Life is ridiculous, Okay. And it's in a very cruel way.
Take me for an example; one day you are basking in fame and honor with a bright future ahead of you and then the other you are drinking cheap booze in a town at the edge of a haunted forest.
I used to live in a mansion, not a shabby room at some third rate inn. Although, I must say, they do make really good pies.
Cheap booze do draw unwanted memories...
If only I never got that order, if I followed my instinct I wouldn't be in a place like this almost dying every single time I go out for a job that pays a few pennies not worthy of being called change that I would later spend on alcohol and a bed that's as soft as a rock.
I raised my hand
The keeper gave me the kind of look that says "Another Drunkard... Sheesh what a pain". But the problem is that I am not getting drunk!
We enchanters naturally have a strong immune system and so Alcohol wouldn't work If it's concentration was too low. It's a characteristic that did came in handy more than once and saved my life quite a few times actually.
Poison Gaz, Sleeping Gaz all wouldn't work on us making it easy to approach the enemy. They even called us the Suicidal Soldiers; we were almost unstoppable.
As their Capitain and one of the very few High Enchanters, I lead the Squad to numerous victories with almost no records of defeat against the forces of Ashdown.
We always succeeded in warding them off whenever they tried raiding our lands, and it was always like that.
We were the Shield of Elfhame, protecting was our purpose and it is what we were best suited for.
But what would happen when you send a group of Tankers who only know how to brawl, sneaking close to the Black castle Walls of Ashdown?
The answer is simple, they die a miserable death.
That is the truth of what happened not long ago, the truth of the incident that made me down grade to a normal Enchanter and leave my knighthood behind for mercenary life.
I was supposed to be dead, if not for a miracle.
I closed my eyes, recalling that moment at the brink of death.
The feeling cold seeping through my veins as my blood spilled on the ground.
The Sound of my heart beating slower and slower.
The Bright moonlight blinding my eyes, as my vision faded away.
The voice of someone talking...And the wave of energy that flooded my body.
My vision clearing and the sight of a back orned with mystical wings before passing out.
Waking up the next day in a pond of my own blood with no scratch but with my powers downgraded.
Making my journey back to the headquarters alone and picking a fight with my superior.
And now after leaving my knighthood, I am wallowing in shame and sadness (And sadly Not drunk) for staying alive when my underlings are dead.
I raised my hand and called
What did I say? Life is cruel.