Time Doesn't Stop For Anybody

Movement filed through the inn, with many patrons and nobles mingling within themselves. Soft music from the center band perforated the air.

Shalka was sitting near the edge of the inn. Two untouched drinks sat in front of him.

“Took you long enough,” he spoke as someone approached his table.

“I’ve been busy handling the damages your… peer made,” Raika replied, holding out a hand. As a letter was placed into his hand, he glanced at the table. “You bought drinks?”

Shalka nodded.

“Let’s take this outside.”

They each grabbed a drink and moved outside. Walking for a bit, the lieutenant suddenly jumped onto a roof. Shalka followed suit.

Once they had reached a certain vantage point, Raika settled down on a small crate and took a sip of his drink. “Why aren’t you home?” he asked, looking at the view of the city, lit up by street lamps.

“Same reason you aren’t,” Shalka replied, taking a seat on a similar crate.

They sat in silence for a moment, taking in each other’s company. The cold night air swept across their skin.

“Have you tried?” Shalka asked. “Going home?”

“It’s not worth it,” Raika replied, somewhat downcast, “I mean, last time I was in Gatton and tried to come home, Dad sat me down and told me to quit the army. When I argued against him, things heated up and he ended up throwing me out. Mom wasn’t happy but didn’t push too hard against his decision. I figured I wouldn’t give them too much trouble this time around.”

He sighed. “How about you?”

“I, well, I haven’t really told my Dad what I’ve been doing lately. He still thinks that I’ve been in the army, with you,” Shalka shrugged.

“You should visit Uncle Elio. Can’t be too sure how many years he has left.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious. Life goes past without a care in the world.”

“Well, what about you? Shouldn’t you try to reconcile things with Uncle Johle as soon as possible then?”

“...those are two different things.”

“Are they really?” Shalka rolled his eyes. “It’s ironic. A war-torn veteran ending up with a coward of a son, while a humble pacifist bore a soldier.”

“Maybe if we were born in each other’s place, then we’d be able to return home,” Raika chuckled.

“…so why don’t you? Quit being a soldier I mean.”

Raika didn’t answer. He instead took a moment to stare at his drink, then poured the rest of it onto the ground. “You still don’t know how to pick out a good drink. Something like this, I don’t know how you can stomach it.”

“People have their preferences.”

“Sure they can, but what’s the point of picking out something worse when you could have something better?”

“Not everyone would pick the same so-called ‘best’ thing,” Shalka sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well…” Raika trailed off, “never mind.” He settled down his drink and stood up. “I’ve got early rounds tomorrow. I’ll head off for now.” The lieutenant walked off, making his way past the rooftops, taking a route they had taken many times as kids.

“Hasn’t changed,” Shalka said, his words drifting into the air in disappointment.

“Apparently some big shot central prick is at the east gate right now. Drawing in a huge crowd for some reason. Want to go check it out?”

“Yeah, sure. Nothing else to do right now.”

Kitan’s ears perked up. He had been walking around the town, relaxing after days of having to attend different magic events. He’d seen a decent amount of people make their way toward the east gate for some reason but he thought it was just some coincidence. But for some random person to be making this much fuss? Maybe interesting was happening.

Making his way to the gate, he entered a crowd that was bigger than expected. Most of them were commoners but there were also a few nobles and central soldiers. To the side, some hooded individuals were peeking behind some buildings.

Amidst the center of the gathering, stood a young man about his height who looked like he had gone through a battle and a half. Despite his tattered clothes stained with blood, he wore a bright, cheerful smile. An unsettling contrast that could only describe one man.

Kitan wrinkled his nose. He was about to turn and leave but his eyes drew to the man’s side. He was carrying someone hunched over his shoulder. Their hands and feet were bound together.

“Need you an audience, vice commander?” A large imposing man in a uniform approached the bloodied soldier. Murmurs spread throughout the crowd.

“There you are, Halften!” Dolus grinned, “Well, I figured it’d be the fastest way for you to find me. Can I give this to you? Been tiring, carrying her all the way here.” He tossed the person down to the floor, causing her to groan.

Kitan’s eyes shot up in recognition. She was the strange woman asking around for a fully dressed, hooded individual from the past few days.

“I haven’t known you to take prisoners. Who is she?” the large man inquired.

“A northerner I picked up on the way here. Real troublesome,” Dolus replied, stretching out his arms and shoulders.

“What have I told you about making your business, official business?”

As they continued to talk for a few more minutes, Kitan noticed the person on the ground shuffling bit by bit. Suddenly, she jumped up, free of her restraints, and drove a fist toward the vice commander with a look on her face that could rival a demon.

Commander Halften pushed away Dolus and blocked her fist. “Your knots are still not up to standard,” he criticized.

The woman shouted in agony, driving fist after fist at the commander before he caught one of her attacks and threw her onto the ground. The crowd started to liven up, shouting being thrown left and right.

“I don’t understand,” Dolus noted as she struggled to get up again, “is there anything to gain fighting me? The man you were meant to protect is gone. You can stop now.”

“Ri’el,” the woman snarled, “you’re insane.” She tried to get into a fighting stance but failed. She looked back and cursed herself, but still struggled forward.

“If you die here, nothing will happen, and all of Kanal’s son’s efforts will have been in vain.” Dolus’s words were icy, stopping the woman in her tracks. Even as battle-hungry as Kitan was at times, even this was unsettling for his stomach. The crowd grew louder as if this was some exhibition match. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t a fight.

She momentarily paused, letting out some more words that Kitan couldn’t overhear. Dolus responded with the same quietness. As their last exchange went through, the woman dashed away onto the rooftops of the city, until she was far out of sight.

“You’re letting her go? She’ll be back and if you don’t take that seriously, you could find a knife against your neck,” the commander warned, crossing his arms.

“Well, what can I do?” Dolus shrugged, “My word is taken. Besides, I don’t mind her coming after me. Hate is what moves the world around after all.”