Roland never was destined for great things, and it was clear from the very moment of his birth- Like thousand of others, he was born a peasant. He was raised as a peasant, and he worked like one, too. Work in the field from dawn to dusk, eat something that could barely be classified as a meal, go to sleep; and this was the way of life that was chosen for him. And he accepted it. There was no word of objection, there was no reason for him to want a different thing. Even when he finally found the love of his life, even when he finally had an off-spring, even when he finally was considered to be a “man”, even when he was considered adult, he would not object. Life was simple, and it was easy.
But it was boring. And Roland realized it at once, but it was far too late- All he did until this point was swing the scythe, plant the seed, and make sure no illness or disease would ruin the crops or his closest ones. This is why when the war came, Roland was one of the very first to enlist; he was thrilled to finally take part in something different, in something more exciting, something that would break the monotonous routine of his everyday life. Soon, he would bid his family farewell, and with a bright, blooming smile on his face, he would leave forth for the thing he signed up not so long ago, for the Rubern War- One that would permamently change turn that smile around.
Who would suspect that a simple farmer would be such a good soldier? The ability to swing a scythe changed into the skills with a sword, the constant lookout for diseases proved crucial when looking for even the slightest hints of an oncoming plague, that would otherwise decimate dozens of healthy men, the strength attained during his farmer life has helped him go through the brutal, grim war. While his body remained mostly unscathed and in one piece, his mind was not so lucky. Decade of seeing viscera and dying people, countless kills in the name of a greater idea, the ideology of Oren, one that he didn’t understand, visions of his compatriots bleeding and rotting to death has taken it’s toll on the mind of the young soldier.
But the end came during one of the many journeys across the lands; one of the spots was the little place that he was born it. It wasn’t burned, it wasn’t raided, it wasn’t destroyed or conquered; It remained the same way as he left it. A cheerful town, full of familiar faces and places. He neared the place he feared the most- The house where he resided in, and therefore, his family currently inhabitated.
He would see his beloved ones again- His wife and his son, both touched by time, all grown up by the time of his return, both of which could only give a silent wave towards the man clad in plate armor, the same man that would live with them each and every day. Perhaps this was a call home, perhaps this was a mean of returning to where he started, a fresh beginning.. Roland took his steed away from the cabin, and back onto the roads; he know exactly that if he dared to return home, to the two people he remembered the most, he would only cause them more pain than he intended to. To see the form of the past owner of the house, now broken by the war and time, would be the most terrifying sight. This is why it’s better for them only to remember a lone soldier that ventured too far away from his squadron, that simply came on over and paid them an unexpected visit, one that they would not recognize not now, nor ever.
And so it was that after the same war ended not too long after, the nameless knight would opt to leave the army whatsoever. Now, he wanders the roads he saw a thousand times already, with the steed he rode on for a hundred times, with a sword that has been unsheated more times than it is possible to count. He wanders from town to town, in a constant lookout for work, in a constant lookout for a purpose that would bring him the same joy his past life did. Perhaps he will find it one day, in the most unlikely of places.
But today is not that day.
