--- Lowan

As he strolled towards the palace, Lowan couldn't help but feel some regret. He had brought orphans to Fyrsa's place a couple of times before, but nobody besides Roric reminded him so much about his old self.

When he was young he had faced horrible things. Things that had changed him forever. Things that had left scars in his mind. Lowan needed to take life into his own hands, back in the time, and the only way was learning to fight.

That kid had the eyes of someone who can't stand injustice, like me. What if I had told him that he could stay, that the company could be... No way, he is too young.

What right did he have to impose such a choice on a small child? The commander kicked a pebble and went on, focusing on the report he still had to deliver.

***

The meeting with the Duke was held in a big study, fit for the Lord of such a vast land.

Lowan told the nobleman and his secretaries about the outcome of his mission, making a very informative picture of what had exactly happened in the Western villages. As he talked, the commander could easily notice in the expression of the Duke that all his work had been well worth the effort. He knew that the other mercenary companies wouldn't even think about researching properly, and that was why Guhrien had become one of his most affectionate clients.

Once he had finished delivering the report, the Lord clapped his hands twice and praised the commander for his thoroughness, adding some money to the payment. Lowan bowed before his employer and left the room, finding two servants waiting outside with his money.

All done here, it's finally time to get back to the others.

On his way, however, the commander couldn't stop thinking about the child from before. All the orphans shared similar stories, he guessed, but there was no way that those who lived at Fyrsa's place had already seen as much death as Roric. Nobody should have witnessed those things at a young age, he knew it well. That concern kept his mind busy until he arrived at the camp, and ordered his captains to distribute the pay. The soldiers were happy, and many seemed planning to visit the shops in town. For himself, Lowan just wanted to stay alone.

Inside his pavilion, to draw his attention away from the past, the commander took out a map of the Free Kingdoms and stretched it on the desk. He had to choose the next destination for the company, but there were simply too many things distracting him. After failing to calculate their distance from the Republic's capital twice, getting lost in his thoughts in the process, he ultimately let his head fall down on the table with a dull thud.

"You are troubled."

Lowan looked up, scratching his forehead. Tolwin had made his way inside without making a single sound, and had kept watch from the shade since who knew when.

How does he always sneak up on me like that? I must be getting less and less aware with the years.

"I am," he confirmed. "But that's none of your business."

The priest just made a mocking smile, and stepped forward. "Come on, how long has it been? Twenty years? You can always tell an old friend about your problems, you know."

The commander invited him to sit, pouring some wine in the usual cups.

"It's that kid. He reminds me of myself, to a certain extent. You know why."

"A ghost from the past," commented Tolwin. "And here I thought that I would listen to something new, for once."

Lowan glared at him.

"You are the one who asked."

"Yes, that's true," admitted the old man. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The commander lowered his gaze onto the table, getting lost inside the veins of the wood. Then, he sighed.

"You know I don't like children, usually. But that Roric seemed... Different."

"Because of what happened to him?"

"I guess so," answered Lowan. "We both went through something terrible, I could read it in his eyes. Even if it's not really the same, hearing his story brought back many memories about... Those days."

He stopped to take a sip of wine.

"The kid was looking for answers. He asked me if being a strong warrior like me can make all bad things go away. Life has been hard with him, Tolwin. I know what it's like to be that lost as a child. That's why I almost feel like I have abandoned that poor soul."

"You did the right thing," said Tolwin. "I liked Roric too, but keeping him with us wouldn't have been a smart decision at all."

"Right. Twisting his fate is not a solution. I got a bit self centered about this, sorry."

The priest lifted the cup, studying its content intently. "Still, you unable to accept it. Am I right?"

The commander sighed.

"When I was little, my father wanted me to grow into a great commander. One that wins battles. One that brings honor and wealth to his family. One who always knew what was best for those he was in charge of... From his own despicable point of view, of course."

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"That man was insane. I already told you before."

Lowan nodded, standing up and walking towards the White Talon. That sword used to belong to his old man, before he had forcefully taken possession of it. Just looking at the weapon brought up the memory of the disgusting person who wielded it before him.

"Only the fittest survive, my father used to say," he went on. "That kid had to face this fact, surviving by sheer luck. And despite that, in all his despair, he didn't want revenge. He just wanted to learn how he could make those things never happen again. It's the same will that once drove me forward."

"Why didn't you take him in, then? It looks like you wanted to offer him a shelter, and show him the way."

The commander clenched his fists. The screams were so vivid in his mind, even after all that time.

"Helping the weak, becoming their shield. It's not for everyone. The men in my company have strong ideals, and that's what keeps us running. I just figured that for a little kid that would be simply too much. We are mercenaries, not heroes, but we still like to do good. And you surely know the meaning of this choice."

"Suffering in the face of injustice doesn't mean devoting your entire existence to fight it. Who knows if the child would have made it? He was just looking for a solution of any kind."

"Well, there isn't. You can't change the world by yourself," blurted Lowan. "Do have any idea of how long it took me to understand it? That kid has already seen his fair share of death, it is true, but he simply doesn't know. The hell I had to face back then-"

"Lowan, my friend," stepped in the priest. "Normal people don't need to fight the whole world in order to find themselves. You have decades of experiences. You could have just given him a single piece of advice, a real one, and you would probably not be feeling this bad. Weren't you the one who said that your company would be a safe haven for those kinds of people?"

The commander stopped talking. Tolwin was right, it was his mistake.

"I... I'll have to think about it. Just not now," he said. "Let's forget about that kid. He'll find the way on his own, if it's his destiny."

"As you wish," sighed the priest. "But keep this in mind, Roric isn't the problem here. As long as you aren't done with your past, there won't be any peace in your heart."

Lowan caressed the smooth, shiny grip of the White Talon.

"Let's rally the captains. It's time to leave."

***

--- Roric

"Do you want some broth, sweetheart? I'll bring you some in a minute."

"Sure. Thanks, Miss Fyrsa."

Roric spent his first hour at the orphanage just looking around. The other kids didn't get near him and just glared from the distance, clearly curious about the newcomer but still too wary of him.

The child sighed of relief. As much as he missed his home in Spjaldir, at least he had a real place to sleep now. The only problem was being completely alone. He took out his mother's necklace, thinking about the woman's last words.

Live. She wanted me to live, but... I miss her so much.

Father too. During the last few days he had been absorbed by so many new things that he never had the chance to think about his parents with a clear mind. He had been desperately crying, of course, but now that his short journey had come to its end, all he could feel was emptiness. Those people were his family. And they were gone forever, like memories from long before.

The caretaker brought him the meal. It was hot and tasty, so he gladly ate it.

Once he finished, the kid dragged a stool near one of the windows and sat on it, facing the road outside. Leaning against the wall with his shoulder, Roric got lost in his thoughts while looking through the dusty glass. The light of the dusk painted everything outside in a nice red color.

Ten days had passed since that frightening night. Spjaldir had been his home for many years, but with the exception of his parents the kid couldn't say to be particularly close to anyone there. All the time he had spent in that village, its people were always criticizing and telling him how he was supposed to live. At the mercenary camp, on the other hand, he had found a person who had helped him to get back on his feet.

Tolwin is a kind man. The commander seemed nice too. I'm going to miss them, once they are gone.

Well, they were already gone. As much as he wanted to stay with them a little more, he had to start from scratch. Still, Roric felt guilty for those thoughts. What would the folks in Spjaldir have said of him if they had looked at him now? After all the horrible things he had lived through, they would have probably said, he had to be thankful to have a roof over his head.

Turning away from the window, the child glanced at the other orphans. They were all around his age, alone and helpless. Playing in the backyard, fighting over a piece of bread, crying for the same petty motives as the Roric from a few days before. How many of them had had their lives ruined in the same way? Despite that, they seemed able to move on. Happily, with a light heart.

Barbarians, bandits, wars. No matter who they were or who they served. Anyone with a little shred of power could have come to the city at any given time, burning down their orphanage and killing their caretaker. The survivors would have just started again. And again. And again.

Not a single one of them would have lifted a finger.

I want to change things. I want to stop bad things from happening.

Roric lacked the power to do so. As the commander had told him, he was like a leaf carried by the water. But he wasn't supposed to be like that forever.

I don't want to be scared anymore. I need to become strong like the commander. Even if it's not the best solution. How can I do that? How?

The answer to that question didn't lie in that gloomy, dusty place. That much he knew.

But maybe, just maybe it was waiting somewhere at the end of the path that Roric was following, sprinting along the streets of Guhrien at full speed.

***

He dashed towards the gates, hoping to still find the mercenaries there. Dodging wagons and merchants, the kid fought to slip between the crowd. He cursed that city. It was too packed, too chaotic for his likes. Some horses nearly trampled him, a man moved to the chase thinking that he was a thief, but he didn't care. He had to hurry.

Wait for me. Please, commander, wait for me!

When he finally managed to make his way out of that mess, he spotted the company. The encampment was packed, the wagons aligned. The men were on the point of leaving, but they were still there. Roric compulsively searched for the commander, running through the soldiers. He noticed Tolwin, on the front seat of his cart. The old man smiled at him, for some reason.

Then, he appeared. In the distance, on his steed, Lowan was speaking with one of the captains.

"Commander!" Roric called for him, with what was left of his voice.

He fell on his knees, a dozen meters before reaching the man. His legs were burning due to the long sprint, and his lungs ached with every breath. The commander didn't answer, and only gave him a stern gaze. For a moment, the kid almost felt unable to speak. He frantically chose the right words to use, and gulped.

"I can't stay here. Bring me with you. I will do whatever I'm asked to. I promise."

He bowed his head to the ground, tears running down his cheeks. The mercenaries were all listening in an unsettling silence, but despite feeling uneasy the child didn't falter. Although tiny, there was a chance that Lowan would have said yes.

"Please, commander. I want to become strong. Make me one of your warriors!"

Lifting his eyes, Roric wiped them with the sleeve of his tunic. His voice was still echoing around. For long seconds, nothing outside of him and the commander seemed to exist. The man looked at him from the feet up, then his face relaxed and he spoke back, turning away from him.

"Join the recruits, if you wish to do so. Someone give him his orders!"

It worked! I really did it!

Roric froze on the spot, stunned by what had just happened. Somehow, Lowan had accepted him. Many soldiers surrounded him, praising his resolve and merrily slapping his back.

On that late summer day, in front of a cozy life already laid down for him, the kid had understood something. Facing the same choice under different circumstances, maybe he would have been fine with staying at the orphanage. But the Roric who had always desired to go against the rules of the village, the one who had lost everything and faced death alone, couldn't allow it. Now that he had seen a glimpse of what the world was really like, he had to work hard to make it better.

Gazing at the sunset, the child gave a last thought to the orphans and their shelter, then stood up proudly.

What is this? Fear? No, I'm just excited. I can't wait!

Roric was finally ready to start over. And that day the choice was his own.