The home spoke of a minimalist proficiency, an ideal warrior. But Vypec had to remind himself that Telavar and Plex were not just a warrior who had given themselves for Riverfall. The squad seemed to be familiar with them home, as if they belonged here. Kazma stepped through the doorway into the only other room and disappeared. The twins crouched and sat on the ground with their backs against the wall. Delric was still examining the glass case and Mirrix was watching Vypec carefully with somber eyes. The fallen were warriors, they were not victims. But, as he stood in the Akalak's old home almost warm with a presence, Vypec was forced to remember that all those who had perished before him were also individuals with ties to the people of the city. Telavar and Plex had been someone's son, and a friend to these warriors. He had been a being of feelings, perhaps even love. As he looked around the home Vypec felt that sentiment hit him in a way he had not beforehand.
He had pledged to protect a legacy. When he had made that pledge he had been thinking of honor and duty, of respect. But now, he saw that legacy as one great, incomprehensible sacrifice. The un-lived lives of those Akalak who had loved and raged and smiled and cried their way through a shorter than just life. It appeared to him as a cascade of strangers all seen not in those final glorious moments of battle, or tragic defeat, but as a thousand laughs, conversations, night-time bar visits, friendly sparring sessions, or intimate kisses. Vypec looked at the ground to avoid Mirrix's gaze. Because there was nowhere else to go, he stepped through the doorway Kazma had gone through.
This was an even smaller bedroom, complete with a small wooden bed-frame topped with a thin, unyielding mattress. In the corner was a small table with a pair of intricately carved statuettes. One was a woman carved from a dark purple stone, the other was a man carved of blue. Vypec immediately recognized them as the Lord of Discipline and the Night Mother. He reactively knelt and bowed his head towards the statues, placing a few fingers tenderly on the table in reverence.
"Religious?" Kazma asked, his wide shoulders slumped in an easy curve forward and his elbows resting on his legs. It left his face in shadow as he gazed at the floor.
"Yes, I am." Vypec said, his words clipped and rigid. The spot on his back where Akajia's mark was seemed to itch with the gaze of the squad leader. Though he could see through the shadows that covered his visage, Vypec could not gaze through the stoic expression beneath them.
"It is an uphill battle, friend." Kazma said as he ran a hand through his hair in a tired way.
"What? Religion?" Vypec was confused.
"That too." Kazma said as he stood and made to walk out of the room. He stopped and said, without looking at Vypec. "You know, I brought you here to show you the cost of this." Kazma turned to face him and tucked his thumbs in his belt. The longsword at his waist shifted slightly with the movement. "Its not the cost of success, or the cost of failure. This is the end, always. An empty room and an old sword."
"It's worth it though, right?" Vypec said reflexively.
"Yes. Yes, of course it is. Life is always worth it, worth whatever cost." Kazma said. "Just know that this life puts you very close to the cost." He gestured at the empty bed, the vacated household. "We're got a squad meeting back at the Lodge. You..." Kazma glanced at Vypec and frowned at the look on his face. "You can stay awhile if you need to. I know it's not a small thing. I'll leave the key on the table. Tomorrow morning is your first training day, we'll come get you." And with those words he was gone. Vypec heard them filing out. He was now sitting on the floor, staring at the empty bed. He felt as though he was within this sanctuary of reflection, and that to stay that mental place he could not leave the house. |
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by Vypec on December 18th, 2016, 2:53 am 
