Everyone evolves, you know? From novice to veteran. From fear to hunger. From useless to necessary. If only growth came from something other than mistakes, it might almost feel like a reward.
"Do you know what children in war are called?"
Rope dropped from Milo's waist.
Metal clicked as the door shut behind Milo. He turned to see Fowler standing behind his desk. The office chair waited on the balcony, positioned to watch over the battles below.
Kael stood with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. His back rested against the wall.
"No, sir," Milo replied.
Fowler gestured for them both to go to the balcony. Milo walked out and looked over the battles below. Fowler approached and stood beside Milo.
"We have a term for them here in the partifolds," Fowler said, "We call them Jesters."
"Jesters?"
"Jesters are people who dance and joke for the king. They're helpless—playing in a fire they weren't born to be in. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and they burn for everyone to see."
Fowler turned to Milo.
"Jesters are kids who don't belong in the heat of war. The kids who dance around blades, call upon others for help, and fail to act correctly in the name of their leaders."
A long silence lingered in the air.
"Am— Am I a Jester—"
*Smack*
Outlines of fingers appeared on Milo's cheek. Fowler pulled his hand away as he knelt, propping himself on his knee. He spoke fiercely through his teeth.
"You are a fighter."
"Why do you think I care so much about you? Why do you think I'm feeding you, training you, having you TRAINED BY THE BEST?"
He put his finger up and pointed at Milo.
"You have the potential to be a warrior. Do you know your only flaw?"
Milo shook his head.
"No, sir."
"You still pretend to be a good person."
Milo's heart sank.
Fowler stood and pointed to the soldiers below.
"Look at them," he said.
Milo turned and watched the fighters. Blood sprayed as men screamed out. The horrors of fighting only seemed to jump out at him. He looked and looked, searching for what Fowler wanted him to see.
The boy looked to Kael, but Kael kept his head down. He looked back. Fowler tapped his own cheek, wordlessly urging Milo to look again.
Their faces?
Milo obeyed.
His eyes widened.
T— They...
Fowler dropped his hand and exhaled.
They're smiling—all of them.
"Don't you see? You think if I asked them to kill you, they'd hesitate?"
Kael opened his eyes. Fowler turned and nodded at him as Milo looked down at the men below.
Paper shuffled as Fowler took hold of some documents Kael gave him.
"The man... Marcus," Fowler said, "Do you know why I said you could kill him? You can be honest."
Milo turned to Fowler. His fingers started picking at the calluses on his hand as he looked down.
"B— Because... he didn't listen? Or because he was weak?"
"He was weak, but not in the way you're thinking."
Fowler handed Milo a page of the documents.
"Read this."
Milo looked at the paper. In large letters at the top, the word "Offense" was written out. The boy scanned the paper until he came to a small section in the middle of the page.
Marcus Lileto is hereby charged with fourteen counts of crimes against... minors...
Milo looked up.
"He..." the boy stuttered.
"He was scum," Fowler snapped.
Spit flew from his mouth.
"And he almost lived because you doubted my orders, and Ralph saved you the embarrassment. You should thank him."
Tears welled in Milo's eyes as he handed Fowler the sheet of paper. Wiping his face on his sleeve, the boy looked down.
The Captain's right. Without Ralph...
"I'm sorry, sir," Milo said, "It— I won't hesitate again."
"Good."
Without looking, Fowler handed the papers to Kael. The captain fell back into his chair and sighed.
"Now tell me, how did it feel?"
Milo looked up; his eyes were red.
The feeling of the blade sliding into Marcus's eye made his hand twitch. Like gutting a fish, the blade slid in with sickening ease. Milo could still feel the surface of the man's eye resisting before it yielded to the sharp blade.
*Squelch*
Milo could still hear the sound amid the rain. It echoed in his mind, never to be forgotten.
"Knowing what you know now, does it feel good?" Fowler smiled.
"You took out a predator. A stain of the Krovlizt kingdom."
The man continued, "Didn't it feel..."
He shrugged, like he was at a loss for how to describe such an act.
"Euphoric?" Fowler asked.
No.
"Yes."
Fowler smiled and patted Milo on the head.
"Good."
"You're done with the events for today. I was going to have you leave today so you can start your training tomorrow, but the Gods seem to have other plans."
Fowler extended his hand from under the overhang that kept them dry. Rain smacked his hand and collected in his palm. He brought his arm in and flicked the rain away. A white cloth absorbed the remaining moisture.
"Leave, sir?"
"Yes, you will go with Elias in the morning and register as an adventurer at the guild. Watch what they carry. Their weapons. Their potions. What they rely on to survive. You'll need to come back with a list of supplies you think you need."
"I see... and, I don't mean to question you, sir, but what is this for?"
Fowler leaned in on his knees and whispered loudly.
"You are the final piece. You will be the one to end this war."