Everyone is afraid of death

That night was studded with stars.

Many silver dots that illuminated the winter landscape in all that darkness.

All around him there was snow: it covered the earth, the foliage of the thick and many evergreens and at times flew in the air, going to rest on the young man's body and blond curls.

Juniper sat on the roof of his fortress, unafraid of falling, held securely, and felt safe and not in danger of death.

He was holding a glass of warm liquor.

The Baron wouldn't have drunk it all, he knew it, but he wanted to drink enough to feel good and safe again.

He felt that the council was going very well, all the participants were very motivated, which made him think of a positive outcome.

Juniper liked the taste of the liquor, it had to be one of the few things, which apart from his eyes he had inherited from his father, as on the contrary, his mother, had always kept away from any type of alcohol.

He would have gladly been able to have her by his side, his mother, to reassure him, to be able to simply remember how sweet was the woman who had brought him into the world.

Juniper remembered her beauty through what he had inherited from her: the golden curls, the pale face, the nose, the mouth and nothing more.

He actually hoped he could be a good father to his son, he hoped, even though he didn't have a chance to fully grow up with his parents.

Even though his father had never been a good example for him: neither faithful and just, towards his mother, Juniper hoped not to become like him.

One of his feet slid lightly onto the almost frozen roof, the soles of his leather shoes.

The baron had just turned twenty-two, yet he was not completely satisfied because something was bothering him.

He laid down his slender body on the roof, raised his blue eyes to the sky: it was so beautiful, of such a dark color and dotted with so many stars.

-May we sit here with you? - asked a voice next to him, bringing Juniper almost immediately to look up at the source of that voice.

Henry and John, his cousins, had somehow managed to find out where he was, they had reached him.

Obviously he would have liked some company at that moment, so he didn't hesitate to nod when asked.

The two ​​sat cautiously on either side of him, one on the right and the other on the left, appearing quite calm and relaxed, even in that war situation.

John soon slipped one of his cold hands into one of the pockets of his fine jacket and pulled out a small smelly object of a light brown color.

He then pulled a small white packet of short matches out of his other pocket and soon got ready to rub the end to light it.

The small piece of wood snapped twice against the rough surface, which quickly turned into a bright flame of fiery red, which went to incinerate the black surface of the cigar that the man held between his fingers.

John put it between his pale and tight lips, closed his eyes, seemed happy, relaxed, raised his face to the black starry sky, opened his lips, let out a cloud of white fragrant vapor.

Juniper looked at everything with an astonished do, he did not know his cousin smoked and did not even know how long he had been doing it.

-John, I suppose you have to stop, it just doesn't seem like the right moment...-.

The man removed that brown object from his lips, held it between his fingers, turned it over and over, looked at the Baron as if he was not interested in what he was saying.

-You talk just like my father, Juniper- the cousin scolded him putting the cigar back to his lips -in any case we will have to die right? No matter how...-.

Henry, who had been following the conversation so far, decided to intrude, surprising his cousin even more.

-John, will you please allow a shot?-.

All this seemed simply impossible: Henry, always attentive to health and well-being, now asked to smoke?

All this was impossible.

And so it was, that from John's lips the object passed into those of the prince and thus lasted relatively long.

Henry smoked, exhaled, and after a while he passed the object again between the fingers of the other and so the cycle continued.

-If you continue like this, cousins, you will end badly...- the Baron said with irony, after a certain time he began to seem annoyed by the two.

-This smell of weed is sickening me, please stop it...-.

John, who was the last to have smoked, seemed so bored by his reproaches that he stopped smoking.

He again took an elegantly embroidered handkerchief from one of his pockets, with which he prepared to turn off the end.

-You drink pure liquor, yet you don't seem to suffer from it...- the Duke complained discontentedly, who had been deprived of the personal pleasure of smoking early on.

Juniper lowered his grey eyes beyond the roof, over the great snow-covered gardens, the forests, the thousand lights, which still shone over Edinburgh.

He took his knees, hugged them to his body, wrapping his arms around it.

He was afraid in a way, yes, he feared death, which he knew many would encounter in that war.

What if it was them? His own cousins ​​to die, because of him? He would ever forgive himself, he would die, before causing the death of others.

-None of us will die, none...- promised the Baron, who still frightened stammered words of fear -each of us has children who are waiting for us at home...nobody will die...-.

That scene was so depressing, it seemed to instil in the other two relatives a modicum of hope and happiness.

If they were really happy they would no longer need to relax thanks to smoking and alcohol, which in that situation seemed quite difficult.

Juniper turned the glass, still half full of liquor, in his hands.

-Does anyone want some?- he was thus beating his own ideals.

They were together, they were a family, yet at that moment they couldn't be happy, fear blocked them, annihilated all their feelings.

-We will win...we will...I feel it-.