Second Thoughts

Gorum traveled through the underground tunnels by himself, taking his time so he could think.

'Putting aside Idalia for now, I suppose they'll have me doing small and odd jobs 'til they trust me enough to handle bigger jobs. I don't blame them, I'd likely do the same, so it's fine.' he thought, contemplating his stance within the organization.

After a few steps further, Gorum stopped in his tracks and looked down at the floor.

"Like hell this is fine!!!" Gorum blurted aloud, jabbing his left arm out and punching the cave wall next to him, fissuring the rock around him and causing the entire continent to suffer from a tremor.

'What the fuck is going on here!? I'm supposed to be ripping these betrayers into pieces and I've gone and joined them over some petty feelings! Now I've discovered the kingdom has been committing unjust actions galore, glut with corruption! I thought I was fighting for the people, but I've been enslaving myself to oppressors for the past 72 years!? I can't wrap my head around this shit!' Gorum vented to himself within his thoughts, clenching his fists in frustration.

Finally, his juvenile emotions surfaced, leading to a flurry of increasingly frustrated feelings that were pent up over his 87 years of life. Gorum was tired of it, in the first place he had never intended to be some impenetrable martyr of justice, he was just trying to find a job. It had all started decades ago when Gorum, whom was just a rowdy street urchin at the time, enlisted in the kingdoms army to try and secure a stable income that didn't involve picking pockets. The Ugdual Kingdom back then was just like any other small aristocracy, full of turmoil and strife.

Gorum had gotten tired of living in the streets, fighting adults for his fair share of whatever coin or food he had earned from illicit deeds, struggling every day and night not to lose his life to someone bigger than he. After all, he wasn't always as large as he was now, in fact he was quite small and even resembled a woman more than a young man. He was maybe a kaurt and 5/6 a kaurt at most (about 5 feet 6 inches), long and fluffy blonde hair with a slender effeminate form befitting a harlot more than a warrior.

Despite his small stature, Gorum had almost no problems passing the enlistment test, mainly because of his viscousness and commitment to the effort. However, one of the other reasons was due to him being level 46 already when his fellow recruits were closer to level 20. He ended up being level 60 by the time he was done with basic training and made the position of commander just three months later. Unfortunately for Gorum that was where the problems began, he was growing too fast. His quick progress was outshining those alongside him as well as those 'above him', namely the children of nobles who were enlisting for glory and status.

Gorum had received less and less respect as rumors spread about him and the methods of which he was ascending in the ranks of the army. As a result, he was sent on more and more suicide missions in an attempt to kill him through legal channels, however his growth was actually boosted by such missions. Gorum would always come out on top, although battered. And look where his tenacity and dedication got him...

He was old, far older than a human should live to be. 50 was considered ancient and decrepit by human standards, and yet he was 87 years old! Gorum was indeed a powerful figure, but even at his old age he was still quite juvenile on the inside, and wished to spend his last years selfishly resting, instead of shouldering the responsibility of 'Brave'. Yet here he was, body full of pain in every waking moment, his bones aching from the surgeries he had to improve his stature, muscles throbbing from the constant burden of combat, skin burning from the uncountable scars he had received over the years. His golden mane of fluffy hair had withered into a coarse blanket of gray, his skin having gone pale due to the lack of sunlight to his skin from wearing his armor all day and night. He hadn't even taken his armor off in a decade, not even for moment. Gorum hadn't bathed or eaten in gods only know how long, nor had he slept in years.

And now on top of everything he had to face a world-shattering realization that he was helping the wrong side, his 72 years of service to the people were all pretty much for naught since he did the bidding of tyrants. Gorum couldn't stand all this thinking, he wasn't made for it. His talents lied within combat and little else, even when he was commanding troops or an entire army, he left the thinking to the strategists and simply did what they would tell him to. He left thinking to his betters, that was how it was. But now he had to truly think and pick a side to fight for, it was all a load of shit to someone as simple minded as Gorum.

"Master Gorum, Master Gorum!" a group of emissaries came running down both ends of the tunnel with worried looks on their faces, all of them huffing and panting, soaked with sweat.

"Ah...Master Gorum, were you the cause of that tremor just now?" The least winded emissary spoke up, their face pale with concern.

Gorum heaved a deep sigh and ceased staring at the floor, looking at the emissary to answer.

"Yes but...ugh, just don't worry about it. I was just frustrated with something and lost my temper." Gorum reeled himself in, trying to calm down as he waved away the emissaries, dismissing their concerns.

"Just lead me back to the ballroom, I'm fine now." Gorum pushed away the subject and ushered along the emissaries, having them guide him back to the ballroom.