An Old Man’s Tale

Now that Berus looked at him, Phorok looked older than he did before. The last light of the day made deep shadows on his wrinkled face. He looked out into the forest, not as Berus. But even if he did, it felt like he was some place far away.

“As you know, I used to be an adventurer. I had found my place in the world, found myself a family and friends I could trust, even if our future was as unsafe as it can be when you’re off fighting dragons on who-knows-which shard. Every day was full of surprises for me, full of adventure. I loved, I cried, I feared death.

It was a good life, you know? I didn’t want anything to change. But it did, of course. Not by my own choice, but I myself changed with the times. I got more reckless. A little slower, a little weaker. And then, one day, it was my turn to suffer. It was a tiny dragon, barely hatched from its egg, that managed to chew my leg off.”

He let out a rough laugh at that. “An amateur mistake, if we’re being real. I lost many friends to that, and in that moment I felt the shame, the frustration they must have felt. But unlike them, I got to live.”

He played with his necklace, as if his finger had to do something now that he couldn’t fight Berus. He was restless.

“Not because of my skill, or my comrades, even. No, it was the king, back when he was in his very own youth. Him and his men helped us on a whim. Probably wanted to know what being a hero is like.”

At these words, he spat on the ground. “He doesn’t know anything, of course. For the longest time I kept my mouth shut. Can’t badmouth your savior, right? But he did more than that. Hired our team on the spot. Out of amusement, I guess, or some sort of misplaced generosity. And really, even complaining about that feels bad. We had a good place to sleep, made more money than we could spend, and found ourselves in less and less danger.”

He looked at Berus. “I can’t lie; I hated it.”

Berus stayed silent. Was there even something that he could say at this point? It didn’t feel right, and so he only nodded his head.

“I couldn’t even tell Iuria about this,” Phorok muttered. “And she knows basically everything I know.”

He glanced towards the little farmhouse. Inside, there were the silhouettes of Iuria and Mikkah, sitting and talking over tea. It was nice. It was peaceful. But it wouldn’t hold for long.

“And really, I hated it. But if the king wants something from you, you don’t refuse. Some of my friends grew happy with their job, while others quietly exited my life. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to throw myself into fighting, and for the longest time, it worked. I learned to fight with my new leg, to move even better than before I lost it. It hurt, but that only made me push myself harder. I really was a dumbass.”

He let out another laugh. “That’s when the king decided I was too reckless. Really, at that moment I thought he would just let me go, return to my order or be a normal adventurer or let me die fighting some giant monster. But he didn’t.

Instead, he asked me to play bodyguard for his illegitimate daughter. Put me under an oath and everything. Said all those nice words about trust and loyalty and strength. And then next thing I knew I stood here on the farm with a snotty little brat that doesn’t know me, that’s scared of me, and I’m as scared as her. I didn’t know anything about farming, I didn’t know anything about raising a kid, and all the books in this tiny little house couldn’t tell me what to do.”
“That sounds difficult.”

“It was horrible. A nightmare. I looked forward to the king’s visits, and each and every time I tried to persuade him to find someone else. A nurse. A farmer. Anyone, really, except me. He didn’t listen. Barely looked at me. No, he only had eyes for his daughter, for a few hours, before he grew bored or impatient or guilty, and then he left with his mages again.

So when she started to call me dad, I really didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”

The wind grew colder.

“I mean, what do you do in that situation? Over the years she grew as dear to me as I grew to her. We were a family, in a sense, though I denied it for the longest time. Am I her father? Did I become her father? Or am I just a placeholder, until she sees the king again?”

His voice went quiet.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, and living here made it easy. I didn’t have to think about the world outside. She didn’t want to learn sword fighting, and that was fine with me. She didn’t have anything to fear in here, after all. But now I worry I didn’t prepare her enough for the world out there.”

“But isn’t that for her to decide?”

Berus remembered his parents. They also always wanted the best for him, though sometimes their definitions for what was the best were wildly different.

“I know. That’s the hardest part.” Phorok let out a loud sigh.

Then, he stood up and took off his necklace. It was only now, in the dark of the night, that Berus could see that it glowed softly from the inside.

“You know a lot about how this world works,” Phorok said. “So you probably have an idea what this is.”

Berus nodded. “A skill stone, right?”

“Correct.”

He had been surprised to see how small it was. In the game, of course, the art was as big as of the other items, so he never really thought more of it. But here, he could see that the crystalized skill energy was as small as the nail on his thumb.

“I poured all my sword skills into it,” Phorok said. “It was supposed to be a gift for Iuria, but… Well, I know she would refuse to use it. So I want you to have it instead.”

“Me? But why?”

“On one condition. I want you to use its skills to protect her. Protect Iuria with your life, until she has fulfilled her wish.”

With those words, he got closer to Berus. “If you’re willing to do that, take it.”

But Berus didn’t move.

“I can’t promise you that.”

Phorok’s gaze darkened. “Why not?”

“It’s not something I can guarantee. Plus, I thought you grew to like your job.” He desperately wished he could smile, but he could only hope his voice would carry a gentle tone. “I’ll do my best to protect her, but you’re still her number one. Don’t forget that.”
“Oh, don’t try and make me cry. Isn’t beating me in a fight enough for you?” Phorok grunted.

Still, he came forward and put the necklace in Berus’ hand.

“But…”

“Your words are enough for me. I trust you, you fake holy knight.”

Berus nodded, and put the necklace on.. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, or Iuria.”

“Good. Then let’s go, before they start to worry about us.”