"I am Judgment!" Roared the Hero as he charged forward. He led his fellow rebels from the front of the tide. The two armies generated sandstorms in their wake as they moved to intertwine their blades. Murder sounded out melding with the sun's haze. This allowed the battle to seem more like a brutal mirage to onlookers from far away rather than the traumatic visage it was.

After only a half minute over a dozen men lay dead due to the Hero’s sword. He was a whirlwind of death incarnate. His pure white cloak began to leave a crimson trail in the sand. After tossing another soon-to-be corpse aside, he is greeted by a familiar face, the Knave. The Warlord's right-hand man.

With a wicked grin, the Knave charged at the Hero. But he stopped in his tracks as a nearby rebel breaks free of the sea of bodies and positions himself in front of the Hero. "Father?" The Hero cried.

The Father stared down the Knave and shouted to the Hero, "Go, I'll handle him!" The Hero briefly froze. Should he help Father or stop the Warlord? After only a brief moment he decided to put his faith in the Father and continued towards the Warlord's position.

He was able to carve through more of the Warlord's minions until he reached the Warlord's throne. The throne had been carried by servants to the battlefield just for the Warlord's convenience. "Warlord let us end this struggle once and for all! Fight me!" Challenged the Hero. As the Warlord rested his head on his head, he looked down on the Hero.

"Fine, judge me with your blade as you are too dull to see the oasis I have sculpted." With that, he stood up and wielded a wicked spear.

Their bodies became blurs only complimented by brief sparks of light from clashing metal. Though the wind roared in their ears, not a single speck of sand was disturbed as these gods of war danced. Passionate swings and slashes came from the Hero’s sword. The slashes were dodged and countered by the Warlord's calculated strikes.

The battle around them seemed to slow down, as though the men on both sides were too captivated by the display before them to remember why they fought each other. Although most only caught glimpses of the battle, all could tell that both leaders were covered in scarlet ribbons. Ribbons cascaded down their robes to the sand below, staining the sand red.

Finally, the blurred contest ceased and the rose-flushed Hero heaved with his sword impaled on the paling Warlord. As the Rebels saw this sight they cheered. Finally freed from the presence of the Warlord, they easily overpowered the remaining soldiers. Distraught, many of the soldiers threw down their weapons in defeat.

The war turned to the past and the clean-up after the rebellion began.

Though delighted to have slain his foe, the Hero was only worried about one thing: Father. Running from his Judgment, he scoured the battlefield and called out, "Father!" Cries went out, but none of them were his; merely half-dead men desperate for death's cold embrace.

He hardly wanted to believe it but the Hero scanned the corpse that littered the sand. Soon he found one he recognized and another he refused to. He saw the Knave's corpse positioned as if he were about to run away but collapsed in the sands. Beside him lay the Father's corpse, missing an arm from the elbow down but still firmly grasping a sword that was skewering the Knave. Upon the Father's face lay a satisfied smile.

Sweat, blood, and tears slid off the Hero as he knelt beside the Father. He lifted the calm corpse's head into his lap. With an unsteady motion, he closed the Father's crinkled eyes and sighed. His people needed him now.

This fight was finally over. He could rest. Even so, the burden on his heart was greater than ever.

—

I close the book, Hope's Mirage, and place it between two roots beside me. Snug between the roots of the Wisdom Tree I am basking in the rays of sunlight and avoiding all responsibility. The Esphixian people had such great stories! I should get Father to see if he could purchase some more for me. Maybe he can ask some of the merchants to purchase them during their next voyage. Due to spring beginning and winter starting to fade, they should send ships out soon.

It is still fairly cold and damp most days, but sometimes the sun would peak out like right now. Even with the pleasant weather, nobody else came to meet me at the Wisdom Tree. How long has it been since we last met here? Two years? Maybe more. Did I misread the date on the note?

I guess it doesn't matter since I have never stopped coming here. Patting the Wisdom Tree, my second home, I stand up. I pick up my book. Leaving the Wisdom Tree I start to walk at a lazy pace.

The forest begins to grow thicker and greener as I descend the mountain. Undergrowth appears now that I am away from the ancient Wisdom Tree. We used to always dream up stories about that tree and how much of the world it had witnessed. Reminiscing in my thoughts I almost didn’t notice a snap of a branch behind me.

"Leaving without even saying hi to me! Am I that far below your status that you can't even see me," Sasha says. Wait, Sasha! She continues, "What happened to all those promises we made when you were younger." When did she get here? She stands behind me. Was she following me? "Don't tell me you have given up on being a heroic adventurer too." She tuts, "I'm sure your mother would be disappointed in who her son has become in her absence."

No longer moving I fully turn and stare at Sasha. She is taller, and thinner too. Then I spot the scar that comes down from the middle of her forehead and cuts across her and down her left cheek. Within the path of the scar rests her left eye, now colored milky white. What had happened to her? In surprise, I ask, “Are you okay?”

“Hmm, well I think I am sane for the most part.” She brings her hand to her chin and ponders, “Although hanging out with you is probably not good for my mind.” She certainly has not relaxed during our time apart. Her sandy hair is cut short now, stopping before her shoulders, and is braided sporadically. She glances at me, is she nervous? After a moment she says, “Anyway, what have you been up to?”

“I have been shadowing my father and other merchants, reading too.” I hold up the book I am carrying. “Nothing much really.” What should I say? Hey, I have a bunch of responsibilities that I don’t feel ready for. What about you? Based on her scar maybe Sasha has had a harder time than me. Tentatively I ask, “How did that happen to your face?”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Does it really look that bad?” I try to correct myself but she continues. “I thought it made me look cool. Like a heroic battle scar or something.” She touches it frowning slightly, “I just made a mistake, that's all. Don’t worry about it, it didn’t really hurt that much.”

Dropping it I ask, “Are the others coming?” The note had said: ‘We should meet at the Wisdom Tree on Sunday.’ I assume that it is going to be the whole group of us reuniting but I didn’t know how to reply to the note after losing touch with everyone.

“I don’t think so. Honestly, I don’t even know what they are doing now either.” Sasha shifts her feet and glances away.

Did she want to contact me specifically? Does she need something from me? She is nervous, but I am too. Maybe I am overthinking this. “The note surprised me. But it’s nice not to have to be Julian Astutus’s son, just me.”

“Yeah, I am sure that sucks.” She pauses, “I don’t want to come off as just being needy or like I see you as just money or something…” She looks me in the eyes, almost pleading, “But you know how me and my father haven’t always had the greatest living situation.” She rubs her neck with her cheeks flushed and rambles out, “Could I get a loan? I will pay you back. I just need some right now. I promise I won’t gamble it away. Dad doesn't have a job right now. Not that we are doing poorly. We are fine. He’ll get a job soon. Don’t worry. Could I have some money please?”

I blink, then stare blankly. I guess I am just money. No, clearly she is desperate. She always wanted to do everything herself when we were younger, and was the informal leader of our group growing up. If she is coming to me now, with how stubborn she is, then she must be in great need. Understanding this I simply say, “How much?”

She visibly relaxes somewhat and hesitantly asks, “Uh, 300 gold. That’s not too much right? If it is too much then you can give me less.”

“No, I can get you that much. Want to meet here tomorrow?” That wasn’t that much to me, but I knew it was a significant amount for most. Should I ask her what she needs it for? No, that wouldn’t be polite.

Relief floods through her face. “Sure,” she says. Sasha takes a step back to lean against a tree. “Thanks, Orien, I really appreciate it.”

Glancing up at the sun as it filters through the treetops I can tell it is starting to set. “It is late. We should head back.” Mountain lions, giant owls, and terrifying cockatrices made it very unsafe to be in the mountains after nightfall.

Sasha moves to leave, “Yeah you're right. Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I answer. She nods. Moving away, the forest swallows her figure. Immediately I feel a sense of worry as I begin my journey home. Should I have asked more questions? Could I have offered more help? I kick a root in frustration. It doesn’t budge. My foot hurts now.

I glance up at the sun again in worry. Due to talking with Sasha, I was out longer than normal. Quickening my pace I weave through the trees. Squirrels take shelter within their trees and birds curl up in their nests.

Before long I see buildings below me. Candles are already lit in many of the windows. Crimson tones wash over the city due to the sunset making it seem warmer than it was. It appears quiet in the spread-out estates higher up on the mountain, but far away in the new part of Mumiter I could tell that there was still plenty of bustling near the harbor. The year-round sailors enjoy every moment they can while they are on land. Or at least that is what my father's colleagues tell me.

Descending a familiar slope I reach the back of our estate. It is walled in by a large set of ferns. Walking alongside them till I reach a point where I get on my hands and knees. Then I crawl through a gap that must have been made by an animal long ago but had since become my established route.

Entering the garden I greet our lavish fountain and perfectly trimmed garden. Father’s wealth was fully put on display here. Dashing past the statues that litter the garden I reach our patio. Carefully I pull open one of the sets of doors to our three-story manor and step inside.

Shadows obscure most of the dining hall. The chandelier hanging is lightless causing my eyes to be drawn to the only light in the room. A small candle at the end of the dining table that illuminates my father’s face. His thick dark abyss of a beard surrounds a frown. His sharp umber eyes pierce my umbral visage. “Later than normal,” he states.

He normally never waits for me. Why is he here? Should I tell him about Sasha? No, he wouldn’t want to waste money on a ‘charity case’. Composing myself I answer, “Wanted to finish my book.” Holding my book up I know it is not an answer he wants to hear, but I know it is an answer he will believe.

“If you dedicate as much time to your responsibilities as you do your books then I would let you run a branch at this point.” He tells me, "Speaking of that, I believe you need a break from the business to better focus yourself." He pauses and looks at me scanning for a reaction.

I curb my excitement and let no emotions play across my face. With a slight nod of acknowledgment, I let him continue.

"There is a cart that will pick you up at seven sharp. It will take you to an academy opening at the top of the mountain." He tells me, "This academy is sponsored by the Queen herself and you will attend. You will excel. I have already instructed Asellus to pack your bags. Are we clear?" The question was rhetorical, there was only one answer.

"Yes," I answer anyway. With that, he picks up the candle and departs. Leaving me with my thoughts. That was… a surprise. I had always considered my father a meticulous person. Planning each decision long in advance. That was how he got to the position he was in today. This just seemed impromptu.

Maybe he just didn't want to give me time to process it? Wait, I won't be able to give Sasha her gold tomorrow! Walking to our bathhouse I ponder this dilemma.

Opening the door to the bathhouse I wonder, what if I ask an aid to do it? No, I don't trust it will get done and they will probably tell father. I undress and think, could I just delay it? She seemed like she was in urgent need of help.

Tossing around ideas in my head I submerge into the icy water. I guess I could just take the coin stash early tomorrow morning? But the sun rises at seven. I would just have to delay the cart.

How could I delay the cart? It would need to be at least an hour. And no one could know I was gone otherwise, they would ask questions. Idling splashing in the water my mind is blank. Why couldn't I think of anything? I am the son of one of the smartest men in the known world, surely I could solve this simple obstacle.

In frustration, I slap the water as if it was the source of my problems. The noise echoes off the walls. Wait! What if I pretend to take a bath in the morning? Nobody would be able to bother me then.

Why would I have to take a bath in the morning though? An animal interrupting my current bath? Yes, that would work. A fish? No, it would be clear that I was lying.

How about frogs? I could always say that they hopped away. Maybe even that I was worried they were poisonous. Confident in my plan I hop out of water and put a towel around my waist.

I walk straight out of the baths to Asellus's quarters. Still in my towel, I rap on his door. Quickly he answers it. Not giving him time to speak I say, "Asellus there seems to be a frog infestation within the baths. I ended my bathing short due to fears of them being poisonous." I pause as if to think, "Also delay the cart by an hour. I will properly bathe in the morning."

Without blinking he answers, "Yes, young master." Finally, I can go to bed after a long afternoon to prepare for what could likely be a long day.