Runaway Hero and the Veteran

The dark clouds roll in quickly, blotting out the sun. As I turn to inspect the sky, it begins to drizzle. I can already tell that it will soon be storming hard. That’s just the feeling I get from the clouds. I expand the radius of my life sense as I cast a spell to protect me from the rain. All I need is to find the nearest stationary life sign that belongs to a person, preferably before the storm gets much worse. When I finally find one, I can already hear the crash of thunder. The storm poses no threat to me, but I am no longer a soldier, and so I don’t want to march through the rain.

I begin to run in the direction of that far off pulse, not letting my umbrella spell falter. Soon enough, far from the main road, I can see the light from the windows cutting through the storm. My spell for blocking the rain is quite a strange one, and I would rather not have any questions to answer, so I end it now. As the rain begins to strike me, I continue on walking towards the house. When I reach the front door, my clothes are soaked through. The cold and wet fabric sinks down into me. I knock on the door. From inside, I hear a man’s deep, rough voice.

“Can you please get that?”

I hear footsteps behind the door. The door opens, the light shooting out into the dark behind me. A woman stands on the threshold, trying to stay clear of any rain I might have brought with me. I assume she’s several years my senior. I lean in slightly closer, not wanting to raise my voice, but needing to be heard over the pattering of raindrops against the roof.

“The storm is quite strong. Would it be alright if I wait it out?” The woman leans back and looks to the side, though I can’t see who she looks at from here. She looks back to me after a moment.

“Come in.”

She takes a step back and I follow her inside. Standing just in front of the closed door, the sound of the rain still loud, I realize how wet I am. I’m dripping water everywhere. I had only gotten myself wet to make things easier for myself, but now I stand here and feel like a fool. I’m making a mess of these gracious people’s home all for the slightest convenience to myself.

Looking around the room, the house seems quite spacious. This room is wide, holding a kitchen, a dining table, and a sitting area. Set in a stone section of wall, a fire burns, giving the room an uncommon warmth and light. Adjoining this room are two more separate rooms. Now that I’m inside, I realize how strange of a house this is. I haven’t seen a real fire rather than a magical one since my short stay at the barracks, giving one strange thing already. But aside from that, it was obviously strange from the moment I first felt their presence. This house is in the middle of nowhere, completely isolated from anyone else by distance.

And then I see him, surely the owner of the other voice, sitting in a large, well cushioned chair. His head is bald, but his face is covered in a thick, dark beard. He wears a long sleeved shirt and full pants, but both flop out above where his joints should be. He looks cheerful. We make eye contact, then he begins to talk.

“Boy, it’s rude to keep your hood up indoors. And it’s soaking wet! I bet your shirt’s soaked too! Take ‘em off and hang ‘em by the fire. Can you be a dear and grab him a spare shirt of mine?” The woman starts moving towards one of the adjoining rooms.

“Hold on, I really don’t need all that.”

“Don’t be shy, I insist. It’s the least I can do now. So go on and strip!”

It seems there’s no way for me to get out of his whims. I unclasp my cloak and take hold of it. I approach the fire and notice that a contraption has already been set up for hanging something near the fire. I suppose they were drying clothes today, and were caught off guard when the storm suddenly began. I pull my wet shirt over my head, exposing the honed muscles covered in scars hidden beneath it. The man seems to react positively.

“Oh, good muscles boy! Are you a soldier?”

“I was. Were you once a soldier as well?”

“Indeed I was, in my youth. But I’ve never seen anyone with as many scars as you, boy!” I feel the slightest hint of suspicion in his voice. It makes sense. I doubt most people would even live getting some of them. But I don’t have anything I could say to assuage his doubts.

“I suppose I’m just prone to injury.”

The man doesn’t say anything in response. While we stay in silence, the woman returns with a shirt. I take it from her gratefully. It’s a button-up. As I button, I look at the man who this shirt belongs to. I can’t help but wonder if he still wears these shirts or if they sit unused. He notices something in my face and in my gaze, but doesn’t say anything. The woman looks between us.

“Well then, should we eat?” The man responds.

“We should. Would you be a dear and—” She cuts him off, already knowing what he’ll ask, and answers.

“Of course.”

She picks him up gently. His shirt fits me well, and I stand so far above her, but she can carry him with relative ease. How frail he must be now, and yet he seems content with himself. We gather at a table and eat. I don’t know when the last time I ate was, but it might have been at the farm. I’m happy I can break my fast in a place like this.

When we finish, the woman brings the man to his bed, then excuses herself and goes to her own. As she stands in the doorway, she looks at me.

“He asked for you. I think he wants to enjoy your company some more.”

I give her a nod and enter his room. A chair has been set up to face the bed where he lays. I take a seat and look at him. He looks back.

“Let’s talk. Soldier to soldier. This happened to me before you were born. Some demon blighted my arms and legs. By the time I was somewhere I could get treated, they were only able to amputate them. That was the campaign after I found my daughter too.”

“I see. Is it just you two?”

“No. I have a son too. A little older. He went off to join the army.” He has a complicated look on his face.

“Are you happy about that?”

“I’m happy that he wants to be like me, but I don’t like that it’s me he looks up to. I would rather he stay far away from the battlefield. But he hasn’t come back once in these past four years.” I already understand, and know that he understands even better, but neither of us want to admit it.

“I might’ve met him. Can you tell me about him?”

“He was always small, and a little on the slim side too. He had light blond hair. And he had the most beautiful smile and laugh. He looked nothing like me. I only wish he could’ve acted the part too.”

I do believe I know his son, by sheer chance. I met him four years ago, and he was among my first great failures. I’m almost certain, and so I cannot deny the truth any longer.

“Your son is dead. He died four years ago.” The man goes silent as he grimaces. Despite that, I continue on. I ask him a question, even though I know it is not the proper time nor place, simply because it is one I must have answered. “Do you regret being a soldier?” He looks off to the side for a while.

“I don’t know. If I knew I would die next year, I would’ve retired and spent my life with my children. Being a soldier made me lose my son. It made it so I could never hold my daughter. Those are my regrets now. But if I hadn’t been a soldier, I never would’ve even found my children. They’d be stuck on the side of the road, instead of with me. And I would regret that more. So I don’t know. Thank you, boy, for listening to an old man ramble on.”

“No, thank you, sir. I’ll take my leave now. Farewell.”

“Are you a deserter?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Take that shirt as a gift. I’m not using it anyhow.”

I nod and leave the bedroom. As I leave, I cast one small spell, excising the last remnants of the blight in his body. I grab my cloak and drape it over my shoulders. I place my shirt in my dimensional storage. I leave the home of that veteran and his daughter and leave them behind to join the last member of their family. As I turn away from them, I am ashamed.