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Rhehei thoughtfully paced around his newly acquired home. It was rather empty at the moment, but the Myrian wasn't sure he even wanted to furnish it. After all, he still had his old home, far across the sea... It felt like a decade had passed since he left it. A strange feeling; when he tried to recall its details, he found it difficult, as if an ethereal veil covered the imagined scene. He explained it to himself by saying that during his time in Serberia, he had accumulated so much new information and experiences that they had pushed the old memories aside. And yet, could he really be losing his memories of his roots so quickly? Especially since he still felt drawn to that place, even though he couldn't quite say what he would do if he were there right now. Perhaps it was just temporary; he just needed some peace and quiet to think things through. He wondered, who would inherit this house if he had died in those damp dungeons?
There it was again... No matter how hard he tried to push the memories of his misadventures in Tamphan to the back of his mind, they kept resurfacing. Rhehei tapped his fingers on the hilt of his katana. Perhaps having it improved in the local forge was the only good memory he had of their trip to the neighboring county, a memory only weakly connected to the things he would rather forget. But even here, bad thoughts found a way in, this time thanks to Kalentia, who had told him about how the same thing had happened to the woman who later turned out to be the main target of their mission, the one they were supposed to defeat... And in the end, they had let her go, all because instead of helping his comrades bring down the vile villainess who was shaming his people and providing backup in case of potential losses, he had been lying unconscious on the threshold of that carelessly opened room. His companions' decision had been logical, albeit difficult, and he was immensely grateful that they hadn't left him to die, but a heavy sadness weighed on his soul because his inability to stand his ground had effectively failed the mission for everyone.
He sighed heavily and stopped in front of the window, looking out. As the seasons changed, spring was in full swing, and it seemed like the winter tournament that had started it all had happened a long time ago and was already a thing of the past. Organized by the baron... with a bag over his head. What was that all about? In a sudden, inexplicable burst of anger, the young man slammed his fist on the windowsill. From Gunngnir's reaction to the story of what happened in Tamphan, it wasn't clear what he wanted to see in his pupils: a personal knightly order or a band of thugs. And this house, this katana in his hand – the bearded baron persistently filled his mind, making him forget his own desires, convincing him that his place was here, that he had molded him from a piece of lost foreign clay specifically for Baldur and its inhabitants, that it was time to repay his debts and remember to whom he owed his life and to whom he should be loyal.
Enough, he thought. Returning to his usual routine should help him calm down and regain his composure. Rhehei made a conscious effort to block out the incessant stream of unwanted thoughts, after which he left the house and headed to the clinic.
There it was again... No matter how hard he tried to push the memories of his misadventures in Tamphan to the back of his mind, they kept resurfacing. Rhehei tapped his fingers on the hilt of his katana. Perhaps having it improved in the local forge was the only good memory he had of their trip to the neighboring county, a memory only weakly connected to the things he would rather forget. But even here, bad thoughts found a way in, this time thanks to Kalentia, who had told him about how the same thing had happened to the woman who later turned out to be the main target of their mission, the one they were supposed to defeat... And in the end, they had let her go, all because instead of helping his comrades bring down the vile villainess who was shaming his people and providing backup in case of potential losses, he had been lying unconscious on the threshold of that carelessly opened room. His companions' decision had been logical, albeit difficult, and he was immensely grateful that they hadn't left him to die, but a heavy sadness weighed on his soul because his inability to stand his ground had effectively failed the mission for everyone.
He sighed heavily and stopped in front of the window, looking out. As the seasons changed, spring was in full swing, and it seemed like the winter tournament that had started it all had happened a long time ago and was already a thing of the past. Organized by the baron... with a bag over his head. What was that all about? In a sudden, inexplicable burst of anger, the young man slammed his fist on the windowsill. From Gunngnir's reaction to the story of what happened in Tamphan, it wasn't clear what he wanted to see in his pupils: a personal knightly order or a band of thugs. And this house, this katana in his hand – the bearded baron persistently filled his mind, making him forget his own desires, convincing him that his place was here, that he had molded him from a piece of lost foreign clay specifically for Baldur and its inhabitants, that it was time to repay his debts and remember to whom he owed his life and to whom he should be loyal.
Enough, he thought. Returning to his usual routine should help him calm down and regain his composure. Rhehei made a conscious effort to block out the incessant stream of unwanted thoughts, after which he left the house and headed to the clinic.