My whole life I've dreamed of the kind of adventure father always spoke to me of. The travels that he embarked on, battles he fought in, the good that he did for the people and the world. It all seemed so glamourous, sleeping under the stars, racing against time, being pursued by not only the church of Sellador, but by the elven nation, the creepy crawlies of the under-dark and even by fear itself.
I was raised listening to these tales, usually told by other men, as father rarely spoke of it, due to the tragedies that occured as well. Even so, I've always imagined this to be the life that I wanted to lead. To do enormous good at all costs, helping people in need. Not for money or glory, but for the thrill and the charge of doing what is right. All I've ever wanted was to do good, perform extrodinary deeds, fight even more extrodinary evils. It all seemed so fantastical.
Among these acts of kindness, however, I never imagined I would list killing Common thieves as doing good. Murdering people who have done wrong, not for being inately evil, but through starvation, frustration, and necessity. Granted I cannot condone their actions, I also cannot condone my being judge, jury. and executor. Punishment should be brought about through just and lawful means.
I do not list among them working with a group of individuals almost as bad as the evil that I wish to pit myself against. People who do good not out of kindness, but for money, which in the end only corrupts the act and negates it's good nature. Seeking money as a reward for "rightous" acts, is not my idea of heroic, especially not when it involves looting the dead. There is no honor in stealing from the corpses of desperate men, led into a life of wrong, killed for their deeds. Their possesions belong in the rightful hands of the families that they more than likely have left behind. I feel dirtied by even being near that woman, has she no respect for anything. I only keep my mouth shut for the sake of father, as he seeks to have these people hired for whatever reason. Perhaps I made a poor choice.
In the end though, the thing I never imagined I'd do, I do now for father, as I sleep in the cold rain. It is a putrid experience. I only wish I knew why father sent Horus stalking after me, behind me, ordering that I stay away from my bed, away from my bath, away from my clean clothes.
Perhaps I should have paid more attention to why father never spoke of his "adventures," instead of listening to what was done. For obviously all of these horrors are left out so as the adventure does not lose it's sense of being grand. |
