The Imperial Guards headquarters was teeming with activity. Cadets sparred with one another, while others enjoyed playing a game of chess at their own leisure. Gyras had secretly assembled a small squadron of the most experienced members. Informing them of the task handed to him by the Emperor himself.
Regil scanned the small team of five. He noticed that his closest friend, Valen, had not been given this assignment. "As you may know," The commander started, "We have caught wind of the Daemon that has been terrorizing our Empire for some time now." The group went silent. They were unnerved, all but the young noble.
"Now I know the rumors spread about it might be intimidating, but with planning and precision, we might stand a chance at slaying the foul thing." The tension in the air was tangible, so much so, that even the commander grew nervous. "Soldiers, do I make myself clear?"
One of the senior members raised his hand high in the air. "And how do you propose we corner him?" He asked. "We could use one of you as bait to lure it out." Gyras offered. The rustling in the silence was overwhelming. "Sir, I'm sorry, but that'd be a terrible idea." Regil interjected.
"To put it bluntly, we'd be sacrificing one of our own for no reason. What happens if it just ends up slaughtering us in the end? The Randall Guard didn't stand a chance, and you somehow expect us to hold our own?" Motioning towards his comrades, the redhead shook his head. "With a small force like this, we might as well engage him without our arms."
"Are you defying my orders?" He asked incredulously. "On the nose." Regil replied. "I don't doubt your judgement, sir, but I can't allow you to slaughter my fellow Guardsmen." Returning his superior's gaze with his own, he spoke firmly. "If you would, I'd recommend you to hand over this assignment to me. I will personally deal with this."
Gyras's eyes widened in disbelief, along with everyone present. "What!? Are you insane!?" Smiling sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his head. "I remember the tale of the First Commander of the Randall Guard's younger sister going out to suppress a demonic threat by herself. She turned out very successful." He said. "That's because she was a powerful sorceress! Look, I have faith in your swordsmanship, but you aren't anywhere near a Zelban's level to handle it!"
"That's the thing, sir. I'm not the commander. I'm not a Zelban, and I'm not a powerful sorcerer. I'm me, and that's who I'll choose to be. Just like them, and the heroes before them." Unsheathing his blade, a strong gust of wind knocked everyone off of their feet. All except his superior. "Drawing your weapon against the commander of the Guard is a crime punishable by death." Gyras's emerald eyes bore into his subordinate, causing his will to falter for a split second. Seizing his sword, the commander studied the steel work of his weapon. "Something like this doesn't fit someone of your caliber." Handing it back over to him, he put a hand on his shoulder.
"You're a good man, Regil. I have high hopes for you."
Being given full responsibility for bringing the daemon to justice, the redhead wandered the streets of Randall. Raindrops pitter pattered the roofs and open stands. Luckily, he was prepared for the gloomy overcast, and pulled up the hood on his cloak.
A mother and her child walked underneath an umbrella in the market district. The child stared with intent fascination at the weapon on his hip. "Mommy, look at his sword! I bet it can slice a burny in half!" They cheered gleefully. Chuckling, she apologized to the swordsman, and continued down their way.
After some time, he ended up at the memorial. Thanks to the weather, the place was secluded. Several giant slabs of marble scribbled with various names of those who lost their lives during the war of unification. Pressing his hand against the cool, smooth surface, he felt his heart twinge with anguish.
././././.
"Mama, I don't want you to go!" The child pleaded, in tears. The woman smiled down at her son, stroking his hair. "Please don't cry. You'll make mommy cry too." She choked. How she wanted so to stay with her child, and raise him into a fine young man. "Your father will take care of you now. I need to go fight for us. For this land."
Sniffles and sobs escaped the boy as he desperately wiped away at the tears. Why did adults always have to fight? Why can't they share? Sharing would mean no one would fight, right? Then why hurt each other just to prove a point? He had asked her all of these questions, and she always responded with "You'll know someday when you're older."
"Please don't go! I promise to be a good boy! I'll do all my chores, and study hard every single day!" He cried, clinging tightly to her waist. She felt his tears dampening her clothing. Gods why did they have to do this? "I know you'll be a good boy. I know you'll do your chores, and of course I know you'll study." She cooed. "It's okay to be sad. There'll be a lot of sad moments in your life, but never forget about the ones who love you. Even if they try hurting you, remember the times when they loved you."
Kissing his forehead, she heard the whistle for the Volunteer Army. "Remember Regil. You're you, and will always continue to be you."