Can we choose to be happy?

After graduating from a fighter's guild, the knighting ceremony was a crowning moment in his life.

It was a short joy. He had been plunged into the battlefield to fight on behalf of a spineless lord. But he lived. He got away from all that.

Though he made all the right choices, life doesn't guarantee happiness. Just ask Verius Felicitum.

A man of about forty years, he itches his scraggly beard while resting in a room that smells stale, an empty flask laying next to his hand. He squats in an abandoned house, and as a result the villagers have spread rumors.

"Does he have problems with his wife?" The speaker is neutral, but curious.

"The poor man can't function now. Maybe there's bad karma from his past life." Genuine concern from this tone.

Footsteps and comments seep through the stripped planks. Stowing inside, but not really trying to hide, the man fiddles with his pipe overflowing with cud, courtesy of his wife. With a snap of his fingers, Verius lights a flame, and the crackle of sparks distracts him from the whispering, superstitious voices. Cold air blows through a broken section of the roof, toying with the flame like a cat to a mouse.

In the province of Caelum, its military branches had been decommissioned since losing to Rubrum in a territorial dispute. Having survived with his limbs intact, Verius met a preppy alchemist named Remelia, married her, and moved with her to her small town. While it wasn't intentional, engaging an herbalist comes with a nearly unlimited grass supply.

"Haven't you heard? A monster invaded their home. He's scared of the future."

"Stop fooling us. If that was the case, he would take his wife with him." The voice is shrill and breathy.

Their chatter is so annoying. I wish they would do me a favor and ask me directly. Alas, Verius is a male with stoicism drilled into him, so he cannot complain out loud. With his back to a wall, he slinks further into the floor. To be honest, even if they did ask him, he has no verbal answers. What would happen is that he would tear up and blubber like a baby, embarrassing himself. Maybe it's better they didn't ask.

Several days had passed since he left home. The smoke revives his frozen lungs, driving off the numbness that had nested into his sinuses. He brushes at the scraps of cud littered around his reach, sweeping them into a dust pile. Before the hallucinogen whisks him to the realm of nectar, he mulls over his troubles.

He had just returned from a hunting trip. Their modest house his father-in-law had built quite well, with cleanly shaped bricks and straw insulation, and it was a welcomed sight for sore eyes. He hung the pheasant carcasses off the ceiling beam, high enough to be out of reach from a dog or a kid.

"Good girl," Verius said as he knelt, petting Ursi's head. He gave her a rub through her long, wavy coat, and her sharp ears flopped at once. She panted lightly and closed her eyes. It was a snip chilly outside, so Verius decided to let her sleep inside the house.

"Welcome back. How was it?" Remelia asked, wearing a simple apron and her hair tied loosely in the back. Her head poked out from behind the central chimney in the single-room house. She had turquoise eyes and chestnut hair. The warm glow and the slosh of vegetable stew had a calming effect on Verius, but they were nothing compared to his beautiful wife.

"We're good for the week," he reported matter-of-factly. "Where's Timo?"

"I sent him out to fetch water. He should be back soon."

Verius continued petting Ursi and making cooing sounds at her. "Yush, do you like dem scritches?" He started examining the walls and whether they needed repairs. Ursi followed Verius step by step.

The sky gradually darkened, and the soup was getting mushier. Remelia said, "The fire needs a lift." She reached for the wrack beside the hearth, but her hand paused. "Where's the poker? I swear I put it back."

"Do you need more wood?"

"That would be nice. While you're out, can you check on Timo? He hasn't returned, and it's getting dark."

"Aye aye. Why don't you start eating first?" Verius patted his thighs and called, "Ursi!" The two of them went outside, where the sky was dim and the sun partially sunken into the earth.

A pepper-scented wave from the nearby spike-leaf trees greeted the man and dog. Verius went to the well the family had dug themselves, thinking his son had gotten distracted and lost track of time.

When he arrived at the well, a pit in the ground surrounded with rocks and a thick pipe jutting out of the middle, nobody was around.

Maybe it's dry today? The village is nearby. There's a deeper communal well. He gathered a few sticks and realized he forgot to bring a torch. "It's not good to spend too long after sundown. I hope he's there."

He quickened his pace and headed down the worn path, stepping aside the occasional low-hanging tree branch and tall stalk. Ursi sniffed through the brush and roamed near Verius's legs. A tiny knot of discomfort was forming inside Verius, but he swallowed it down, not letting it distract him. He carried a light bundle of dry sticks, but stopped gathering any more wood.

The forest started to clear as the path grew wider, leading closer to the main village hub. Little stone houses with thatched roofs dotted the far side of the horizon. Ursi stopped and lifted her chin high, her nose trembling. Her great neck stiffened, then she veered off into a wack direction.

"Where're you going? Ursi?" The man turned heel and followed. He whistled and snapped his fingers, but Ursi simply paused, looked back to make sure he was following, then continued plowing the ground with her nose.

Despite his best attempts to stay with the hound, she bolted further into the forest and left him behind. Verius stumbled into the vegetation, but it was harder for him to push through the branches. He decided to conserve his energy, as her barking will alert him of the location soon enough. He was sidetracked with three tasks at once: finding his dog, finding his son, and finding firewood, thus becoming extremely frustrated.

From the distance, there was a bark. Verius snapped his head towards the noise and jogged. Then, a high-pitched whine morphed into a gutteral scream.

That was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It was so piercing that Verius froze, as if his toes had been nailed down by the sound.

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Ursi's garbled growl rose and fell like a wave. "I'm coming! Ursi, return!" Verius summoned a tongue of flame in his hand and ignited the bundle. He threw the sticks outwards and they floated around him, suspended by a shell of mana. He clawed at his thighs and plucked his feet up, regaining the energy to move. As he dashed, the hot tips singed leaves and branches that would have scratched his face.

He stopped. "Ursi! Speak!"

She did not bark in response. Verius twitched and panicked, and resumed in the direction of what seemed correct. "Speak! Speak!" He commanded louder and louder.

"I'm here!" a human voice responded instead.

Finally, with a reference point, Verius arrived at the location. "Timo? Is that you?"

Before him, he saw Ursi and his son, laying on the ground, tangled together in a bloody, mottled mess. Verius screamed and jumped at both of them, cutting the air with expletives. "Titanfall! Ursi?" He knelt down and his hands shook.

Ursi whimpered and craned her neck across the dirt, her eyes shining and her breathing heavy. An iron rod stuck out of her belly. It took him a second to recognize the fireplace poker. The entry points of the prongs gushed with dark globs as she exhaled. He averted his gaze and scanned his son's body, whose tunic was splattered. "Timo? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, I think," Timo said. He rolled over slightly, his hair covered in twigs.

"Ursi?" Verius strained his throat. His lungs felt sticky inside, and his scalp felt like it was about to explode, such was the extent of his shock and confusion. He turned to Timo, and the floating sticks drew closer, washing the area with an orange glow. "What happened? Did she attack you?"

Timo sat upright, swaying back and forth. "Ursi barked so loud, I got scared." A mix of blood and sweat on his upper lip flowered as he spoke.

"What were you doing here, Timo?" Verius gripped his son’s shoulder.

The child presented a grin and laughed with quiet, hnng hnng, noises. "I was playing hide ‘n seek, but I didn't want to be found so fast," voice trailing off.

Verius furrowed his brow. His eyes flitted around the scene. "Timo, Mama asked you to fetch water. Where's the bucket?"

"Obviously, it's in the well," Timo said with a hint of annoyance.

Verius made another pass of the area. "You didn't bring it with you?"

Timo shook his head.

"Why is Ursi hurt?" Verius debated if he should take the poker out, or if doing so would harm her worse.

"Oh." Timo leaned over and laid a hand on Ursi, who breathed weakly. As he felt his hand rise from her chest, he said, "She's not dead yet?"

"Timo!" An inexplicable sensation rose in Verius. He grabbed the child firmly with both arms. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

Timo formed his hands into fists and brought them together, holding an imaginary stick. "I did this," he said as he swung down a few times, "then this," as he raised and thrusted it into the ground.

Verius shoved Timo so hard the child choked on his own saliva. As he tumbled and wheezed, the father rose to full height and kicked. His boot sunk into softness, rebounded against ribs, and sent the kid flying across the grass. The floating sticks exploded and whole branches engulfed in flame.

He bellowed, "What's wrong with you?! Ursi is a sweet girl! She would never hurt a person." Saying that out loud, he felt a small relief, but only a tiny bit, like watching a fly buzz off a manure pile. A disgust within him loomed higher than the heavens. Hardening his face, he towered over his son. "Why would you do this?!"

Timo curled into a ball and grabbed his knees. With his mouth full of contempt, he mumbled, "You love your dog more than me."

"What did you just say?!" Verius picked up his child by the collar and shook him loose. "You think you can spew lies like that?!" He held him higher until the limbs dangled.

"Verius! What're you doing?" From behind, Remelia shrieked. "Timo!" She stomped her way across the uneven sod, and another woman and man from the village followed behind.

During the distraction, Timo bit his father's hand. Verius yelled and released his grip, dropping the child.

"Providence!" Remelia ran to Timo and hugged him. The neighbors circled around Verius, eyeing Ursi and him cautiously.

"Who have you been sleeping with?!" Verius yelled. His spit flung onto Remelia's face.

"What're you talking about?" Remelia brushed off the moisture, then with her arms, guarded Timo. "Are you hurt?"

Her son burrowed and snuggled against her. She glared at her husband. "Why's he covered in blood?"

"Someone who hurts dogs can't be a son of mine!" Verius regretted saying that as soon as it came out of his mouth.

Remelia's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. To make the situation more ridiculous, Timo started crying. Remelia hugged her son tightly and said, "Hush baby, it's gonna be okay. Mama's here."

"I--I'm serious! He killed Ursi!" Verius pointed directly at Timo's face.

The woman from the village said, "First, you need to extinguish the flames." Her husband held up a torch and waved it, indicating they still had a light source.

Remelia cried, "He's only six! How can you accuse him of that?"

Verius wanted to slap all of them. They didn't know what Ursi meant to him. They hadn't seen it. They hadn't seen the truth.

He saw the truth, in all of its ugly and hopeless glory. It was like the key had clicked, the final piece of the puzzle had erupted in place. He was forced to confront this truth with his eyelids taped open. There was no relief and no saving grace. Hollow and incomplete, the dread inside of him had stirred. It brewed, it absorbed his denial, it gained critical mass and it manifested into physical flesh, a rotting piece of carcass that paraded around as his son.

They don't have a right to judge.

He dropped his tone by an octave. "Remelia, step away."

"I refuse," she said. "You need to explai--"

Verius ignored her and reached for Timo's hair. He pulled him out of Remelia's arms. The mother flailed and threw herself onto Verius, to no avail. Without thinking, Verius shoved his wife aside, and she landed onto the ground.

The village neighbors intervened and grabbed Verius by his arms. Branches exploded in their face, the heat almost searing them. They let go and retreated.

Timo escalated his cries as his father dragged him by the head and whiplashed him. Verius leaned over Timo, drawing close to snap the little neck. The child fell silent.

In a hushed tone that only his father could hear, he said, "I'm glad I could see the real you." His face was devoid of emotion.

Was that something that should come out of a child's mouth? Verius froze with chills up his spine.

As if reading those thoughts, Timo twisted into a sob and his cheeks bloomed red. He stretched out his arms, stretched out his fingers, trembling like the weeping willow. "Papa."

Verius mirrored the word with his lips. Papa.

"Papa," Timo repeated. Streaks of tears gleamed and danced across his face like the rivers in their valleys.

Verius dropped his arms and lingered for an eternity. He stared at his son. He started at the stare that had somehow become so innocent. He stared and stared, and the memories of his son's birth flooded him. The intensity of her labour. Her smiling face, her triumph over her darkest hours. There were so many promises of joy, so many kisses of love. His knees buckled and he melted into the ground. In that fleeting moment, it was enough to see a vulnerable human being, crying and offering a hug. He broke, and the floating sticks burned to their end, crumbling into ash.

He let out a cry that came from the deepest reserves of his core, so unspeakable and unbearable was his pain. In the corner of his eye, he saw his wife rise, her dress covered in dirt and a scalding glint in her eyes. He saw his neighbors standing afar, siding with Remelia. He saw his son, standing in front of him, pasted with dried blood and snot.

He moaned and screeched, tore at his hair, shedding clumps of burnt brown, the most ancient and primordial of instincts waging war within him. What kind of a man was he? He would like to think he was an honest man and a good father.

As his own sobbing quieted down, Verius extended his arms and guided them around Timo. He nudged the child close, electrified by the small body of heat, and locked arms with him. "My son, my son," he sang to himself.

Their shoulders touched, and they embraced.

"Papa," Timo whispered, "I love you."

Verius glanced at Ursi, who had stopped breathing. Since when did she…? Needles and thorns stabbed at his heart a thousand times.

"I…I love you too," he whispered back.

When he said that, was he telling the truth?

The images of his mind dissolve into the present time, forming into the blanched planks of an abandoned building.

An exasperated voice says, "What a shame. Who knew that Remi's husband had such a violent temper."

"That's what happens when you marry a Vagrant; you never know what they're up to. Now, their son is like that."

Verius lifts his hand to adjust his pipe. Cradling his cheeks with his knuckles, he wipes the steam and the tears away, painting dreams over nightmares.

There's an old saying from the homeland: anger issues are happiness issues.