"My son, it is time to go home."
Estruan had known for some time. Loathe as he was to break his reverie, his father was right. He had been kneeling for hours. He gave his offering a final pat; a bag of seeds he'd lain on his mother's headstone when he had first arrived. It seemed a waste, which his mother hated. At the same time, it was a tradition, which his mother loved.
"I'm sorry," Estruan said meekly. He hadn't spoken in hours. "I could have gotten a lot of work done today."
"Don't bother with that," his father gave him a light pat on the back.
The two men walked reverently, side-by-side through the graveyard until they arrived back at their wagon. His father's new mule, who he had not bothered to name yet, was already hitched and waiting. They both climbed into the driver seat, and wordlessly determined who would drive... Estruan.
"Pascual has some squash that will be ripe soon," his father Guillermo broke the quiet rhythm of the wagon. He nodded to the north, where the light of the setting sun gave Pascal's fields an orange glow.
Estruan hummed an agreement. Guillermo was not a man to speak of such benign facts. He was making an effort to talk, like his mother might have.
"The Luciano girls were talking about making pies from them," Guillermo continued. "Maybe Wealday." Talking was very unlike his father, filling the air with useless words. His mother Maria, she always talking.
"She hated me for leaving," Estruan changed the subject. "I should have been here."
"No, son," his father corrected. The dull pain in his voice was clear enough. "Maria was your mother, and she loved you with all her heart. She could not hate you if she tried. And she was PROUD of you."
"She shouldn't have been," the young man responded. "I did little more than stand next to a door at the Ruby Fortress that no one wanted to walk through in the first place."
"You were doing your duty. Just like the sons she gave birth to."
"It wasn't the same, father." Estruan's anger was tempered. "They died in battle. They died for a CAUSE."
Guillermo looked at his son gently, letting the sounds of the countryside sit between the two men. Estruan wondered if he had been the same way with his other sons.
"Your mother loved you," the elderly man reaffirmed, gently, but with a stern pat on the knee. "I wish that I could take her place, especially today. She was better with words than I ever was."
The wagon rolled on without a word. Estruan gazed upon the beautiful rolling hillsides of the small Rostland village. Nowhere else felt like home. Two years he had been stationed in New Stetven. At first he was quite fond of his post. New Stetven was a sprawling metropolis, so much different from the tiny hamlet where he was raised. But the bustling city's charm wore off fairly quickly.
While the men he'd entered military service with were stationed in much more dangerous posts, Estruan had been posted outside the Ruby Fortress. He was sure that Domo had interfered, somehow, and assured he had the least dangerous post in all the Brevic Army. 'Domo,' was all Estruan had learned to call the mysterious man that checked in on his adopted family from time to time. He'd apparently brought Estruan to the couple as an infant. Guillermo and Maria, already a middle-aged couple at the time, had lost their two sons in war. Even though the baby was clearly of Issian descent, they named him for the Rostland hero Estruan Aldori, and raised him as their own son.
As Estruan pushed the nameless mule through the trio of shacks that made the farmIng community a hamlet, he recalled the good times he had there. As a child, none of his friends cared much about his heritage. His friends would play Aldori Swordsmen, and chase one another up and over fences, through the fields of Aventen Village. Even though he was more and more an outsider as grew, Estruan fondly remembered his childhood, before Issian and Rostlandic politics left the simplicity of childhood behind.
Now, returned from his duty to the military, the same military that protected both Issian and Rostlandic ancestral lands, he was regarded coldly by the villagers. Estruan thought how his mother and father might have suffered for taking in an Issian child, even as their sons born by blood had given their lives in military service.
"She didn't hate me," Estruan spoke finally. They had arrived back at their farmhouse as sun had only just set. He stepped down to help his father unhitch the mule from the cart. "I chose my words poorly. She was harsh with me though, after I told her I was joining the army. She didn't agree with my choice."
"No," Guillermo was ready with his response. "Your mother had strong convictions, and she gave our own sons, her sons from birth I mean, the same challenge. And she pressed them until they left home. As you know, they were followers of Old Deadeye, as we were--"
"As I am," Estruan affirmed.
"As you know, it is the duty of those in our faith to protect their community," Guillermo shut the stall door and moved to fetch some hay for the beast. "How this call to action is interpreted can be different. Different for each community, for each person."
"But the army protects the people," Estruan interjected.
"You didn't know them, but your brothers held the same convictions as you did, when they left." The old man stood in front of him now. His smile even more gentle in his old age. "Your mother saw things differently. But she respected your choice. To live your faith in your own way."
"Why didn't she say as much?" Estruan could feel the lump in his throat.
"Because," Guillermo put his hand withered hand on his son's shoulder. "It was important to her that you live your life with conviction. That NOTHING could make you question the path that you took. Whether the doubts come from her, or other soldiers, or even from yourself. Even if your duty was to stand by a door that no one wanted to walk through."
The cold night winds blew away the silence.
"I should have been here," Estruan's voice broke under the weight of his guilt. "I should never have left."
"You left to find your place in the world son," his father embraced the young soldier. "And if you stay now, you will break her heart as she waits to take her place in Heaven. Your place is not here in Aventen. You belong to the wider world. You go to keep our way of living safe, and you keep your vows to Erastil."
"I know," the young soldier sniffled as he backed away, hiding his shameful tears.
"She is so proud of you Estruan," his father pressed. "I know the truth of it. You will go forth and do such great things, and you will continue to be a man she would be proud of."
"You're right, father," Estruan smiled with sadness, and relief. "Let's go eat."