Iron of the Innocent: The Dark Judge (Vol 1)

Chapter 13: "Fire of Life"

274 I.C.
Sacren
Solorn Kingdom
Melsian Province
Vaxtin Outpost

The present...

Cool summer morning air drifted into Dreydan's room. It clung to him, waking the soldier up from a warm, hazy sleep. The feel of it caused the smooth skin of his bare chest and arms to react, pulling gaunt over the conditioned muscles and disciplined body of the soldier. The contours of his stomach expanded drawing in a deep breath of fresh, crisp air. Dreydan made his way to the large window from his bed and opened it.

Dreydan stood well over six feet, and his dark blond hair reached down to the bottom of his neck. His eyes were bright, and he peered out of the window toward the east. Then he looked down to the grounds. He rubbed his face, his sleepy eyes clearing with the touch of the breeze. His jaw and chin were brushed with a dark growth, and if he let it go, a thick moustache and beard would appear shortly. Though as a soldier in the king's army, he had to keep it trimmed and precise to stay within regulations.

He rubbed his arms, crossing them over his chest. Shivering a little he turned back toward his room. The soldier was thankful for a soft, rolled out carpet over the stone as he crossed to a wooden desk in bare feet. His loose, dark brown sleeping pants hung at his hips barely covering his backside, the waist band struggling to hang on.

Dreydan slipped into the desk chair and ran a hand through his hair looking down at his completed report that would be delivered to the outpost's military command. There was also a large leather bound book on the desk top next to the unopened letter the wagon crew left for him. Lifting it, he decided to read it later. Opening the book, he picked up a quill. He dipped it into an inkwell with a wide mouth. He paused and considered what to write. Deciding on a title he wrote it out in a practiced hand, the black ink flowing easily. After letting it dry, he turned the page to the next, he dipped the quill again, and began to write.

From the Journal of Dreydan Ruin...

The nineteenth summer of my life has come, and I was inspired to attempt my hand at keeping a record of my life and travels. Being in the medical ward, there is not a lot to do. I have come to resent my bed, as I have been in it far too long.

My name is Dreydan Ruin, a single son of two wonderful parents. My inspiration comes from my grandfather, Solomon Ruin. He kept a detailed chronicle of his life for many years. There was great wisdom within those pages, but unfortunately, they were lost in a fire. So, rebuilding his legacy is important to me, as well as rewriting his wisdom that was handed down.

In this memoir, I will and should capture the good as well as the bad. I should record the right decisions and their consequences, as well as bad decisions and the consequences I reap. That way there is an accurate picture of my life but doing so leaves a lingering feeling of vulnerability. There are many aspects to wisdom, and if a person can learn from someone's mistakes, they can avoid those dark paths and dungeons that others have traveled. Especially those places where the mighty fall and darkness reigns for the absence of light.

If I don't write anything down in my life, what is to say what legacy I will leave behind? And maybe in some way it will help my descendants if I have any. It's possible it might help others as well. In the end, if anyone can avoid bad choices, that would really make my efforts worth it.

So, I sit at this desk, in my sparse quarters, in the medical section, which is part of the military barracks at Vaxtin Outpost. Outside my window, the sun only rose an hour or two ago, casting its morning rays over this military stronghold of the kingdom of Solorn. We are an extension of our king's will, and being a good king, I am pleased to be part of this military.