A passing.

I left it all, the life I had is buried behind me now.

 Never thought I could live like this. Dressed in rags, I have more holes in my pocket than a fishing net. No more unnecessary bloodshed, no more buttlicking advisors and emissaries. No more fancy dinners and parties or drama and intrigue.

 A simple life for me from now on. A commoner's life. 

This is the best life I have ever had, ever. I swear. A loving wife, three beautiful daughters and a son. Quite hectic at times but it's great, I love them to the bottom of my heart and could do anything for them! 

 Little Dorothy drew me a horse, a little stick figure scribbled with something she called hair. I told her that I`m proud of her, and the grin that she gave melted my heart. I nailed it at my workshop, every time I bash my nail it would cheer me up. 

 Adam caught his first fish, we cooked it together then cracked jokes and made fun of other kids. Rather rude, but he loves it. They said he's very polite and gentle. Could be more of that at home, I thought.  

 Sima and Kara never get over pulling each other's hair, they are so lovely when they do it, too bad I need to separate them sometimes, but only when Mathilda is watching. 

Sometimes I wish this life would never end, would drag me over this rocky road with my family forever. Through mountains and rivers, orchids and towns, castles and...wars. 

 The letter I received that day put a sour look on my face, I could not hide it, I tried, I swear I did. It stuck out as a sore thumb. Dragging my whole being underneath the rug and then down more. 

 I flipped it in my hand way too many times, Dora and Adam darted their eyes over me. They are the oldest after all, they will have to tell the little ones where daddy went.

 I could hardly do it myself. They glared at me with their watery eyes and asked when I would be back. Never thought the question would strike me so hard to answer, any question really. I... lied. They will understand when they grow up. 

 Hearing Mathilda cry in the bedroom threw a stone on my heart, she begged me not to go, but how could I refuse? One does not say no to a king, a bad king or a good king, it did not matter too much at that point, he was my...our king.  

 In the deep hopes of the bottom of my mind I wished I would never meet him again. Not that I missed the greedy bugger, but the stench that followed him...and I don't even mean the smell at this point. All of his advisors, councilors and other buttlickers just made me sick. Not the best deal for my sister to take too, to marry such a prick, but hey, they did not give me a choice either. 

 The scorching days of summer slipped as a fish after hearing the news. Had no choice but to practice with my trusty sword, rather dull after all that time under the hen deck, but who needs a dragonslaying sword for slashing a muppet anyway? 

 On one golden brown afternoon, the little ones played outside, their joyful shouts aided over the field. I glared towards the lake and Adams' fishing rod zipped towards the water. A cow let out a relaxed groan as Mathilda milked her. I jerked toward the house, a hushed sound of harmonica came from within, it was Dorothy, that was her new hobby, she got quite good at it.

 At that moment my hand halted mid swing on a battered training dummy that I had to replace the muppet with. I will be gone in two weeks. Two weeks. Where did the summer go? It's been two months since I received the letter. Time just slipped away, was it always this quick?

 These are my last days with my family, last days of being a father...a helping hand around the farm. I embraced love and joy, fished with my son and pinned braids for my daughters. Last week to make sweet love to my gorgeous wife…

 Sleep was as hard to come by that night as gold. The ceiling needed repainting. Never paid enough attention to it, at least the walls were presentable. After a hundred or more attempts to build proper furniture, in the end I finally got it. I bought everything from a carpenter, or Math would have never stopped nagging me about it. She's so adorable when she does it, music to my ears, her soft voice sounds like music even when she's puffing smoke out of the ears.

 A thunder rumbled the high skies that sleepless night. Sima and Kara stormed to our room to seek shelter. Their hands trembled at my waist, cold as a morning dew they clicked on me.

 I don't remember the last time I cried, but a tear shed itself out and I had no way to stop it. It rolled down my cheek till it melted within the cushion. Then another followed and a few more, I embraced my daughters and wept. Wept like a child.

 Mathilda enveloped me from the back, her tears dripped on my chest. It was hard for her, maybe even harder than it was for me. She will have to be strong, she will have to forgive me...

 I strolled through the golden fields, the wheat tickled my palm. A thought to go back would strike me from time to time, but just a glare was enough. They waved first, a few yards later only a few remained. Mathilda left last. I could still see her off a giant’s puddle. A weird name for a hill, I know, that's how she called it though. They said they buried a giant there once long ago. 

 Adam never came to say goodbye. I can understand him. He insisted on keeping me company. But he's too young. I don't want him to die for nothing, not for this. Definitely not for this. Shut in the room he didn't want to see me, at least I told him that I love him. It will have to do. 

I joined the army as the rain trashed the sour mud. My sister avoided me as if i would bring plague. I can understand her, she will never forgive me for what I have done. I don't need her to understand why I did what I did. I had no choice. His life meant nothing to me, to her or anyone. It had to be done. 

 The king nodded when he saw me. His advisors frowned at the very thought of me joining them. Not their call this time. 

 Walking among the men I saw nothing in their eyes, dead lifeless eyes, pointing at the worm infested mud that soon will house most of our bodies. Morale was low, if there was any at all. One young boy looked at me, barely older than Adam, a sword weighted his arm down and he had a hard time lifting it. I showed him how to use his body to swing it. I think it helped. He might live that few minutes longer when the battle starts. 

 Another one kept missing the bullseye, he shoved the bow away, cursing. I placed my hands around his, lifted his chin and aimed, aimed higher, more against the wind. 

“That will never hit it!” He squealed. 

A thud followed, the arrow missed the center, but it hit the inner ring. We nodded to each other. I caught my hat as the wind ripped it off my head. 

A white cloak danced with the wind, I could not mistake it. It was him. He never let go of that staff. The purple eye of a death breathing wyvern. We slayed it together. Good old times, for what it's worth. 

“Hello, old friend…” I said, trailing, expecting an answer. 

“Hello, Lax, I`m so glad and sad to see you here.” An answer came late, he looked me over and grinned through his bushy beard. “You aged.” He said. It's not like he hasn't grown more wrinkled than me lately. Last time I saw him, he was a spring child, chasing women and boasting at the pubs. He was three summers younger than me. Now he looks like my father. That's what you get for staying with wrong people. 

“It's good to see you too.” 

“I thought you will be long gone to Ganda, not like you didn't know about the brewing war.” His robe dangled with the wind too, and I could see his skeletal leg from beneath. Gosh, he really did not age well. 

“I have my reasons to stay. Besides, how else could I meet with old friends?” I grinned and spread my arms. We both chuckled like school kids, meeting after a summer holiday. I patted him on his skeletal back. He really, really did not age well. 

“The morale is low…” I glared over the field, flickering lights danced with the wind. Smoke went almost horizontal and a gust of wind trashed a flock of leaves on my chest. It smelled of rain. Now I'm not sure whether it was the coming one or the one that passed, but it did not really matter, considering it poured like from a bucket for the last week. 

“How can it be high?” He said. “We are going against Avanguard, the bastard sold us out to go against Avanguard…” 

 My heart skipped a beat after hearing that. I knew it was bad. War is never good news, not to us common folk, to mercenaries yes but to us...it was bad. And going against Avanguard...it's like releasing a horde of sheep against a horde of wolves. It's just for a show. I can see why everyone darted the ground now. Soon I was one of them. 

 We stood in a line, sort of. They threw me a half rusted curved blade and used chain west, they didn't even bother to wash off the old blood stains. 

Stench of piss and shit polluted the air. Sour whispers were spreading of deserters. There is always some, and heads will be rolling. Some men have pissed themselves, they always do in these battles. Unlucky for me this time I was in the mists not the front, so I had everything that came downwind. At least now I know how Regie feels all the time. “You don't know what it's like to be there!” He would complain. Jokes on me now, I guess. 

Snow crunched under my feet, the first snow of this year. It relaxed me, in some odd way. Like the music I listened to every step I took.

 We managed to scare off the peasant lines, yet the main force was ahead of us. We lost quite a few men to the archers and harsh weather. They just tested us, tested and waited, that's how they do it, they fight smart. They let attrition do its job. 

 A blizzard brewed within the horizon. My cheeks went red. I could tell from the blistering cold and snowflakes like daggers trashing at my face. Had to give my good shoes away to one boy, his feet caught a deep frost and nearly had to be amputated. We have no healers here. Maybe one or two, we need at least a dozen at this point. 

 Battle horns struck through me as a ravaging winter. How far north did we get? Who knows? Who cares? We are not going back...There's something magical about knowing that you are already dead. I guess the freedom that you get. No worries about family and friends. No future. Just one moment, one last moment to live through. Some call it honor...Not our king though. I can see him sprouting away with his tail between his legs once things go sour. That's what he does, that's why he's here. 

 We stood tall, like giants! Or as Regie put it...very...very small, self insecure giants. We came here to die. 

 They had the higher ground, which was not good. They had archers on the hill, that was not good. They had a dozen mages to support them...that was very not good. Apart from Regie and a few others, they had the advantage. We were outnumbered one to three. 

Some men cried that night. I was one of them. I held a picture of my family between my frost inflicted fingers and wished I never came. But it was too late now, no going back, only forward, only to Avanguard. 

 They marched as one towards us, shields up, spears, swords, glaives… They had it all, training, equipment, morale. But we had one thing they didn't...we were dead. Just like the ground beneath us, frozen under a meter of ice, we had no feelings, we came here to meet our makers. 

 I charged without a thought, not even glaring back. I knew, I’m the only one. Screw the king, screw his buttlicking advisors. It's for my sister. For her and her children. For my family! For Mathilda! May a long life bless her. 

 Fire lit the sky, arrows and fireballs rained down like waterfalls. A good general would have chosen a forest to fight at, too bad we didn't have a good general. It did not matter.

 My eyes connected with a man that has seen enough of life. My blade went through his waist and he spat some gore on me. He didn't scream or shout, old ones never do. They know it was their time and they embrace it. 

 I had a taste of blood there. My old senses came back. A clash of blades followed, my brain went on like a bell. I pulled a bloodied blade out of the man and snached one from someone else. “Like good ol’ times.” Regie rained some fire on Avanguards legion. 

 I grinned. I ravaged them as they were leaves of grass. One after another. My face was covered with gore. I laughed, hysterically. Some men stared at me. I did not care anymore. I sliced them all, like trees they fell. There might even have been some friendlies among them.  Blood splatter over my clothes, my face, even had some in my mouth and it tasted good! 

 The battle raged for hours. I was surrounded by less and less familiar faces. An aching pain struck through my shoulder. Ignored and forgotten, I carried on. Soon they surrounded me. I saw Regie laying in a pile of snow, his fogged eyes stared at me as if asking forgiveness. “You may have it, old friend.” I whispered.

 A berserker within me gashed out. I clenched my teeth to the point of cracking. Their shields did not stop me. An arrow in my back did not stop me. I went through them all. A few at a time till... my body finally failed me.  

 One thing separated an Avanguardian from Libonese: if they respect you, they will let you live. The battle ended when I got jabbed in the knee. I fell and another one clubbed me on the head. They did not finish me. They left me to rot at a tree of hope, as elves would call it. A willow is a more appropriate name for me. 

I felt blessed in some way, yet still cursed and tainted. 

 I can't go back to my family, I can't go back like this...It took me fifteen years to become who I was and only five minutes to be the monster I used to be. I can't look at their innocent faces with all these lives taken again. I cannot. 

 Just as a thought….I was enjoying a summer's breeze that it felt like yesterday, surrounded by my family, loving hugs and laughs of my children. I had a longing reunion with my dear friend Regie when the leaves were descending to the ground. And I killed over a hundred innocent souls when the first snow melted under my rage.

 No one appreciates the beautiful moment they have... not until they are about to die.