What's with that book, paps?
Oh, that? It's my old journal from the war. It's quite ruined, really.
You never told me about a journal... huh. From Septes 10th to Undece 19th. That's a good several months of your fighting, paps. Three months.
It wasn't much fighting...
... Paps? Wake up, paps.
-Oh? Oh... sorry about that. I'm getting really old now.
I can see that. ... Say, want to tell me a few stories about the war?
Hm? Oh, well, why not?
There was one time when I was on my first defense mission as a local militia lad. The town was Mortbottom, outskirts of the Ashvensa countryside, right under the nose of the mountain. I was in my prime, about. I guess I was... well, year was 393... I was around my middle twenties. Good, dark blue hair, so dark it could encase the night. I had that scar from the warehouse when I was helping Virda with carrying the bread. Still do, see? On my neck.
Yes, I see it, paps.
I was at least 180 centimeters tall, though I hunched my back too often. Had a back problem that resulted in this chair. I was on average muscle and weight, I'd like to say. I was a fine lad back then.
We were helping the townspeople get to Castlivor or Vinrea or the other western provinces. In the distance, one morning, we could see the large blob of the enemy. There were lots of them, so we sent several messengers to tell the capital about it. Several regular townsmen and a few Courier squires. The rest of us, knights, townguard, militia, and commonfolk, stood our ground until the enemy came upon us.
Instead of confronting us, however, they surrounded us. Their spells were ready to obliterate the town to dust. We pulled out our bows, slings, and what-have-you, and readied our own weapons. Mind you, Ashvensa is strictly human. Very few magicians sprang around there. Of course, Mortbottom had three different magicians, one of which was your mother.
...
Paps? Wake up! Tell me the rest, please...
Oh, oh, yes... so, where was I? Ah, yes, the magicians, they were great help. The three of them encased us all in one giant orb. Luckily one was of the royal bloodline, so he could do the orb-type spells, and last longer than the others. The other two were foreigners, obviously, one from the Filius Forest and one from the Csik Desert.
That's mom, right?
Yes, Schrac and Mirvis allow her safe passage to the afterlife.
And Valin for her passage as well.
Aye.
Scaelf for her protection in the afterlife.
Aye, aye. Anyways, that little hag can fend for herself in the afterlife.
Paps! Father, don't say that!
Hah, just joking around...
Where was I, again? The magicians... yes! So the royal one, Darien was his name, kept the shield up. The man was actually the leader of the Courier knights. Not many knew he was a magician. He got us out of that giant explosion of spells and before we knew it, we were headed toward capital. Darien wasn't even supposed to be noticed to be gone, and scolded us for sending the messengers. Darien quickly went off, leaving us to fend for ourselves.
Our only home lost (though the magicians did have another home for either of themselves, they left for a reason), we were simple militia without a path. The knights went off with Darien, they seemed to be some elite type of guard.
We went towards the bad guys. Not a smart move, which got everyone save four killed. The four of us fled towards Vinrea, where we took up arms for the last time. I never heard from anyone from Mortbottom again, and when our army was defeated and the King slain, and the Queen fled, then I knew that I would have to forget those days. Since then, we've been an oppressed country. Hopefully the Queen will pipe up again. She should live long, since she's royal.
That was... anti-climactic. Why won't you tell me the whole story?
I'm tired, gods damnit. Get out of here, lass, and let your father sleep in peace for once in his life.
Gee, sorry, paps. I'll see you at midday to bring you some biscuits and potatoes.
*snore*
... M'kay, then.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
