Necessity.
As cruel as it was, Valen and Lyra were walking beacons now. Everyone had heard the tales, be it through passing merchants or bedtime stories.
Wherever the heroes went, danger followed.
Perhaps it was the other way around? Perhaps heroes lived in relentless pursuit of danger and death? Jonathon could not afford to be the one to find out.
Years in the military had honed his survival instinct, he was unlike the other pot bellied commanders, who stuffed themselves with the finest thornsnout pigs and silverfin trout. Declining numerous opportunities to move up in the chain, to move away from the deadly front lines of the orc war.
Choosing to stay among his men, leading them from where it mattered most.
After all, sending people to die would never sit well on his conscience.
But necessity.
He had to. He convinced himself.
He had to send the boy out of his sturdy walls. There was no other choice, it was to save the others under his command. A necessary evil.
No matter which angle the centurion looked at it, he had been a coward. Doing the one thing he swore never to do. He had sent a boy, no older than 15, to his death.
Not just any boy either. A boy who had led two dozen out of the clutches of death itself.
A boy who heralded the Bluescale clan, the young son of the fortress that guarded humanity.
And to top it all off, he had sent him to his death for the crime of being too hopeful.
The very world acknowledged something he had just executed.
A stream of salty tears fell atop the grizzled man's face.
Jonathon sat within a small hut.
Unwilling to let his men see the mess he had become.
Unwilling to meet the eyes of the Hope he was going to murder.
War was a heartless ordeal.
A wave of fresh air blew against Valen's face as he stood atop the outpost walls. A calm grim smile hung atop his lips, confident he would live to see many more moons.
Beside him stood Lyra, her eyes stealing glances at his handsome face. Something about his confidence soothed her soul, as if nowhere was safer than beside him.
Even with the promise of death looming over them, their hearts remained hopeful, their backs remained straight.
"Ahh, where do you think you two are going." A teasing chuckle pulled them out of their bubble. Argon's huge frame leaving small indents in already packed earth.
The trees seemed to be thicker than before, with golden amber seeping from indents left from their unholy visitors. The moss coating the battered walls had regained it's lost ground, rapidly covering whatever was left. By now the outpost was truly hidden among the green foliage of the forest.
A faint smell of wet grass surrounded them, pungently fresh in its own good way.
"Leaving your mother behind, are you?" Came next. A slow, stern voice that seemed to know it all echoed across the outpost.
The elderly nun had raised Valen, and she was not going to let him leave alone. "Wherever you go she follows huh. To think you two slipped right under my nose."
Valen's eyes warmed at the sight of his reliable mom. She had been strict at times, but she never let him cry alone.
Clinging to her legs was Little Zack, his eyes containing endless admiration.
"This one wouldn't let me go." A faint sigh came next.
"Why would you guys leave without me? Aren't we a family?" The young Zack shouted, sounding hurt in the worst way.
"It's not safe with us, Zack." Lyra responded, her short cooking blade had been replaced with two daggers.
"Where could be safer than with big bro?" Zack responded, innocence gleaming in his round eyes.
"Hahaha, why don't you say that after letting go of mother." Valen spoke teasingly.
"N...no."
"There's no point in trying to convince the rascal, he didn't listen to her or me" Argon mused, "reminds me of you when you were younger."
The wind was beginning to pick up, blowing towards the outpost. The smell of fresh flowers blooming filled their noses. The rotting base of the walls had returned to being healthy, with the faintest green specks covering the brown packed dirt within the walls.
Valen felt different.
His spear rested lighter in his grip, as if the world itself wished to see it raised again. His scuffed plate armour no longer weighing him down.
"Here's the plan. We will follow along the road towards Valthar. The wind blows in our favor, thank Gaia, so we can bet on uncles... Less than ideal method of avoiding detection."
"From here, it will take us two risings of Luna." The uncle in question chimed in.
"Then we will seek refuge under Solara's protection. We will march through Luna's watch."
The group nodded along, not seeing any faults in the simple plan.
"Heroes!" Following the call, the groups' eyes settled on a distant black mound that was charging towards them.
"The hell is that?" Argon immediately readied his small hammer, no longer having his trusty nails.
"Wait, wait. I bring gifts." Replied the black mound, now close enough for the group to make out the fur covering it.
With a small thud, the black mass dropped to the ground, revealing a plated soldier.
"A gift from the soldiers." Their hands slightly trembling from exertion. "It does not sit right with us to send you without any preparation"
"Um... Are all of you leaving? Not just the heroes?"
His eyes shone with slight disbelief, who in their right mind would leave an outpost willingly, with an army of demons waiting outside.
His hand rose to rest in the back of his head, unsure how to word what came next.
"We... Didn't think anyone would leave with you. So we only prepared rations and equipment for two..." The soldier was now slowly panicking. To send two heroes to their death was already weighing on their commanders head. To add a child and two others to it too? That was unfair.
"Are you sure? That you want to leave?" He stammered in an attempt to dissuade the two elders. Hoping the child would be forced to listen too.
"We are sure. He is one of us. We won't leave him alone." It was the very child he had ignored that responded, his voice defiant with a hint of worry.
The soldiers breath hitched, followed by a deep sigh. "Then we will help you best we can." Already accepting their minds were set.
He kneeled to untie the bundle he had carried to the group, every knot undone causing him to sink his shoulders more.
"Rations for two days. Ofcourse it's portioned for only two people. Unfortunately we don't have much to spare." He pointed to two smoked pieces of cow. Followed by two leather pouches that sat almost bursting at the seams.
"And two cloaks. Made of wolf fur. They help blend into the night, and make for excellent warmth."
By the end of his explanation, clear pools had formed within his clouded eyes. Valen was unsure if it was red from restless nights, or from the emotions battling in the poor man's head.
"Thank you." Valen muttered, still thinking about the logistics of supporting 5 on the rations for 2. Still, it was better than nothing, that Valen knew.
"We will remember your kindness." His radiant smile pierced the teary man's heart.
"Tell Jonathan I said thanks. For protecting the survivors of Ashford. They are good people."
By now the pools of helplessness were cascading down the mans face. His eyes unable to meet Valen's own.
"I...I will."
With that, Valen slung one cloak around his mother's shoulders, and slung the other over Lyra's.
"None for your uncle?"
"Man up."
The rest of the bundle was swiftly slung over Argon's shoulders.
"Here, something for you."
"Wow. Reduced to a pack mule, who would've thought." Argon continued to joke to his unamused audience. While he had complained, his back had already been turned to the outpost. Not letting the weight slow him in the slightest, he was the first to take his step out the open gate.
Valen soon followed, with the rest of the party following closely.
The gate of the outpost creaked behind them.
Five figures stepped onto the lonely road beneath the forest canopy.
Ahead of them waited darkness, war… and the unknown.
Yet still they walked forward.
Hope beside Duty.
And far behind them, a man still wept for the boy he believed he had sent to die.