Not Homesick for Home

I PUT MY HAND on an old, well-worn door, a door I'd known since

my youth. It creaked as I pushed it open. Inside our house sat my father,

resting on a chair. By his side, against the wall, lay his trusty spear, worn

with use. The spear's blade was sticky with blackened blood. My father's

face was pallid and his arm bore a deep wound. One short glance was more

than enough to tell me that he had battled monsters on his way home. I ran

to his side, worried.

"Dad! Are you all right?!" I cried.

My father replied with a chuckle. "This little scratch? It's nothing

serious."

He always tried to play down the severity of his wounds, but even as

a child I knew better.

I hurried to draw fresh water from the well outside. The water was so

cold that it numbed my hands. I hauled the heavy bucket back inside and

began to clean my father's cut. His grimace when the rag touched his flesh

confirmed my fears; this wound was no mere scratch.

Our village was known for a medicinal plant called "miel." Most

local families kept a stock of miel, and we were no different. I fetched the

leaves from a shelf in our back room and crushed them to a paste, then

rubbed the paste over my father's wound before bandaging it. My father

watched in silence while I worked. Only when I finished tying the bandage

did he open his mouth to speak.

"You've gotten good at this, Fay," he said.

"Of course I have! You keep going out and getting yourself injured!"

"Ah…you're right. I…I'm sorry."

My father ruffled my hair with his injured arm, at a loss for words.

Then a thought occurred to him, and he stood up from his chair.

"Shall we visit your mother?" he asked.

"Okay."

My mother's grave lay directly behind our house. She'd died soon

after my birth, and requested that we bury her there. That way, even if she

couldn't see her son with her own eyes, she could at least watch over me

from nearby. This was why, whenever possible, my father and I visited her

once a day.

We knelt before her grave—always swept clean and kept free of

weeds—and put our hands together in prayer. From the corner of my eye, I

saw my father's jaw twitch, and he grimaced. It was the pain from the

wound I'd just mended. He was doing his best to endure, but I knew his arm

must hurt.

"Mom won't get mad if you don't clasp your hands, Dad."

"Yeah, I know. But I want to do it, okay?"

Deep in his heart, my father was committed to our routines. He still

smiled through difficult times, and he still ruffled my hair, despite his

wounds. Even back then, even though I was only a child, I recognized those

moments as flashes of my father's true resolve.

***

"Never happier than when you're muttering in your sleep, are you,

Fate?"

The rickety cart we rode in clattered over a rock, jolting me from the

gentle nostalgia of my dream. Over the crunch of wheels and dirt, the black

sword Greed's laughter echoed hollowly through my Telepathy.

"What are you laughing at?!" I sat up, holding my head.

"I'm laughing at you," said the black sword. "You and your

muttering. 'Dad…Dad…' You're still such a child."

Greed catching me mumbling about my parents in my sleep was

horribly embarrassing. Not only would he never let me live it down, he

would undoubtedly remind me of what he heard any chance he got. I

sighed. I might as well have served up my weaknesses on a silver platter.

We'd been out on the road for a full two days, a lull which had given

me plenty of time to think back on the better days of my youth. But now, at

last, the old horse and cart I'd hired arrived in Tetra.

Tetra was, more or less, a merchant town. At only a tenth of the

population of the kingdom's capital, Seifort, it was still lively and active in

its own right. As a hub for goods and produce from the south, it was

popular among many of the kingdom's merchants.

However, Greed and I were headed much farther south, aiming for

the infamously dangerous country of Galia. The sun was already setting by

the time we arrived in Tetra, but I asked around to see whether I could find

another merchant willing to take us farther. None of the caravans were

interested, which didn't surprise me; traveling at night invited attacks from

ferocious monsters.

Fortunately, I wasn't in a hurry. I was on the lookout for any signs of

Lady Roxy Hart or her soldiers, but as it turned out, none of them had

reached Tetra yet, which meant I was well ahead of them. Lady Roxy

was…well, she was my friend, and only a year older than me, yet as a holy

knight of Seifort and the head of the noble Hart family, she was currently

leading an entire army into Galia.

Her army's journey would take time. It was different for me,

traveling alone. I had to be careful not to outpace them too much.

With all that in mind, I decided to stay overnight in Tetra. As long as

I had extra time, it made sense to use it to get as strong as I possibly could

before I reached Galia. I'd spend the evening hunting monsters on the

outskirts of Tetra, and in the morning I'd find a merchant willing to ferry us

farther south.

As for money for my expedition, I'd received a generous sum from

the head servant of Hart manor before I left. So long as I didn't go crazy

with lavish spending, these funds would be more than enough to see me to

Galia. The head servant must have known I intended to follow Lady Roxy

all the way. Perhaps that was why she'd tried so hard to stop me.

"I'll use your money wisely," I murmured, and I gripped the coin

purse tightly, careful not to drop anything.

I wandered down the evening streets. The truth was that this wasn't

my first time in Tetra. I'd come through after I fled the village where I'd

grown up, briefly stopping there on my way to Seifort. Back then, I'd been

driven out of my own village, alone, with barely a coin to my name. I

remembered finding a quiet back alley and squeezing into a corner to sleep.

In the morning, I'd used the last of my money to buy three pieces of stale

bread, then departed for Seifort on foot.

Looking back on it now, it amazed me that I'd survived the journey to

Seifort. But my life had only gotten harder after I arrived… Again, my head

flooded with memories I no longer wanted to recall. Fortunately, my

stomach interrupted with a loud rumble, crying out for sustenance. I still

had provisions I'd bought in Seifort, but this was a good chance to indulge

in some of the Tetran cuisine I'd missed out on last time.

A big wooden sign to my right pointed out an old tavern. It'd been a

long day, and I wanted a drink alongside my meal; a tavern sounded perfect.

I opened the aged, weathered door and stepped inside.

This tavern was far more spacious than my old haunt back in Seifort.

It featured about thirty seats and was liberally decorated without feeling too

cramped or overwrought. I took a seat at the counter, in the corner. No

matter what bar I visited, the corner was always where I felt most at home.

The barkeep behind the counter called out to me as he polished cups.

"What can I get you?"

"What do you recommend?" I asked.

"If you're after a drink, you can't go wrong with red wine from the

Hart family estate. For a meal, it's gotta be the rabbit soup with buttered

bread. All in all, that's twenty copper coins. What do you say?"

"Bit steep, if you ask me. Jacking up the price just because I'm not

from around here, huh? Fifteen, and I'll take it."

The barkeep laughed and shouted my order back to the kitchen staff.

I pushed my fifteen copper across the counter and glanced around the bar

while I waited. About half the diners were merchants. The other half were

adventurers. All of them were dressed well. It seemed the clientele here ran

quite wealthy, which explained the high prices.

I licked my lips excitedly at the arrival of my meal, then chowed

down. While I ate, I made plans for the upcoming morning. My best course

of action would be hitching a ride to the next big town with another wagon.

Hopping caravans would ensure I always wound up in a place where I could

find lodgings and locations to stock up on provisions as I traveled. I

couldn't afford to arrive in Galia an exhausted wreck, but the single skill I'd

been born with, Gluttony, rendered me eternally hungry. Food and eating

forever lurked at the back of my mind.

I gobbled down my soup and bread, sparing nothing, not even the last

crumb. Just as I set my cup of wine to my lips, a commotion broke out on

the other side of the bar. I turned to see what was going on.

The ruckus came from a table of six adventurers. Arrogance hardened

their faces. In front of their table a man kneeled, head to the floor, bowing

profusely as they ate. The man continued to bow, over and over, as the

adventurers hurled abuse at him. The whole spectacle was disgusting

enough to sour the taste of wine in my mouth.

I didn't usually get involved in messes like this. But this was a

special case. I'd seen the man scraping in front of them before. I knew him.

What was he doing here, begging at the feet of these callous adventurers?

I listened as their conversation continued, all of them oblivious to my

gaze.

"You do know that monsters are everywhere because of what's

happening in Galia, right? And you must know that requests for monster

hunters have shot through the roof, right? You know all of this, and yet

you're still here asking us to go all the way to some backwater mountain

village to slay beasts for a few measly silver?"

"I'm begging you," the man said. "Please. If we don't hurry, my

entire village is doomed."

"Shut up. Enough already. Go find someone else. Can't you see we're

eating here?"

"Please. Please, I'm begging you. Everybody else has turned me

down, and I'm running out of time. Please, you must save my village!"

A bearded adventurer stood and placed his boot on the man's head.

"If you're going to bow," he said, "then you have to really drive your

head into the ground. Like this, see? Show us how sincere you are. You get

me?"

"Please…please help us…" the man mumbled, his words distorted

against the wood. He lay trapped under the forceful push of the adventurer's

boot. His tears pooled on the floor as he pleaded.

The adventurers watched and laughed. Finally, the bearded

adventurer slowly took his foot from the man's head, tired of the joke. "All

right, we'll do it."

"Really?!"

"But you have to understand. We've got a lot of requests to get

through, right? Boatloads of them. So, I'm sure we can get to yours…yeah,

about a year from now. Oh, and because you're making us walk through the

mountains? That's an additional ten gold coins on top of our usual fee."

"But that's… We can't wait that long. A-and I told you, I only have

ten silver."

The kneeling man's answer left the adventurers bellowing with

laughter, as if bullying were a snack to enjoy alongside their drinks.

"In that case, no deal," said the adventurer. "Better find someone

else."

"Have you no compassion?! Please, I beg of you! Help us!"

"No. Compassion doesn't fill my wallet."

Despite the adventurers' obvious disdain, the kneeling man refused to

give up. He slammed his head into the ground. He begged. And he begged,

and begged. Maybe they had taken him for a joke before, but now I could

see his persistence was starting to really annoy them.

"Shut up, already! Learn your place, weakling!" one shouted.

The bearded adventurer lifted the pleading man by his shirt. "Listen!

We don't care what happens to your backwater village!"

With that, the bearded adventurer's fist flew through the air. He

wasn't holding back. I knew that if that punch landed, it would cripple the

man.

However, the punch didn't land. Before I realized I was moving, I

stopped the blow in place with a single hand.

"That's enough," I said.

The adventurer turned his anger on me. "Don't stick your nose in

other people's business! And don't think, when you do, you'll get away

without—"

I squeezed his fist. His eyes widened with shock at the power of my

grip, and he collapsed to his knees.

"Okay! I'll stop! I'll stop! Please, just…just let me go…"

"How kind of you," I said. "Now, go back and eat with your friends.

Quietly. You're bothering the other diners."

"I will. I will! Just, please…let me go. My hand…it's going to

break…!"

The difference in our strength was clear, and the adventurer knew it.

He slunk back to his place at the table, where the group of adventurers now

sat in silence. Their table had the air of a funeral.

The man I'd just saved stared at me. As he saw my face, his eyes

went wide. He stepped backward and placed a hand on his mouth. He

couldn't hide his surprise. Couldn't hide his shock.

He and I had grown up together in the village I once called home.

We'd never been friends.

"It's been a while, Set," I said. "How long exactly? Five years?"