Aldon's page

The wagon rattled along the old dirt road leading southwest. It had been a harrowing few days journey through Nidal, avoiding all settlements. Aldon had protested their keeping out of Nisroch, for the promise of a port city and the temptation of goods contained within were strong.

Hokuto sympathized with the kid. She certainly found the journey unpleasant, but they were nearly in Cheliax and would find themselves breathing a little easier when they finally arrived. The most worrisome of the Chelish forces are being kept busy around Westcrown and Egorian, and she suspected that they would find no one willing to halt their progress towards Pezzack. She had secured safe passage there, thanks to a few old acquaintances.

She glanced sideways at her young companion, perched beside her on the sitting board of the wagon. With light blond hair fluffing straight into the air and lips pursed, he looked more like an eccentric duck than a child of two knights. But he was keen nonetheless, and Hokuto found herself looking away and grinning as his glare had met her eye. She had thought it a pretty subtle glance, but perhaps she was getting soft.

******

Aldon was irritated. It had been a day since they had left the view of Nisroch passing over the horizon, and the woman had not even deigned to explain her reasons behind their strict adherence to old roads and places long bereft of human presence.
The cool shade of passing trees and the calming sounds of birds twittering were not enough to soothe his temper. They even soured it some, if that were possible. He resented the fact that some creature could find it appropriate to be cheerful when he was so obviously miserable.

A small sigh escaped him. This was not a very fair thought to be having, considering that if the universe did comply with his wishes there would be a many mile swath of desolation following them, all the way from Vigil to their current location, just north of the Menador Mountains. In truth, it was an interesting location they found themselves in. The sea was barely visible over the horizon to their right, and even as he watched it faded from view as the wagon made its way down a sloping hill. Now the only noticeable landmark was the mountains to their left. No doubt it made for an impressive view, but there was something depressing about the only thing in sight being lofty peaks. Such a sight creates an urge to be right there amidst its glory, and Aldon could almost feel the icy air racing into his lungs and the bright, unfiltered sun burning on his skin.

Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes he remained seated on the uncomfortable wooden seat next to the strange Tian woman. While she had kept her eyes to the front since he had last met them, he knew that she was quite aware of his observation. Not even Aldon's most impertinent of staring could turn her gaze, so he huffed and began shuffling through his pockets, looking for the last remnants of home he had retained. The small books he brought forth were of crude make, with materials of indeterminate origin for the front and back covers and poor binding.

These keepsakes were campaign journals. His parents had been rather famous for their back-and-forths within these, written even in spite of the dark and turbulent nature of the times they lived in. Warriors both, these were not written as debriefings or reports but as personal records of the hardships that each crusader of Lastwall must go through in the current days and nights. Filled with both jibes and prayers directed toward their other half, they had inspired rather a trend throughout the troops assembled at Vigil. Young couples found them to be inspirations of perseverance and love, though many had not actually read them, so it was only a small few that were privy to the actual nature of the journals, which was rather brusque.

Aldon could not help but smile as he leafed through the well-worn pages. It was true that there were love letters contained within them, but they were not of the sort most imagined. There was no prose, no flowery writing or longing wishes. In public, Tarrence and Esmée Burke had been exemplary Lastfolk, stoic and unphased in demeanor when necessary and kind when free to be so.

In private, they had been in a constant playful competition, and their romance reflected this. It had even continued past the rise of Karzoug and the destruction of Kyonin. Even past the most dreadful event of Lastwall history – the return of Tar-Baphon. The siege of Vigil was quick, but it left an impression on the youth of the city, and one that Aldon believed struck him more than any of his peers. His mother and father were at the forefront of the immediate defense, and while this was of no surprise, it was the sight of the countless hordes arranged outside their walls that shook him to his core. It was the nightmare of all faithful Lastfolk, and it was led by those who they had trusted to send forth and protect that which had been their charge for many centuries.

There were old family friends among these returning champions, morphed almost beyond recognition. Aldon would later watch as his father ran one of them through, when the outer wall was breached. As the dawn rose and the city took a breath, he was being bundled up with many of the non-combat suitable civilians and shipped out to Vellumis. His parents were staying behind, taking command of vacant positions being left behind by those preparing to head north into Ustalav to stem the tide. Weeks later, when news reached them off the route of these initial forces, Aldon would find himself offering a silent stream of prayers and thank yous to Iomedae. Several days later, the panic-gripped would find itself offering its own prayers as the hordes of Belkzen met the Tyrant on the battlefield.

There was mild rejoicing at this unexpected reprieve, but it was not to be for Aldon. He had offered his prayers too soon. While he had thought his parents secure in defensive positions in the capital, he had not accounted for the rapid changes being made around the clock to military personnel. His mother, it had turned out, had been reassigned to the force being sent into Ustalav. Esmée had met her fate there, along with the vast majority of the soldiers.

This was told to him by his father, sat wearily, head in hands, on the bed opposite Aldon in the makeshift refugee shelter set up for those coming from Vigil. He had taken a leave of absence, much to the astonishment of superiors, to come and see the last remaining member of his family.

What followed was the most melancholy week of Aldon's life. While not the typical emotion for those who have lost someone very close to them, he could not seem to find it within himself to bring up the firmer feelings of grief and loss. His country and all that was contained within were on the very edge of existence, holding on only by the will of its countrymen and the strange change of heart of their neighbors. It seemed that he could not grieve for his mother as she was to him, but only as one of the many losses suffered by Lastwall in the recent weeks. Perhaps that was the way of war, when it is on your doorstep.

His father left at the end of the week, having spent it in dreary silences and occasional fits of whimsical reminiscence.

Several years passed. Tensions ran high. The hordes has made uneasy alliances with the Lastwall crusaders, and it was with trepidation that they awaited the next move of the Tyrant. Aldon had matured both physically and emotionally by this point, though he remained very much a child. His expected grief had never come, as they had never left the precipice of war. He mourned his mother and honored her as best he could, but times were busy. Aldon had taken to training, hoping to volunteer for the city guard. His father visited regularly, and it was during one such visit that Aldon's life would change. For better or worse, well... that remains to be seen.

It had not been much of a day to note. It had alternated between drizzling and cool but sunny. His father had thought a walk might clear their heads, but they had not made it very far. The sky looked to be struggling to resist the encroaching clouds, with the sun doing its best to shine forth. It was during this time that the frivolous woman sitting next to him on the seating board had found them, sitting on the steps outside the shelter.

The street was fairly clear, though many children scampered to and fro and elderly folk sat on well-worn benches. The woman was hard not to notice; she stalked amongst the children, taking interested looks at some and passing by others with barely a glance. She had a strange gait and mien, and Aldon found her almost unsettling. Swooping back and forth across the street, it was Aldon that her gaze settled on most fully, and it was with a bright smile and outstretched hand that she approached them.

Though it seemed mostly intended for Aldon, it was Tarrence that accepted the shake. His frown was more than a little suspicious, but she took it in her stride. There was a one-sidedly tense exchange of greetings, before Tarrence was grabbed by the arm and hauled off into the frame of the door. A whispered, fervent discussion followed. When it finally ceased, Aldon was introduced to the woman he now knows as Hokuto Ichihara. His father spoke warily, giving no doubts as to what he thought of her. But whatever had been said in that short span seemed to take effect on him, because over the following days Aldon spent an uncomfortable amount of time in her presence, though with his father always looming. She explained to Aldon that he may have the potential beyond his comprehension, and that certain individuals were looking for youths as gifted as him to take into training. Answering no questions, she ran him through several odd tests, ones that he couldn't imagine would ever be described as comprehension-rending potential. It was made stranger by the fact that she always shooed his father away beforehand. Why, Aldon never knew. The tests themselves were almost ridiculous in nature. Move a rock without moving yourself, repair a small hole in the finger of a glove, open the dresser that sat in the corner across the room. He never noticed anything spectacular happening, but every attempt was met with a nod and a small smile.

On the final day of the week, his father took him aside. It was revealed to Aldon that he was to be taken away by this woman, to a place far away. South, to Garund. Aldon was incredulous. This was a time of war and grief, and he was to be shipped away? He had barely even begun his training as a guardsman! But his protests fell on deaf ears. His father assured him that it was for his own good, that Lastwall was standing on its last legs and that if it did indeed fall Tarrence would rest easy knowing his son was far away, in a place where hopefully no madness would reach him. The only thing that stopped further inquiries and protests was the look of weariness and relief that crossed Tarrence's face. It was not something that Aldon could or would deny his father.

So Aldon saw him off at the gates later, a tall man riding off to the north, back to Vigil. He waved until the figure rode out of sight.

Later the same day, he rode off in a different direction, and with a new companion.