“So, Hero, did you need something from me?”
“No, nothing. I simply saw that you were feeling down, so I thought we might have a little chat.”
“I…appreciate your consideration.”
A prolonged silence settled between us. Alcohol had done wonders carrying me all the way to his room, but now that I was here, I realized I actually knew very little about him, especially in regard to how to cheer him up. As the awkwardness dragged on, the only solution I could come up with was a little reminiscing about myself.
“Some time ago, one of my comrades was forced to kill his own daughter. She was around the same age as Harlest. She was adorable and kind.”
“Why did it come to that?”
“It was my fault.”
I wasn’t going to make any excuses. I had underestimated the amount of mana needed for a crucial ritual, so a sacrifice had been required to cover the deficit. It had become a necessity—there was no time for an alternative. That child was the only other one there, aside from those who were necessary to complete the rite.
“I won’t go into the details, but my mistake meant a sacrifice was necessary.”
It would have taken too much time to explain how magic worked in that other world, and even if I had done so, it would only have sounded like a pathetic attempt to justify myself.
“Anyway, this man weighed his duties against his daughter, and he decided to end her life by his own hand.”
With seconds to spare, my comrade had killed the girl without even being able to tell her goodbye. She’d cried as she met her end.
“What happened next?” Thret asked, leaning toward me.
“After his daughter’s death, the man was overcome with grief…but the world avoided total annihilation.”
“And then? How did that man get back on his feet?”
“He never did. He was still grieving when he lost his life during the next battle. Right to the end, he never made peace with himself.”
Thret hung his head and fell silent. I could never forget that haunting event, yet I always feared remembering it. I now regretted having related it to Thret, however, as there was no hope to be found in that story, so I tried another one.
“I once had to cut down a father before his son’s eyes.”
Yet another story I didn’t want to remember, but felt compelled to express.
“The man had betrayed us, leaking information to the enemy. His son understood the crime but told me he couldn’t take the life of his own father, his last living blood…so he handed his sword to me.”
Thret lifted his head, looking at me with dark eyes. “What happened then?”
“He resented me thereafter, and no doubt still does.”
Given his father’s deeds, it was unreasonable that the boy should direct his anger at me, but the human heart was never reasonable to begin with.
“Looks like things never go as we want them to,” Thret sighed, again hanging his head. I had clearly failed in putting his act into perspective, and in fact had only made matters worse.
The silence resumed. At this point, I just wanted to get up and leave, but it didn’t seem right to leave him in this state. It was better that I tried to get him to do the talking. I remember a doctor once telling me that listening is the essence of counseling.
“Can you tell me more about your family?”
Thret looked up, then back down. “I don’t have a family anymore. My mother died shortly after having me. My father perished in the last war. My brothers…”
He wouldn’t go on from there, as if he’d strayed over a landmine. No, that wasn’t the right word for bombs that lay in the open for everyone to see.
With the silence refusing to be dispelled, I was again wondering how I might gracefully escape, when Thret suddenly started talking again.
“Well, at least I still have Ricard.”
“Do you mean that man outside the door?”
“Yes. He heads my retinue.”
Why did he speak of Ricard as family? They didn’t appear to be linked by blood. Was it an intimate relationship? Those practices came about easily among warriors—young men with only one another for close company for days, months, even years at a stretch.
“Ricard is my milk brother.”
Ah, now I understood. With his own mother dead, Ricard’s mother had been Thret’s wet nurse. The two boys had both been nourished at the same breast.
“We’ve practically been brothers from birth. When I resolved to fight the rebels, Ricard stood with me.” With a sad smile, he went on, “It was his grandfather who led the rebellion. Ricard was Harlest’s cousin, you see. He could have joined their side, but he rejected his family to follow me. It is thanks to him that I won.”
“You were blessed to have such a fine vassal.”
“Yes, my thoughts exactly. I’ve seen so many traitors and turncoats in this war. By now, he’s the only one I can trust in the truest sense.” Thret heaved a deep sigh. “I envy you, Hero.”
“How so?”
“You’re not tied to blood or land here. You’re free.”
So that was how it looked to him. “I am free in that sense, I suppose, because I have nothing. Wandering from world to world, how could I ever keep a single friend?”
I was actually envious of Thret. He had a trustworthy comrade, and a home to protect. I myself had neither. Of course, if I spent enough years in a single world, I could find a comrade and a home—but only until that world was saved. When this was accomplished, I would be sent back to my original world, and all that I’d gained would be gone. Such things could only ever be temporary for me. Even in my original world, everything served as short, fleeting interludes between voyages. My old friends had already moved on in their lives without me.