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“Charlie, Don, Brett, Mac, Heeney.”

As she spoke each name, the rugged men turned to look at Arjen, and then they either dropped their heads in disinterest and began to nod off, or they pulled something from their bags and began munching on it. The woman looked at her companions and frowned slightly.

“The one driving the horse is Walter. And I’m Carla.”

Arjen stared and stared. He listened to Carla, but he couldn’t comprehend her words. He could think of nothing. His senses were still drowning in the blood. He felt his mind floating away while his body rocked in the caravan. ‘What will they do to me? Will they sell me?’

“We gave you our names. It’s only polite to give yours, kid.”

The balding mercenary called Charlie said in a deep voice. Arjen listened to the man as if he didn’t care. Charlie’s fingers flicked Arjen’s forehead with a loud sound. Arjen’s eyes turned fierce, his glare turning to hostility toward Carla.

“Name, what is it?”

But the voice seemed to have a knack for getting him to speak.

“Arjen Elmion.”

Elmion was a surname he’d been given long ago, though it didn’t mean much. Arjen thought it only added to his name. The tongue that spoke it was rough. He chewed on his tongue.

“Be good to him, Arjen.”

Arjen jerked his head away. Carla snorted as if she thought he was cute and dropped her hand. Her fellow mercenaries turned to look at her, and she let out a blood-curdling laugh.

“You guys are on Krom’s side.”

Krom is an enemy nation. Arjen repeated, burying his face in his hands. Carla snorted and laughed at his words. Arjen couldn’t figure out why she was laughing so hard.

“We’re on the side of money. If Kairos had paid us, we’d be on their side.”

As she spoke, Carla scratched the caravan floor with the large dagger she had been fiddling with. Arjen looked down and saw marks on every surface.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you killed our people.”

His father is dead. His mother, too. Arjen could not cry. The shock seemed to have shredded his tear ducts. If he looked in the mirror now, he’d probably see the same eyes as those empty bodies.

“I’m not going to apologize. In the first place, we were hired by Krom to kill.”

Carla shrugged as she said that. Arjen couldn’t understand her attitude toward death. She was talking about it so casually.

“I’m not looking for an apology. Why didn’t you just let me die?”

Arjen asked in a reprimanding, exasperated voice, and Carla smiled bitterly.

“You’ll find out later, kid. Don’t worry. I don’t intend to sell you into slavery or anything.”

Confused, he didn’t want to say more. Arjen buried his face in his knees and closed his eyes. The caravan rattled and swayed, and he couldn’t tell where it was headed.

“The world is a harsh place, Arjen. Harsh, cruel, unforgiving, unmerciful. Those who seek redemption are cast out, and those who deny it prey on others to survive.”

Carla’s voice grew soft like she was reading a fairy tale.

Everything is a mess. Something is wrong. It was like someone had pulled Arjen’s brain out and left it floating in the air.

“So you must live. You must live and be harsher than the world, so it doesn’t eat you. Lest it leads you down the path of death.”

Carla’s words sounded like a prayer. Arjen felt his consciousness slipping away. Exhaustion washed over him. Arjen dozed off to the beat of the rocking caravan. In his sleep, he felt like someone had laid him down and covered him with a blanket.

***

Arjen was not sold. He was not enslaved. The mercenaries raised him like an adopted child. He had no choice but to follow them as he had nowhere else to go.

The mercenaries didn’t have a base, traveling wherever the money was. Wherever there was war, that was their country and home. They traveled across all terrain. Seas, mountains, plains, and forests. Arjen grew up fighting with them. Rough mercenaries could not be fathers or mothers, but they could be teachers.

Arjen learned the sword from them. He learned to fight, tactics, strategy, and war. He learned money, how to drink, and people. He did not want to learn about death, but he had no choice.

Don died.

Brett died.

Mac left.

Heeney laid down his sword.

Arjen grew, and his height, which had been on the small side as a child, was now much larger than his father’s and almost as tall as Charlie’s. Arjen’s growth was rapid. His skill with a sword had already reached a point where the mercenaries could not teach him more. Arjen was strong and skilled at killing. New members were recruited, and Arjen rose to a position of authority at a young age.

“I see you’re already stronger than me.”

Charlie said, sheathing his sword. Arjen sheathed his sword, expressionless. At his feet lay the bodies of fallen soldiers and knights. Even his allies stared at him from a distance, aghast at his skill. When Arjen turned his head toward them, they avoided eye contact. Arjen watched them emotionlessly as they cleared the battlefield.

“I believe I’ve been stronger than you for a while.”

“Your knees give out when I pat you on the back, Arjen.”

Arjen smirked and shook his head. Charlie looked at him and smiled bitterly.

“I wouldn’t mind handing you the position of deputy commander soon.”

“I’m not ready to deal with people yet. I don’t want to take on any of that nonsense. I’ll stay put until you retire.”

Arjen looked at the pool of blood and the corpses. The men he’d slain were wide-eyed, like the corpses he’d seen as a child. Arjen bent down and closed the dead knight’s eyes.

“Good work, Arjen.”

As he did so, Carla stepped forward and opened her arms to embrace him warmly. Arjen squirmed in her arms, blushing.

“Wait… Please stop…”

“What, are you shy, for once?”

Carla laughed and hugged him tighter, and Arjen could only flail his arms, unable to push her away.

“Blood, I’m covered in blood.”

“Whatever, it’s not like I was clean.”

With that, Carla moved away from Arjen. His face was as red as the blood that covered him, and Carla smirked at him.

“You really are still a child.”

“Shut up. Really.”

Arjen shook his head and stood up. The other mercenaries were men who couldn’t even be clumsy uncles, let alone fathers, but Carla was different. She wanted to be many things to Arjen. An incompetent mother, sister, friend, or lover. Everything the mercenaries had failed to teach him, she had taught him.

Only Carla taught Arjen how to live.

“Did anyone die this time?”

“None. Arjen takes out most of the strong ones on his own.”

Charlie snorted, answering Carla’s question. She blinked and looked at Arjen. He scratched the back of his head coolly.

“It’s only because I can.”

Carla stepped in front of Arjen and flicked his forehead, which she had to reach up to. Arjen frowned as he rubbed his forehead, and Carla looked up at him sternly.

“Don’t push yourself, and don’t get carried away. How often have I told you to be careful on the battlefield?”

“…Okay.”

The sword cuts rarely felt painful, but Carla’s finger flicks hurt as much as ever. When Arjen tilted his head to look at her, she lifted her heel and ruffled his hair.

“You’re getting too tall for this.”

Carla laughed. Her face hadn’t changed since they first met. While the mercenaries like Charlie, Mac, and Heeney’s faces had gotten increasingly more scars and wrinkles, Carla hadn’t gotten a single scar on her face, let alone a wrinkle.

“Well, let’s move on.”

With that, Carla threw her arms up in the air. The battle was over for the day. She waved her hand roughly at the commander, who shook his head in disbelief.

“Well done. Good luck with tomorrow’s battle.”

“You’re welcome.”

Carla replied lightly, pushing Arjen’s back as they walked to their assigned quarters.

That night, Arjen was awakened by a knock on his quarters’ door and an arched eyebrow at the noise. The time was one-thirty in the morning. A little annoyed, Arjen walked to the door and flung it open.

“Who are you, at this hour….”

“Hello?”

And when he saw Carla standing in the doorway, he completely froze. Seeing Arjen’s frozen face, she giggled, then looked into the room and asked.

“Can I come in?”

Arjen turned slightly to move out of the way, and Carla hummed softly as she entered Arjen’s room, her shaking hair still slightly damp as if she’d just washed it. Arjen turned from the doorway to look at her. Carla looked at Arjen’s bed without a care in the world and sank. When Arjen made a face, she smiled again and gestured.

“Sit next to me.”

Arjen closed the door and walked over to sit next to Carla. She turned to look at him as soon as he sat beside her. Arjen blushed as he looked at her clothes which were practically just underwear.

“Why are you visiting so late?”

Carla shrugged at Arjen, forcing her voice to break the awkwardness.

“I had a strange dream.”

“Weird dream?”

Carla giggled again. Arjen felt her smile was somehow hollow.

“I did. But I won’t tell you. It would make me feel bad again.”

“You barge into someone’s bedroom because you had a bad dream.”

Arjen’s voice trailed off as he said it. Carla shook her head.

“Do you realize I always slept with you when you were little because you had nightmares?”

Arjen frowned.

“What, why are you suddenly bringing up that story?”

“You were a little edgy back then, but it was cute.”

Carla’s demeanor was casual and uncharacteristic. Arjen didn’t bother to press the point. He should have probed further.

“Give me a hug.”

Carla said, moving closer to him. Unable to back away, Arjen gingerly embraced her. It was the first time he had ever held her in his arms. In his arms, Carla was much smaller than he had expected. He caught a whiff of her freshly washed body.

“Lie down.”

At Carla’s command, Arjen lay down on the bed. Moonlight spilled over her back. Her eyes were gray like the pale moonlight.

“Mmm. Good.”

Carla smiled faintly and placed her hand on Arjen’s cheek. Then she snuggled closer, burying her head in Arjen’s chest. Arjen returned the favor, wrapping his arms around Carla’s head and holding her tightly. He could see a hint of anxiety in her eyes. Arjen could feel her sigh against his chest.

The anxiety of tomorrow was slowly creeping in, but it was okay. Arjen turned his back to the window and held her as if to block out time. There was no warmth in the moonlight. All he could feel was the warmth of her flesh against his own.

Arjen felt his chest get wet.