CHAPTER 8 - TRISTAN

Tristan was back at home after a long day of travel. The village of Cold Hills would always give him a sense of comfort … and he could not tell what part of it exactly … perhaps it’s just everything about the village.

The northern wind sent a cold brush on Tristan’s face as he rode on an open carriage. They reached the eastern entrance of the village, passing through the watchtowers and guards, before they made their way down the road. The breeze carried the scent of winter cherry trees. Considering the place having the highest population among all the villages of Glacia, most people of Cold Hills had still been suffering from poverty, despite the higher funds and aids given by the new reigning king for the supply of the village.

And the darker side of that, what you would see out in the sun was not what it seemed. The village might’ve had less violence and crimes, but at night, far worse things would happen … unimaginable things done secretly by those nobles … the reason why the village was still suffering.

The carriage took a stop on a block and Tristan jumped off. As he looked ahead of the empty path, a tiny smirk was formed on his lips. He strolled along the broken road with his hands inside his pockets, already smelling his favorite scent as he came closer and closer towards the metal gate ahead.

Hills of gravestones awaited him beyond the gate. It was a cemetery. He walked towards one wooden bench, old and empty, resting under the shade of the winter cherry tree. Upon one trunk was a tiny bell hanging, and Tristan made it ring by his finger. Then he sat and waited.

It was not long when the children arrived, racing towards him. Ragged clothes covered their tiny bodies … but thick enough to keep them from getting cold. They smiled and giggled while they ran, their eyes showing excitement.

“Only the four of you?” Tristan said once the kids reached his bench. “Where’s Gram?”

“His mama is sick,” Eren replied, still panting from his run. “He had to take care of her.”

“Soooo,” Yolly hopped excitedly, her eyes on Tristan’s knapsack. “What’cha got for us from the capital?”

Tristan let out a sigh. “Sweets … I’ve also got some desserts from the castle.”

Rhastee and Yolly clapped their hands happily. Eren smiled. But Pent’s frowned face didn’t change.

“What about my dagger, Tristan?” Pent said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I will return your dagger when you finally learn how to be a good child,” Tristan replied. “I’ve already told you before to use all the things I taught you only to help your family … other people as well.”

“Pent stole a purse from a woman yesterday—”

“Yolly!” Pent hissed, darting his sharp little eyes at the girl.

“Again?’ Tristan raised an eyebrow.

Pent’s face reddened as he looked on his feet, his hands on his back.

“Rhastee, why do you think Pent stole a purse from a woman yesterday?”

Rhastee shrugged. “Because Pent wants money … because money can buy him cool daggers from the weapon shops.”

“And what’s the line that I keep on reminding you, children?”

“Better to hunt than to steal,” said Yolly, Eren, and Rhastee.

Tristan’s eyes shifted to the only silent boy. “Pent?”

Pent groaned. “Better to hunt than to steal.”

“Stealing is the laziest and one of the most unrighteous ways to get money,” Tristan told the kids. “It’s only for fools and cowards who want nothing but to get arrested or killed. You don’t want to grow up becoming like those bastards, do you?”

The children shook their heads.

“All the lessons and training I’m giving you must never be used to harm others … but to help and protect those who are in need.”

“But … you said we can never protect other people,” Yolly said.

“No one can protect anyone,” Tristan replied, looking at the gravestones surrounding them. “We can only protect ourselves. That’s why I’m training you … because I won’t always be there to defend you from others … especially those men in high-class. I can’t protect you. So work hard.”

“What about the knights from the capital? They protected us from the demons last year.” Eren asked.

Tristan paused to look at Eren for a moment. Hearing the boy mentioning about demons had brought back his memory of the undead invasion in Glacia. They had indeed defended their lands from those monsters. But for how long could they?

“Shut up, Eren,” Pent spoke up. “Tristan’s right. Look at the number of citizens and knights who were killed … They couldn’t protect all of us. And they can’t protect us forever.”

“What if they come back?” Yolly said.

“They will,” Pent told the girl. “Old Bron told me the worst has yet to come. More demons will attack our country to kill us all. Who will protect us?”

“The King!” Yolly said. “I heard he had the strongest sword … and the most powerful magic of all. He can fight the demons and wipe them out with his dragon. Right, Tristan? You’ve met him many times, right?”

Tristan snorted. “That man is hopeless, Yolly. And there’s no more dragon in the capital.” He took a moment to pause, recalling Arth’s offer to him—a dragon quest to Drava. It had never been a hundred percent decision for him to deny the offer. It’s just that he was confused and overwhelmed as he discovered that the quest was to go to Drava, the country where his father might’ve been in now.

“Face it, Yolly,” Pent spoke again, disrupting Tristan from his thoughts. “You shouldn’t expect that other people will protect you. In the end, you’ll always have yourself.”

“But the demons will return, you said,” Yolly told Pent. “What are we going to do about that? Will we die?”

“We will die if we don’t defend ourselves,” Rhastee pointed out. “We just have to keep on training hard so we can become stronger than those demons.”

Tristan went back to his thoughts as the kids began to argue. He looked up at the winter cherry tree, the pink blossoms spread all over the branches. The children were right. If they wouldn’t do something, then the demons would wipe them out. Tristan knew how strong the Legion was, and he doubted the current strength of Glacia could hold them off.

“Summon the dragon …” a familiar voice spoke from his mind.

Tristan’s gaze dropped to his hands, then he took a huge breath. He couldn’t afford to leave the kids here all on their own. He’s well aware of the secret businesses owned by the nobles, usually operating during the night … drugs, smuggling, human-trafficking, even hiring street children to do dirty works for them like stealing and spying.

Tristan thought the king had not done anything that much for the entire year since the beginning of his reign. Arth seemed to have put most of his attention to rebuilding the damages and raising the country’s armed forces … that he had forgotten about the remaining evil rats that still lurked in the shadows. Corruption and crimes could never be removed completely, Tristan knew. But at least giving those issues more attention might’ve helped the cases in their village now. And that’s one of the reasons he could not leave these kids.

However, Tristan was now faced by a bigger problem. If he would think about it, the country would need all the help it could get to prepare for the Legion’s coming … and that would include summoning the dragon. All people in Glacia would die if he wouldn’t attempt the quest. He could see that it’s their best solution yet to aid them for their upcoming battle.

“Tristan … hey, Tristan!” Yolly shook Tristan by his shoulder. “We’re starving.”

Tristan shook off the thought for a moment, then he opened his knapsack. “Here. Make sure you save some for your families.”

The kids happily received the packed foods Tristan had gotten from the capital. He had brought butter bread, sweet potatoes, pies, and more desserts from the castle’s kitchen.

“Are we gonna train today, Tristan?” Rhastee said as he munched the bread mouthful.

“No.”

“Tomorrow, then? I want you to teach me again how to make a rabbit trap. I kinda forgot.”

Tristan found it hard to answer, as he’s still unsure of what to do now. So instead of replying, he stood from the bench and said, “Stay here. I’m going to pay them a short visit.”

Then he walked downhill, passing by gravestones after gravestones, until he reached the two stones that stood together. He squatted on the ground and touched the cold gravestone of his mother, brushing off the snowflakes on top of it.

“Do you remember when I made that promise to you?” Tristan whispered. “I was so young … I said I will find my father and make him answer for all the things he’d done to us. But now that I know it’s impossible, still the world is telling me it is. I can no longer take back what I promised, can I?” He let out a huge sigh, white mist coming out of his mouth.

The next he touched his little sister’s gravestone with a sad smile. “I hope you both will forgive me. Samara, I know I was never strong enough to protect you that time … when you were bullied … hurt by those people … And I know I can never protect anyone in this world … but …”

Tristan raised his head to look at the grey clouds, covering the entire heavens. “I want to help the people … I want to save them from bigger troubles … from death. I’m going to summon a dragon, Samara. I know you’ve been wanting to see an actual one before … I just wish you’re still alive to see the dragon when I return … This might be my farewell … my last one if I cannot come back.”

Tristan got on his feet, giving one last touch to each stones before he turned around and returned to the children.