[WP] You are in a world where your wildest dreams come true, but each wish comes with a price.

...

I used to believe that almost anything was possible. That if a person tried for something hard enough, their wildest dreams could be obtained. Anyone could make it anywhere, and do anything- if they wished for it badly enough.

What took the longest time was to understand that really only covered half of the truth: Almost anything is possible, but everything comes with a price.

...

"Is he awake yet?" With dim recognition, I heard a voice ask from far off as my eyes opened to the warm light of white curtains. "I want to see if he's alright." someone insisted. As consciousness returned to awareness, I though recognized the voice.

Where was I?

"No, no, no. He's still sleeping, just like the last time you came by. Rest is what he needs, not company." An elderly tone replied, "He should be awake soon though. Another few hours, perhaps. It was a clean through and through, and the healing set in." The woman's voice was strict and weathered as it continued, " You brought him here in the nick of time, but I'm not about to let you ruin the progress."

"So he's recovering?"

"Yes, hopefully so..." The voice trailed off, humming with a soft tone. "Don't give me that look. I told you before, the wound of his is healing, of that I'm certain. It's his mana exhaustion that's still a concern. Those soldiers said he was casting for two days straight, no sleep. Haven't met a mage alive that could do that. Still had some mana left over when I was healing him too, strangest thing I've seen in a long while."

"But he'll recover?" The voice asked again, urgency rising as I listened in. "You said he'd be alright, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes, for the love of Light you foolish Elf, the Captain will be fine. Just needs more rest, is all. Honestly, I'd be more worried about the other ones you brought in. Rob was it? Not much I can do about poison past the first spell- and tell me again, how did he manage to stab himself with a Goblin's spear..." The sound of a door creaking closed settled with a quiet thump, wood on wooden frame shutting out the rest of the discussion to decibels past what I might be capable of making out. All that made it to my ears were the soft hum of voices through walls, and the ragged breathing of whatever company lay sleeping in the cots beyond my own bed's curtains.

Sitting up slowly, I reached out to pull the ringed cloth along the wooden rails, breath catching with a grimace of pain. The action was more difficult than I remembered. "Ah..." I hissed out in pain between clenched teeth as I inspected my side. A bloodied set of bandages were wrapped tightly there, stain of dried crimson settled into the white fabric. "Shit." I muttered, letting myself back down slowly. "That's right... an arrow."

The Outpost, the Church, the relic... then the battle, the Goblins, the chaos. It all seemed like a bad dream, but the proof was clearly still soaking through the bandages.

"Captain?" A voice from beside me lifted out into the still air of the room. "Captain, is that you?"

That voice was familiar. "Is that you Ronalde?" I asked, throat dry enough to make the question sound more pitiful than I would have expected.

"Yes Captain. Ronalde, Second Rank, report-" The reply broke with a wracking set of coughs, "-Reporting, Sir." He finished, clearing his throat with a rough heave somewhere in the distance. "Glad to hear you've come back out from the woods, the others were worried."

"I'm fine. Takes more than some goblins to kill me." I replied, idly assessing the size of the room. He couldn't be more than two beds down, to the left- maybe? The curtains made it difficult to tell. "Ronalde, how long have we been here for?"

"A few days. We're back in the Capital, Royal ward's division." The reply seemed tired, weak even. "The Queen herself checked in on us, thanked us for our service." Ronalde's tone turned wistful. "She's the real thing, through and through. Captain, she told us that we've all been promoted to the Royal guard in honor of our achievements."

"Good news." I replied side aching as I moved slightly. "You said all... How many is that?" I asked. "How many made it?"

"Sir..." Ronalde's reply was quiet. "It's-"

"How many made it, Ronalde?" I asked again, more sternly this time.

"Captain: seven soldiers, one Knight, yourself and Miss Sola, sir."

"That's it?" The question rolled of my tongue as others behind it held at bay. My mind spun about, trying to piece together what was left of the confusion before I'd awoken. Eight plus Sola and myself, out of what- a few dozen? The Royal nights that had been with me and almost an entire outpost of Greenhorns, reduced to less than a baker's dozen.

"Sir, twelve of us made it on the wagon, but..." Ronalde trailed off, not willing to finish the statement. Honestly, he didn't need to. I got the picture, clear as day.

"Captain? A gruffer voice rose up from my far left. A cot creaked, motion loudly shifting the unseen wooden frame. "Captain, is that you?" They asked again.

"Yes, it's me." I paused, trying to sort the voice to name, "Who-"

"Bral- sorry: Braldinel, sir." The gruff voice replied quickly, "It's a pleasure to hear you're back among the' living. The other's told me you pulled my bleeding arse from the pile of corpses, tourniquet my arm for' I went an' died."

"Ah..." I tried to consider that, still struggling to put a face to the name, "I don't remember all the details, but-"

"Sir, I owe you my life!" The sound of a cot creaking signaled a far off gesture. "We all do, without you we all would have perished. I have no doubts."

"Sir, while we held the battlement, you held the door by yourself to the end." Another voice spoke up, ragged and hoarse to my right. "Even with an arrow sticking out of your side, you cast more spells than I've ever seen a mage throw in all my years."

"Sir! You killed a Goblin right before it could bring its axe down on me. Saved my neck as I was making peace with the light, sir!" Another voice spoke. "You're like the bards say, sir."

"You ordered the others to drag me up the stairs instead of leaving me behind." And another still. "Save my life, sure as the sun rises."

As they continued, I leaning back further until I sunk into the linen sheets, waiting until the Soldier's voices settled down. The mix of exhaustion, disbelief, and guilt mingled together in an awful concoction.

"Captain, we're your men." Ronalde spoke again, voice clear and true even through the curtains of white cloth that separated our cots. "Each of us owes you more than we can give, but we'll follow your orders- just say the word. Even if you wanted to march on the West alone, we'd follow you gladly." Another murmur of agreement lifted up from the others at this statement.

It made me ill, as if this was all some kind of sick joke.

Men thanking me for saving their lives, telling me they owed me? All they saw was what they wanted to see: The Famous Captain of the Guard, a Hero.

These soldiers still didn't realize. I was the source, the reason for everything that had happened. I'd stopped at their outpost because the Church wanted me dead and I needed a place to hide. The Goblins that came, did so on my dangerous personal gamble: a caution to the wind roll of the dice to see if I could make a problem go away- only to replace it with something worse. Everyone who died might as well have been cut down by my own hand, everyone injured was much the same, and yet here they all were thanking me for it. They thought I had been the legend from the songs.

"Never say that again." I said, voice hoarse as I let my head sink back into the pillow, forcing my eyes shut in a grimace as the guilt welled up. "Not a single one of you owes me a god-damn thing." In that moment, I was thankful for the curtains.

"Sir?" Ronalde asked, somewhere in the distance, but I ignored him. Eyes closed, mouth shut, I waited until the others quieted down, uncertain. In the end, the relative silence of slow and ragged breaths returned, taking the place of conversation entirely. Laying still, I tried to let sleep take me back in, desperately forcing my mind back to the restful slumber.

I couldn't quite make it though.

Instead, blocking my path was the awful truth. Like a massive wall or a mountain of stone, it refused to budge. Silent, heavy, unyielding, I stared into it until it was forever burned into my mind. The cowardly wish I'd made at the start of it all.

That I hadn't wanted to die, and I'd been more than willing to let others pay the price.