Someone now

It was a quiet bustling market. The brown tint in part due to an increase in construction and use of red stones, and in part due to the blood soaked land was very prominent. Wares were sold and bargains were made on a large scale, but so much so as a whisper would be forbidden. The town had a somewhat queer atmosphere, as if someone was unable to know how to feel, necessity of life driving them forward but no motivation to live, only to exist.

The buisness seemed to be a bit slower than usual, but it was not slow enough to call it a recession of any kind. It seemed many people didn't come out to buy anything fancy but just essential supplies and equipment that they seemed to have somewhat urgent need of.

A man with a black cloak, however seemed to buy a lot of supplies, nearly filling the cart behind him, he would make the gesture to the shopkeeper that he would pay later. The shopkeeper would readily accept the request. There was no need to worry he was a renowned warrior who had helped them. It was the least he could do as being thankful. He signed that while cowering to save his own life, he had lost all hope that his old and frail parents would survive, he was disgusted in himself from that moment. But courageously the cloaked man alone went into the greskee's lair to bring them back along with other refugees. Tears rolled down his eyes but he wiped them out swiftly.

'You don't worry about it. It is a gift, please accept it as my gratitude.' he gestured.

The man bowed down to express his thanks.

He took the circular device and pocketed it. When he was far down the road enough that none in the market would hear him he muttered to himself, 'Simple folk how do I envy them, but why all this silent day crap. Can't they simply build a memorial for them, and move on.'

He walked on and through the alleys reached a rather dawdy house that seemed to attract every rodent in the town. There was a clear lack of order but he didn't care enough. Now was the time to leave this town like the many others, he had paid back all his debt and said his farewell to his friends, or what remained of them. He didn't have any family left now as he wanted to live his true dream of living peacefully. The place looked as if animals were left here and had partied senseless. It was a complete mess with a the utensils and books scattered here and there. He had a mountain of letters neatly piled up. It was the only stuff that seemed to have care taken in safekeeping. He took all of them and tied them up with a note that they must be delivered to the Repon Post Office.

There was a small trapdoor beneath his bed and he took out a box that looked like it was made from polished wood. He opened it and it contained a medal. The detail still shocked him whenever he looked at it. It was a blue medal with Golden letters saying "Godsend Knight". He held it close to his heart, tears running down, his heart ached and he cried.

He huffed out at what he had lost, instead of smiling at the ton of medals he had gained. After about 15 minutes he safely kept the box in his bag. Soon he wiped out his face and washed it.

He neatly wrapped up a gift to the town hall, Officers would love to send him on dangerous missions to brind back something for them in return they would provide him with a lot of money. Eventually he was able to pay for the freedom of his friends and was able to have a decent life. But then the war reached him...

'Woo! got it all.' he took a deep breath and started walking. He took one last look at the mess he had made.

'Well they are going to get a house for free, at least let them clean it up. From now this is not my mess.' Whistling he closed the door as he left what was his home for three years.

He placed the key in another small box. He pulled up the cart with him now twice filled than what he had left the market with. Travelling through the streets he was randomly reminded of a conversation he had with a close friend. Once when she was unable to shoot clearly unlike himself, she said 'Ah heck i am telling you, this gun's faulty.'

Just then he picked up the gun and shot three targets in a row.

'I stand corrected.' his friends said. 'The gun is under a spell.'

' Don't worry you are an average shot, Joan'

'That's the problem I am average you are a goddamn master.'

'I practiced since I was 3, you should have too.' He shrugged.

'My father hated me going to the army.' She pouted, 'No way he would have let me practice shooting.'

That was true since he was an orphan he didn't have parents to look after him, it had helped him in more than one occasion. Though many pitied him for not having a name, it also came with a significant amount of freedom that he would have been other wise unable to enjoy.

'Maybe that's the reason I survived', he thought. Anyways that was behind him, better to look at the front.

As he walked into the Hurunb Town hall the officers who were bored had become overjoyed. One almost let out a sound but controlled himself.

Smiling he went in the office and handed over the key to his house.

'You still plan on leaving?' he gestured as he opened the box.

'Can't go back on my plan.'

'At least rest a few more days we have special quarters.' he pleaded with his hands.

'Nah it's hard to be here the memories aren't really peaceful.'

'I see.' he gestured again.

Smiling he took out his package and gave it to him.

'What's this?'

'A gift.'

He was about to open it but he gestured him not to do it so soon. Happiness filling him he took out a big wad of cash and handed it to him.

'Did you count?' he gestured.

'Yeah Triple what you asked for'

He was happy. The officer gestured that the price had risen four times hence he decided to do a little extra.

'Triple is a bit much.'

'For you the world is too little, My friend.'

'Thanks,' he gestured and took about half out of it, 'Can you give this to Joan's family, please?'

The officer was on the verge of tears. He wiped out the tear droplets as he gestured. 'You don't forget your own, even as fame reached you, she deserved better fate. She deserved such friends as you, Korkinim.'

He walked out of the office after saying his goodbyes. Joan had died after the greskee had captured her along with about 5000 of their army and had their tongues cut out and then killed hence the town mourned their loss by practicing silent mourning day.