Ugh, my heads killing me, like a million threaded needles weaving through my skull. Where am I? Oh its home. Ah that's right, what dad told me last night.

"Drew, whenever you eventually wake up, I will be gone."

So he's really dead then? He had said 'gone' but I didn't think it would be that simple. He would often say the least necessary at times like this. But I wonder why it had to turn out like this. He didn't explain anything to me, but the tribe didn't say much so I guess this was something that was to be expected.

Leaning up from the bed and glancing around the partially cluttered room I detected a faint smell of strange smoke, but it's quickly replaced by the scent of my mother's breakfast buns, one of the Inn's specialties.

While bracing my sore head I walked past a few empty rooms and down the steps into the wide dining area. I was greeted by the familiar sight of a few dozen men and women in ratty bandit clothing. This was my father's Bandit tribe, well I call them bandits but they are more like mercenaries who rarely find work.

Despite the fact that my father wasn't a typical bandit leader, the men still followed him. Glancing across their faces, I sensed great sorrow in them. A few of them gave me solemn nods, I quietly returned them.

My mother, noticing my arrival placed a warm plate, with a round roll, in front of me. She avoided my eye-line as she passed it to me, likely to prevent me from seeing the puffiness under her eyes.

She coughed lightly after I take a few bites of the warm bread, it was a slightly bizarre food, a light and soft breading with a thick honey inside, add a little frosting and it'd be close to a cinnamon roll, sans cinnamon. Really a delightful breakfast.

Noticing her clearing her throat, I turn to face her after wiping my face of any leftover honey and swigging down the glass of goat's milk.

"Drew are yo… are you feeling alright?"

She asks after I placed the glass back on the table.

Pondering it for a moment, she's likely talking about dad. I guess it's something that hasn't entirely sunk in yet, it felt like he told me those words many days ago in passing, that it was nothing important but it clearly was.

"Well my head hurts honestly, I guess I probably didn't get a great night sleep or something due to… err, everything." I answered, rubbing my temple. "Honestly I'd kill for a Tylenol or something." I added jokingly.

"A what?" A bandit sitting at a table beside me asks. Ah that's right this was dad's right hand, Degin.

"Ah, you know like a uh…" Finally thinking about the question, and the the words I said a moment ago, the pain in my head increases a bit. Rubbing my head again I mutter a quiet. "Never mind it's nothing important."

The man seems to accept my words and returns to the pile of meat in front of him. Glancing out the window I notice the sun high in the sky, it is indeed around lunch time. Seemingly reading my thoughts my mother interjects.

"Well, it's good that you're finally awake, though sleeping for two full days is a tad bit extravagant, I suppose this time it can be forgiven."

Two days? What in the hell happened? I guess this explained why my memories are hazy. But still I didn't think my dad’s passing would have that much of an effect on me. Its bizarre but my mother seemed to see no problem with it so I brushed it off. I noticed a few glances from the tribe seated around the Inn. They were likely equally as concerned about my behavior as I was. With my father gone I was in line to run the tribe, but they likely didn't see me as someone who could lead. Thinking about it honestly in these past two days I'm sure Degin had assumed the role as leader.

"Two days huh?" I replied after biting into the second roll my mother had warmed up for me. "No wonder." I said grimacing at my own scent, "Well I guess i'll hit the bathroom to wash up." I said after wolfing the rest of the meal down.

"Uhm, If you mean a bath, I can draw one for you in the yard."

"Ah, uh yeah right, I don't know where my mind is right now." I say rubbing my still pulsing head. This time I notice more glances from the group eating lunch I suppose I'm making a real fool outta myself.

I'm not even sure what I'm talking about to be honest, they both seemed like natural things to say, but here they were taken like I was speaking a foreign language. Trying to cover for my stupidity I reply with what would be another stupid sentence. "But don't worry about it, I can do it."

"Oh? Have you learned water magic" My mother replies with a coy grin.

I assume she knows I haven't learned water magic in the past two days, she steps towards me and places her palm on my forehead.

"You don't seem to have a fever. I guess it can be attributed to that after all." She places a plate piled with meat in front of me before saying "Eat plenty to regain your energy I'll get a bath warmed."

Submitting to the greasy pile in front of me I quickly dig in, two days worth of food was no small amount, sooner I get started the better, a few of the tribesmen around me seemingly stare dagger at my pile of meat, my mom rarely created a plate such as this one, meat was an extreme rarity, typically we only ate it in stews, but I guess my mom had decided to splurge as a way to celebrate my dad’s life. He was a major meat eater so it's something he would have enjoyed. The men were struck on the head by Degin and told that they had already had theirs. Yeah he seems to hold the leadership status now.

It was nice that everyone was still around, I think half of me had assumed my father was the glue keeping the tribe together. but seeing that the camp was still set up around the Inn was oddly relaxing. After thinking a moment the reason was obvious, now these people around me are my very last connection to my dad.

My mother returned not long after that realization and ushered me off to the backyard, she was seemingly leading me there as if I had never been there before, though I found it strange I was thankful because in all honesty, I wasn't sure where to go. I'm not sure how I could possibly forget where the door to my own backyard was in two days time but apparently I can.

Maybe I hit my head. I'll have to check my head for bumps in a mirror. Ah there I go again. Why would my family be able to afford a mirror? I'll be lucky if I can find some silver shiny enough to check for bumps.

I enjoyed the warmth of the bath but I reflexively reached for the soap before realizing my mistake and returning my hand to the warmth of the leaky wooden bath.

After, I exited the bath feeling utterly unclean I happily accepted my mother's offer for a magic drying session. Though many of my memories seemed hazy the feeling of my mother magically assembling all the remain water in my hair was something I could never forget.

It was an overwhelming sensation, the tiny drops of water felt to have a mind of their own, assembling in a line extending to my mothers finger.

After sufficiently collecting the water she shook her finger and the water leapt into the basin I bathed in moments ago.

Magic was truly impressive, but was a sore subject for me, I had never been able to achieve even the slightest magic aura, the simplest form of magic, the magic used by toddlers when learning their specialization.

Without learning my own specialization how could I possibly train?

I had once tried to practice some of the water magic that my mother used for cooking and bathing but I never had any luck.

Recently I have all but given up on using magic, instead I train with the sword daily with my father. Or, I guess, I used to.

As the thought was still strong in my mind I resolved myself to take a few practice swings.

However as I looked towards the training area in the center of camp my resolve quickly dissolved when I saw the image of two battalion of knights leading and following an carriage heading up the road from Havas.

I strapped my cloth shirt and drew my pants up with great gusto.

It seemed far too heavily armed to just be heading to the small village at the end of this road. As they neared the bridge a fear rose in my chest, were they here for us? But we had never caused any trouble with Count.

So why would his personal carriage be heading this direction?

Seemingly noticing my stare a few of the nearby bandits gather and look at the approaching carriage. It was something of a piece of art, the outside all seemed to be plated in either silver or a bright eggshell white paint.

When it caught the reflection of the river as it passed over the bridge it was slightly breathtaking. But as I was staring at the carriage crossing the run down, but trusty, bridge the group around me were seemingly staring at another breathtaking view.

Following behind the carriage was a knight, well many knights in fact. But the one who caught everyone's attention was the only one not sporting a helmet, instead flowed beautiful long brown locks of twirling hair.

"Its Claire!" A man shouts waving his arm excitedly at the brunette sitting on the horse, donned in a bright plate and leather armor.

Right I recognized her after a moment, She was indeed Claire. That girl had lived with us for around 4 years until she was of age to join the army. It was fun times, during that time we grew up as siblings, it was a major shock when she told me she would be leaving but it was her choice.

And, though I hated her for it at that time, I realized my selfishness, yet I’d still not apologized for the terrible things I’d said.

It was a deep regret of mine.

She waved back to the crowd, a soft smile grew on her face, I suppose it's due to seeing all her various fill-in parents. A few of the tribesmen and women seemed to wipe away tears from seeing her, in all her knight gear.

I understood the sentiment, even with her determination and skill, the fact that she had actually became a full blown knight was slightly incredible.

As the carriage grew ever closer the lump in my throat once again rose as the carriage began to slow down in front of our dilapidated Inn.

They really were here for us then.