Donnie trudged home, the weight of a heavy bag slung over his shoulder, his mind consumed by the crushing defeat he had endured at Langer. Not only had he failed, but for the twenty-eighth time, he hadn't even been considered for selection. Frustration bubbled in his chest, tightening around his heart.
Soon, he would have to find another way to earn a living, or there would be no chance for his family. He reached the house, but it was empty. His parents must still be at the farm. After a quick drink of water, he decided to head there and lend them a hand.
"Hey! What happened?" his father, Edmund, called out, his hands busy sowing seeds in the field.
"Just like the last time," Donnie replied flatly. He asked for a handful of seeds and began to sow them alongside his father.
Edmund watched him for a moment, his brow furrowed in concern. Donnie had always been around the farm, but no matter how much time passed, he still knew so little about the work.
"Did they consider you?" Edmund asked, his voice quiet.
"No, Father. They didn't even notice me. If they were to rank everyone, I'd probably be last," Donnie said, his voice thick with bitterness.
His father looked at him, his expression a mixture of worry and determination. "What do we do now? We need the money."
"I'll go again next week," Donnie replied, finishing the task in silence. He didn't know if that would make a difference, but it was the only option he had left.
Donnie glanced around and asked after his mother. Edmund explained that she had gone to meet the landlord. Moments later, Rose returned, her face clouded with worry.
"What happened, Mother?" Donnie asked.
"Landlord Finnegan reduced our wages again. He's only giving us 100 gold coins for me and your father," she said, her voice heavy with frustration.
"What? That man is insufferable," Donnie muttered, a surge of anger rising within him. "We'll go see him again tonight."
Donnie's heart ached at the sight of his parents' struggle. He knew he needed to train harder, push himself beyond his limits. His family depended on him.
As they walked toward the house, Donnie made a quick decision. He turned toward the path leading out of the farm.
"Where are you going?" his mother asked, her voice laced with concern.
"I'm going to see Merriken," Donnie answered, his voice firm.
Merriken had been Donnie's closest friend for years. They'd both competed in Langer together, but Merriken had been selected on his fourth attempt. Now, he was back in his village, Ranwood.
Donnie thought about Merriken as he made his way there. Although he was happy for his friend's success, a deep, gnawing worry tugged at him—what if he would never be chosen?
Arriving in Ranwood, Donnie went to Merriken's house, but it was empty. He must have gone to the village hall where people gathered every month. As he suspected, Merriken was there. When he saw Donnie, his face mirrored the same mixture of concern and empathy.
"What happened today?" Merriken asked, stepping outside the hall to speak with him.
"I'll have to go for my twenty-ninth attempt," Donnie replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Merriken sighed but quickly brightened. "Don't worry about it. I have something for you."
He led Donnie to a nearby tavern, where they sat and talked. Donnie, still reeling from his failure, decided to order a drink, hoping it might ease his troubled mind.
"When will you go back to the army?" Donnie asked, trying to divert his thoughts.
"There's still a lot of time for that," Merriken replied. "King Martin has given us an extended break. There's a lot of work ahead, but not for a while."
"I want to join you guys," Donnie confessed, his voice tinged with frustration. "But it's so hard to get selected. I don't think anyone's ever had twenty-eight attempts at Langer."
Merriken placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just be patient and consistent, Donnie. You'll get there eventually. It's not about how many times you fail, but about never giving up."
They spent the rest of the evening talking, the weight of Donnie's troubles lightened by Merriken's comforting words. As the sun dipped low, Donnie bid his friend farewell and headed home.
When he returned, his parents were still out. Donnie opened his bag and pulled out his red-handled sword. Perhaps, with some practice, he could improve his chances in the next attempt. Without hesitation, he decided to head to the nearby woods, hoping to sharpen his skills and find some measure of peace in the solitude.