The sun light peered into the mostly empty tent that Desmond was laying in. He was staring at the top of the tent with no emotion. The other cots next him were still empty and unchanged. Desmond had a mostly apathetic look to him. His face appeared gaunt and colorless. Morning call was made and he never moved from his tent. Midday past and Desmond still hadn’t moved once. In his hand, he was fidgeting with Johnathan’s locket. The only thing on his mind was him replaying the events of the battle and the words the Prince told him in his vision by the stream.

  He thought back on when he was a kid always playing “hero knight” with the other kids in town. Desmond would always try to act like his father pretending to go on grand adventures and fighting monsters, orcs, demons, and other foes children make up from the stories they’ve learned about heroes in myth.

  Desmond murmured to himself ponderously, “Hero… I always wanted to be one… Why did he say I was the ‘hero’ of this battle? I’m no hero… Albert was.”

  The wizard, Tom, was walking around camp with General Renault, the new commander of the entire Southern Army. He was the second in command under Prince Albert. Renault was a rough looking man with an expression of one who is done with everyone’s nonsense. Although short and stocky, he was a respected man from noble lineage. His grey hair was slicked back neatly, but his bushy and unkempt beard made him appear like an aged grizzly bear. He had a faded scar along his left cheek and lower lip. His left leg had a subtle THUD with every step he took and yet there was no limp. He wore all black with a red shawl draping his neck and gambeson top. He was drinking a cup of coffee with heavy, bloodshot eyes.

  He was a career military man. From first glance, one would not suspect him to be a noble. He was a respected and tough leader who was well known amongst those in high court for his strategic mind and his disdain for the other nobles despite being one. However, he knew that he was not one for high court due to his brutally honest nature and blunt views of the world. He was not one for diplomacy, but he was smart enough to understand his faults and see the need for diplomacy when needed by forging strategic alliances and friendships with those who thrive in diplomatic social settings.

  “We should be done cleaning the battlefield in the next few days… Fuck, this coffee is horrible! Fucking mess is still being cleared out to separate the men from the orcs out there. A lot of ‘unable to be recognized’ bodies to be sorted out… Fucking disheartening. We should have arrived sooner,” said Renault as he was sipping his coffee in a terse voice. “Too many good men dead.”

  Tom replied softly as he scratched his white beard, “Battles are always a mess to clean up. No time for rest with a heavy heart. It’s not your fault you arrived late. Fate is cruel with its timing… What’s the count at now?”

  “Yeah… Three thousand nine hundred and twenty two dead or wounded or missing thus far. Just under a thousand wounded for now… Possibly half of that will be dead by end of this week… A third of the whole were also vaporized in that blast as well, but we are still confirming … Those were some of my best men under the Prince.”

  “Yes they were… They were all brave.”

  “Now, I have to try to get an official final count and figure out the pay to the families… Also need to figure out how to replace the men. Had to give an impromptu lesson to the newly certified mages for this army. Taught them the reality of this war. Those kids sobered up quickly. I think I made two of them cry.”

  “Well, they are all around eighteen years old. I was the same age when I was certified to fight too. Besides… Best they learn now. This war isn’t ending anytime soon… Look at it this way: My staff and I will be advising them along with the more experienced mages once they get assigned their units, eh?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You seem troubled.”

  “Yeah… Too many damn condolence letters to write and not enough time to ready replacements.”

  “You’re annoyed by this?”

  “No… My hand hurts. Just need a break from writing the letters and the admin staff need a break as well. They’re far too young to deal with all of that… Also, I know the doctors, nurses, and the handful of clerics we have are still struggling with the wounded and dying. I’ll have the medical teams rotate in shifts to give each of them a break. They deserve it.”

  “So you do care after all? I thought most of the leaders in this army were only in it to advance themselves in higher court.”

  “Those fucking bastards are better off dead than being here. But I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to call them out on that trifling selfishness… Hmm. I was once one of those bastard officers you know?”

  “I remember when we first met and I thought very little of you. But you have grown to be a good friend, Renault.”

  “Ha! That’s why I like you, Tom,” Renault chuckled spilling coffee on his beard. “You never hesitate to call out others.”

  “Thank you,” Tom smirked with a long sigh. “So news of Sir Desmond? What do the doctors say of him?”

  “Sigh… He has a few broken ribs and mild concussion, but will recover nonetheless. Clerics were too busy to treat him. Lots of scrapes and cuts, mostly old wounds. Kid’s been through the wringer with the amount he has. Some of the nurses fancied him. Did not expect him to be ‘cute’ or something like that.”

  “Interesting?”

  “Overall they are surprised he made it out of both blasts in one piece… They say that he never said a word to them about anything. He got up once the nurses and doctor were done initially, bathed, and sat over by that stream over there. He also stood outside his tent staring into it for a good while. He eventually went in and sat down… He just sat there in silence for most of the night; so a few officers and MPs have told me… I don’t blame him. Poor kid.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Barely twenty two. Birthday was two weeks ago. He still has two more years of service. Twenty two and he’s considered an ‘old vet.’ Shit… Already two years of service and barely half a year into this one and he’s been in three major battles.”

  “Where’s his tent?”

  “Just down there at the end on the right… Tom… Don’t force him. You know? We’re expected back at the capital in the next two weeks. I know the funeral will be the week before we arrive. Tell me how the funeral is and I’ll come for the ceremony the week after with Sir Desmond for his award and knighting. I’m sure the king will want to speak privately with him about the battle and about… Yeah.”

  “I understand,” said Tom with a knowing look.

  He shook General Renault’s hand and walked towards Desmond’s tent. Renault walked away and poured out the rest of his coffee as he cursed to himself about paperwork and how bad the coffee tasted. Tom walked into Desmond’s tent saying hello.

  Desmond didn’t say a word. He laid still whilst fidgeting with the locket in his hand acting as if Tom didn’t exist.

  Tom sat across from Desmond and said, “Glad to see you’re awake. You know who I am? You can call me Tom.”

  “…”

  “I took it upon myself to bring you some food and water. I’m just going to place them… Here on this cot I’m on.”

  “…”

  “You know? I have seen and lived through many hardships in my life. But I have never gone through what you went through.”

  “…”

  “I’m aware that you are a very experienced footman despite how young you are and for how short your service has been so far… Damn war makes every day be filled with nothing but endless experiences… I wish I can tell you something that can help you with your pain. I wish I could say…”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “Why are you here,” Desmond said coldly. Tom silently adjusted himself a bit and rubbed his fingers. He placed his staff gently on the cot he was on and sat quietly for a moment.

  Desmond turned away from Tom and asked again, “Why?”

  “I wanted to see how you were doing and some of the officers were concerned about you. You haven’t left the tent yet and it’s past midday.”

  “I just want to lay here and do nothing for now, sir.”

  “Okay… Mind if I keep talking?”

  “…”

  “Do you blame yourself?”

  “Come again,” Desmond asked rather angrily. “What’re you on about?”

  “Do you blame yourself for why you’re still alive and the others aren’t?”

  “Hmm,” said Desmond in an annoyed tone.

  He rolled to his side wincing a bit from his ribs. Tom noticed this and leaned over. He muttered something under his breath as his left hand glowed bright yellow hovering over Desmond’s right side. Desmond was about to ask what was Tom doing, but the pain instantly went away from Desmond’s right side.

  Desmond sat up asking, “What did you do?”

  “Your ribs are fine now. Along with a few of those deep scars on your lower back.”

  “Thank you… But why?”

  “Can’t an old wizard do some magic and show empathy?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Do you blame yourself? For why you are still alive while the rest are not? I ask this not be rude, but to see if you are truly okay and are haunted by what happened,” said Tom with a stern face.

  Desmond looked away for a bit. He didn’t want to look at Tom because he knew that Tom was right. Desmond slowly nodded his head. Tom looked at Desmond with apologetic eyes.

  “I know that feeling,” said Tom as he leaned forward to place his hand on Desmond’s side. “You can’t blame yourself for everything and for everyone. They were good men. Cherish them. Not by how they died, but by remembering who they were and the sacrifices they made… I’m sorry Desmond. I truly am.”

  Tom leaned back on the cot and pulled out a pipe. His left index finger turned to fire as he placed it inside the pipe. He took a few puffs and looked into the empty tent. He said, “Overtime though, the memories begin to fade, but they never truly leave. You just have to manage them. I know that you know this already… You can’t bottle it up inside of you forever… I tried that when I was your age. I was once…”

  Tom paused and looked out of the tent. Desmond finally looked over at Tom. Tom’s eyes began to well up slightly.

  Tom then said, “I was once part of a mercenary group. More or less an excuse for a dumb, young mage fresh out of the academy to go on adventures… Yeah. I was part of a group of six. All were of different back grounds, race, and skill set. They were… My best friends. My only friends at the time… I was the youngest amongst them barely as old as you are now and the only academically trained magic wielder. There was another, but she was… Well, she was her own thing…We were hired to track down and kill a dragon after we gained a reputation as monster and demon slayers. Oh, those were scary yet memorable times”

  Tom was lost in thought and Desmond perked up a bit intrigued by the eccentric yet warm old man in front of him.

  Tom continued, “Anyway, we are in brutal combat and I was scared the whole time. I hesitated and saw the leader of my group get torn to ribbons because I wasn’t fast enough to pull him out of the dragon’s way. The rest were killed or wounded badly, but they still fought… The dragon was eventually killed by the rest of us that could stand, but not without a price. Only three of us survived… Yet, there I was… Unscathed for the most part. While the others were dead or wounded badly… I could do nothing. I could heal small wounds, but not torn limbs and guts. Not revivification… At least not at the time… I cared for all of them dearly. There was one I did care about a lot more, but I never openly said it… I still see her face from time to time.”

  Tom took a moment to reminisce a bit. He continued, “She was a half-Elf paladin. Such a beautiful woman; you would not have thought she was a warrior for hire. She looked like Elvan royalty in my eyes… Angel… She was the only one who didn’t treat me like a fool for not knowing the world. She took the time to listen to me because she wanted to learn about the magical arts and the why of it all… Fifty years since that day… She saved me from the dragon’s tail whip. I was… Too slow and too scared… Fifty years… I still see here face sometimes. I still hear her last words from time to time.”

  Tom in that instant, remembered seeing the half-Elf woman dive in front of him to absorb most of the impact from a dragon’s tail whip. Her shield was instantly destroyed as her broken body collided with Tom’s. Both of them hit the wall of a massive cave leaving a small crater. Tom was mostly fine, but scraped up. She was not fine. She was broken and had blood coming out of her mouth and nose. Her left arm holding the broken shield was mangled and broken in multiple places. Somehow she was still alive, though barely hanging on.

  Young Tom looked at her with fear and a shameful look for being slow. She just smiled back at him and said in a soft and prim voice, “You’re still a slow poke, Tommy… But I got you.”

  “Mave – Mave! I’m… I’m sorry!”

  “You’re fine, love… You end this now.”

  “But I – I can’t! I’m just…”

  “Just believe in your power and you kill him. Remember that one spell? Alvara and two others are still standing, I believe. Save them! Okay? Please.”

  “Which spell though? I’m – I don’t want to lose you! I can you heal you right now! Please just hang on! I can’t lose you too!”

  “It’s fine! Save your mana for someone who needs it… Please… Do this one thing for me? Please…”

  “Which spell?”

  “Use that one on him with Alvara’s help. That stupid named one you’ve been practicing for months… Pelor’s Lightning Hammer Blast or something like that?”

  Tom shrugged with embarrassment in response. She smiled after spitting out blood and said weakly, “Tommy.” She placed her right hand delicately on his face leaving small streaks of blood from her fingers. “You got this, love… I believe in you… I love you, Sparks?”

  “Mave… I… Stay with us! MAVE!”

  Her smile dissipated as her eyes slowly closed and a tear streaked down her porcelain, bruised cheek.

  “TOM! We need you get over here now,” Alvara yelled from distance sending Tom back to reality.

  Tom found himself looking at Desmond teary-eyed. Desmond looked confused and somewhat understanding. Tom wiped his eyes and looked away for a moment.

  Tom remembered when he first saw her, Maven; a beautiful half-Elf woman in leather armor smiling at him when Tom first introduced himself to his adventuring party. She gave him a warm smile with kind eyes as she introduced herself cordially. A broad, shouldered human man in a black cloak was unimpressed by Tom, but she insisted on giving Tom a chance to prove himself. The man shrugged and shook Tom’s hand.

  A very pretty and bubbly high-elf woman budged in with her colorful, rainbow hair and multiple throwing knives hugging Tom as she made a grand entrance like that of a magician who appeared from a cloud of glittery smoke. A large half-orc man tenderly pulled the high-elf off of Tom whilst giving a fist bump to Tom as a way to introduce himself. A dwarf man with a blunderbuss rifle next to him was smoking a long pipe whilst he rolled his eyes at all this. The leader laughed and welcomed Tom to the group.

  “There I go again rambling on… I blamed myself and wallowed in my own pity for years. It wasn’t until a few years after the dragon slaying did I finally talk to someone about it. I just never talked… That was my problem. Keeping all my pain and fears inside tore me apart… I suppose everyone handles it differently. I would be lying if I said I don’t think about them… But I remember them for what they were and how they were. Not by how they died. Never blame yourself for it. Remember that. If you need to talk to anyone, then I’ll be here… I’ll be on my way now. Don’t forget to eat and drink,” Tom said warmly.

  Tom sat up and began exiting the tent. He stopped himself and said, “Oh and one more thing, Sir Desmond? In two weeks’ time we’ll be heading back to the capital. I’ll be gone for the Prince’s funeral this week. You and Renault will come the week after. General Renault wants you and I to go with me to see the king and attend the ceremony for the ‘Hero’ of the Southern Plains, which means it’s for you. You’re winning an award for your soldiering. I’ll let you know when we are to meet with Renault for discussing all of this… If ever you need to talk to me about anything and I mean anything... I’ll be there.”

  Desmond sat up and watched as Tom left the tent. Desmond sat still trying to make sense of what Tom told him.

  “Remember them… Seeing the king… The king,” Desmond thought to himself pondering why he was specifically asked to go with the general and the wizard to high court.

  He then thought about how he was the last human to be by the Prince’s side and that was why. It made the most sense to him, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was an hidden motive to this request. He wasn’t truly sure of it. A myriad of emotions were raging inside of him.

  “Why me? Why any of this? I’m no hero or anyone special… but why? Why do the gods do this? Why,” he thought to himself.

  He looked at his right hand noticing the faint blue light shining just enough for him to see. His stomach began to rumble and a slight pain hit his gut. He glared at the food parcels and water canteen Tom left for him with demanding eyes. There was half a loaf of bread wrapped in wax paper, a few large slices of salamis, a small chunk of cheddar, and a bowl of beef stew with chopped okra. There was also two rolled blunts of dragon sage next to the canteen.

  He grabbed the canteen and delicately took a sip from it and pocketed the blunts happily. He looked down at Johnathan’s locket and a wave of morose guilt washed over him. He pondered to himself, “I’m sorry John. I’ll try to tell her. But I don’t know if I can do it without… Well, you know what I mean… Fuck… I’m not ready am I? To meet the king... Why me, Pelor? Why fucking me? Sigh... Damn, I am hungry.”

  He picked up the bread and took delicate, slow bites as he savored the taste. Food never tasted so delicious before.