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Chapter 47: Home is where the heart is

Home, there is such an elegant euphony in such a simple word. To think that it's meaning would one day cease to be, for one individual that is, is such a dismal thing.

Yet it has happened, to more than one, more than a thousand. Those who lie dead, those who are lost and those who have been broken are more or less in a homeless state. In which place would best be invested their trust if not their home, imagine it taken away.

Yet those who have been taken away from home and not the home form them await a fate far worse than those who have ceased.

Forever lonesome and forever bereft, doomed to exist without anything to call refuge, and doomed to endlessly wander until at last they are felled.

'Scipio!'

Scipio turned his towards the direction where his name had been called. It was a sunny day in the meadow borders and he and a few friends had thought best to make use of their time in the hills, doing what children do best.

He got up and ran towards a group of boys, they were all dressed simply and had untidy short hair. All of them were grinning as mischievous ideas passed around the group. Scipio got to them and a boy dressed in brown clothes spoke to him, 'Hey, Scip! Let's go agitate old man Ronsenburg!'

A grin also appeared on Scipio's face, 'Right!'

Old man Ronsenburg was a retired soldier who had seen extensive action against the Imperial armies of Archadia. His sons were also sent to war, and he as a soldier waited for them with expectations that they would return with great renown and honor.

He was eighty-three and lives alone in a hut near one of the borders' forest. He was hospitable especially to the soldiers who patrolled this neck of the borders. He was still quite muscular for his old age and he was stronger than any living thing Scipio had seen.

When Scipio and his friends crouched low behind a bush, they could clearly see old man Ronsenburg cutting logs in half with his bare hands. The boys marveled at his brute strength and dreamed of being able to do that someday.

The routine was simple; a boy would go to old man Ronsenburg while the rest sneak into his hut and grab the food. Old man Ronsenburg was very perceptive though, no strategy worked twice on him. The last time they did repeat their actions, Old man Ronsenburg was able to apprehend them and he then turned them over to the patrolling guards, to be either returned to their parents or be sent to the precinct to spend a night with parent notification.

Discipline was a prime virtue in Nabradia, those who slackened off ended up as hooligans, in the boys' case, pranksters.

The boys had sufficient discipline though, their spirits could not afford enduring restrictions and for that they resorted to their jokes. They had families who were above any threat of poverty and had enough food to feast on.

They simply enjoyed annoying old man Ronsenburg because the dishes he cooked were splendid and far better than anything they had tasted in their homes.

'Hey, De'Sola, why don't we just ask him to give us some?' Scipio asked the boy dressed in brown.

De'Sola's reply was crisp, 'Duh! That's no fun.'

'Oh, right.'

The boys then conferred with each other, surely the old man would have detected the pattern to their previous routine, the very same which they planned to employ upon him.

They reviewed their plan, made calculations and devised codes to ascertain efficiency and coordination. They took into account all things because the prize, should ever their operation succeed, this day was the most delicious of any of old man's recipes: roasted cockatrice.

The target was fairly easy to obtain, it was outdoors, the only perceived obstacle was old man Ronsenburg himself. From where he stood he could easily run to the roast in a matter of seconds.

The boys had finalized their plan. Never before had they deployed such a tactic. De'Sola was confident in success. Even Scipio, who observed that their success fail ratio was 1:5, was convinced of victory.

'All right, when I say "for Nabudis!" everybody goes.' De'Sola was giving his commands, he was naturally the leader and the thinker of the group.

The boys nodded in unison, they had understood their commands.

De'Sola ordered the boys into position, they moved about with utmost stealth and made great efforts to conceal their movements, and they crouched low again. Their hearts were bursting with the anticipation.

Scipio shifted silently and could see that Old man Ronsenburg was chopping the last few logs.

"For Nabudis!"

The boys exploded form the bushes. The element of surprise was theirs, Old man Ronsenburg was startled. Scipio and two other boys ran for the roast while De'Sola and the last three ran towards old man.

'STAY YOURSELVES!'

Scipio could feel himself grow cold at the sound of Ronsenburg's voice. He could also hear nothing but silence; the others were frozen as well.

Old man sighed and his shoulders slumped, 'Maybe we should all eat the cockatrice, it'll be a good way to spend my last night here.'

Scipio's eyes widened, he did not understand what he had heard immediately.

'Ease lads, I mean no ill. Come, let us eat.' He gestured the boys to sit around the roasting Cockatrice as he went into his hut.

The boys apprehensively approached the roast and squatted round it. It had not been the first instance wherein old man had shouted at them, there was this quality of sadness, all the boys perceived that much.

Old man Ronsenburg emerged from the hut, he was carrying a few wooden plates and his sword. Sweat trickled across his body as it had been heavily used today in work.

He too squatted near the cockatrice and then he had begun to pass plates around. When every boy had acquired a plate, he spoke, 'It's been rather fun to have a group of mischievous boys bother you, you know.' The boys felt regret seep into their conscience and hung their heads.

'Come now, no reason for sorrow.' Ronsenburg unsheathed his sword and sliced a considerable amount of meat from the cockatrice. He then drew a dagger from his boot and passed it to De'Sola who was seated beside him.

'Go get yourself something to eat, boy.'

'Yes sir.' De'Sola slowly took the dagger and leaned towards the roast, he sliced the leg of and the proceeded to rend some flesh from the leg. He then gave the extra meat to Scipio.

Scipio chewed on his cockatrice while the others took their helpings; he looked at old man Ronsenburg. His wrinkled brow was furrowed in an almost sad expression as he ate his meat. His gray beard went up and down as he chewed on his cockatrice. His movements were much lethargic.

'What ails you old man?' Scipio asked.

'One of my sons,' He sighed again and put his plate down, the other boys' attention were averted from their meals, 'has perished. The other, was wounded gravely and is now, thank the heavens, recovering well in Landis.'

'Will you go there then?' Scipio asked, his red eyes showed his pity.

'Aye. I will live there, and I shall quit this place.'

'I hope it's not 'cause of us.' De' Sola said apologetically, he know regretted everything he had done which caused old man Ronsenburg grief.

Old man Ronsenburg chuckled heartily. 'You boys have been nuisance, that much is true, but it was all fun, I must admit.'

De'Sola was relieved, 'Sorry.' He said and bowed his head. The other boys did the same.

'Ah, don't lose your sleep over it.' Old man Ronsenburg got up and went to his hut. He emerged a few moments afterwards, dressed and with a backpack. The boys fear had settled and they were now eating merrily.

Old man Ronsenburd approached them, intent to retrieve his sword which he left where he had sat. The boys fell into silence, but they were no longer scared or sorry, they looked at Ronsenburg with great reverence.

'Well, farewell boys, you can have my hut and my cockatrice.' He picked the sword up and looked up at the sky. It was the time for the sun to set.

He then looked at the boys and nodded at each of them, and then he left. He never looked back.

'Take care, Sir!' De'Sola shouted after him. He merely waved his hand.

The boys continued to stare at him until he finally disappeared from sight. The boys then attended to their cockatrice. The aroma was tantalizing, but its power significantly decreased now that they felt guilt.

After they had eaten, they cleaned the hut and the roast site. They would see to it that this hut would endure, so that they would forever remember old man Ronsenburg.

They would also see to it that they would steer clear from thievery and annoying old men, abandoning their pastime of pranks was impossible.

At last the boys were done, the hut was tidy and the fire which had once existed to cook the cockatrice was doused.

They bade each other farewell and promised to meet here again tomorrow. Scipio was on his way when De'Sola called to him.

'Hey remember your mask.' He said.

'Oh, thanks for reminding.' Scipio took his mask which dangled from his belt.

De'Sola nodded and went his way, 'See you tomorrow!' he waved back at Scipio as he ran further away.

'Will do!'

Scipio entered the woods, the sky would darken soon.

He slipped the mask over his red, snake-like eyes. He would be home in time if he ran.

During those days when he was still a child, he had a home.

A/N: I hope these few chapters will be all right to quench your thirst for a few weeks...Things are getting way too hectic for my taste and I predict slow updates from now on...That's why I posted as many as I could to compensate!! Hope you guys like it!! -Comet-