Sid and Harry, an unnamed tale

That was the last straw.
“You can NOT be serious! Seventh time you've won, in a row!” Sid yelled.
“Let's just say I'm lucky.” Harry grinned.
“You must be cheating. You're using magic to see my cards.”
“No, I'm using logic,” Harry explained, “If logic is magic to you, I'm not surprised you're stuck as a guard.”
“And you're not?”
“Ah, it's only temporary, as you know.”
It was in fact the eighth time Harry Williamson had beaten Sidney Rogerson at whist that day. But the exact figure wasn't what Sid was worried about. He was more worried about it not going any higher.

This was Sid's third month guarding the vault door in Castle Foxden. He was well into his twenty-first summer, and had benefited from something few people of his social standing had ever had: schooling. He could read, albeit slowly. Quite young for a guard, some thought, but no-one was bothered about competence. All guards needed was discipline, and the ability to feign competence.
Whatever. Sid was glad for the roof over his head, the food he got, and the small wages.
He was proud to have some coins stored away safely near his bunk in the barracks. Not everyone was able to trade in electrum, and he was slowly but steadily getting towards owning a farm, like he'd always wanted.

So he hated having to give some up due to a bet.
He passed a couple of the coins to Harry, who pocketed them with a sarcastic smile.
“All into the fund, eh?”

Harry was a strange character, Sid had come to realise. The son of a rich, poncey lord of somewhere, he'd had a good education. He'd decided to study magic, and Father had obliged, sending him to a magic academy. But Harry dropped out, believing the expensive tutoring to be against the free spirit of magic. His parents were against it, and so he was now building up some cash to pay a mentor for continued magic lessons, without his parents' financial help.

Harry shuffled the cards calmly, yet they slipped around in his hands like water. He said, “While I shuffle, how about you stand up and patrol a little, look like we're actually GUARDING this vault.”
“Sounds fine to me,” replied Sid, who stood up straight, and mocked a forced march towards the vault door, stopping in front for effect, then turning to the corridor, saluting so hard that he knocked his metal skull cap to the floor with a clatter.
Harry burst out laughing, and Sid knelt to place it back on his medium-long blonde hair. He turned around, and marched to his chair at the small, round table, sat down, and picked up the hand Harry had dealt him.
“THREE electrum,” Sid said, placing three coins on the table. A week's wages.
“Three it is,” Harry replied with a terrible grin, meeting Sid's bet.

A crash came from down the corridor. Shouting followed. It was just the kitchen staff yelling at each other, dropping metal platters...
Sid frowned, and took his ace of hearts, and laid it on the -
“Quiet, Richard!” a deep male voice cried out in the corridor.
“NOW who's making noise, idiot?!” another male voice.
“Not me!”
“Who's the one shouting then?”
“Shut up! BOTH OF YOU!” a third, female voice came echoing down the hallway.
“Halt!” a fourth voice came, that Sid recognised as a fellow guard, one he'd never liked.
“Gromaesh!” shouted the second voice, and the guard yelled with a loud crack.
Sid jumped to his feet, picking up the shortsword from the ground. Harry soon followed, putting himself behind the corner of the corridor's intersection with the guardroom. Sid crossed the corridor  rapidly and positioned himself identically on the other side.

Footsteps approached.

“Sid,” Harry murmured, “If this lot wants to break into the vault, we're screwed.”
“Why?” Sid asked.
“They outnumber us. I think one is a professional mage. And we're guards. Any fictional situation with non-descript guards protecting something, the guards will die.”
“Really...?”
“Yes.”
“We aren't non-descript.”
“No. I do some magic. YOU, however, are non-descript.”
“Your face is non-descript.”
“We don't really have time for this.”

The footsteps drew nearer.

Sid peeked around the corner. There were the three intruders. One, a stocky, tall man was wearing a sleeved chainmail hauberk, with tanned leather trousers, wearing a cloth cap, a longsword soaked in blood in hand. The second wore a ridiculous slightly-pink sleeved robe, dragging along the floor, and a matching flat cap on his head.
The woman was equipped similarly to the stocky man, yet without the cap, her long, dark hair waving behind her as she walked, a torch in her left hand and a very well polished longsword in her right hand.
The mage spotted Sid, and calmly said “Vibivaesh,” clenching his left hand in a fist, then pointing a finger at him.
A beam of pink light hit the stone wall behind Sid, who ducked back into the corner, sending pretty sparks flitting around with a buzzing sound.

“Yep, he's a mage alright,” Sid nodded at Harry, “I hope you have a plan.”
“None at all,” Harry replied.
“If you lay down your weapons, we'll knock you out and leave you alive!” the woman declared.
Harry murmured, “I don't know if this will work, but it's our best chance. When I tell you to, yell 'nadaesh', and clench your fist, then-”
“Point at one of them with my finger.”
“Yep. We're going to lure them into security.”
Harry tossed his sword into the corridor, and Sid did too, despite his instincts.
“That's all we have!” Harry said, “We don't get very good funding and equipment here I'm afraid.”
“That'll be fine,” the mage nodded. The intruders stepped forward, and the two guards stepped into the middle of the corridor.

“Now, Sid.” Harry whispered.
“Now?”
“Now.”
The two yelled “Nadaesh!” together, and both pointed at the mage, who raised his eyebrows in surprise and was thrown back a dozen feet down the corridor in an explosion of orange and lime-green sparkles, falling to the floor head-first with a crack.
He might have been dead, for all Sid knew. But he had other things on his mind. Such as the four-pound iron sword swinging at his head.
“How are you feeling, Sid?” shouted Harry, jumping back to avoid a lunge by his brutish attacker.
“Fine, why?” he replied, diving through the woman's legs to reach his sword.
“Interesting! You must have some-” he began, pausing as he ducked under another sword swoop, “-gift for magic!”
“Nice!” Sid yelled, grabbing the two shortswords and whirling to face his attacker. He parried one slash with his right-hand blade, then tossed the left-hand sword over towards Harry, “Incoming!”
Harry ducked, and the sword clattered to the floor next to him. He grabbed it and hacked at his attacker, slicing his knee and causing him to grit his teeth as some blood splattered the wall.
The two adventurers positioned themselves back to back.
Sid grinned, and shouted, “Nadaesh!” holding his hand out as before. The woman and the brute were sent flying in an explosion of green light, the brute smashing into the vault door with a crash, the other warrior's impact softened by his body.
Harry jumped at the occasion and placed his sword on the woman's throat.
“Good night,” he said, as he murmured “Vibivaesh,” and she fell unconscious.

Sid felt slightly drained, and picked up the woman's longsword, leaning on it, “Now I'm quite tired.”
“We did well.”
“Yep. Hopefully we'll get a raise for this.” Sid said.
Harry laughed.
Sid walked slowly over to a bell in the wall and rang it, then sat down.
“See, Harry! We AREN'T non-descript guards after all!”
“True,” the other guard replied, as he sat down and picked up his whist hand, “Now where were we...”

Shouts came down the corridor, “All seven of them are dead!”
A group of half a dozen guards came running down the corridor, and stopped in surprise at seeing three unconscious strangers and two guards calmly playing cards.

That was the day that Sid realised he could do something more interesting than becoming a farmer.
“Adventurer” had never been his first idea of a profession choice, but here he was, now, about two summers later.

“And that's the story of why I started,” he said, taking a bite from a chicken wing, sat cross-legged in front of the campfire with his fellow adventurers.
His three companions were Harry, Annie Juliasdaut and Leonard de Harefield. Annie was a young woman well versed in fighting with swords, and quite a nimble pickpocket. Leonard, however, was brought up in a family of nobles and was Harefield County Archery Contest champion three summers running. He was lacking one of the advantages most nobles have over “common folk”, and that was money. His family had lost their treasures over generations of gambling and greed.
Not that the family was doing badly, as he had been able to buy his masterwork yew longbow. But nonetheless...
“Wait a minute,” Annie exclaimed, “that doesn't tell us anything about WHY, it tells us about HOW you became an adventurer.”
“I don't follow, Annie.”
“Well, it's thanks to an inner gift and knowledgeable friends,” she nodded at Harry, “that you were able to. I just wonder WHY.”
“Ah,” Sid grinned, “That's another story.”
“But you said that-”
“Let a man have his secrets. For now at least.”
Annie frowned, taking a bite from her chicken leg.
“We never finished that game of whist though,” Harry added, “The sergeant arrived afterwards and congratulated us, giving us both about fifty electrum as a bonus!”
Leonard whistled, “Excellent...”
“Forty-five of mine went into this nice shield,” Harry smiled, tapping the round, wooden buckler, “and it's been well worth it, especially that time we visited Eagleperch, eh Sid!”
Sid laughed, “Ah, my friends, we will tell you another tale...”

...Sid and Harry, side by side, stared at the huge gates into the walled fortress-town of Eagleperch.
“Bah, arrogance,” Harry muttered, “Making up for small-”
“Stop complaining,” replied Sid, “We might get a job here.”
At the time, both still had their guard equipment, with a little extra. Sid carried the woman warrior's longsword, bright and shiny, in a makeshift sheath at his belt, and Harry had his small dark buckler strapped to his back.
They strolled down the streets, quite empty for a settlement of this size, and Sid nudged Harry.
“Harry... everyone seems to have noticed something we haven't...”
“They're all hiding,” Harry looked around, “all taking to shelter.”
“We ought to copy them... we're sitting ducks out here.”
“Zametchaiou,” Harry said, holding a hand in front of him and closing his eyes, as orange light swirled around his head like mist.
A moment passed... and he yelled, “GET DOWN!”

Sid threw himself to the ground and Harry swirled around, shield in hand, there was a “thunk” as an arrow hit the buckler's boss, bouncing off to clatter lightly on the cobbles, a second falling harmlessly to the floor near Harry's foot.
“There's an inn behind me!” Sid shouted, “We can hide in there!”
They both took off at a sprint as arrows rained down, two by two, and threw themselves through the doorway, both crashing to the ground in a heap as the patrons looked on with curiosity.
They both got up calmly, and Harry dusted himself down, tying his buckler to his back, and strode up to the barkeep with a natural smile, as if nothing had happened.
“Two ales and two small rooms for the night, please.”
“That'll be two electrum.”
Harry flicked two coins to the barkeep, who went over to a cask with two flagons.
Sid arrived moments later, “I wanted mead.”
“Too late. They don't have any here anyway.”
Sid shrugged, “Oh well. So, what do you think about whoever attacked us?”
The barkeep arrived behind them with the two ales.
“You're adventurers, right? Do you mind taking care of them ruffians?”
Harry grinned, and set his arms down on the bar, “Ruffians, eh? A gang?”
“Aye. They're terrorising the area, with their racketing.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, “Why don't the militia deal with this problem?”
“They don't care as long as they get their bribes.”

Sid noticed two hooded men wearing studded leather jackets, short swords in hand, enter the tavern and head in their direction.
He placed his right hand on the pommel of his sword and nudged Harry. The barkeep took a few steps back and went over to another patron, pretending to have had nothing to do with the two strangers.
The newcomers strode up to Sid, both scowling.
“Adventurer. Leave now, or your life will be forfeit.”
Harry had disappeared, Sid suddenly noticed. Alone against the two thugs.
“And why should I?”
“Because the Gang is telling you to. We don't like strangers here.”
Sid smiled, and said, “Why don't we just have a drink and forget our troubles?” and smashed one of the thugs' nose with his ale tankard.
The other was surprised that Sid even dared. But not for long. A resounding crash announced the arrival of Harry with a barstool, grinning from ear to ear.
“We might be out of our depth here,” his face turned serious.
“Aaaaah, we'll be fine, mate,” Sid replied, and they-

“YOU knocked someone out?” Annie roared with laughter, “I don't believe you, Harry!”
“Hah, I never cease to amaze!” he winked.
Leonard finally spoke, “He was halfway through, Annie, let him finish!”
Annie scowled, and Harry grinned, shaking his head, “Obviously Annie doesn't want to hear the rest, so we'll pass on to another tale then. What's happened to you, Leonard?”
Leonard pondered that for a moment, and his face lit up.
“I am to tell you a tale of valour, a tale of perseverance... a tale of one man and his bow...”
Harry sighed heavily, copied by the others as Leonard launched once more into his story, for about the eighteenth time since the four met...

THWACK! A beautiful sound!
The arrow lodged itself in the wooden board target, beautifully centred, in the bullseye.
The crowd cheered, roaring the name of its hero... Leonard, Leonard, Leonard!!!
Two arrows left... the solitary figure pulled another arrow to his bow, drawing the string and breathing out. A deep breath, emptying his lungs.
The second smashed into the target in a perfect vertical line, in between the edge and the bullseye.
The onlookers frowned and sighed in disappointment...
But Leonard smiled and winked at them, drawing another arrow and letting loose.
Breaths were held... This was the deciding arrow. The line between winning and losing the  Harefield County Archery Contest.
It seemed like the arrow shot across the yard like a lightning bolt. It smashed into the target at the bottom half, literally snapping the target in two vertically, shards of wood sprayed everywhere, and the crowd went wild!
Leonard raised his arms to the crowd! They cheered his name! He kissed his bow, and jumped in the air, fist-

Leonard was interrupted by a loud snore from Harry. All three companions had gone to their tents to sleep.
He scowled and crept over to his tent for the night.

COMMENTS:
Story background: There is none. Yet. I know as much about Sid and Harry's universe as you readers do.          
The language for magic is a lightly bastardised Russian, directly translated.
My original idea for this came from a blog post on some webcomic or other, commenting on guards in video games, RPs, films, books and almost any fiction, and their propensity for dying quickly and in great numbers, à la red-coat.
This is the guards' revenge xD (which turned into something bigger)