As I stood watching my trusted companions ask for an unarmed mans blood and take it, it sends me back in reverie to a past event I would have prefered to have left where it belonged... in the past.
I was 8 and eager to learn what I could from my father, he was a performer by trade. We would travel around Cyre talking to locals and performing for coin, but sometimes we would travel to neighbouring nations. It wasn't until our final journey that I had found out that my father wasn't just a simple Bard he was a spy for Cyre. I cannot quite remember where we headed, but I do remember that fateful night. My father was just paid for his performance and we travelled back to our lodgings, as we passed an alley 2 me jumped my father and pushed me to the ground. I fell to the street and when I looked up there was a blur of motion, the first thug was dead and the second was disarmed with a sword to his throat. My father spoke in a language I didn't know and the man talked to him in a pleading tone. My father's face became distorted with evil look and he picked up a sword from the ground and plunged it through the thugs throat pinning him to a barrel he was leaning against. Still in shock my father picked my up and escorted my to our room, we gathered our things and left town for home. We spoke not a word of what had happened even when we got back to Cyre.
I stopped speaking to my father and our relationship became strained. My father would leave for who knows where and always left me behind. About a month after the event a letter arrived for my father and I was suddenly shipped off to Sharn to apprentice in wizardry. I never forgave my father for the heinous act of cold bloodedness and never spoke to him again.
I now regret my own actions as I know my father did and I wish that he were still alive for me to tell him I was sorry for pushing him away, but after the Day of Mourning I guess I never will. After time, the shadow over my soul will fade, the act I just witness will be the past and all will be as it should be.
No comments:
Post a Comment