Warmth.

Weird. I should be in a cold cell.

And definitely cuffed to the walls, not placed on chair, with only one hand restrained.

.....

As I slowly come to my senses, I raise my bowed head, opening my gummy, sticky eyes.

And come face to face with the general.

I look around, to see an entourage of guards. Most have hard set jaws, others misty eyes. Curious, I look around, and see a needle stuck to my right arm. Slowly, my eyes shift upwards, to see the tubing connected to a vial with a clear liquid.

"Ehem. We found you fainted with a fever, so we decided to relocate you. And uh, in the process, we decided to figure out the truth."

Of course. Veritasia. Heh.

"So I assume you already know everything?"

"Yes. Although it seemed as if you thought we were, "denizens of another world"?" the General inquires, obviously confused.

Urgh. Another evidence of my weak mind. As if noticing my discomfort, he coughs once more, and then resumes speaking.

"Tell me, what does family mean to you."

".... a sanctuary. A place for one to belong, to be loved, to love. A place of kin, of blood, of connections. An intimate bond created since the moment one is born." I reply. I grimace, since I didn't intend to reply. Damned drug, still must be running through my systems. I glare at the General.

"Do we really need to keep this fucking needle on my arm?"

"Yes." He sighs, then continues. "You know, from my experience, people who've given up on life are very rarely honest to anyone but themselves. They like to put on a facade, a mask, a role, to play in everyday lives. And they attempt to turn that mask into reality. But sometimes the wound festers. It rots. And it tears the whole disguise apart. So that's why we need this drug. To know you better."

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"And why do we need to know me better, oh great General?" I smirk, snarl, laugh. "Do you think it's funny, do you think you're oh-so-great, that you'd reach out your hand to a weakling like me, and grant unto me kind words? Do I need your pity? Do you desire fame that much?.... No, I know you don't. And I know that seeing others hurt also hurts you. So leave me alone, let me die under my actions, under the martial law." Dammit, I didn't mean to say the second bit. But at least he knows to leave me alone.

I lower my gaze, communicating my intention to no longer communicate. I stare at the stone flooring, strangely swept clean. I just hear the the sound of a sigh. I close my eyes.

And open them to see the general, kneeling, looking up.

"Tell me, does family really need to be of blood? I have stated this once before, yet I state it one again. You are one of my brothers. My kin. A bond forged through duty and blood. If you feel unneeded, you only need to look around and see, we need one another.

"Do you know about the phalanx? It is a military maneuver by an army in the Eastern Continent. It requires multiple men, interlocking their shields with one another. Every shield is necessary. Every man is needed.

"You think a single event can change a relationship? Maybe a successsion of events. Because relationships are built upon interactions. Because more of oneself is revealed through interactions. Rather than looking at the result itself, oftentimes it's easier to measure a man through their heart, their reasoning, their intention behind the action. And I know you.

"Look up, and see. I know you don't hold malice. When you've cut here," he indicates to his neck, "you had enough time to make it a clean cut. But you hesitated. And turned yourself in without any struggel.

"Tell me, do you think every single meeting, relationships, contacts, is meaningless? Do you think yourself an unfeeling machine? If you have any doubts, look no further than your own face."

I don't cry, it just gets blurry.

"Don't lie to yourself. Don't kill off your own emotions to kill the pain. Because that only brings more suffering. Face your pain. And with it face the full and real possibility for joy. If it hurts, cry out loud. If it's unbearable, ask for help. If it's lonely, tell your friends. If you fell unneeded, unwanted, and empty, because you don't have a family.

I can adopt you."

I look up. I can't tell what expression must've been in my face, but he laughs.

"Well, it's not the first time I've adopted. Your brothers will be the men of this fort, their sisters your sisters. A bond forged by blood, in my opinion, is of the same value as a bond forged by familial blood, no?" He says, with a wink.

I chuckle, feeling the snot and strange water down my face. Then, mischievously, I ask,

"So if you're the dad, who's the mom?"

His face turns downcast, and the men turn their heads, desperately trying to contain their laughter. He laughs, and unties my bonds.

As I stand up, he stretches his arms out, and embraces me.

"Hey, no matter what, we will be here. We'll be your home."

As he releases me, I'm fistbumped, jostled, patted, and welcomed.

In the middle of this freezing, cold, northern fort.

I've found warmth.

My hearth.

I'm home.