--- Lowan

The commander lifted up his tired eyes from the papers.

Roric, the kid who had survived the raid in Spjaldir, was sitting on the other side of the desk. He had told the commander the entire story of that night, as requested, so that he could fill the report with useful details. To be fair, Lowan had to admit that the orphan was quite a surprising fellow. Despite the grief he had managed to stay strong for the entirety of their conversation, stopping just once or twice to let some tears out.

In Guhrien the land was considered a very valuable resource, the kind of resource that couldn't be left in a miserable state. For that reason, the Duke was always eager to offer some kind of extra compensation to all those who brought him information. A better knowledge of the amount of damage caused, the number of victims and the circumstances of the raid were all elements that would have helped the Lord's administration in the context of a future reconstruction. As the old man loved to say, there was no such thing as an unused field in his lands.

"We are done here," stated the commander. "I'll conclude the report by myself before we get to the capital. You have been a great help, kid."

Sitting on his chair, Roric nodded nervously and stood up. In the meantime, Lowan stored the papers between his documents.

I feel a bit guilty to put him through this. This little orphan doesn't deserve it... But if it means that I can keep the company running, it's a price I'm glad to pay.

When he turned around, the commander noticed that his small guest was exploring every corner of the pavilion with his gaze, lingering in particular on the trunk that contained most of his personal belongings. Since the moment he had been allowed inside, in fact, the child's attention had immediately been captured by the White Talon, the family sword that was displayed on a wooden stand.

"You can get closer to that, if you desire so," Lowan said, cleaning the table from the remaining documents. "It won't bite you."

Roric stopped for a moment, hesitantly, then he walked towards the weapon.

"It's beautiful," he stated. "Is it yours, sir?"

"Yes, it's mine... Just not the one I use to fight," answered the commander. "That would be a waste. If I lost it in a battle, it would mean throwing away way more than a piece of sharp steel."

"Is it precious to you, sir?"

"You can say that. It's a ceremonial blade that has belonged to my family for generations. A memory of the past."

As Lowan got closer to the stand, the kid moved a few steps back. The man grabbed the sword and unsheathed it, spinning it through the air with grace. It was a long, refined item, built by a famous blacksmith almost a century before. Its grip was made of a sort of candid bone or horn from an exotic beast, whose name the commander had given up pronouncing. That material was the reason why the White Talon was called that way.

The orphan followed his movements with great interest. Clearly he had never seen a sword from that close, and seemed very curious about it.

"It's so fast!" commented Roric, in awe. "You are very skilled, sir."

"This blade was gifted to one of my ancestors, a man who swore to protect the weak," explained Lowan, testing some simple one handed stances. "But during the years it was wielded by many worse hands. It's been a long time since it last tasted blood, and maybe it's for the best."

He put the weapon back inside its scabbard, resting it on the stand once again. That thing reminded him of many things he would have gladly forgotten about. Still, why was Roric so interested in the Talon? He was quite mature for his age, probably because of all he had been forced to witness just a couple of days before. Lowan couldn't claim to be comfortable around children, but that kid was an exception.

"Commander, there is something else I wanted to ask," said Roric, lowering his gaze in shyness. "If I can."

"Let's hear it, young one."

"You are a great warrior, aren't you?" inquired the child.

"I wouldn't say that I'm that great," replied Lowan. "But I know my stuff and many good soldiers help me. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I... I was wondering if someone like you could stop bad things from happening."

The commander shivered. Listening to those words, he couldn't help but going through his memories once again. How could he explain that to such a small kid? That the world was a sad, rotten place where you really needed to struggle just to make a tiny difference?

If only being strong was enough...

He knelt before Roric, looking at him in the eye. That kid had discovered how dire the reality could be in one of the worst ways. So similar to how Lowan had discovered it himself.

"You see," he began. "Some men think they are in right to mess with the lives of others and more often than not they won't hesitate to use brute force. Me and my company have been hunting that kind of scum for so many years that we are almost considered bandit experts around here, yet... Over the decades, I came to a realization. Knowing how to fight is helpful, sure, but only as a temporary solution. In time, more evil will be born."

"What... What does it mean?"

"We just can't stop bad things from happening. The only thing we can do is to be sure that those bad things won't repeat themselves in the immediate future. You have to be strong, sharp, and always ready to fight."

Looking even sadder, Roric whined, "What about those who can't? What about... Those who are weak, like me?"

His eyes were teary. That moved the commander a little bit.

He resembles me a lot, the me from back then. What If I... No, I shouldn't.

"You are still too small," he said. "Like a leaf that floats on the surface of a river, and rides its current. Someone may throw a stone, and then it's all over. Don't make that face, young one. It just means that you can't do anything right now."

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Keep on living and try to leave your bad memories behind. The world is a scary place. Let the people like me and Tolwin take care of it."

Roric nodded, wiping away his tears, and the commander dismissed him. He went back to his desk, sinking into his deepest thoughts. That kid's story was none of his business. As much as it resembled his own, as much as the Lowan who had faced those days compelled him to make a different choice, he knew from experience that it was better not to get involved.

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Clenching his teeth, the commander repelled the past towards the darkest corners of his mind.

***

--- Roric

Since the day of his rescue, Roric had spent eight days travelling with the mercenaries. Most of the time he was just with Tolwin, hearing about the past deeds of the company. For the better part, like the commander had said, their tasks revolved around hunting down bad people but there were other well-paying jobs that they were willing to accept, like for example helping a nobleman to protect a town, or even fighting against his enemies. Those contracts, even the easiest ones, to the eyes of someone who had grown up in an isolated village all seemed like thrilling adventures.

The nights, however, had a completely different mood. For some reason, during the day Roric was always able to keep his sorrow in line. But when he went to sleep, nightmares came. Fire, yelling, blood, fear. The corpses of his parents looked at him from the darkness below, while the bandits' laughter echoed all around. Whenever he woke up from those terrible dreams, the child spent hours crying and curling in the darkness of the wagon until the fatigue got the better of him. That situation had been going on for a while and wasn't showing any sign to end.

To relieve him from the weight of his troubles, Tolwin made him drink a spoon of a bitter, dark liquid. It was something that should have put him to sleep, or so the priest had said, because except for a bit of slumber it didn't seem to work at all. Roric endured through the nightmares twisting his fingers around his mother's necklace, hoping that those images would disappear soon.

I must leave them behind... Just like commander Lowan told me.

At least during the day he had earned the permission to watch the old man's work.

There was one time when a soldier cut his palm by accident, so Roric could finally witness what the priest's magic was about. Without even talking, Tolwin imposed his hands over the bloody wound, stopping before he could touch it, while a bright glimmer shone between his fingers. The pulsating light covered the injury and the cut closed by itself in a matter of seconds. Then the priest simply washed the hand and the mercenary confirmed that the pain was gone. The child, in total disbelief, asked the man to show him his palm but he couldn't find any scar or sign that proved that the wound had been there. It had vanished into thin air.

He immediately buried the priest with questions, eager to know how such miracles could occur, but the old man seemed uncertain about the answer.

"I don't know what to tell you," said Tolwin. "A lot of people seem to think that we priests ask the Makers themselves for their aid, but in reality it's just us tapping into our own spirits. That's where the energy you saw comes from."

"What is this... Tapping thing?" asked Roric, pretty confused by that. "I can't understand."

"Imagine that you have a well and a bucket and you need water. What would you do?"

"Take the water from the well?" guessed the kid. "And put it in the bucket?"

"Yes, the principle is the same," laughed the priest. "But I can't really describe the feeling you get. The spirit is not a physical object. You must know how to reach it and for that you need a special training."

Roric stopped to think for a few moments.

"And you can heal every wound with that?"

"No, there are limits," explained the man. "For starters, I can't do it if I'm too tired. Just like the well from earlier, the spirit can get dry and the only option is waiting. Secondly, I need a moment to focus and do the ritual properly. And obviously, it's not like I can do whatever I wish. I studied for many years how healing works and how it must be performed."

"So, as long as you know how to do it, you can-"

"I know how to reattach a severed arm, if someone brings it to me right away. I can extract foreign objects and neutralize most poisons with a small effort. In a battle, this kind of knowledge can save many lives... But it's just a skill. Miracles don't exist, I'm afraid."

As much as he shivered at the portrayal of such gruesome wounds, the kid couldn't help but respecting that old man for facing those situations every day. He reflected some time on his words.

***

During the the journey, Roric also thought a lot about what the commander had said.

Keep living and try to forget. The only problem was that he couldn't. He had lost his parents just a couple of days before and now he was asked to go on with his life, throwing their memories away? There must have been at least something he could have done. He had to find out what it was.

Meanwhile, the once far away city of granaries was getting closer. One morning, finally, the lake of Guhrien appeared. The vast body of water filled a good portion of the horizon, reflecting the sunlight in a blaze of golden shimmers. The city was built on the southern side of the lake, surrounded by stone walls and an impressive amount of stuff. There were almost no words to describe the multitude of warehouses, processing structures, headquarters of wealthy merchants, and the horde of wagons and people that went back and forth into that maze of buildings. Due to the intense traffic, the company had to stop near the western outskirts of Guhrien to avoid getting in the way of its trading.

"This town is so huge. I've never seen anything like this!" exclaimed Roric.

"It's not that big, if you look at the rest of the Free Kingdoms," commented Tolwin, with a laugh. "Trust me, it just seems big because of all the fuss around. Inside, things are much quieter."

"Are we going in?" asked the kid, excitedly. "I have always heard about this place."

"Sure, this will be your new home after all."

The news hit Roric like a wall. But then, he realized that he couldn't keep being a burden to the mercenaries forever.

Well, what did I expect... Where am I going to stay?

"I don't know anyone here," he whined.

"The commander has already handled that," said Tolwin. "He has some acquaintances in town, including a few kind women who take care of an orphanage. You will be fine there."

An orphanage. His mother had told him what those places were, a long time before. Huge houses built for kids that had lost their parents. Kids that nobody would have taken care of.

"Come on, don't be sad. I'm sure you'd much prefer to stay here with us, but it's not possible. This is not a place for someone so young."

"Yes, sir," grumbled Roric. "I just... Didn't expect it, that's all."

The old man smiled, and patted him on the head.

"I would bring you in myself, but I have to take care of some stuff. The commander will come and get you in a short while," he just said. "Goodbye, young one. Good luck with your new life."

"Thanks, mister," replied the child, averting his gaze.

Shortly after, Tolwin had disappeared among the wagons. Roric stood there, uncertain on what to think, until he heard the commander calling his name.

***

The man escorted him to the city, walking at his side. Being that close to him, Roric couldn't help but noticing the strong aura of confidence the commander was always surrounded with. While they passed through the crowded areas, as soon as the people noticed Lowan they moved aside, bowing in respect.

Is he that famous? They all seem to know him...

"Do these merchants know you, sir?"

"I've done a lot of contracts in Guhrien," stated the commander. "Many of the people you see are at least related with someone I've worked for."

"Really? You must be pretty important, then!"

Lowan didn't answer that, and instead laughed heartily.

When they went through the gates, Roric was dumbfounded to see that the city was indeed a very quiet place, just like Tolwin had said. Built around a single main road, it was actually a lot smaller than how it looked. The most fascinating thing was that there was almost nobody around, in contrast with the chaos that reigned outside. The common districts, except for some dogs barking, were completely silent.

The two proceeded on their way without speaking. It wasn't like they had something to talk about, but the child would have preferred to have some conversation while walking in that foreign town. Still he would have probably found it difficult, because keeping the pace of the commander wasn't a simple task. As he followed the man towards the orphanage, he was even more captivated by the mysterious strength that seemed to radiate from him.

He really looks like a hero.

They went around the umpteenth corner, and their destination finally appeared in the distance. It was a rather poor building, one that had definitely seen better days. A woman was waiting on the door, cuddling a toddler in her arms.

"Good day to you, commander" she greeted. "I see that you've brought us another new guest."

"Indeed," answered Lowan. "Roric, this is Fyrsa. She is the person who will take care of you from now on."

"Hello, little one," the woman said. "Welcome to our orphanage. Don't worry, we'll-"

Screaming voices called for Fyrsa from inside. Another kid had probably fallen and injured himself. She sighed, and turned towards the door.

"I'm going to see what's happening, you can say your goodbyes in the meanwhile."

Roric and the commander were left alone. A strange silence fell between the two, and the man was the first one to break it.

"Well, I'm happy that at least we found you a place to stay."

"Where are you going now?" asked the child. "To see the Duke?"

"Yes, I'll bring him the report and leave before dusk," answered the man. "Cheer up, they will treat you well here."

Still, Roric's voice had gotten lower and sadder.

"I don't really want to stay here, sir."

"But you don't have anywhere else to go."

What if I...

He stopped before saying those words. The commander would have probably just laughed at him. After a couple of seconds, the man waved and turned around.

"It's farewell, then. Tell Fyrsa that I couldn't stop for any longer. So long."

"Farewell," murmured Roric.

He stood there, on the doorstep of the orphanage, until Lowan disappeared behind the corner just like Tolwin had previously done. It was only when the kind caretaker came, inviting him to get inside, that he finally moved.