than either of them could imagine. Neither one had expected their lives to change so much just by talking to this intimidating figure.

The two men approached slowly through the field and stopped a few paces away from where the third man stood. He was huge! His broad shoulders looked like they could carry a small hut on them, his arms looked strong enough to hack down trees with one swing of his axe. His belly hung far from his waistline, which showed he liked to eat well—but then again, who wouldn't like his cooking?

His face wasn't exactly ugly, although it was covered mostly by a beard that didn't look like it had been shaved in weeks—could be longer than that actually. His eyes were hidden behind thick eyebrows and his hair stuck out from underneath his helmet's rim like a lion's mane. He wore a black leather surcoat over his mail shirt and underneath that a light blue tunic that matched with his pants almost perfectly. On his feet he wore expensive looking boots made from deer skin and fine brown leather straps fastened them around his ankles tightly enough to keep water out during rainy days hunting in the woods nearby.

That axe! It was covered with dried blood and dirt caked onto it from all sorts of adventures it must have been on throughout its owner's life. The boy swallowed hard as he looked first at this massive creature standing before him with an unreadable expression on its face and then down at his own tiny hand intertwined with that of his friend's as if he wanted to hold onto something warm and welcoming just to feel safe again after seeing this beast standing before them ready to take their heads off with a single swing of its mighty weapon… But then again… If this warrior wanted to kill them both right there where they stood now… Would there have been anything either one could do about it?