"It started when I turned 3 years old. That's when I became aware of what was happening around me. Before that, I don't remember much—just some foggy memories. My father and I moved from place to place, without any specific destination. Whenever I asked him where we were headed, he'd always reply with the same phrase: 'We are walking the path of life until death catches up with us.' Even though we were poor, my father never asked anyone for anything. He worked during the day to feed us both, but there was never enough left over to rent a room or find shelter. Sometimes we slept in the open, and other times in stables when we were lucky."
"And you? What did you do while your father worked?"
"I helped him with small tasks when the work was light. But when it became too heavy for a kid, I'd stand aside and revise the lessons my father had taught me the night before. He always finished work at sunset. We'd eat a little something, and then he'd begin teaching me a variety of things."
"Oh, so your father was a knowledgeable man. What did he teach you?"
"He taught me how to read and write, how to do basic math, and a bit about the world."
"This father and son are truly remarkable," Jackal muttered, barely audible.
"Really?! That's an incredible kind of father you have there! It must be a great source of pride to have someone like that."
The boy corrected him: "You mean had. Yes, he was my pride. Even though he's no longer here, he was a gift I'll be eternally grateful for."
"I'm sorry, my friend. I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."
"It's fine. He died just a few days ago. It's not an old wound to be reopened; it's a fresh one."
Jackal, trying to dry his wet eyes, responded softly, "Your father gave you knowledge so you could stand on your own." Then he added, trying to lighten the mood, "But out of curiosity, what kind of knowledge about the world did he teach you? Can you teach me too?" Jackal asked curiously.
"That'll cost you a lot of gold," Breeze replied with a sly smile. "Better not ask; I doubt you can afford it."
"Gold? I've never even had the honor to touch a silver coin in my life! Could your father have been some kind of sage?" Jackal questioned in bewilderment.
His facial expression twisted as if saying "Are you being serious right now? Are you trying to rob me or something?"
"To clear things up, my father was barely 25 years old. Yeah, I'm serious and I'm no robber."
"What kind of knowledge could a man that young have? Did he teach you how to read minds or something?"
"No, but your face is easy enough to read," Breeze said, smirking.
'Was I really that obvious?' Jackal wondered.
"So your father was younger than me, huh?"
Breeze looked shocked. "What?! What do you mean? Of course, he is. You're obviously an old man, probably double my father's age!"
Feeling a bit offended, Jackal replied, "That hurts, kid. I'm 30 years old. My almost-white hair and beard are from a life full of stress. Your father may have been poor, but I bet he was happier than I've ever been. That's probably why I can't even find a wife. Every woman I approach thinks I'm too old! Spitting some nonsense like 'Have some shame, old man, You're my grandfather's age! Go find yourself a grandma to wed!' To hell with that! I'm still young, handsome, and charming!"
Breeze stared at Jackal for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I'm sorry! Pfft!"
Seeing the boy laugh so innocently and purely, Jackal couldn't help but smile. He waited until Breeze had calmed down before asking, "You haven't told me: how old are you, Breeze? And how did you end up here alone?"
"Well, Mister..."
"Call me Jack, or Jackal—whatever you prefer."
"Alright. I'm nearly 9 years old. As for how I got here, as I mentioned, my father and I had no place we called home. We traveled from one place to another, and one day, while we were on our way to nowhere in particular, my father died. I still don't understand what happened. We encountered a Monster. He faced that monster and killed him while I escaped on my own..." He kept silent for a moment, feeling as if he would burst into tears if he spoke another word. He took a deep breath and then continued. "After that, he followed my trail till he found me and was full of wounds. We continued our journey but to my shock the next day he dropped dead."
"I really like the ideology and his way of life. He raised you, taught you, and in the end, he gave his life protecting you. Look at yourself, for a boy your age, you seem incredibly mature. But I'm curious—how did you survive out there with all the monsters around all those years with your father? Surely you weren't traveling alone without a caravan and mercenaries?"
"Hardship makes kids grow up faster. As for your question, sometimes we'd join caravans as porters; other times we traveled alone. This is between you and me, though; no one else should know. My father knew how to evade monsters, and he was skilled at dealing with them, so we always made it safely to the bastions."
"Wow, that's quite an accomplishment to boast about! Did he teach you those skills?"
Breeze gave a half-truth: "I always relied on my dad for those things." While he didn't lie, he also didn't reveal everything. Despite his young age, Breeze was already a survival expert, but as his father had taught him, he chose not to show all his cards at once. He remembered his father's words: "Never lie, my Breeze. And when you find yourself in a tough spot, give the bare minimum of truth, accompanied by a bit of acting to mislead the other person."
The two continued chatting until Breeze eventually fell asleep. Jackal stayed by his side through the night, placing a small pouch of coins inside the boy's blanket before heading back to his post just before the shift change.
When the sun rose, casting golden rays that warmed the cold land, Breeze woke with a start. The small pouch of coins fell to the ground. He stared at it for a moment before quickly grabbing it.
"It must've been Jackal who left this. I'll never forget his kindness," he whispered.
With that, Breeze stood up, walked to the gate, paid the guard to let him enter, and passed through into the city. He marveled at the neatly paved streets and the medieval-style architecture, with houses built from stone and dark wooden beams, plastered with wattle & daub and topped with timber-framed upper floors and slate roofs. In the distance, he could see a huge stone castle where the nobles lived. He spent most of the day searching for work, only to be shooed away like a mangy dog. Exhausted, he stopped to rest and sat on a wide staircase with three long steps. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine as he noticed someone sitting next to him.