First to burn

Many years have passed after the wars in Bohemia and the subsequent war in Scania. A boy was born to a Carolean soldier in the north of modern-day Sweden. The boy was born on the 13th of March 1682 in the small town of piteå to a poor soldier family. The family's only luxuries were a roof over their heads, undamaged clothes, and full stomachs.

Though they lived better than the average person, if you count that they would have a stable food supply as long as the father was a soldier for the king, but that was not to last for long, as the boy's father caught pneumonia and subsequently died while the boy was 12.

It became his burden now to take care of his family, but God had other plans for this boy, as not only would his father die of pneumonia, but his two sisters and mother followed suit not many weeks later.

The boy was so heartbroken that his mind crumbled and sent his body into a coma that would only last a day, but the boy who woke up was no longer the innocent little child. Instead, his mind twisted and churned as he cursed God for leaving him alone to fend for himself.

His heart was broken into uncountable shards was set ablaze by his inability to cope with his loss, which turned him cynical and somewhat insane, but in his mind, he was one of the few sane men left on this cursed world. Unfortunately, his relatives did not come to help him, nor did anyone offer him support, for God now abandoned him.

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A week after the family's passing, the boy sat brooding while staring into the fire of the quiet home. Then, while preparing his breakfast, he slowly stirred the pot while staring Into the dancing flames, which licked the black pot.

'to hell with the world!!!! Or is it that this world is hell? Why God? Why have you done this to me? Have I not been a good Christian? I followed your script and obeyed my father and mother.

But even so, you took them away! You did take not only my beloved mother but also my sisters!!!! HOW CRUEL YOU ARE!!' the boy thought while his eyes still stared at the flames seething with anger.

After venting his morning frustration at God, he started eating the vegetable soup he had made with some stale bread. As he chewed and swallowed, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

'Hmmm, I need to leave this cursed place and find some peace before God decides to strike me down. But where to go? I think I heard some rumors that there's good work in the capital for people who can read and write. It's a good thing father Anton helped me read and write while visiting the church. I will miss him. He preached so feverishly about God's kindness, but I have not seen this kindness of his. Curse you, God!'

After the food had appeased his stomach, he rose from the hardwood floor and rummaged around the small home in search of his father's equipment. His father had trained him and started drilling him into a soldier before the poor boy could barely walk. When he finally found his father's things, he began to place them on the floor, one after another, till nothing remained to be put down.

'Hmmm, these clothes are a little too big for me, but that means I can have more clothes beneath them... I hope the weather will be alright, for a while at least. It has rained constantly for a week, and my breath has fogged in the chilly night air.

The snow will probably come sooner than later. Better get going before that.' The boy's eyes went across the famous tricorne hat, but to him, it was simply a hat, his father's hat, to be precise. As his eyes looked at it, he could not stop crying while reaching out with his trembling hand.

"Oh, father, what would you have done? Is this choice of mine right? Will you forgive me for leaving all of you here searching for a better future?" The boy held the hat close to his chest while tears streamed down his boyish face.

The tears stopped after a while, and the boy began to pick all the clothes he could without putting too much of a strain on him. Then he looked at his father's military garments spread on the floor and admired them.

He started with taking up the blue thick woolen socks and started to wear them, next were the yellow trousers, then the shoes which were made of thick polished leather coated black, which were around 8 inches high starting from the bottom of the heel and ended around 2-3 inches above his ankle.

After filling the remaining room in the shoe with cloth pieces, he tightened the strap and began to unbutton the blue and yellow coat his father was so terribly fond of. He admired the fine texture and started to run his hands all over it while shedding silent tears for his deceased father.

When he had finished running his hands on it, he began to wear it. Its fine polished buttons reflected the fire he had made for his breakfast. It made the ends of his mouth perk up a little.

He attached the military leather pack to the leather belt and fitted it with all the lead bullets his father kept in the house. He also picked up the gunpowder and put it in a waterskin-like pouch.

When he finished filling the gunpowder, he put the small barrel to rest in a sack he had filled with all sorts of things he might need to survive the journey southwards.

As he attached the last thing to the sack, which was his mother's pan, he looked at his father's trusted sword lying on the floor, which he quickly picked up and hoisted on the belt, the last thing on the floor was the deep blue cloak which he picked up and swung over himself and later buttoned.

When he was done taking everything from the ground, he hoisted the sack strap around his shoulder underneath the cloak. The last thing he had yet to put on was the yellow woolen finger gloves which he promptly did and looked around his home, looking for his father's musket, which he found after moving a floorboard and strapped it to his shoulder.

Then he walked towards the fireplace and kicked the burning wood out onto the floor, which the wooden floor answered by, slowly burning and fueling the fire. He then turned towards the table he had put the tricorne on, put the somewhat oversized hat on his head, and walked towards the door with heavy steps.

As he opened it, he saw how the sun started to rise from the horizon and how the sky was clear of clouds giving out a tranquil atmosphere, but he did not stand and admire it for too long as he took a step forth.

He turned his head back to see that the fire had started to spread all around the house, and he saw how his father's bible began to burn, and with that, he scuffed to himself to then turn his head forwards and started his long march southwards towards Stockholm.