Chapter 1: Of Thieves and Tales (Part 3/7)

The vendor’s shouts grew fainter, but it wasn’t their first time stealing – they knew the guards would come looking for them. They didn’t stop until they reached the far side of the square, ducking into the shadows of an old stone bench.

An elderly man sat hunched on the bench, his face weathered like old leather, etched with deep lines from years spent under sun and sea. His wild gray beard brushed his chest, and a frayed hat shaded his sharp, twinkling eyes. He was called Old Jareth. Whether this was his name his parents gave him, no one knew. He was the town’s Storyteller of tales of myth and adventure. He wasn’t a large man, but there was something about him that made people stop and listen. He wore an old cloak, patched and worn, draped loosely over his thin frame, with hints of well-worn clothes peeking out beneath. Yet, despite his ragged appearance, Jareth carried an air of mystery – like a once-great adventurer now content to watch the world from the sidelines.