Memoirs of a broken man

While Raine went to go check up on Prince Aeos, an air of sadness and weakness swept around the camp. It’s true that they had the upper hand and are now tracing the bandits back to their lair, but the cost was too steep for some of them. Some knights tried to cheer themselves up by chatting with their sworn brothers, some mulled over food, some did weapon maintenance, and some even cried. The knights in Goltas’ platoon were tightknit, on top of the fact that their survival rate was usually high. Some even considered their band to be the second advent of Soleil’s legendary Phoenix Squadron, but today said otherwise. Most of the time missions like this would end with the deaths of one or two men, but to lose ten men and in a bandit extermination no less. To make matters worse was that three of the soldiers who died were beloved members of the group, so the cold air breezing through the camp was justified. However, the air was even more frigid coming from the captain’s tent.

****

“...”

There sat Goltas, on the floor of his tent no less. He meditated in order to calm his mind, as well as to take in the losses suffered. He then began to think about what ailed him the most.

“Connie, Eduard, Thomas, Zachare, Benz, Bartone, Phineas, Garr, Dione, Marco…”

Thomas was a good lad, he joined the military to be strong like his late father. He also joined to get money for his sick mother, who was struggling due to the conditions of her illness. When she finds out her son is dead, how will she have the will to survive?

Connie came from a baker family, he would always make fresh bread back at base for the members. It beat the rolls the mess hall served, and each one was made with love for his sword sworn brothers. Who would make those honey scented rolls now?

Eduard had a little sister he was trying to get through school, his parents died from the plague. The two are from a fallen noble house, and their uncle is trying to seize more power by having his sister married off to the son of a distant lord. In order to prevent that, Eduard joined the knights in order to rebuild the family through military merit. Without this young man’s spirit, how will the phantoms of their household be silenced? With her brother gone, who will protect that poor girl?

Bartone was a ladies man, always trying to see how many women he could bed before he became an old horse. However, he started to clean up his act recently. Apparently, he finally found the one. Who’s gonna tell her he’s dead?

Dione wasn’t much of a talker, but he was very much the life of this band. When the journey was long, and our spirits bogged down, he would take out his violin and play it in the moonlight. Like a bard telling tales of heroism at a tavern, our spirits were uplifted by the tone of his strings. That violin in the corner of this tent, who will play it now?

Garr was a tough man, born in the lower quarter or rather the slums. He wanted to rise through the knight ranks, and tell his people that they weren’t trash. He wanted them to know they could be something too, who will raise their spirits now?

Phineas wanted to be a doctor, but doing so cost money. Money that his family didn’t have, so he became a knight to get the funds. When he killed his first man, he couldn’t stop crying. He wanted to save lives not end them, but despite that he kept picking up the sword. He found fulfillment in the lives his actions saved, and despite that always apologized every time he took a life. So why? Why when it was his time, did the people who murdered him mock him instead of mourn him?

Benz was a father of two, his wife is pregnant with their third. What will happen to this family without a father?

Zachare had a scary face and spoke with a booming tone, but he was actually a kind man. He was raised in an orphanage and planned to eventually take over it one day. Maybe even start a family of his own. He even learned how to sew children's clothes and make toys for them. Why were the people deprived of this kind man’s kindness?

Marco was one of our platoon’s front liners, one of our three muscle heads. He always exercised daily, always tried to push his limits, and never turned down a challenge. However, don’t make the mistake of thinking he was a wild horse. Whenever his teammates fell behind he lended his aid, when weight needed to be carried he was the first to carry it, when squad members needed training he always took it easy on them, and he was very kind. He loved little animals, he was a gentle giant. So why did he die the most gruesome death of all his slain brothers? Impaled by a tree no less!

Goltas held his head in frustration thinking of the suffering of his men, the pain of the fallen, and the sadness of those left behind. This lead him to one answer.

“It was them, it was those damn bandits. They’ve managed to hurt me again!”

The moment he muttered that, Goltas almost remembered something he buried long ago. It was the time he was too late, the day he lost everything that mattered to him. Goltas held his head in both his hands and began to tremble, the pain of the worst day in his life still haunting him. It was the reason why he opted out of climbing the ranks and decided to stay a captain. It was a nonsensical dream, anyone who heard it would call him a madman.

“All of them, I won’t accept a promotion until all the bandits within our borders are dead.”

Goltas declared that to himself, after that he looked up and came face to face with his reflection. He was holding onto the mementos of his fallen soldiers, Bartone’s mirror being one of them. In that mirror he saw the face of a desperate man, a man who was trying to anchor himself into something. A man who was trying to hide something, something he knew all too well. Goltas didn’t like the man he saw, but chose to face him. He went to the nearby barrel filled with water in his tent, and washed his face. He then combed his hair back and re-did his pony tail, after that he walked back to the mirror. The man in the mirror looked more focused, but it still wasn’t good enough. Goltas already could guess the reason why, and he replayed images in the back of his mind.

Another thing, Marco died because of you!

YOU DAMN SQUIRE! WHY DID YOU LEAVE HIM TO DIE!

*Smack*

Goltas opened his eyes, his right hand trembling as he remembered how he struck Raine. He remembered blaming the loss of his men on the Prince’s cowardice, and the young girl that only tried to help. Goltas couldn’t help but laugh at his foolishness, it was a dry and melancholic laugh. Goltas stopped and finally spoke the truth.

“It was me, my insanity got these men killed.”

He covered his face in both hands again, remembering what he spent the battle doing. If only he told his men to not be cocky, if only he was more present, if only he didn’t waste time torturing the enemy leader. His band would still be living happily, sitting around the camp fire singing songs of their heroism.

“Lenard is going to kill me.”

Lenard being the vice captain of the platoon, he and his squad of members were off fulfilling another duty. There were also men still at base waiting on stand by and finishing other missions. Goltas looked again at the mirror after pondering to himself.

“It was you guys wasn’t it?”

He remembered how Bartone would tease him about his appearance, telling him he’d never get back in the game looking like that. Goltas began to walk up to the mirror, and once in front of it he grabbed both sides of it. He then fell to his knees and wept.

“I’m so sorry, I’m the bastard of a captain that got you killed! You can haunt me, you have every right too! But please, please don’t hate me. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect any of you, I’m so sorry…”

He sat there for what felt like hours, when one of the men told him the meal was ready his tears were gone and he became their captain once again.