A father's plea
Nobody knew where the idea had come from. One moment they had all been chatting at the mess, enjoying a last peaceful breakfast. The next, silence had fallen and people had started getting up on tables, putting notes on the ceiling. Their names, as if they were place cards, as a way to show that they were there. The supervising officers had simply watched it happen.
It felt weird, because this was supposed to be a normal training program. Intense, yes, dangerous, mayhaps. But not enough for this. Yet for some reason, they felt the need to leave a name, a mark. To show that they'd been there. Even though they would be competing with each other, right there in that moment, they all were one.
After breakfast, they all were made to clean up, then guided to a theater. Each troop made to stand on their own private balcony that overlooked the floor, walls inbetween them. On stage, they saw the back of the king, wearing his formal cloak. As they stood at attention, behind them they heard the receding footsteps of their superiors, then closing doors.
The silence was stiffling to them, a situation unknown that they had no idea how to deal with. After a short, or maybe long, while, silence finally broke as the king spoke up, his back still turned to them.
"I used to come here with my son. He enjoyed the shows a lot. He would talk to me in this enthousiastic tone, barely able to control the volume of his voice. I would politely shush him when he became too loud, but always with a smile on my face. Even the actors would occasionally have a hard time not smiling in response to his love for the play.
"Even as he grew older, he still loved coming here with me. It was a guilty pleasure inbetween all his lessons and our obligations, to sit in private with masks on, pretending to just be a father and son for that short moment in time."
His voice started cracking near the end, then silence fell again. The recruits kept silent, kept standing at attention, even though they did not know why the king was telling them this. Then again, some of them began to get an inkling of why they had been called here.
"We were unprepared when the first creature attacks came. The knights ill-prepared, the soldiers even more. Even then, it seemed like something far away from us, just a matter of resources and attempts to protect lives. My son already was with me back then, learning how to command, asking me questions afterwards in private so that he could learn from his old man without seeming to undermine the king.
"But then the first monster attack came at the capital. Right outside this theater, in fact, just as we were returning to the palace. The knights were overwhelmed, an attack snuck through, and while I wanted to protect my son, he moved faster than me. Youth is wasted on the young. Had I been fitter, I would have died in his stead."
Grief. They could hear it in his voice. The choking that he was suppressing, the lump in his throat that he was trying to swallow away. The tears that were starting to pour down his face, no doubt, like they were beginning to pour down their own.
"We need to be prepared. We have an entire generation of talents at the ready, already in school, meant to start training soon. But we first need to learn how to train them. You are but tools for that means, a first experiment to see whether we can teach soldiers the skills needed to protect this country.
"After this, the next generation will take your place and you will help them, escort them, allow them to grow. But do not think of yourself as expendable. You are as important to us as any other citizen under our command. I ask you, keep yourself safe. Train hard, but give up if the price becomes too high. Stay alive.
"I hope you will be able to handle this program. Will stay alive in the many fights to come. But I also hope that you will be able to be strong, and be ready to do what I could not. If the time comes that you must lay down your lives to protect the people of this country, I hope you will. And I hope that one day, you can forgive me."
His breaking voice was replaced with the sound of footsteps as he made his way off the stage. Not that they could see him well, standing at attention with tears blocking their eyes. They heard the door close and the tension broke. They wept, each of them alone, yet together. Their officers were kind enough to wait a few minutes before coming in to escort them away.
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