No One's Hero

Content Advisory: This story includes mentions of trauma after war and parental death, though there is no explicit violence.

The sun shone brightly on the training field as Niandra scanned the sweaty group of guards. Her lips turned down in disappointment. They were pitiful - not nearly up to her standard for what she felt qualified as a palace guard. Niandra couldn’t imagine any of these people being able to stand up to a genuine threat to the royal family. 

“Again.” 

The men and women before Niandra looked at her in disbelief. They had been at it since before dawn and many of the people here would take their posts in a few hours for the overnight shift. Niandra stared back at them and tried to feel a little sympathy. Instead, a rush of anxiety pumped through her veins. 

No, Niandra couldn’t afford to go easy on them. She needed to push them until she was sure that every single one would survive an enemy assault. 

“No, General. That’s enough. My unit needs to rest before they take their posts this evening.” Broad shoulders pushed their way to the front of the group. The young captain held steel in his eyes as he straightened to his full height, challenging Niandra. 

Niandra could appreciate that this boy had a bit of backbone, but backbone didn’t win wars. “Captain Hugo, it is your failure to have your unit in proper shape that is keeping us here today. Now, step back and lead them through the drills until there are no errors.” 

Captain Hugo held firm to his place. Niandra’s fist tightened into a ball. The captain was severely trying her patience. She’d seen too many faces, just like his, lying dead on the battlefield. She’d lost too many friends and peers in the Andrian War. Though the kingdom of Bruschia had since found peace, Niandra could not let go of the need to protect these men and women, and the thousands of innocents who relied on them. 

Pulling her sword from her back, she leveled it at his chest. “Disarm me and I might change my mind.” The uncomfortable tension thickened across the training field, filling every moment of the silence that had fallen on the guards as they waited to see if their captain would fight for them. 

“You may have been the kingdom’s hero on the battlefield, but here you’ve been no better than the tyrants our people defeated.” A collective gasp came from the guards, shocked their captain would go so far. None called him on the slight, though. Their loyalty was to him, not to a general they’d never had fighting at their side. 

When Captain Hugo turned his back to Niandra and walked to the barracks, every single guard in his unit went with him. 

Niandra was at a loss for words. In the ten years since she’d returned from Andra, she’d been placed on a mantle as the “Hero of Bruschia.” The king invited her to every ball and fete to show her off as a symbol of the kingdom’s strength against their enemies. She’d risen to a position as one of the kingdom’s generals, but no duties or responsibilities were ever assigned to her. 

Any time she tried to encourage the other generals to improve their training rituals, they’d pat her on the shoulder, telling her she had made sure the rest of the continent feared Bruschia’s army. There were no kingdoms that would dare threaten them. The logic had frustrated Niandra, but she’d been unable to make a change beyond coming to the barracks before the sun rose each morning, and forcing the guards out of bed to drill them herself. 

Even when Niandra went into town, she felt useless. No one accepted her help when she offered to repair their fences or thatch a roof. They knew she’d been training under the master carpenter before she went to war, but always waved her off. The “Hero of Bruschia” didn’t need to bother herself with the problems of civilians. 

It didn’t end there. Many also took it upon themselves to ensure Niandra’s every desire was met while she was in town. The merchants threw in extra grain or pastries when she would go to market with them. The tavern owners would never let her pay for her drinks. And if she carried anything, it was always lifted straight from her arms and into a waiting cart. Niandra never needed to lift a finger again in her life.

She hated it. 

Once the training field had fully emptied, Niandra decided a walk by the river might help to lift some of the heaviness from her heart. 

-----

She took a leisurely pace along the bank. The river was nearly full from the summer rains. It was loud as it crashed across rocks and fallen trees, but the noise registered as little more than a buzzing background to Niandra. She let her mind wander with her feet, avoiding any thought outside of mundane tasks she wished to complete for the week. 

Her sword needed its edge sharpened and a good polishing. Her armor could also do with an oil treatment. Even disuse aged steel and leather. 

A shout drew her attention to the bridge ahead. Three tiny figures were at its base, teetering much too close to the water’s edge. The children fought to pull what looked to be a thick branch up onto the bank. When Niandra saw what was clinging to the other end, she took off running. 

A small girl gripped the slick wood with one hand and every bit of strength she must have. The water splashed across her face every few seconds, giving her little space to breathe. Niandra stepped in front of the three other children and wrapped her arms around the tree branch. 

“Hold on!” She yelled, though she knew the river likely raged over the sound of her voice. Niandra took five strong steps back. She felt the other children still hanging on behind her, pulling as much as they could to help their friend. After the fifth step, the young girl’s body came over the edge of the river bank. Her other arm circled the chest of a dog half her size. 

Despite the shivers that shook her body, the girl smiled and, with a proud puff of her chest, looked at her friends. “We did it!” The three behind Niandra ran to the girl and Niandra knelt next to the dog, firmly slapping its chest as it coughed the water from its lungs. It wagged its tail as the air returned. 

Anger exploded from Niandra as the adrenaline stopped flushing into her system. “What were you thinking?” She roared louder than the river. “All of you could have died!” 

Four youthful faces gaped at Niandra, their eyes filled with fear. The eldest looking boy rose to his feet and spoke hardly louder than a whisper. “Rio fell in the water, ma’am. We had to save him. Rheese is the smallest of us and the best tree climber. She said she could hold on while we pulled her and Rio back out of the water.”

Though he still held fear in his eyes, the boy looked directly at Niandra while he spoke. She saw a flash of herself as a young girl who only wanted to help. Niandra sighed, releasing as much of the dread, horror, and alarm as she could. 

“All right. Well, we’re here now and you’re all safe. Let’s get you home to your parents.” 

Niandra saw the glances exchanged between the children. She placed her left hand on the center of her chest, in the Bruschian gesture of a promise. “I won’t be telling your parents of your near peril. I would just like to ensure you all make it home.”

They all looked at each other again before the eldest boy spoke. “It’s not that, ma’am. It’s just we - “ 

“We don’t have parents. They all left us to go to war and didn’t come back.” Rheese said this with the same detached tone Niandra often heard from the soldiers that still saw their friends in their nightmares. She’d heard the tone many times in her own voice. 

“Do you have anyone who looks after you? Anywhere to stay?”

-----

Niandra felt lighter than she had in years as the children regaled her with stories of their adventures. She even laughed with them when Rheese told them about the time that Tristan - the eldest boy of the group - had gotten himself stuck in a trunk. It had been his hide and seek spot for years, and none of the other children ever found him. This time, though, he had grown enough that his legs didn’t quite fit the way they used to. Tristan had still crammed himself into the trunk, determined to keep his spot. Ms. Jessalyn had found him later that afternoon when she opened the lid to put clean blankets into storage. Tristan had stopped playing that game after that.

While they walked, Bonnie and Nevin began taking turns throwing sticks for Rio to chase. The dog showed no sign of having almost drowned in a river less than an hour before. He ran after each stick, but left it on the ground when he jogged back. According to Nevin, Rio only cared to chase, not fetch. 

The sun dipped into the horizon when the merry group caught sight of the orphanage. A figure stood at a low fence, holding a shawl tight around their shoulders. The woman’s head turned slowly left and right, scanning the lane. A strangled sound left her when she saw the children. She fumbled with the gate latch, her hands trembling visibly. 

When they reached the yard, the woman fell to her knees and encased all four children into her embrace. Rio circled them and licked all of their faces. The woman held them there for a minute while Niandra stood to the side, not sure if she should leave now. 

Finally, Ms. Jessalyn pulled back to look at them. “Where have you been? Vince told me you all had gone to wander by the river hours ago. I nearly began rounding up the neighbors to come find you.” Ms. Jessalyn’s voice sounded calm as she spoke, but Niandra saw the tears building in her eyes. The woman clearly cared for these children as her own. 

“Rio fell into the river and we tried to lower Rheese in with a tree branch to save him, but -” Bonnie clapped a hand over Nevin’s mouth before he could say more, but he’d already revealed too much. 

“Nevin!” Rheese whined and stamped her foot in agitation. “We weren’t supposed to tell her!”

Nevin pried Bonnie’s fingers from his face. “We don’t lie to Ms. Jessalyn.”

Knowing she’d already scared the children with her own admonishments, Niandra cut in. “It really wasn’t as exciting as it sounds. Rheese and Rio were back on dry ground in a matter of moments.” 

Eyes round in surprise, Tristan saw the opportunity Niandra was making for them. “Y-yeah, Ms. Jessalyn. S-she saw it t-too. None of us w-were in d-danger at all.” 

Piercing green eyes turned to Niandra. “And who might your witness be, Tristan?” Ms. Jessalyn did not seem to believe that pulling a dog and a girl from the river was as mild of an event as they were trying to make it out to be. 

“I’m Niandra. I just wanted to make sure these children returned home safely since dark was approaching.”

It only took a moment for recognition to settle into Ms. Jessalyn’s face. Then she gasped. “The ‘Hero of Bruschia’! Thank you for taking care of my children. I apologize on their behalf for any trouble they’ve caused you.”

Niandra rubbed the back of her neck while the familiar weight of her title settled onto her again. The children stared at her again, their mouths hanging open. She should have left as soon as they’d seen the house. 

“The ‘Hero of Bruschia’ saved me?” Rheese’s voice went higher with every word. Then she fell back into Tristan’s arms in a dramatic swoon. “I’m friends with the hero, Niandra. The others will never believe this.” Tristan pushed her until she stood on her own again. Rheese rushed to Niandra, grabbing her hands. “You have to come inside for dinner so they’ll believe me. Please? Please. Please. Pleeeaase.”

Niandra looked to Ms. Jessalyn, who seemed to process the swift shift in emotions rather well. “I shouldn’t impose. I need to return to the castle.” Rheese’s lips instantly pursed into a pout that was so adorable Niandra couldn’t help smiling back. 

“Nonsense.” Ms. Jessalyn rose to her feet and turned towards the gate. “We have plenty of food. And I could use a break from being the only adult in the house.”

-----

There were ten other children under Ms. Jessalyn’s care. Like Rheese, Tristan, Bonnie, and Nevin, the war had orphaned more than half of them. Keeping her sorrow from showing had been difficult, but Niandra found it easier as the dinner went on. She’d never heard so much laughter in one place. It amazed her that Ms. Jessalyn managed to care for them all and encourage so much happiness. They all made a beautiful family.

After all fourteen children begrudgingly went to their beds, Ms. Jessalyn pulled two glasses from the cupboard and offered Niandra a drink before she returned to the castle. They talked late into the evening, nearly polishing the liquor bottle. Jessa was so inviting to talk to and she listened when the drink let Niandra open up about her struggles after the war. 

“I just want to help people, but since I came back and they started calling me a hero…” Niandra trailed off. 

Jessa covered Niandra’s hand with her own. The warmth soothed the loneliness that had crept in as she’d told Jessa her story. 

“I think the townspeople might feel just as helpless as you do, Ni. Everyone lost so much to the war and they couldn’t do anything to stop it. What they can do is show their appreciation to someone who protected them.” 

Niandra considered Jessa’s words as she took the glasses to the sink, then pulled her boots back on. “I’m really grateful to have met you and the children, Jessa.” 

“You’re welcome to come back as often as you like. The children love you and I have several things I need help to fix in this house.” Jessa sounded hopeful and Niandra turned to see a shy smile on the woman’s face. 

Niandra smiled back at her. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

-----

The sun was just beginning to come back out for the new day when Niandra knocked on the door. 

At the castle, Niandra felt crushed by expectation again. She’d felt energized while with Jessalyn and the children. They emanated life while Niandra was left to represent so much death. “The Hero of Bruschia.” She never felt worthy of that title. Heroes were just the ones who survived the war. 

Niandra didn’t want to yell at guards before dawn every morning - didn’t want to see the faces of her dead friends in those young men and women. She certainly didn’t want to be anyone’s hero anymore. Niandra wanted to be free of the memories and allowed to start again. So, she’d written a letter of resignation to her king, packed her few belongings, and gone back out the castle gates.

Niandra waited at the door, hoping it wasn’t too early. It opened just as her hand rose to knock again. 

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Jessa’s bright smile greeted Niandra from the entryway. Somehow, the woman looked like she’d slept a full night, instead of drinking until just a few hours ago. 

“I was hoping you’d let me get started on those repairs you mentioned.”

Jessa glanced at the bag slung over Niandra’s shoulder. “Seems you’re also hoping to stay permanently.”

“If-.” Before Niandra could say another word, Jessa grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. 

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. Now, come help me with breakfast.”