A Day of Paradise

Hello, everyone! Thanks for reading the first installment of Songs of Alesia (working title), though this extract has little to do with the main plot, but is instead world-building for the ancient city of Nox. Please enjoy! - Filius

I sat back in the wicker chair, quietly reading to myself. Having completed training only 8 weeks ago, I was eligible to finally see combat. Before now, I had been making the same patrol every day, which was of a small square in the south side of the city. The wind air was cool and refreshing, still reaching me despite being surrounded by buildings. The people of the square had come to like me; there were the smiths which offered to clean up my familial ring free-of-charge, citing the importance of family, the small book shop inhabited by an old lady who delighted in seeing someone reading in the square every day, a few other shops, and finally the bakery, owned by a father and son, who agreed to decrease the price on bread just for me.

Sitting in the square with a book to my face was more a façade than anything else, as, on my second day in the square, I noticed the baker's son staring from a far, peeking through his floppy blond hair, and I pretend not to notice him staring. His boyish looks deceived most, as he was approaching 20, but he still lacked any stubble, nor any blemishes. When I spoke to him, he seemed rather shy and quiet, nervous to even be speaking to me, though he did comment on liking my armour. On my final day, when I spoke to him, he finally managed to speak to me, asking if I were going to be safe wherever I'd be fighting, and I promised him I would; instead, he simply made me promise to come back for him. The weather was perfect that day, hot sun with a cool breeze, only a small blossoming tree keeping me in the shade, the metals on my armour gleaming in the sun, though, out of all of that, only the baker's son stood out to me.

Nearing the end of the day, the sun beginning to set, though the stone still remaining warm, my commander found his way to my square, and asked if I was ready to leave, though I felt myself wanting to remain. I walked over to the bakery, and whispered a "farewell" to him, and gifted my familial ring, requesting that he keep it safe. "I promise, I will" he whispered back. He handed me some bread "in case you get hungry". I parted my lips a second, though nothing could come out.

"You done, boy?" my golden-helmed commander shouted at me. "Yessir, just giving my thanks". I was taught a good relationship with the community would make the weeks go by faster, but, more than anything, it just made the final moments go by slower.

Now, a week later, I lay in the cold dirt, a spear-wound in my arm, making it impossible to move, and a dagger in my thigh. I cannot turn my head. I can only watch as the blood trickles down my hand to the spot where my ring used to be, a bitter reminder of who I've lost. I wish I were back, back in the narrow plaza of Nox. I wish I could sit in that chair, and watch. I wish I were there. With him.

I wish.