Chapter 2 - Drafted

Even as the mighty dragon transformed into a distant star in the gradually clearing sky, its resounding voice persisted, echoing through the vastness and sending shivers down Aiden’s spine.

Shaken to the core, all he could manage to whisper was a heartfelt, “Why?”

In the tales, these majestic creatures were portrayed as guardians of the land, peacefully coexisting with humanity and saving them from countless calamities.

Many people revered these creatures, yet here before Aiden, one had vowed to annihilate them all merely because it could. The weight of responsibility to thwart this impending disaster rested solely on his shoulders.

“Why me?” he questioned once more, his gaze fixated on the glowing ring on his finger, its brilliant hue nearly mesmerizing. “I am nobody… Did it mistake me for someone else?” Aiden pondered, now attempting to pull the ring off. “I should give it to dad; he would know what to do with it.” Yet, no matter the strength he applied, it refused to budge.

“Come on… I am not your hero!” he gnashed his teeth, knuckles turning white, yet the result remained the same. The ring proved to be stubborn.

“What do I do?” Aiden sighed, his gaze shifting back to his village. It struck him— the dragon's rampage had left the forest in disarray, a commotion bound to attract the baron's men or even the villagers. If they discovered him here, suspicion was inevitable. It could lead to him and his father being held responsible, forced into servitude to the lord to repay for the damaged forest.

Even if they saw it, they wouldn't believe there was a fucking dragon around, would they? Somebody has to pay for all the timber lost. He scoffed at the thought, charting a course back home, with the full moonlight serving as his guiding beacon.

Weaving through the bushes and trees, Aiden reached the village, aiming to blend in with the people gathered around—whether engaged in discussions about the conscription, cursing the baron if his men had already left, or preparing to investigate the noise if they were still present.

However, reality proved to be different. An eerie silence enveloped him, striking an odd chord. They might have taken all the boys of his age, not the old men like his father. Some should have gathered here, as they always did after something significant happened.

"Was this conscript… or the dragon not significant enough?" he mumbled, his eyes scanning the desolate, muddy roads and the houses with their broken doors tightly shut as he made his way to the small cottage he and his father shared.

The moment he set his eyes on the house, he sensed something was amiss. Instead of the door being broken, it had been torn from its hinges. Stepping inside, the chaos became evident.

It was evident their modest home had been searched repeatedly. Anything not nailed down inside the building had been flung out the front door. The two windows, with thick, warped glass, were shattered for good measure.

Drawing closer, an acrid odor informed Aiden that the blankets had been soiled.

He stood amidst the wreckage, his gaze taking in the shattered remains of his bed, the carefully stored food was now ground into the dirt, and the shards of what were once his mother’s cherished plates.

“Why?” Aiden gasped, his eyes widening and fists tightening.

Because he refused to die fighting a senseless war.

Because he lacked the strength to say no.

Because he was weak.

This weakness led to the demise of his mother and sister, as they weren’t strong enough to confront the baron’s men. Now, this same weakness had claimed his father because he wasn’t strong enough to protest. They drafted an old, sick man who could pass away at any moment into an active war.

Aiden gritted his teeth, a surge of anger and frustration boiling within him as he kicked at the wooden splinters that once formed their only table. However, before he could unleash a scream to vent it all, he was interrupted by a call from behind.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

“Aiden?” The voice carried a note of concern, and as he turned, he found himself confronted by their neighbor, Uncle Gaffer.

Aiden slouched, weariness etched across his face. “They took dad,” he said.

Gaffer nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping over the battered state of the house. “You ought to tend to these,” he suggested with a forced chuckle. “Kindle a fire, or you’ll…”

“You must think I'm a coward, don't you?” Aiden interjected, cutting through Gaffer's words. “Letting my sick father take my place, and die for me.”

Gaffer paused, exhaling before responding, “You did what you had to.” Approaching Aiden, he patted him on the shoulder. “Your father did his duty. He protected you. Now it's time to do yours. Live in his place. Carry his legacy forward. That’s what sons do,” he added, a fleeting smile on his weathered face.

“Legacy…” Aiden muttered, teeth clenched, eyes teary. “This legacy of weakness, always bowing to those damn lords who take everything from us. You want me to continue this legacy!”

“... That’s what we have always done,” Gaffer admitted, yet couldn't bring himself to meet Aiden’s gaze. “Anyway,” he moved away. “Lilly will bring you food and help tidy the house. Get some rest; you will need to…”

“No!” Aiden declared, a surge of defiance infusing his voice. No more bowing, no more running. The dragon demanded strength to protect the world. So be it. He would get stronger, but only to protect his world—the one that mattered the most. He would be strong for himself.

Aiden locked eyes with Gaffer, a resolute expression defining his features. “Take care of my father, uncle,” he said, stepping forward. “While I fulfill my duty.”

Before Gaffer could process his words and react, Aiden was already sprinting outside. He chased after him, but his weakened body couldn’t keep up.

“Aiden! Stop acting foolish. Come back!” his shout echoed, fading into the distance, but Aiden didn’t glance back. Soon, he vanished into the encompassing darkness.

* * *

Charging forward, stumbling, briefly slipping, and then surging ahead once more. Aiden exerted every ounce of his strength to close the distance with the cart racing ahead. The unmistakable evidence lay in the muddy road – a fresh trail left by the cartwheels, a clear confirmation of his pursuit.

Gasping for breath and with legs on the verge of collapse, Aiden pressed on, the cart still nowhere in sight. Clenching his teeth and screaming inwardly, he forced himself forward until, finally, a wobbling lantern appeared in the distance.

Aiden's lips curled into a subtle smile as he started shouting, “Hey… Hey… Stop! Hey… Stop!”

The guards on board must have taken notice, for the carriage gradually came to a slow halt. Aiden reached it, collapsing to his knees as his legs finally gave way.

Two guards dismounted, one readjusting his buckle while the other held a torch, and they approached Aiden.

“What do you want?” asked one soldier, scratching his ginger beard. “Looking for a ride or something?” He eyed Aiden from head to toe.

“Yeah…” Aiden managed through loud gasps. “Take me and let my father go.”

“Father?” the duo exchanged glances, then shifted their gaze towards a figure nestled in the corner, shivering in the cold. One of the passengers rocked the man, and he jolted awake, initially confused. As he realized his surroundings and spotted Aiden, panic crept into his eyes.

“Ai…den,” he uttered, just enough for the guards onboard to verify his identity. Without hesitation, they dragged him out of the cart and threw him onto the road.

Aiden's eyes twitched at the sight. Even his ragged breaths seemed to pause at the sickening sound of bones hitting the hard earth. Anger would be an understatement; his fists clenched, eager to smash these bastards' heads open. But he couldn't. They'd kill them both, or worse, send them both to war.

Mustering all the energy he had left, Aiden rushed toward his father, but the man pushed him away. “Get away from me, get away…” he cried, attempting to climb back into the cart with his swollen arms. “He is not my son.”

“We didn’t even ask if he is your son or not,” the ginger bearded guard scoffed, pulling Aiden’s father away and tossing him beside his son. “You volunteered that information yourself.”

Even then, the man tried to get back, but this time Aiden restrained him, pinning him to the ground. “It’s fine, Dad. They won’t take me anywhere,” he reassured. The guards began to frown, prompting Aiden to add, “I will go with them.”

They appeared satisfied, but his father screamed again. “No… No… Take me, take me, please,” he extended his hands towards the guards who shook their heads with discontent.

“Wrap it up quick,” one of them said, and Aiden nodded.

Steeling his breath, Aiden turned his father to face him. “Dad, listen to me,” he implored. When the man persisted in his screaming, Aiden shouted, snapping him out of the moment.

A bit frightened, his father turned to face him, and Aiden softened his expression.

“Everything will be fine,” he assured, his tone gentle. “You don’t have to worry. I'll be back before summer.” For some inexplicable reason, Aiden felt an unwavering confidence as he said it, even when he knew he would surely die if he faced a real battle.

His father was about to respond, but Aiden spoke over him. “You've done enough for me, Dad. Now, it's my turn to do something for you. I'll send money. You get home, tidy it, and let Uncle Gaffer and Lilly take care of you.”

“But…”

“No ifs or buts,” Aiden insisted, pulling his father to his feet as he stood. “I get on the cart, you get home. That is final.”

Simultaneously, a cart approached from the side, and it was Gaffer, rushing to retrieve Aiden. The man halted his vehicle at a distance and came out. Before he could say anything, Aiden took charge.

“Look after Father,” he instructed, gently guiding his hesitant father toward a perplexed Gaffer. “Make sure he stays alive, no matter what.”

Gaffer reluctantly nodded. “And what about you?”

“I will be back by summer,” Aiden replied with a smile, reaching for the cart. “Tell Lilly to wait for me.”

“You’re way too optimistic, lad,” the ginger-bearded guard muttered as he sat down beside him.

“Yeah… I don’t know why.”