The Lufian Family 5

“Win hasn’t come out of his room?”

“No, Lord Dagobert. He wouldn’t even open the door when I went to bring him food.”

“Thank you for your report, I’ll handle it.” The reporting maid bows to him, then leaves. Shortly after, Dagobert stands up and leaves his desk. “I suppose I’ll go set that boy straight.”

He makes his way to Win’s shut door quickly. He knocks on it with a heavy fist. He knocks again when he receives no response.

“Win! Can you open this door!” He still receives no response. He knocks again, practically to the point of trying to break the door open. “Winfred! Do you dare to ignore your lord and father!?” Win still doesn’t respond. Dagobert stops himself short of destroying the door and leaves in a huff. He won’t let himself fall that low, not yet at least.

He quickly finds Sigiland in their personal study reading a book. She stands up with shock when she sees him walk in.

“Dagobert! Is everything alright?”

“Is it that obvious that something is wrong? It seems I’m still in dire need of Marcus’ teachings.” He gives a weak laugh.

“What’s wrong, Dagobert? Is it about Marcus?”

“No, not quite. It’s about Win.”

“Win? Has something happened to him?”

“It seems he’s locked himself in his room. He hasn’t eaten today either. And he didn’t eat much yesterday. He won’t answer me.”

“Perhaps he’s just intimidated by you today. I’ll try.”

Sigiland approaches Win’s door, a loving smile never leaving her face. She knocks on the door gently, careful in her attempts to ease him out. He still won’t respond. She leans in close to the door and begins to talk softly, hoping her voice can still reach Win inside.

“Win, are you okay? If you still need more time, we’ll keep waiting. But please make sure to take care of yourself. Nobody wants to see you hurt.”

Win still doesn’t respond, leaving Sigiland to depart. She returns to the study where Dagobert awaits. He looks disappointed when he sees her walk in.

“I take it that you couldn’t reach him either.”

“Not at all. There must be something we can do for him.”

“Perhaps there isn’t. I wasn’t all too different when my father died, and Win is still much younger than I was then. Perhaps it’s the sort of situation where we can only wait for him to heal himself.”

“Perhaps you’re right. When my grandfather died my family didn’t know what to do with me either. Win hasn’t yet steeled himself in the way we and our families had. Perhaps there isn’t anything we could do for him just yet.”

“As much as it pains me to say.”

Later that day, Odila, six years old, approaches her brother’s room. She sees her brother’s door is closed, but that doesn’t impede her. She reaches for the doorknob and tries to twist it. She can’t open the door, leaving her to rattle the doorknob around. She whines quite loudly just outside his door.

“Elder brother! Come out! I want to play!”

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence for the siblings. Odila often asked for Win to play with her. If he was with Marcus, Marcus often ended training early and sent them off with a smile. Even Win himself would make the time, even if he were still reading. He never stopped himself from playing with her, to take after Marcus’ teachings. However, Win does not respond to her. Odila bangs her small fists against his door. Several seconds later, Win answers her with a tired and shaky voice.

“Odila, I can’t play just yet. I’m so close. I can feel it.” He opens the door just enough for him to slide his arm through the crack. He places his hand atop her head. “I’m alright. Can you tell Father and Mother that I’ll come out once I’ve perfected his art?” Odila nods. “Thank you, Odila. I’ll come play soon.” Odila leaves, somewhat confused at her brother.

Odila quickly finds her parents together in the hallway. Dagobert sees her approaching and scoops her up as she draws near.

“Odila! What are you dashing about for?”

“Elder brother won’t play with me.” Dagobert doesn’t quite know what to say to her.

“Well, you see Odila—” She interrupts him.

“He told me to tell you that he’ll play with me once he’s perfected his art.” Dagobert looks puzzled.

“Perfected his art?” However, when he says it himself, he figures out what it must mean. He deposits Odila in Sigiland’s arms and leaves in a hurry. “I’ll return soon. Inform the cooks to be ready with a meal in perhaps an hour.”

Dagobert again approaches the door. He doesn’t even bother knocking this time.

“So you’ll at least talk to Odila then? As the head of this family I forbid you from pursuing swordsmanship any further at this time, and I order you to come out. If you refuse, I’ll drag you out myself, Win.” Win doesn’t open the door. Dagobert shatters it with a single blow.

Win’s room is dark. He stands in the center, single-mindedly gripping his blade. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling, the whole room is covered in scars from his slashes. Win barely regards his door being blown open and the light of the hall flooding in. He doesn’t regard his father walking inside either.

Dagobert approaches Win. The sword slams into Dagobert’s mantle then clatters the floor. Win looks up at him as Dagobert picks him up and takes him outside. He leaves the manor. He walks up a hill in complete silence, not even glancing at his son. Win doesn’t protest. He doesn’t say anything either. Once at the top of the hill, Dagobert places Win at his side.

The hill overlooks a large swath of Lufian territory. The forest. The distant mountains. The plains. It’s all so beautiful. It’s all so grand. It’s all something that Win had never seen before, staying within the manor as he had. It seems his father is intent on saying something. Win looks at the city closest to the hill they stand on. He hates it. It’s a blight against nature. Something deep inside of Win is revolted, something he was never before aware of.

Win’s memories of his past life return. He remembers Earth. He remembers humanity. He remembers his family. He remembers his own self. He remembers his death. He remembers that there are so few differences between that world and his. The world is no less beautiful. Humanity is no less corrupting, no less violent, no less ugly. And he is no stronger than he once was. He remembers again that everything he does now is pointless. His sword will not change anything. His fight will just be washed away in the tide of history, no matter what flag he takes up. Everything is all so hateful once more. His eyes grow cold when he looks down on the city.

“How miserable.”

With just that Win decides to return to the manor. His father is caught off guard. He can’t say anything he had planned to say. He cannot try to help Win. All he can do is try to reach him as he walks home, their shadows long in the setting sun.