A Good Man Awakens

The Day I Died

I'd been a military man all my life. Not as active as I once was, but I still had my usefulness. A lifetime of experience that I passed on to the newer generation. I'd seen action in four wars, under two rulers, across three continents. I knew what it was like to defend our home when enemies were at the gates and how to storm theirs when the time came.

I spent my days in the barracks, running over battle strategies with the young soldiers. We discussed weak points in the capital's defenses, counterattacks, and all the mistakes I had seen commanders make over the years. They ranked me as a commander of the First Legion, which earned me respect among the lower ranks, if not always among my peers. Age is a fickle thing.

I would look Kaleb up, Benack seemed so proud, and he was a good man. A little kindness, a word in an ear, can make all the difference to some people's lives. If they considered him for promotion, he must have qualities and skills needed for such a position. A recommendation from a commander will distinguish him out.

As I turned the third corner of the back alley streets leading to the barracks, I could see two men holding another, one in each of his arms, pinning him up against the rear wall of a bakery. Another much taller man stood in front, his palm around his victim's neck, his face pressed against the others. The tall man pushed his hand forward, thrusting the confined man's head backward. It ricocheted off the wall and snapped back as if on a coiled spring. The tall man pulled his fist back, ready to strike.

Instinct kicked in. Three against one was bad enough, but restraining a man while he was beaten? That was cowardice.

"Hey there! Everything alright?" I called out, keeping my tone as calm as I could. "No need for this. I'm sure we can work something out."

The tall man turned to face me. He was taller than any man I'd ever seen, a full head above me, and I wasn't small. His build was heavy, his arms covered in strange markings—raised beads of scar tissue running across his skin like a twisted design. He had a face like a hammer, with cold, dead eyes that seemed to size me up.

"Beat it old timer, this doesn't concern you." He retorted, spitting on the floor and shifting back to his victim.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, son." I stepped closer, though my heart pounded in my chest. "Why don't we settle this peacefully, like men?"

Not my wisest words. I knew it as soon as they left my mouth.

"Like men, you say?" The tall man's grin twisted into something more dangerous. "Then let's see what you're made of, old-timer."

He dropped his victim's arm and turned fully toward me, raising his fists, shoulders rolling like a crater wolf about to pounce. His heavy boots cracked against the cobblestones as he advanced.

This was a fight I couldn't win, and I knew it. Even in my youth, taking on a brute like this would've been a challenge. But I wasn't helpless.

As the man neared, my grip tightened around my cane. Timing was everything—I'd get one shot. When he was close enough, I saw my opening. He shifted his right shoulder back, winding up for a punch.

I ducked low, knees cracking, and swung my cane with all the strength I had left. It struck him square in the ribs, a sickening crack echoing in the alley as bones broke. He flew back, the wind knocked out of him, and hit the ground hard. His head smacked against the cobbles, blood pooling behind him.

I ducked down, my knees cracking under the quick action, I thrust the handle of my cane upwards with all my strength just as the he swung an arching punch at where my head had just been. The head of the cane struck true in the center of his rib cage.a sickening crack echoing in the alley as bones broke.