Tell me, my student.... what is the difference between a TRUE Hero, and the person many just call a hero?
"I don't know, sir."
It is their heart. For a True Hero does not seek fame or fortune. They do not seek to harm others, no matter what they appear. Their only desire is to aid others whenever possible, and the knowledge they could help be their only reward.
The ones far too many tend to call 'hero'.... are usually far too interested in coin and blood. -- Anon Guest
Yrsa had traveled for half a year to find him, and was immediately disappointed. Grey hair. A straw hat made with holes for his horns. Tatty old clothing that really should have been thrown in the midden instead of the rag pile. Patched and stained and absolutely horrible. Even his sandals were past due to be thrown out. And he was busy working with his hands.
This couldn't possibly be the Thrice-Sworn King, conquerer of nations, instigator of so much peace and inspiration of so much fear.
There was a miniature goat slumbering nearby, only the twitching of her leg told Yrsa that the animal was dreaming and not dead.
She said, "My pardon, sir. I think someone's been playing with me. They told me you are the Thrice-Sworn King?"
He said, "I should get geese." A glance at the goat. "Ah, but you are getting on, aren't you, schatz?" He switched arms at his kneading. Focused his attention on her. "I've been retired for decades, Fraulein. I haven't been kinging for quite a long time."
"Are you him?"
"To my regret, ja. Today is my ink day. I don't teach the Art of Shadows on Ink Day. Go find one of my Adepts, as meine Haschen is taking care of the cheese and cider for me."
"That's... not why I came to find you," said Yrsa. "I want to be a hero. And I want to learn from the biggest one."
"Oh, so you want fame and fortune. Power and glory and gold. The crown of a conqueror and renown through history for your deeds? A golden bed and a golden throne? Lackeys at your beck and call?"
"Yes, please," said Yrsa.
He said, "Dummkopf. That's not being a hero, that's being a menace. Come back when you want to be a real hero."
She had no idea what that meant. Only that she'd been refused.
Yrsa fled in tears and fetched up by a fountain, letting the mist from the pouring water disguise her shameful tears. People had thrown coins into the basin, each one a copper for a wish. No wish in all the world would help her now.
"What ho! A maiden in distress? I'm meant to be further afield before I go a-rescuing." The statement came with blue hands entering her field of vision.
He was walking on them. Entirely upside-down. Dressed in performer's motley and all over with bright, jingling bells. Another blue Hellkin. They were all over these mountains. Far, far younger than the hero king she'd sought, he had a bright red strip of cloth wrapped around his left horn and tied in a big, soppy bow.
Great. Fan-godsdamned-tastic. She'd attracted a clown.
"I don't want to be rescued! I want to do the rescuing!" She splashed water at him, which he of course dodged. Yrsa couldn't even save herself from mortification. Which only made things worse.
"There goes my line about turning frowns upside-down," he sighed. He wove an illusion of ordinary clothing around himself and sat -normally- a respectable distance away. The soppy bow remained. "Is this better? If you care to share your trouble, I care enough to at least listen."
"I left home to be a hero. My only fate back in Mudwater is to be a pigwife. I never wanted that for myself. I want respect. I want glory and praise and recognition. And the best man to teach me just... called me an idiot."
"You've read a few too many romances," said the clown. "That's not being a hero, that's the results of being heroic. That's what heroes get at the other end. If they're lucky enough to survive."
"You're not helping," Yrsa growled. "What do I have to do to get him," a loose gesture towards the otherwise ordinary farmhaus, "to teach me how to be a hero?"
He looked to the house and grinned. "Oh... Grandad is it? Ha! Do you want to hear the most heroic thing I saw him do?"
"You're way too young to have seen him slay giants," said Yrsa.
"Oh this was even bigger than giant slaying. He stood on a stage and let Gramma stick him with an ivory needle. And then stayed on open display for a year and a day." At her complete non-understanding, he told the story of the introduction of Innoculation to the populace. The ivory needle was a key component of the spellwork, as well as people infected with the disease in question.
Grandad - the Thrice-Sworn King - was one of the rare few isolated enough to have never had any of the common childhood diseases. He'd never had either red-rash, nor swellneck, smallpox, or whooping cough. So he was the perfect demonstration that the spell was safe to work on anyone at any age. Grandma - the Druid Queen - had worked the spell on Grandad for each ailment. A puncture for every single one.
He remained there after the demonstration, so anyone thinking it fraud could walk up to him and see his pinpricks. All day with his shirt off, and walking around in just a vest thereafter. He let people poke, prod, and feel him for a fever. His biggest complaint was that he had to stay off his favourite devilfruit for the entire ordeal.
"That's the thing about being heroic," said the devilborn who'd introduced himself as Elf. "You don't do it for the power or the glory. You certainly don't do it for the gold. That's just being a mercenary. You do it just to help someone have one better day. And if you can do it, a whole better life. And you never try to make it better by your standards. Those standards might not fit 'em." Elf grinned a very Thrice-Sworn King smile. "Doesn't stop you offering all th' same."
"Wise words from a clown and a prince," managed Yrsa.
"Words I'm trying to live by on my Erforschungzeit. I had planned to give Grandad a kiss goodbye before I set off Adventuring. Will you be all right, miss?"
"I have a lot to think about, but yes. I think I'll be all right."
She did think about it, and found the Druid Queen pressing curds into moulds in the house's dairy. There, she said, "Pardon, ma'am... but I'd like to learn this spell of Innoculation from you. I'm told you're the best."
If she wanted to be a hero, saving babies from the ravages of disease felt like a decent start. She could work her way up to Maidens in Distress.
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