"I can't forgive myself if anything happens to you." She whispered with a cracking voice, as her muffled sobs and trickling voice fill the air tugging my heartstring.
"I'm not doing anything, dangerous Mom. I promise." I knew I had to turn in her direction to comfort her but still I stood frozen in my place, fearing the mirror of her eyes would reflect my own deceit.
"And do you really think with my level I could pulled something dangerous and endangered my life?" I lied, attempting to soothe her concern.
"Then, where did you get this amount of money from?" She intoxicated narrowing her eyes. As her intuition remained unsated and her suspicion raging like fire.
"Do you know, Mom, I once said I met an amazing adventurer on my way before? Well, I help him carry his stuff. In return, he gave me this money." I fabricated another lie again. My falsehood flowing like a river, each one building upon the last, a desperate attempt to convince my mother to buy this story.
"Huh. The adventurer you met when you were injured?" She asked, her eyes narrowed piercing through mine seeking for truth. While her voice laced with a mix of scepticism and concern.
"Yes!" I nodded in response. My head was moving slowly but with deliberate grace, as if to reassure her that was the truth.
"Okay then. But still, don't push yourself too hard. And if you find yourself in danger, run away quickly. There's no need to endanger your own life. Did you understand Ard?" Her sorrowful voice echoed through the silence.
"Yes. I would do what you say." I responded with a lazy drawl, trying to sound nonchalant despite the guilt gnawing at my conscience.
"Cough, Cough."
Just then a coughing sound came from the living room, breaking the tension between us.
"Looks like Dad is awake!" I exclaimed, turning to see my Dad trying to sit up on his own with his weak stature. Trembling and struggling with his efforts while tumbling his balance in the process.
My Mom suddenly rushed to his direction after seeing him losing control over his body, like leaf in a storm, and her eyes fill with deep concern.
But I remained frozen on my place like a statue rooted in a place. Knowing if I stood in front of him, my Dad's guilt would only intensify.
As I looked at him, memories of my childhood flooded like river in my mind. When I'm small my Mom had begged him many times to quit his job knowing it's severity.
Yet his resolve was unshakeable, as he insisted on doing his work to provide better future for me after knowing I was one of unluckiest one who couldn't be awakened and hadn't received any blessings from the gods.
And so, he worked tirelessly, neglecting his own life and health, until the war came and the opposing kingdom besieged our kingdom Belarus.
Although the Kingdom ultimately emerged victorious against the invaders with the help of the holy knights, its came with a steep price.
The war's aftermath left a trail of countless wounded soldiers and lost lives. My Dad's, also one of the brave soldiers lay among the wounded, his body battered and gravely bruised.
But, despite his bravery and sacrifice he was left to suffer for not having his post high, and denied the necessary medical care he so desperately needed. Instead the kingdoms gratitude came in the form of his retirement and some meager silver coins as a reward for his bravery and loyalty to his kingdom.
The memories of that fateful day when he was severely injured etched in my mind like a scar. And now as I watched him struggle to sit up with his frail body and sunken eyes I couldn't help but feel a sense of injustice.
[Now to think about it, Mr. Baxter did tell me that he would be able to completely cure my dad.]
Mr. Baxter was a renowned magician and a certified healing mage. I even remember the first time I met him. I could sense a divine presence emitting from his body. The feeling was very soothing. As I felt like I was standing in front of a god of life. I even had the urge to kneel down in front of him and kowtow a hundred times to show my reverence.
But what he said later made me tremble. I had the urge to throw him outside the house and make him wash the butt of the pigs for his entire life.
The money he demanded to cure my Dad was out of our reach. Having only received tens of silver coins for his bravery, Mr. Baxter demanded 30 silver coins for the treatment of my dad, but still there was still no guarantee he would be the same healthy person as before.
Although my mom refused of this offer, She still believes that her husband will one day again stand up on his own two feet and they will spend their leisure time together.
"Honey, will you not push yourself?" My mom pleded as her voice laced with concern looking at my dad who was avoiding any help from her. Still trying to sit up on his own while falling on the bed with trembling body and exhaustion.
"Ard, will you get the food from the kitchen?" My mom asked.
I quickly grabbed the bowl of soup and plate of honeycomb meat and went in my dad's direction.
As I approach him, I could see his hollowed eyes, devoid of any light with his completely pale face. Once a muscular man, now I can only see the skin stitching hard to his bone, resembling a fragile skeleton. His once-black hair flecked with white hue in some places a testament to the toll his illness had taken.
I carefully placed the food in my mom's hands and stood behind my dad, helping him to sit properly on the bed.
As I helped him to sit up, I can feel his resistance and struggle to avoid getting my help. But it wasn't anything strong enough that I couldn't handle.
I knew he hated being helpless, and even hated that he couldn't even sit up without any aid, but still I firmly grabbed his left hand and put my right hand behind his back, gently making him straddle. Later, I stooped behind his back, supporting him with my right hand and my shoulder.
"Honey, Please don't get mad. I had cooked your favorite food, just the way you like it." My mother smiled, holding the welling tears in her eyes. Her voice was hoarse, maybe because she had been crying so many times.
The aroma of the onion soup and honeycomb meat wafted through the air, a savory scent that tentalized my dad's palpable resistance.
His eyes fixed on the food with mixture of longing and stubbornness.
But, as my father still continued to be stubborn, my mother snapped and showed her angry expression with her big saucer-like eyes, and it was enough to coax him to chew on the meat with the help of the onion soup.
"Y...You know..., you don't have to threaten me." My dad spoke, although with difficulty, it shows a positive sign that he was regaining some strength.
"How couldn't I? Even if you are still in your forties, you still act like a spoiled little brat." My mom's teasing was met with a weak smile from my dad.
[Yes! Please yell at him more.] I let out an amused expression. As I couldn't help but feel a warmth in my chest at the sight of their affection.
But as I sat there listening to their conversation I felt a pang of embarrassment rising inside me. 'I shouldn't be sitting here and listening to their conversation'.
[Should I just close my ears and pretend I wasn't here?] I shook my head. And yet, as I rose to leave, suddenly a thought struck me.
The day was still long. [I should also prepare to go to the mountains.]