"What is this garbage you sold me?"
The shopkeeper inches back from the counter, holding up his palms in defense. "I-I'm sorry! It must've been mixed with the rest of it; you know I wouldn't sell you junk…"
The man tosses the rejected bowstring to the counter. "You're lucky I wasn't on a job. This could've cost me my life."
The shopkeeper bows his head in apology, several times, before turning toward his inventory. He reaches for a box on a high shelf, tipping it slightly to get it down. This man is his best and most faithful customer. He has been coming here for years, and the shopkeeper watches as he rummages through his finest collection of bowstrings. He smiles a little. Doesn't seem like that long ago he was just a kid, skipping in here with that hard-faced teacher of his…
"That's good." The customer wraps the ends of a string around his index fingers, stretching it out to test its strength. "You're holding back on me, buddy."
"You know I'd never do that, Rolf."
He smirks, pushing the box toward the shopkeeper. "No charge, right?"
"Of course."
Rolf slings his bow over his shoulder, stepping out into the busy street. There are a good number of things he needs to do today. Help Captain Titania, most importantly, with the new recruits. He's been put in charge of getting them properly settled. But the bowstring issue came first. He was irritated last night. He finally had a chance to string up his newest creation, and the damn thing snapped the moment he stretched it out. Shame on him, really—he should've checked beforehand.
But the walk through the marketplace is good for him. Gets him away from everyone. Aside from the Captain, there are few left at the base he has any desire to talk to. Oscar hardly comes by anymore, since his promotion with the Royal Knights. Not that he's not proud of him, but his eldest brother was always the one he went to. And Boyd is nearly useless, especially now that his kid is learning to swing her own axe. Rolf sighs. Hopefully these new recruits are worth his trouble.
He stops by the pub, knowing he doesn't have the time, but goes in anyway. The barkeep waves him over, sliding a stein of ale before him without having to ask. It's almost blasphemous, drinking this early in the day. Rolf smiles at the thought.
He turns around, leaning against the bar. The pub is sparsely occupied; mercenary types like himself. Friendly competition. Rolf is suddenly fixated on a man at a far table, who laughs with the rest of them. A memory aggravates his mind, and he shakes his head to get rid of it. The only similarity to his former teacher is the hair color. But it's so distinct, so bright, that Rolf has to force himself to stop staring. He turns around to the bar.
Now there's a man long since gone. A few times after the war, he'd stop by the base to pick up Rolf to go hunting. But then he left. Rolf knew, during their final excursion, that it would be their last. He felt the change within him before he even left. And then he acted like a huge baby when he hugged him goodbye. Even that wasn't the same. Hugs from your mentor are different when you're almost the same height, when you can distinctly recall hiding your face in his stomach not that long ago.
The ale has disappeared faster than he's accustomed to. Blasted memories. He fishes in his pocket for a piece of gold to drop on the counter before bolting out. It's all wrong. He has to get back to base, to help out the Captain—
"Hey, watch it." He jumps back from the man he just walked into, who is on his way into the pub. Rolf keeps his head down as he mumbles incoherently, gripping his bow in his fist. "Hey, you. You gonna apologize or what?"
Rolf stops short. Please, Ashunera, no. It's a split-second decision to turn around. He regrets it at once. Shinon looks old.
It's not just the age. That's a given; it's been a good ten years since he's seen his former teacher. The wrinkles crossing his skin are deep, as if his mouth is set in a permanent frown. Silver strands run through his hair; Rolf is strangely comforted that he's kept it the same length, pulled back in the same way. History unchanged.
"Rolf?"
They face each other eye-to-eye. Rolf senses he should feel some sort of affection, but his heart is mute. He can't say anything at all, and Shinon knows it instantly.
"Too good for yer old, decrepit teacher, huh?"
"You're not decrepit."
Despite the years, Shinon's smirk hasn't changed. "So he speaks."
It has been a good while since Rolf has gone speechless. He curses himself silently. This wasn't supposed to happen. He's an established mercenary. The Captain's right-hand man. Confident, capable… and still, a blubbering fool in front of Uncle Shinon.
Blast it all. Why'd he have to think of that name?
"Wanna get a drink with your old uncle?" Rolf looks away, frowning. When he doesn't reply, Shinon shrugs it off. "Guess we'll catch up another time."
"Why'd you never come back?" Rolf doesn't look at him, staring aimlessly into the bustling crowd.
The answer isn't immediate. It feels like he's being studied, and Rolf hopes that he is. He's not the boy he was. His former teacher would never know to what extent, though. He wasn't there.
"This don't suit you." Shinon crosses his arms.
"What?"
"Come on. This angry sniper look? Trying to be me?" He laughs, though it's hollow. A bit forced.
He whips his head around. "You trained me."
Shinon jabs a finger into his chest, which catches him off-guard. "I trained you to be a good sniper. The best. I'll be damned if you not. Think I don't know what's going on? I hear rumors. Second in command, eh? You'll take over that company. You got what it takes."
"I know that." Rolf jerks away.
"Come on, kid. This isn't you."
"You have no idea," he blurts out. People glance at them, which makes Rolf lower his voice. "How would you know? You left, and you didn't even tell me. You never came back. Want me to pretend to be happy? Want a tearful reunion?"
"Idiot."
Rolf stares at him blankly. In that moment, he's a little kid again. Eager to hear Uncle Shinon's wisdom. Most of all, confused. "What?"
"We're taking a walk."
Rolf follows without question. It's a strange sensation, being pushed around by his old mentor. But, no, it's not unwillingly. He doesn't want this, he needs it. Closure? Is that it?
Shinon leads him to the outskirts of town, the mercenary base in view. Having nowhere to sit aside from the ground—Rolf wonders if Shinon would need help getting up, which highly amuses him—he leans against a tree. He stares at the fort, his face expressionless. Rolf resists the urge to sit cross-legged at his feet, determined to maintain the equality of age and experience.
His determination caves, however, the moment Shinon begins to speak.
"You think I didn't see what was happening? You were growing up, Rolf. And I get that you respected me. Heck, any fool could see that. But it couldn't last. I saw the way you looked at me, every time I showed up at that base. Wide-eyed and excited, falling into step obediently. Like a lost pup finding his master."
Rolf remained silent. He did the same thing just now, and he hated himself for it.
"That ain't no way to live. Don't you get it? I had to go, and you had to live your own life."
"You could have said that instead of just disappearing."
"No I couldn't!" Shinon throws up his arms in disgust. "I didn't need a sniveling kid begging me to stay. I couldn't…" He groans. "Like I could just let you stand there and cry."
Rolf gets it, sort of. Hard love, though Shinon wouldn't dare use the L-word. Rolf won't, either. He threw it around enough when he was a kid. It's empty now; it would have no meaning. But there's nothing he can do, or say, to express the emotions he has. The love, respect, trust.
"You left, and I became my own man," Rolf says. "A lot has changed, Shinon. But I didn't become you. I still…"
Shinon senses his hesitation. "Spit it out."
"I'm still me. I care about people. Captain Titania put me in charge of the new recruits. They like me so far, I think. But I'm not the kid you trained, Uncle Shinon." The name slipped, but Shinon shows no reaction. "I got angry when you didn't come back. If I've changed, it's your fault."
Shinon genuinely smiles for the first time. And he laughs, clapping Rolf on the shoulder. Rolf fights to remain stoic, but can't help breaking into a smirk. This encounter is ridiculous. This entire conversation.
"That's my student," Shinon says, leaning back against the tree. "What now? Time for that tearful reunion?"
"You're a jackass, Uncle Shinon."
"Huh. I think I like you better now."
"Wait. You like someone?"
"Shut yer trap. You old enough to drink yet?"