Regards of Great Forgotten Things – Day 15


The Great Conflict, and the world, has ended. Magic is forbidden so that the world can heal. I believe it’s stolen your memories, too. Which is why you and I are keeping this journal. You, reading this tomorrow, and me, writing this today.

Remember this if you can:

Your name is Carth. You are a warrior, aged boy. You are in the service to the Warlord’s clan in his mission to restore order to the Realm. Ask daily for your payments. For an index of items, places, people and locations, refer to the scrolls next to this one.

* * *

I know you won’t remember the battle. But I must relay what I can while I do. I’ve given it thought and decided that these are memories we cannot let go:

Do you remember when we discussed taking up arms against monsters? This was what I meant when I said that. We fought against the monsters, garbed in steel and leather.

The leaders of the Warlod’s armies fought like something out the legends we’ve overheard at our campfires. They seemed to have the strength of half-gods and heroes as they slung their spears down on the enemy.

Their movements were taut; bronzed biceps expanding as they hefted their weapons—and when they threw them, they did not seem concerned with the arrows hurtling toward us. They seemed almost lazy—after all, they were our leaders, and had made it this far. They seemed to know they wouldn’t die here.

The same could not be said of soldiers unnumbered, too young or unpracticed, or infirm. The ones could not raise their shields in time, pierced by arrow shafts, or spears, or swords; and littering the fields with eyes like their leaders—like half-gods and heroes. Eyes that did not seem to see.

We lost the battle all the same, fleeing the city with what few survived the onslaught.

Now you know you’re a warrior, don’t you? Only a warrior could hear that he had killed so many and not even bristle. You feel it don’t you? I feel it to. The nothing inside you when learning this news. That’s why you’re a soldier. That’s how you survive.





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Special thanks to my patron on Patreon, Alicia Cameron

Author: Connor M. Perry

From an early age, I learned how to divide by four. See, two minutes after I was born, I discovered three other newborns hot on my heels. I was a quadruplet. And I needed to learn to how to share. Everything. At an early age, I took to writing so that I could have something unsharable. I began writing small stories online for my own enjoyment, and gradually moved to more ambitious ideas. I've been running my blog The Mythlings for two years now, publishing a new installment every Friday. I've enjoyed creating different worlds, characters and relationships in my stories. I currently live in Worcester, MA with my girlfriend, two cats, and a collection of swords.

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