Old Man Wallace

Tylan's time in the prison was short—only a week's worth. He was eventually unchained and let down from the latch during this time. Despite the grim conditions, Tylan gained something from the experience: he met a confidant—the old man who shared his cell, Wallace.

"What got you in here, boy?" the old man asked as he picked at his nails. "Did you perhaps steal something?"

Tylan was huddled up in the corner, staring down at the sludge the guards fed them. He didn't answer, continuing to just stare. The old man yawned, stretching his back.

"Hmm, you gonna eat that?" he asked, pointing to the sludge. "If not, I'm still not full from supper. Old folks like me need more nutrients!"

Tylan shook his head, allowing the old man to take the sludge. Wallace scooped up a spoonful and chowed down with gusto. Tylan watched him eat, and a faint chuckle escaped his lips.

"Pffft…"

The old man heard the laughter and smiled, taking another spoonful. "Y'know, kids like you should really loosen up a little! Tell me, son—what's on your mind?"

Tylan looked up at the old man, debating. Should he really tell him what was on his mind?

Tylan sighed. There was no reason to hold it in while trapped in a cell. "I got locked up 'cause I tried to fight Alvin."

The old man tilted his head. Not many people dared to oppose Alvin—if any. He was a tyrant, ruling the town with an iron fist.

Wallace stroked his beard, thinking. "Hmm… That'll get you, for sure. You fought Alvin, huh? We've had quite a few folks thrown in here for that." But his eyes seemed to see through Tylan. "Is that all that's got you so beat up?"

Tylan hesitated. Should he tell him about the death of the child and the mother? He looked directly at the old man. "A child and their mother died because they tried to save me."

The old man stopped chewing. He set his spoon down and looked up at Tylan. "Hmm…"

The cell fell dead silent. The only sound was the guards' footsteps as they patrolled the jail. Tylan stared off into the distance, his mind blank—yet somehow filled with a thousand thoughts.

"Because of me," Tylan muttered, biting his cheek. "All because of me."

The old man picked up his spoon and took another mouthful. "Well, son, y'know what I think? I don't think it's your fault. They chose to help on their own, knowing the risks."

Tylan swallowed the saliva building in his mouth. He nodded, gritting his teeth. "But I couldn't do anything when it was my turn to save them. They helped me. They stalled just long enough for me to still be alive."

The old man stroked his beard again. He turned to Tylan. "Well, don't be discouraged, young man. There are plenty of other things in the world to worry about. Let bygones be bygones. What's done is done. They accomplished their goal—to save you—so you should keep living in their name. Why droop and be sad?"

Tylan thought about what the man said, he thought it about for a while as they sat in silence.

"You're still young, you have many more chances in this life," the old man sighed, "a old geezer like me though, it's too late for me. I have many regrets in my life too. But I try to not let them get to me."

Tylan nodded, he understood what the old man said, or he thinks he did at least.

"My rule of thumb when I'm regretting something is this," the old man continued, "I ask my myself, 'well, what would've happened if I didn't make this decision'. Sometimes your choice was really the best option, but you just don't see it in the moment!"

The old man stood up and walked over to Tylan. Tylan lifted his head to meet his gaze. Wallace reached out a hand.

"This old fool's name is Wallace. How about you?"

Tylan reached out and limply shook the old man's hand. "Tylan."

Wallace nodded. He sat beside Tylan and went back to picking at his fingernails.

"Now, you said you're in here for fighting Alvin? What made you go up against a tyrant like him?"

Tylan sighed. "I tried to play hero. He was out there destroying his own damn city, for god's sake. I just didn't want to sit and watch. I should've minded my own business. Maybe that innocent child and his mother would still be alive."

Wallace shrugged. "I think you did the right thing. Who knows what more destruction Alvin would've caused…"

Tylan nodded, though he wasn't sure how he felt.

Did I do the right thing? Maybe if someone else had confronted him… two more people would still be roaming the streets happily.

Wallace looked out the window of their cell. It was getting late—the moon was out and the stars were shining. He stood up and walked to his bed. Just as he was about to lie down, he stopped.

"Tylan, was it? Would you rematch Alvin if you had the chance?"

Tylan, caught off guard by the question, began thinking.

Would I fight Alvin again? Am I even good enough to beat him? No… there's no way I could beat him. I'm nowhere near his level… It'd just be a waste of time.

Tylan shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't. I want to beat him… but I don't think I can." He bit his cheek. "I'm nowhere near strong enough."

Wallace nodded in understanding and laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. A seasoned veteran, he had seen many ups and downs in life. He turned his head toward Tylan.

"What if I told you there was a way to beat him? Would you believe me?"

Tylan looked up, head tilted. "A way to beat him…? Is there really a way to take down a monster like that?"

Wallace got up from the bed and walked over to stand in front of Tylan. He nodded.

"Come, boy. Let me show you what a blood seal is."