There were men born for glory, heroes forged in battle, strategists whose minds shone like well-tempered steel blades. And then there was Hans.
His story did not begin with a prophecy or a noble lineage. No stars aligned in the sky, nor did gods whisper his name.
He was born in a humble village, the son of a hardworking, resilient woman who never surrendered to adversity, and of the absence of a father. From an early age, he learned that life was not easy, but also that there was always a way forward, whether by pure chance or coincidence.
From the very beginning, his life was marked by a peculiar kind of luck. It wasn’t exactly bad, as he always managed to get out of trouble; but it wasn’t good either, as his solutions were often as absurd as they were unpredictable.
At the age of eleven, while an infamous bandit was fleeing from the guards after robbing the local merchant’s house, Hans was chasing a runaway chicken from his coop. He tripped over a stone and tumbled down the hill like a sack of potatoes. His uncontrolled fall directly collided with the fugitive, knocking them both unconscious. When he woke up, young Hans found himself hailed as a hero, having—completely unintentionally—captured the most wanted criminal in the region.
At twelve, during the village fair, a young dragon—more frightened than dangerous—was descending upon the marketplace. At the sound of the commotion and the sight of its looming shadow, Hans startled suddenly. His hand trembled involuntarily, releasing the bucket of water he was carrying. The container flew in an elegant arc, and the water landed precisely on the dragon’s head, instantly extinguishing the small flame beginning to form in its mouth. Disoriented and humiliated, the reptile turned around and flew away, leaving the villagers in awe. They cheered for Hans, proclaiming him brave, though all he wanted was to recover his lost bucket.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
At thirteen, during a visit to the capital, Hans was late for his fencing class and was rushing through the streets when he accidentally collided with a thief who was fleeing after stealing a large amount of jewelry. In the confusion, they both fell to the ground and unknowingly swapped bags. The thief, believing he had secured his loot, fled with the wrong bag, while Hans got up without noticing the switch. When the guards caught the suspect and checked his belongings, they found only a couple of stale bread crusts, while Hans, unknowingly, was carrying the stolen jewels. Fortunately, the guards sorted out the situation and captured the thief. When Hans finally noticed the mix-up, he returned the bag, as his own contained his bread. As a reward, he was given a medal and a full month of fencing lessons paid for his good deed.
Thus began his journey, where his reputation as a walking disaster quickly grew. The soldiers used to say that wherever Hans went, misfortune followed closely… and somehow, inexplicably, so did victory. The title of "clumsy sergeant" wasn’t an actual rank, but rather an honorary nickname, as his comrades claimed his clumsiness was so absurd it deserved a distinction of its own. Hans had no army, no wealth, not even a horse that wouldn’t try to bite him. What he did have was armor with more patches than metal, a chipped sword that screeched when unsheathed, and an unshakable conviction that, no matter what, he had to cling to any opportunity to move forward—even if he never quite understood how he managed to do it.
And so his story begins, where clumsiness and daring luck intertwine in the prelude to underground races and extraordinary challenges, marking the start of a legend forged in the heat of fate.
