The leave taking - Orryn vignette

    Only when Orryn watched his brother’s troops leave the city did he comprehend the disheartening possibility he would not see him return.
    The captain’s heavy armor glistened in the morning sun. A massive axe, strapped to his back, shone to the rhythm of his determined step.
    Orryn climbed up another set of stairs, rushing for the higher ground, taking his eyes off Ethius only between the steps to the next tower window. He leaned over the garrison and watched them disappear in the distance while the harsh sun hindered his vision.
    With the battalion gone Orryn felt a sudden sense of loneliness on top of the lookout. He exhaled, allowing himself to drop the mask of pride and strength he was now so accustomed to. With that he raised his hand in and and wished them a safe return.

    The gravel path crunched under the weight of his mass. His step was slow and heavy. His face laden with concern.
    Taking notice of both sympathetic and judgmental, glances coming his way, the captain straightened up, put the mask back on and continued his long way home. But the shame of staying behind hung upon him like a dark cloud. He did not make it yet half way to his house when a better option beckoned him in. A wooden sign that squeaked above the tavern door. Carved on it was a busted barrel, leaking rich foam and a stream of golden ale. He stopped, ignoring the people passing around him, counted the money in his pocket and entered.

    The air that day was filled not by the usual, rich smell of smoked meat, spices, and potatoes but of consolation booze and grim unease. Among a handful of fathers, brothers and friends who did not get to aid Ethius’ battalion, Orryn found himself surrounded by mothers, lovers and sisters seeking comfort and hope. And for a moment, he was that hope, standing in the doorway, surrounded by the warm haze of the winter sun. The women that sat the nearest looked to him with saddened faces, in need of an uplifting word. All this time the arnuk held his breath, paralyzed in the middle of that doorway, with each second feeling more obliged to stay and say something. To explain why he even stood there in the first place.

    “Came to get drunk rather than go with the rest...” someone muttered from the other end of the building. “A joke not a general.”
    A long, judgmental silence followed. His eyes scanned the floor instinctively to find the source of the remark, only to find more faces glaring at him like cold, stone statues. Orryn’s eyes fell to the floor, he bowed his head and walked out.