Fire. Flames. Ash…

Everything was burning, the town, his home, his family, both his current one and his old one. While he just stood there and watched it, his body wouldn't move. His hand, if only he could only lift it, he could save them all, but he couldn't. Their silent screams burned into his mind. His old father, crawled towards him, skin melting off like it was cheap wax, muscles shrinking like bad jerky. Why couldn't he do anything. Why was he always too late. That burned out skeleton the remains of his old father grabbed at his foot and screamed, "Alexie…"

Reese shot out of bed, rushing to catch his breath as his heart raced. The sweat covered his body in the cold early morning air leaving him to shiver. It was a dream; the same one he'd been having.

"Just breath." He whispered to himself and closed his eyes. "Just… Breath…" Slowly he took in a breath, held it for a moment, and let it go. "1". He did it again, "2", and again, and again, "3… 4… 5…" Each time focusing on the sensation of the cool air entering his lungs, feeling his chest expand and contract.

Long ago, he had learned techniques to deal with this, to deal with the panic attacks, with the stress of surviving life. In his chest, he could feel that one powerful muscle slow, as he calmed himself. Each thought that tried to enter his mind was denied entry, dissected, understood, and thrown away. It was not the time to think, but to breathe. To be.

"…20" He finished. His heart rate slowed, the pounding in his chest subsided, he felt normal.

This sucked. His head fell back on his pillow and stared at the dark, boring ceiling. It was PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The World didn't seem to have a name for it, the closest he found was something called "Battle Fatigue", almost a call back to when Earth called it "Shell Shocked." They didn't have any real treatments, the two books he found advocating for rest and hearty meat dishes, or more combat to burn it out of your system. Both poor ideas.

There were a few treatment options he could remember, the first was medication in his case Lorazepam, Benzos had worked well. They let him sleep at night anyway, but that wasn't a permanent solution, nor did they have it here anyway.

Stress Inoculation was an option, basically what he was doing now. Breathing helped a lot but it couldn't stop it. Exposure Therapy wasn't really viable, he wasn't avoiding thinking about the event, and it just happened. Desensitization and Reprocessing worked well the last time, but he'd need someone to help with that. Or at least something else he could focus on. He kept thinking, what other techniques did he know and remember?

Processing Therapy, that was something he could try. He didn't have anyone to walk him through it, but maybe he didn't need to. What he could do was journal his thoughts, understand them, find out what wasn't his fault, what he couldn't change. But there was the problem, it was his fault, if he was stronger… His hand gripped at his sheets. This wasn't helping.

It was still dark out, there was a few hours before morning light. Without that light, there wasn't much he could do. Turning over, Reese tried to close his eyes, a few hours was what he needed right now.

More dreams, but no fire, just voices and faces. One which made him feel, uncomfortable and angry. Why? But, there was one happy thought in there, it was the 29th, Emilie's birthday. One dream, was at least happy as he dreamed of a different world, an old world with his friend.

Of course, no one else in the world really cared about birthdays the way he did, so when school came, she wasn't as excited as he was. Still, at least it wasn't as bad as Hemmsal's birthday. That poor boy would probably never be the same. How was he supposed to know cake was a sensitive topic for him?

It was still a problem he had, occasionally using old words in this new world. Cake sounds an awful lot like Cacii, a rather nasty hedgehog-like creature the size of a bear. Hemmsal's had lost his brother to one but had at least saved him. It was not a pleasant memory. Reese would have to make it up to him one day.

"Why are you always so excited when people have birthdays?" The blue haired elf, Venginn shook her head at Reese. The girl was not particularly enamored with him, finding him more than a little annoying. For the next few minutes, she would regale Emilie with his failures at birthday planning.

Growing tired of the verbal berating Reese shrugged "I just think birthdays are important. They're when you were born, when the world first came to know you. I think that's worth celebrating."

"Birthdays are fucking stupid. Who cares." An older light haired boy half growled, his brown eyes growing dark like his soul was trying to suck all the light in.

"Gezal, watch your language. The rest of you focus on your homework so I can go home." Fense chastised the older boy who seemed to be sulking off the side of the classroom.

This was not the direction Reese wanted the conversation to go in. Venginn and Emilie continued to talk, and he, hunkered down keeping silent. Afraid he would make things worse.

A few more weeks would pass; Things had mostly returned to normal again. Writing things down helped him clear his head. His hands would shake, sometimes, but that had calmed too. He'd be fine, in time.

Emilie seemed to be suffering a bit too, talking about bad dreams, and seeming jumpy at even minor things. This world needed therapist, but all it had was him. Still he was able to teach her how to breath and control her thoughts, it helped, both of them. She was grateful, but clearly something else was grating at her. Even when she insisted it was fine, Reese could tell it wasn't. But, there was no way to force someone to speak. It would have to wait till she was ready to discuss it.

School continued to be school. Gezal would remain thorny, growing worse each day. Reese felt for the older boy but didn't know what he could or should do.

It felt a bit odd to still have school in the Old Keep. Not that they had been in the schoolhouse for very long, but the Keep just didn’t feel like the best place for class. What with all the noise and weapons flying about. Well not literally or at least not usually. But the sounds of swords clashing, and arrows smacking things was distracting. Only a few more days and they’d be back in the schoolhouse.

At the end of another school day, Reese was thankful he didn’t have to stick around and do pages today. Thoughts about the rest of the day ran through his head. Leaving the keep he was looking forward talking more about the Dark Fire spells Emilie was now focused on and see if her therapy was still working. Instead, his attention was grabbed by the older boy, who didn’t seem to have anywhere else to be, beyond the Keep.

Gezal sat outside the keep, his brown eyes looking down into the brown dirt. The young teen seemed oblivious to the rest of the world.

A mind in distress, his father was alive, of course was happy about that, but the person who came back from the mountain wasn't the same. With only one arm and one eye his father wouldn’t be able to fight with the rest of the soldiers and Knights. His leg injury had even made standing a challenge at times. Deep healing just, didn't fix everything. And now, his broken father was trying to break everything else.

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“You ok?” Gezal was surprised to hear anyone paying attention to him.

“What do you want Reese?” He didn't even bother looking up.

“I just, noticed you were down in the dirt.”

The older child went back to the dirt and started drawing small shapes with a stick. Lines, circles, some of them connected, some of them didn’t. A few looked like swords, and other limbs.

“I don’t understand. What does being a knight even mean, why is it so important to that fool?”

It hit Reese, that knight that was burned but alive, Tolk, he was Gezal’s father. Clearly, neither were taking the event well.

“He hasn’t done anything since he got back. Just sits in the kitchen and drinks or goes to the inn and drinks. Mom, he… yelled at her last night. I think if he could have, he would have hit her. And me. He keeps going on and on about being a knight, about honor and how useless he is now…" Gezal stopped drawing the threw the stick across the yard. "I don’t get it. He’s alive, he has us. Isn’t that enough?”

Therapists didn’t exist in this world, so people didn’t tend to deal with issues they just let them consume them over time, or you would find ways to burry them. It kind of made sense that Gezal would trauma dump at the first chance. What more could Reese do, but listen, and listen he did for what felt like an hour.

In that time Emilie had joined. The normally captative girl just quietly sat with them. Taking the lead from Reese, and kept quiet, only listening. In truth, she'd actually make a good therapist if she could keep it up.

“Last night. I think he tried to kill himself.” Gezal’s hands shook at the thought.

Now, Reese was truly lost. On earth, there were things he could have done, authorities he could have gone to, to try and get Tolk help. But here? You were lucky if there was even a doctor in town.

For several minutes after that the three sat in silence. All Reese's knowledge was useless here. While he might have remembered the activities he did in his other life, he was always on the receiving end. It was different being the one in the chair vs on the couch, and dangerous. Their silence would soon be broken by man himself, Knight Tolk.

“Fucken fight me damn you cowards!” The shout of deeply drunken man could be heard across the yard as Knight Tolk limped forward, carrying a bloody sword. Cuts on his good arm, and neck, implying it was his blood on that silver and red device, not deep enough to kill. For all his professed weakness, he still had the strength to fight himself.

Gezal stood up and tried put himself in front of his father. “Dad, please don’t do this.” His son begged his father before being pushed away as he randomly tried to charge one of his former comrades.

“Gezal, I love ya, but shutup. This is something only a knight would understand. Come-on! Fight me!” Tolk attempted to charge another soldier who was quick enough to move out of the way. It was clear no one wanted to see the damaged Knight hurt. But things were getting dangerous. Even badly injured, the weapon Tolk wielded was sharp and deadly.

“Anyone call Fortus yet?” Someone yelled, and as if on cue, showed up right on time.

Fortus, was usually soft spoken. His deep voice and calm speech are enough to impose on even the loudest fool. So know that when he shouted, everyone listened. “What in the hell is going on in front of my Keep!?”

Fortus could see his knight was drunk, as he swayed between one good leg and the bad one. The bandages on his left side, had started to come loose, and a trickle of his life force dripped down his side in addition to the streams on his arm and neck. All of it free further by both the movement and the booze.

In what looked like a drunken rage, Tolk charged Fortus whit his sword, but it was trivial for the commander to dispatch such a basic attack. It forced Tolk on the ground, where he lay in the mud and filth, sobbing.

“Tolk, I know you want to fight still. Even with one arm and bad leg, you’re still better than any commoner. But you know the truth, you’ll be able to fight in a serious battle again. Stop this.”

“What am I supposed to do sir. Just take the pittance the special district gives its broken soldiers. I always said I would never let that happen to me. I refuse to become a leach. That dragon should have just finished burning me.”

It was always a risk, a soldier or a knight may not return home, or sometimes only part of them will return. Life was not like a story book, with simple happy endings, and broken people aren’t just fixed with simple words and broken promises.

“Then what would have happened to your family? A only time payment of gold won’t last them any better. And your son would be without his father.”

“Without his father? Do you see me, he only has half a father now. What good is that… what good am I. It hasn't even been a month, and I can't do it.” His eye focused on his sword as he held it above his head.

“All I know how to do is hold a sword and spear, and I can barely do either. I can’t even cut myself.” His rage turned further sadness as he began crying. A strong man broken by a bad twist of fate.

Fortus watched as Tolk stood up on his good leg, with far less effort than you might expect from a damaged man. Even in his current state, he remained truly skilled. The sword still swung in his right hand, as if beckoning Fortus to end it for him.

‘Right hand’ Fortus thought. A plan quickly formed in his head. Perhaps, a small glimmer of hope. “Tolk, you’re right-handed, aren’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything. Yes?”

“And you know how to read and write, not just human either I’ve heard you read Elven and Dark Elven.”

“It was just some poetry. Sir, what does any of that matter?”

“Both Sobbin and Hethil are dead. They always acted as our scribes. I need someone to replace them, and I know I can trust you in confidential manners. I haven't had a chance to request a dispatch, it be easier to have you do it.”

Tolk could help but laugh, “Charity.”

“A job.”

Tolk stood in silence, swaying from side to side for a moment. “…A job for a solider not a knight”

“Knights are soldiers son. We always have been, and we don’t follow the orders we want but the ones we’re given.”

Something about that struck Tolk harder than sword earlier, and his body went rigid. “Are you ordering me to do this?”

“If it keeps you from doing something stupid. Yes, that’s an order Knight Tolk, and with it, I’ll make sure your medical retirement order is rescinded.”

Seemingly accepting the defeat, Tolk lowered his head and dropped his sword, not quite sheathing it yet. “Yes sir.” It wasn’t what he wanted. He still wanted to die or to not be broken. But knights and soldiers don’t always get to choose their battles. An order is an order and a knight is honor bound to follow all honorable commands. The part of him that wanted to live, would use that to shut down the part of him that didn't.

Tolk half limped off the field, probably to find somewhere to sobber up, or finally end it. No one could stop him either way.

“Do you think that will work sir?”

“You never know if you’re plan will work until it’s done, sometimes long after. But you have to commit to one and move forward with it.” Looking back Fortus saw the young Gezal give his father a hug as he tried to walk off, and perhaps, as a sign of acceptance, Tolk returned it with his one arm.

Fortus was surprised to see that same child walk up to him. “I don’t understand, why did he do that? Why did he stop when you gave him that job?”

“Your father’s a knight, there’s a deep honor in this profession. A desire to protect, and to fight, to stand on one's own legs and wield something for a bigger idea. It’s a lifelong commitment for many, and for your father, he was one of the most committed I ever saw.”

Gezal shook his head, “I don’t get it. Why?”

“Are you asking why would he try and kill himself? Because he thought he lost an important part of himself. All of us accept that can happen, but, it's not easy to accept when it happens.”

“But why did he stop. I’ve been trying to help him, and I just couldn’t.”

“It’s not you son. It’s the ideal, being a knight. For all the damage to his body, his pride remains, and he remains a knight. Duty bound to follow any noble and honorable order given.”

Gezal still didn’t understand. Perhaps he was too young, perhaps he just never experienced it.

“I still don’t understand.”

“It’s ok son. Maybe one day you will.” Fortus was ready to leave, he had other matters to attend to. Only still be stopped by the same boy.

"I… Want to understand, my father. He was always the strongest person I knew."

A smile crept on the commander’s face. It was rare, but sometimes plans did turn out unexpectedly well. "Come back tomorrow morning, I'll show you the book that guides us."

With that Fortus walked off, leaving the three children alone in the field.

“Reese, thanks for listening to me. I owe you for that.”

“Hey, I just, listened.” Reese shrug, happy to be thanked, but surely not feeling deserving of it.

“You take a lot of shit from other people. But you’re a good guy.” With that Gezal gave Reese a rather forceful punch to his shoulder and walked off.

“Oww… You help a guy and punches you.” He rubbed at the now sore spot as Emilie gushed about trying her new healing spell. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it probably wouldn’t work on him. Though it was probably a good thing, since she wasn't casting it right.

Gezal would show up in the morning, and read “The Order of the Knights”. It was dense, and he couldn't fully understand it, but it was a foundation. One that he wanted to expand, and would continue to from that day forward.