Amukelo stood in front of the grieving parents, his eyes closed for a moment as he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes slowly, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn before he spoke with a voice that trembled slightly but carried the strength of conviction.
"It was one of the captains of the Nameless Dynasty guild," Amukelo said, his voice steady as he forced the words out. As the words left his mouth, he could almost taste the bitterness of them, a bitterness that he had been swallowing since that fateful day.
Pao and Bao's mother, and Idin's mother, both tilted their heads slightly, confusion crossing their faces. "Nameless Dynasty? What is that?" they asked, whispering to one another, trying to make sense of the name. They were largely unfamiliar with the world of adventurers and guilds, as their lives were far removed from the constant struggles and conflicts of that world.
Berthold and Idin's father on the other hand exchanged a look of recognition. They knew what Nameless Dynasty represented—the rumors, the whispers of the guild's ruthless methods, their hunger for power, and their willingness to cross any line to get what they wanted. The guild had a dark reputation among those who traveled or dealt with adventurers, though here, in Gathe, such things felt distant.
Idin's father clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his face contorting in rage. "Those bastards!" he spat, his voice rising with barely restrained fury.
Berthold's expression was equally fierce, but he struggled to keep his demeanor composed. The rage was clear in his eyes, but he reined it in, maintaining the commanding presence of a man who had led others for years. His voice was calm. "If they have already come for you once, they will come again. You are right to say that their goal wasn't achieved—they wanted your sword, and they'll do whatever it takes to get it." He paused, then glanced around the room thoughtfully, assessing their options. "You should stay here, in Gathe. They would have a much harder time finding you here. Their main base is to the north, if I'm not mistaken?"
Amukelo nodded, confirming Berthold's knowledge. "Correct. But I can't do that," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. The fire of rage that had been burning within him since that day flared up in his chest. "I won't hide in fear, and just let them get away with what they did. They must pay the price! They must pay for what they did!! And I will make sure they do!"
Berthold's eyes met Amukelo's, and for a moment, the older man simply studied him. The fire in Amukelo's eyes was unmistakable—a blend of grief, rage, and a deep sense of duty to his fallen friends. Berthold's expression softened slightly as he gave a curt nod. "Good," he said. "If that is your decision, then you have our support. Whatever resources you need, whatever strength we can offer, we will give it to you. You don't have to do this alone."
Amukelo's eyes widened slightly at the offer. The idea of having help, of not having to face it all by himself, was tempting, but he knew what it would mean.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, shaking his head. "But I have to decline that. Your families have already suffered too much because of them. Involving you would only put you at risk, even if we succeeded. And I don't have anyone left to suffer for my actions." He paused, turning to Pao and Bao's mother, his voice softening. "But you still have each other. I won't drag you into this cycle of revenge."
Pao and Bao's mother, who had been standing quietly throughout the conversation, stepped closer. She reached out and gently placed her hand on Amukelo's shoulder, her touch warm and comforting. "You are such a good person," she said softly, her voice quivering with gratitude and grief. "I only wish I could have met you under different circumstances... with them at your side."
Amukelo's heart tightened at her words. For a fleeting moment, he imagined what it might have been like to meet all of their families while his friends were still alive—celebrating their adventures, sharing joyful stories, and laughing together. But that vision faded as quickly as it came, swallowed by the harsh reality of the present.
Idin's father nodded solemnly, but then he stepped forward, his face determined. "We understand your intentions, Amukelo, and we respect your decision," he said. "But we can't let you do this alone. This is personal for us as well. No offense, but what chance does a single adventurer have against a guild as large and dangerous as the Nameless Dynasty? They have so many strong members. We want justice too, and we're willing to fight for it."
Amukelo's heart pounded as he listened to Idin's father's words. He understood their desire for revenge, but he also knew the danger that awaited. He had seen the chaos and the bloodshed, and he had felt the desperation of losing everything in the blink of an eye. He couldn't ask them to face that. He wouldn't let them risk everything for a fight that wasn't theirs to carry.
Amukelo took a step back, pressing his hand against his chest, over his heart. He met each of their eyes in turn, trying to convey the sincerity and resolve that burned within him. "I vow," he said, his voice clear and steady, "to bring justice to those who wronged us. But I will do it by myself. I won't allow any of you to be dragged into this cycle any longer. You've suffered enough for no reason. And as much as it tears me apart to say it, they might still be alive if they had never met me."
His voice faltered for a moment as he spoke, the weight of the words pressing down on him. "This is my responsibility," he continued, his voice growing firmer. "Mine, and mine alone."
They fell into an uneasy silence after Amukelo's vow. The parents stood before him, searching for words that would neither intrude on the young man's fierce determination nor diminish their own feelings of loss and pain.
But before anyone could break the silence, a voice called from behind, cutting through the tension. "Amukelo, may I speak with you for a moment?" It was Pao and Bao's father. His voice was steady but tinged with a mix of deep sadness and seriousness. The mood shifted uncomfortably at his sudden interruption, and everyone turned to look at him. His face faltered slightly under their gazes. It was clear that he hadn't realized he had interrupted such a tense and private moment.
"Did I interrupt at the wrong time?" He asked, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to read the expressions around him.
His wife was the first to respond. "You did," she said softly but firmly, her eyes narrowing slightly in disapproval.
Pao and Bao's father let out an awkward laugh, clearly unsure of what to do next. He scratched his head, looking every bit the man caught out of place at a formal occasion. But before he could say anything more, Berthold's voice rose to fill the silence "It's fine," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I think we wouldn't change your decision anyway, would we?" Berthold looked at Amukelo with a knowing gaze, a slight smile of reluctant respect tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Amukelo met his eyes and nodded. "Right," he replied simply.
Seeing that the tension had eased slightly, Pao and Bao's took a step closer to Amukelo. He was taller than both Pao and Bao had been, with the same dark hair that Pao had, though streaked with strands of gray. His expression softened as he took in the sight of Amukelo standing there, the young man who had been his daughters' comrade and, as he suspected, much more. "I didn't introduce myself properly earlier," He said, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. "My name is Rudyard."
Amukelo nodded, acknowledging the introduction but not sure what to say in response. Rudyard's expression turned more solemn, and he reached into a leather pouch hanging at his side. "I think that you should keep this," he said quietly, holding out his hands to Amukelo, offering him something.
Amukelo's brow furrowed in confusion as he extended his hands to receive the items. He cautiously unwrapped the small bundle, and as the contents came into view, he made a small noise of surprise—a soft, breathy "Huh?"
The first thing he saw was a small, weathered book: Pao's diary. Underneath it was something else that made Amukelo's hands tremble as he held it—a delicate necklace, the very same one he had given Pao on their date. The pendant, a simple golden flower, glinted faintly in the light, and Amukelo's breath caught in his throat. Finally there was another small necklace. The one with Pao's family drawing.
The tears came without warning. They welled up in his eyes, and before he could blink them away, they were spilling down his cheeks in silent streams. But unlike before, he wasn't sobbing, and he wasn't overwhelmed by emotion. Instead, the tears seemed to fall as though released from some inner place he had held tightly closed, an uncontrollable but gentle outpouring of everything he felt. And as he looked at the necklaces, at the diary, he wore the same confused expression, as though he couldn't quite comprehend why he was crying.
"But… why?" Amukelo's voice cracked as he spoke, looking up at Rudyard with wide, disbelieving eyes. "She… she was your daughter, after all. You should keep these."
Rudyard's face softened even more, his eyes glistening slightly as he watched Amukelo's reaction. "I read a bit through her diary," Rudyard explained, his voice low and tender. "And from what I gathered… it seems you were more than just a simple comrade to her." He paused, glancing down at the necklace that Amukelo gave Pao, then back up at him. "To be honest, I was quite shocked when I realized it. Pao was always rather... annoyed when men approached her. She had little patience for them."
The words brought Amukelo back to a distant memory, a moment when Bao had said almost the same thing, teasing him about how hard it was to win Pao over, how she never paid attention to men the way she had to Amukelo. The thought of that conversation made his chest tighten, and he felt as though he was back in that happier time, even if just for a moment.
Amukelo looked over to Rudyard's wife. He felt a need for confirmation, some sort of acknowledgment that what he was hearing was real, that it wasn't just a mistake or a misguided gesture. Her eyes were warm as she looked back at him, filled with the same grief but also with an undeniable kindness. "Joslin agrees," Rudyard said, his voice gentle.
Joslin nodded, offering Amukelo a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "I didn't read as much of the diary as my husband, but... I could see that it was true. You meant a great deal to her. And it seems only right that you should keep these."
Amukelo felt his voice catch in his throat. He wanted to argue, to refuse. The items felt too precious, too intimate to be handed over so freely. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the deep gratitude and love he felt for these people who had accepted him as part of their daughter's life. The realization that Pao's parents saw him as someone worthy of holding onto her memories, of carrying a part of her with him, struck him deeply.
"Thank you," Amukelo whispered, his voice low but filled with a genuine, unguarded gratitude. He bowed his head slightly, holding the diary and necklaces to his chest as though they were the most precious things in the world.