The guard captain stormed into the front room, breaking the top hinge of the door in his metallic and clangy entrance. He saw the body of the would be thief first. Sprawled out, chest down, with the head turned to an uncomfortable angle to reveal the look of confusion frozen on the criminal’s face. The thief’s blood has long since drained from his cadaver. Spreading around the man’s corpse for that lovely pool of blood effect.

Then the captain saw me sat in the stagnant blood. I purposely kept a blank expression on my face to sell the act. While not sure if I can pull off a correctly terrified and anguished performance, despondency is a much simpler alternative. Although the coagulating blood was quite a disgusting substance, and once sat down I did not move for the red fluid would show any activity.

“Melvin… Are you hurt? Where’s your mom and dad?” My face gave a very visible involuntary flinch at the mention of my name. Seriously! Melvin! That is not heroic at all! The name just screams nerd! I am not doing that again!

“Melvin…” He takes a knee in front of me, getting his leg armor plate covered in blood.

I quickly recompose myself, not sure if I had just broken my illusion. My head pivots to look at the door of my parents bedroom. More guardsmen are walking in by this point and follow my gaze, but the captain stays with me. I think he was a friend of my father, as I had found them chatting quite casually on a few trips into town and I believe they may have occasionally drunk together. Honestly though, I had never paid much attention to the man. He was a rather plain placeholder with just enough gruff that one could possibly believe he is a guard captain, and most of that was carried in his ill fitting shaggy beard.

“Captain Harper.” A guardsman walks out of the bedroom. Harper, I guess I will need to remember his name from now on, looks at the man and gestures for him to both be quiet and carry on the report. I watch out of the corner of my eye, silently glad that Harper did not catch my slight laugh as he looked away. Hard to believe they would rather play charades than simply wait til the child was out of the room.

“Shi... uh… um.” Harper was apparently having difficulty as the guardsman ran his finger across his throat and shook his head.

Suddenly, a cry pierced through the house. All the noise had woken up my one-year old little brother Atal. This was his fourth time crying this morning, but I had just kept ignoring him. He would be fine being alone for at least half a day.

I was always jealous of Atal’s actually cool name. From where were my parents picking these? They do not even sound like they are from the same country! However, despite my misgivings on the name, he may yet play an important part in my legacy. Many heroes have younger siblings they need to protect. However, typically girls are better than boys for this purpose, and I might just have to leave him someplace where he will not bother any future plans if things get troublesome.

A guardsman went to fetch the crying child. Entering the room with his sword drawn. He returned swiftly with his weapon resheathed and a baby in one arm. Harper made a move to grab me as well to which I offered only some slight resistance. He was stronger than he looked. The plate metal armor he wore was covered in the same blood coating me and the floor.

The group of guardsmen and children leave the house, meeting more armed guardsmen outside in a quick huddle. They look at me quizzically but offer no questions. Harper gives a few simple instructions and the group runs past him, taking up positions around the home.

Harper, the guardsman holding Atal, me, and two others go down the hill upon which the forest cabin is located. I try to twist around in the captain’s arms to get a last look at the house, but Harper just gently nudged my head away.

“Don’t look back, not yet.” His face is expressionless, yet his voice betrays him as the sadness and concern is so thick I felt the emotion thickening in the air. I pull my head in and curl into a ball in his arms. A brief smile falls on my face as the thought crosses my mind that I might have traumatized the good captain.

A few hours later, I find myself in the guards barracks. Well, not the actual barracks but a guest room on the third floor. The city guards had given both me and my brother baths, and put us in here to rest. The only adult in the room was the wet nurse brought in for the baby. I suspect she is also here to keep an eye on me, although she has mostly kept to herself in the corner with her knitting.

Occasionally I could hear footsteps outside the door or the muttered voices of the standing watch on the room. So, obviously I heard the overly clangy guard captain coming down the hall and walking in after exchanging some pleasantries with the watching pair of guardsmen outside the door.

Harper walks in and looking tired and somewhat older after the experience this morning. First person he notices is Atal playing in the middle of the room. Chewing lightly on a stuffed cloth horse one of the guards had given him. Making those infuriatingly cute baby noises. Looking at the sight causes Harper to give a brief and gentle smile. He stares in content for a few seconds before moving onto his gruesome task, looking at me.

I am sat up in the fetal position, on a chair, in the corner. Hugging my knees with my eyes just slightly poking out. Looking every bit like the scared little child I should be. Having to acknowledge my presence in the room is enough to pull back the captain to the grim reality. His face visibly drops and he audibly gulps as he tries to psych himself up enough to approach me. While I knew Harper was friends with my late father, how close were they that he would react in such a way?

“Melvin. How you doing?” He kneels down so he is at eye level, but his eyes only hang on my face, avoiding meeting my sight. A forced reassuring smile is plastered across his face. “It’s already two past noon. You must be... Hungry?” He seems to be having trouble speaking to me. The face looking at me is contorted into what Harper probably thinks is a reassuring smile, however I can see the pain in his eyes, hear the fear in his voice. All understandable. What do you say to a eight year old who has just lost his parents and killed his first man?

I slightly move my head in a nod. So gentle one could mistake the action as an illusion, but the man before is holding my entire image as to not miss anything as if I may disappear any second.

“Alright, um, I’ll go down to the mess and bring us up something. Uh, any requests, I might be able to talk the chef into cooking you whatever...” His awkwardness is palpable and kind of entertaining in a way. Random stops and trailing off sentences galore. As a cityguard he should have seen plenty of situations of comparable gruesomeness. How did he ever make the rank of captain? Silently, I shake my head, with slightly more assertion this time.

“Alright, be right back, uh.” He lets the sentence fade away in his persistently floundering speech. But, as if to contradict his bumbling speech, Harper stands back up with a graceful twirl into a walk at such a speed my eyes can barely perceive the movement. The feat was even more impressive when I realized he had done the maneuver in a suit of plate armor and apparently subconsciously, if the confused pause and scratch at the neck afterwards is any clue.

“Can I come with?” I say to the retreating captain, while trying to keep the voice quiet and timid with enough clarity to avoid a mood destroying ‘What?’

“What?” Harper’s dazed response strikes the dramatic atmosphere hard. However, not all is lost. He seems to have heard the request but was just taking some time to deal with the suddenness. Good, as I can not ask twice, as I am supposed to be emotionally feebled right now.

“Uh, yeah.” The repeated bumbling around this situation is not filling me with confidence in the captain, but I feel I can still get what I need from him.

Leaving the third floor of offices and conference rooms, we make our way way to the first floor cafeteria. So far the building has been unimpressive with mostly wooden furnishings and little decor. Surprisingly the only thing of interest is the wall fixtures that light up as we pass. I know that this otherworld society does not possess a working knowledge of electricity, so the effect can just be chalked up to magic.

The manipulation of the strange force/energy of mana, a practice called magic, is indeed a confirmed feature of my new homeworld. Although no one will tell me how magic works, and active practice seems to be discouraged for young and untrained individuals.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

In silence, Harper and I enter the barracks mess hall. The room is similar to others in the building, just bigger, with tables and an order counter taking up an entire wall. Due to the odd lunch hour only a quiet group of three eaters persist in the corner.

Harper directs me to sit at a table as he goes to the counter. To appease some of the building boredom I try to observe the three amicably chatting in the corner, though they are too far away to hear.

A bowl of stew and a chunk of bread is placed down in front of me. Looking up I see Harper carrying a plate of similar foodstuffs. Although his bread chunk is both darker and bigger than mine.

“All the cook has on right now is stew. We would have to wait for any requests. I suppose this is quite late.” Another awkward smile graces his face, which quickly wilts when exposed to my quiet indifference. Tensely he takes a seat across from me.

I begin taking slow spoonfuls while the captain watches quietly. He wants to talk, but the silence that has descended seems to be too strong. I gently lay the spoon in the bowl.

“Aren’t you going to eat? You’re hungry too, right?” Harper is knocked out of his stupor by my questions. Visibly reeling back and blinking himself to reality. Unfortunately his mouth did not go agape to complete the look. He finally looks me right in the eyes. Not just the face, the eyes. A slightly relieved smile twists onto his lips.

“Melvin, it’s odd saying that name, I’m not great around kids, so, forgive me.” And the clumsy grin returned to his face, as he scratched the back of his head in the manner that forces his eyes away to break contact with mine.

“Did your dad ever talk about me?”

“Not really. He never really talked about his friends much.” I had definitely seen the captain around while growing up, but had never paid much attention tell now.

“Well we are, were, friends. I suppose he never told you how we met?” I shook my head as Harper visibly calmed down with a look of reminisce. “It was ten years ago now, and I had only been a guardsman for three days. Somehow I was waylaid by people on the street with mountains of complaints. I wasn’t even working then, just forgot to bring a change of clothes to work. Had to walk home in uniform. Got caught by some guy whos landlord had ‘illegally’ raised his rent and wanted legal action. Then the landlord came out and started screaming, waving a rental document around. Then a mother complaining about someone else’s unruly child. On and on, more and more people showed up to bi… bark at me. They were all talking and yelling at the same time. Honestly, I’m not sure where they had all come from.”

“Then, while I was thinking I was going to start crying and screaming, a big barking voice roared out at the crowd. ‘Hey! All you fu… fudgers had better get in fudging line or find some other guard to cry and whine at.’ That was your dad, standing bravely against the complaint mob. I could have sworn he was one of the divine descended when I saw him.”

“With his help and muscular intimidation we managed to get the crowd thinned out and manageable. He even left at some point and came back with more guardsmen. They said they would handle it so I offered to buy my saviour a drink. At the bar we hit it off. Drank all night. In the morning the captain called me in and commended me for handling the situation well, despite my lack of experience as a rookie. Started giving me more responsibilities and jobs than the other rookies. So as thanks I made it a regular habit to go out with my saviour, Bren. Then after a year of this I did something that ruined everything.”

Captain Harper seemed reluctant to go on. His smile was genuine, but so were his tears that welled up in the corners of his eyes. He had not touched the food, even though I had kept eating mine through the story telling. I kept my face blank in order not to betray my lack of emotional scarring over the recent incident, but what face should I have had for this. The man was visibly shaking and emotionally breaking.

The pause went on for about two minutes. I stopped eating. Harper sat frozen in his speech. Unwilling to continue on his own. I had to ask.

“What did you do?” He jolted back into reality and continued on with the tale as if no break had happened. But this time his tears flowed freely.

“One day I asked if we could be more than just friends. He calmly and nicely said no, he doesn’t do that. But after a year of growing to love him, I couldn’t let it go. I was crying, he was trying to calm me. I took the chance and kissed him.”

Dropping my spoon, I stared at the man in front of me differently. Luckily the captain could not see through his own tears at this point, as my face betrayed an understanding an eight year old should not have of this situation. Who admits to lip raping a child’s father to that child? I do not even know the public perception of homosexuals in this world. No, remember heroes are open minded, the public does not matter. Fuck! This is supposed to be the kind of bullshit that is spouted after the story is finished and the public can yell at it then.

“I ran away after that.” Oh, for the fucking, shitting, love of all that is holy, why is he continuing the story.

“He tried to talk to me for two months. I just avoided him. Eventually he gave up and some time later a wedding invitation was dropped off in front of my house. While I didn’t go, I asked around and found out he had gotten someone pregnant, your mother. A year later he showed up at my door new wife and baby in tow.”

“He treated it like we were both just busy the past two years. Like nothing happened. I was about to either kick him out or run away, then he said something I will never forget. ‘Melvin, I haven’t properly introduced you to my wife Miah. And this is my new son, Melvin. Don’t go getting mixed up for him with the same name and all.’ He said it with this wide smile. Not a hint of anger at my childish behaviour.”

It’s his fucking fault! This bastard is the reason I am named Melvin! I wonder what damage I can do to him with a spoon! He is exposed right now, a few stabs would not be hard. Everyone awkwardly left the room when the captain started watering his soup with his snot, so no witnesses. No, no, remember, I am an eight year old child. An eight year old child who just listened to another man spout his love for his late father. How am I supposed to fucking respond to this!

As for this supposed meeting, while I do have some early memories of my new life most things before the age of four are hazy. I guess babies do not have the best perception or memorizing capabilities. Something I considered good, as I only have a few memories of being changed. Truthfully, the process was quite demeaning.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I always meant to tell your mother some day. I shouldn’t have said so much. You just look so much like your father and…” Please do not tell me that. I am not into older men. NO! No, not into men. Fuck, I am confused and sure that my despondent face has failed to hold through this landmine of a story.

He looks up at me, his face a mess. “I haven’t seen you cry once since I found you.”

“Dad said strong men don’t cry in front of others.” I just made that up but I have to say something. This is bad, I am still panicking. How do I interact with this?

“He was always one to play the tough guy. But I won’t tell anyone, and I think everyone else left.” Melvin Harper is giving me a relaxed and calm smile. I want to reach up and feel my face to check my expression, but I know that would be a mistake at this point. I was sidetracked too long and have to get what I wanted out of this interaction.

But should I. I will have to spend possibly years in close quarters with him, and I do resemble my father. No, he appears to have matured and learned his lesson about forcing his affections on a straight man. And I am definitely straight. Confirmed that in the last life and this one. There are plenty of places a kid can go where women will not question ulterior motives.

The bigger problem is the name. He cursed me with this moniker of a nerd and I should not stand for this injustice. However, I have mostly gotten used to the title by now. What possessed my late father to think to use a former friend as his child’s namesake? Did he think this would patch the relationship. Most people around the base call my apparent cognomen either Harper or Captain, so I do not think he likes the name either. Perhaps I can also get away with going for my last name as my common alias.

After calming down and processing the information, perchance I may have overreacted. This just means he will be emotionally attached and will fulfil my request to the fullest extent. I look up to find the captain staring at me gently. Patiently waiting for the emotional dam to break within me. Unfortunately, the dam has run dry. No, there was no water to begin with, and I can not just start crying on demand.

“I want to be strong.” I purposely choke out the words. “I want to protect people. Can you. Please teach me how to fight?!” Harper’s smile drops slightly. The man is definitely disappointed in my choice of a combat solution. He probably was hoping I would try to live a peaceful life.

“Perhaps this is for the best.” He closes his eyes, straightens his mouth. When he opens his eyes again his face is in an obvious state of forced neutrality. A mask to hide the truth.

“You want to protect people?”

“Yes.”

Harper’s face hardens slightly. However, on his current emotionless countenance, this projects a stern, unyielding visage. “And what will you do to those that hurt them?”

“Stop them.”

“Will you kill them?”

“...”

“Will you?”

“... If I must.”

I want to crack a smile, but I keep a disciplined face. There was no way of knowing what I should say, but those answers must be hero worthy. Or atleast good aligned.

“Hah.” Harper’s face relaxes but does not return to his smile. At least the emotional mask is gone. “Fine then. Melvin Keir, I, Melvin Harper, will start you on the path to true strength. Enough to protect all that you hold dear.”

The captain extends his hand for me. The urge to laugh swelling within me ready to burst. But I must not give in to such a base desire, for I will lose what I have just gained. A teacher that knew my father. A common trope in any hero story.

I grasp his hand. Giving my best little determined kid face, which is just a slight frown and narrowed eyes. He nods in response. Letting go of me and absentmindedly taking a bite of his stew.

“Hurk! What is that da… cook putting in this!”