As the man opens the door he is met by a cold but refreshing breeze. Looking over at the hilly horizon the sun is slowly setting behind a curtain of pink and yellow clouds.
Already knowing where his son ran off to, he starts walking towards the windmill on top of the highest hill, the white walls and large wooden blades stand out like the light of a beacon over a dark sea, where the waves are clouds and the currents are winds.
The old and unkempt gravel path leads from the modest house, up the windy side of the hill, to the mill. As he makes his way up the rise on his sides the wind creates elegant and rhythmic ripples by moving the stalks of corn, all along the vast fields of wheat.
The breeze ruffles the man's blond hair and golden beard, but his deep brown eyes are unfazed by the minor inconvenience, he keeps moving up, with a steady step so firm that not even an orc can interrupt; and, as a matter of fact, never did.
As he nears the top he takes a moment to think about his life, all the great deeds he accomplished, all the quests he completed and all the feats he was known for. Yet, out of all he did, he never imagined that the most difficult task in his life was not going to be defeating the Orc tribe of the RedWoods, or surviving the battle of Pindolo; but instead, it was raising a family.
Finally there, on the summit of the hill, he looks back at the horizon, where a quarter of the sun has already disappeared behind the fields of wheat. The last of the day's light illuminates and highlights the pure white walls of the tall windmill now behind him.
"Dad! Drale climbed up the mill and doesn't want to come down"
Says Alya, worried about her brother.
"Don't worry, take Thale and head back home, I'll take over from here"
As the two siblings start going down the hill, the father starts going up the mill. Slowly; step by step, floor after floor, the man reaches a small wooden trapdoor that leads to the roof.
There, waiting but not for him, Drale is staring at the setting skyline. The breeze up here is stronger and is constantly blowing back the boy's wheat-blond hair, with his eyes freed up he can clearly see all the nothingness that surrounds his hill, nothing but wheat fields, farmlands and the random windmill on top of another hill, far off, in the distance.
"Go away, I want to stay alone"
Mumbles the young man, not really meaning what he said. His Father sits next to him, both their legs hanging above the void, the two of them seated on the edge of the roofing. They keep staring at the slow sun set for minutes, not speaking a single word, not looking in any other direction.
"Drale. I know how you feel-"
"No! You don-"
"Shut up for a moment and let me finish"
Calmly but with an imposing tone says Reback. Drale taken by surprise feels something strange, something weird, but somehow powerful. A mysterious wave running through his body, sort of an electric current running through his spine, a chilling experience he never felt before. Left stunned he finds himself looking at the palm of his hands as if something was trapped inside the tips of his fingers, now as confused as he has ever been Drale looks back at his father.
"I know what you are about to ask, 'what was that?', the first time i had the same expression"
Says the man, still gazing at the twilight, his smiling face coloured by the last rays of light, his hair still fluttering free in the soft breeze of the sunset wind.
"That is called mana discharge. It's a technique that allows the user to release a wave of mana that causes effects of discomfort in nearby beings, if done correctly it's invisible to human eye and can only be physically seen using magic or magic devices"
The young man keeps staring in silence, his pupils wind and his mouth slightly opened; his entire facial expression unchanged.
"Well, now I'm a bit rusty. When I was younger my skills were a lot sharper and more precise"
Seeing his son still speechless, the man smiles and decides that this is finally the right time and right place to reveal to his son what kind of blood flows through his veins.
"You know my name, right?"
"Y-yes, Reback… right?"
The man starts giggling. His son not understanding asks what made him laugh this way, was his answer really that stupid? Or was this a trick question? Still confused, the young man demands a proper explanation.
"Yes, that's how I'm known as, now. Do you know how people used to call me, back in the days?"
The young man shakes his head. After a deep breath the man rummages in his pockets and pulls out a cigarette. After a quick but confident look at his son he puts the white stick between his lips, raising his index he murmurs with a low voice a single word 'ignite'.
On the tip of the finger a small, red, glowing circle with strange symbols and writings takes shape and from it a lively flame is born. The man covers the small blaze from the breeze with the other hand and lights his cigarette.
"I was once known as 'Reback of Renti, Slayer of Orcs'. I once was an adventurer, as you mother"
Proudly says the retired world traveller, slowly smoking as the light fades away and the darkness runs through the wheat fields. Little by little the night advances as the day retreats, leaving only the timid moon as a source of illumination in the rural countryside.
"You were adventurers? Why didn't you tell me! Why didn't you tell us! And what's this mana thing? Is this magic? What else have you been hiding?!"
"Listen son, I won't make any excuses now. I'm going to be as honest as i can, I will tell you anything you ask"
Says the man throwing the butt of the cigarette down, in the murkiness that lays beneath them.
"Me and your mother used to be adventurers, that's how we met. We visited all corners of the empire, completing quests and looking for treasures; we did almost everything one would expect from adventurers, we saw almost everything you would expect from world travellers. But one day, we realized how addicted we had become to adrenaline, that unquenchable thirst that can only be satisfied by putting yourself in even greater danger, by lowering more and more your chances of survival, by staring directly into death's empty glare"
"And what did you do then?"
"We decided to settle down, to live peacefully the rest of our days far away from any temptation, far away from any adventure. The first years were tough, not for the work load or for a shortage of money, but for the sheer boredom, by the lack of the adrenaline rushes we were so used to having. But then, a miracle struck us, your sister Alya was born. After that, everything changed, for the better I would say."
Incredulous of what he just heard Drale asks his father a couple of times if he's not joking, if he's not making stuff up, but when the man keeps his serene seriousness the boy finally convinced of what he heard.
"Why didn't you tell us, then?"
"We were scared. We were scared you would follow our footsteps, we were scared you would try to do what we did. Not only you, but also Alya and Thale, we were scared of losing you the same way our parents lost us"
Unsure about his father's wording Drale asks what he exactly means by that.
"Your mother ran away from a comfortable life in a big city, she never got to see her parents alive ever after as they died a couple of years after she left. As for me, I just packed up and left with just a bag and a small pouch of money; my father was convinced I would be back in a few months and he was right. But when I came back, ready to start over and apologize for being a young fool, I discovered my village had been raided by orcs and everyone was either killed or ran away. I never knew the fate of my parents"
Saddened by the grim topic Drale keeps quiet and gazes up at the distant stars. He thinks for a moment about what he said, about what he wanted to do. Feeling remorse reluctantly turns his attention back to his father.
"Listen, If you don't want me to go-"
"But exactly because I know how you feel, I will let you join the army, if that's what you want"
Delightfully surprised, the young man exchanges an intending smirk with his father who immediately bursts out laughing; having his son lit again fragments of his subconscious, reminding the seasoned man of some nice memories of his humble beginnings. in Drale Reback doesn't see just his son, he sees a reflection of his younger self, with the same desires, the same character, the same spirit.
"Indeed, you are just your mother, like your father. Like us"
"Don't worry, I won't let you down. And I won't do anything stupid either"
"Well, that's a given, you are my son after all! Anyways, get ready, from tomorrow I will be personally training you. I don't know how much we will manage to achieve in only six days but at least it's going to be better than whatever those buffoons are going to tell you in the army"
Taken by surprise by the lack of faith his father puts in Freim's Army, Drale asks for further explanation.
"The main bulk of the army is probably going to be farmers with just spears and maybe a shield. They are just going to teach you some formations and how to properly use the pointy stick, I will make sure to give you the foundations for a formidable warrior! Get ready, I'm will not go easy on you"