What can I say about myself? I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I guess that’s just how it is when your father works for the Grand Marshal. What kind of work you ask? I’m not sure myself, from what I overhear is that he was tasked with putting the bad guys to sleep. Well, that’s what he told my five-year-old self. He always told me what an honor it is to be serving his state and his Grand Marshal, and that everything that we have is thanks to that.
In the weeks leading up to my sixth birthday, my father has been spending less and less time at home, and when he did, he was always up in his workplace with his co-workers, always with their map and the colorful pins that frequently changes place, dotted throughout the map. As the days pass more and more of father’s friends from the office began staying at our house, all of them carried guns. It’s for our good he always says.
One afternoon he came home. With a tired face, but underneath that tiredness, some sort of peace could be seen. He plops down in his favorite chair, looks at the map while opening a bottle of his favorite drink. I came running to him. He picked me up and places me on his lap. He looked at me and smile, it was the first time in a long while that I’ve seen his smile. As he hugged me he said, “It’s almost over.” Tears rolling down his cheeks. I didn’t understand what he meant at that time. But as I stood there looking at the slab of stone in that dark, gloomy, and rainy Cuvindas afternoon, I understand one thing, it was never over.
I must’ve lost time and didn’t realize that the rain wasn’t dripping on my head anymore. I looked up and saw a black umbrella over my head.
“He was a good friend, it’s hard to find a good friend nowadays. Especially a good friend who cooks the best steak that I’ve ever tasted.” The person beside me said.
“The best steak in all of Zaichaer that even the Grand Marshal himself approves of.” The words left my mouth. I fought back the tears that began rolling down my cheeks.
“Why are you here?” the person asked. I remained silent. “After all this time,” the person continued.
“This is the last place on Ransera that I want to be in.”
“So, why are you here?”
I paused, wondering why I return home. I remember my father’s smile, as he told me "It’s almost over". I remembered the man that appeared out of thin air behind him and plunged a blade through his heart. I remembered my mother’s cry as she pushed me out of the carriage as another person spew fire from their hands and burned the carriage. I remembered the pillars of earth that crushed my father’s friends. If only my uncle came in time if only, they would still be alive. “To finish what he started.” I replied as I turn to the person beside me. I still remember his face, he looks thirty years older than what I remembered. I knelt on one knee and bowed my head, “Grand Marshal”.
“Beware that when hunting monsters, you do not become monsters” the Grand Marshal replied.
I guess he knew that my uncle has saved me and brought me out of the city to avoid the same fate as his older brother, it also helps my uncle do his job better without having to worry about collateral damage. My uncle brought me to Kalzasi’s Order of Reconcilliators’ branch. He told me the truth of what he and my father did for the State. They hunt criminals, especially unlicensed mages and either kill them or brought them before the Order. He also taught me that to hunt mages, one must think like a mage and as I grew older he inducted me into the two sparks that he has, traversing and summoning. I knew that he can do more than those two but he only inducted me into the two. He said that it’s the two magic that has kept him alive.
“Sometimes we have to become a monster to defeat one.”
That’s perhaps the last time I will meet the Grand Marshal face to face. The Order member who was there with the Grand Marshal made an oath of the sort. More of like selling your soul to the State, similar to those contracts you made when you summon an Infernal. I made sure to read the fine print and clarify it with the Order member. The contract’s more or less about me protecting and serving in the interest of the State and if at any time I would deviate and have malicious intent toward the State that will somehow cause instability in the State then, well you know that’s it, end of the line for me.
I’d say it’s great to be back home. Especially when you’re on good terms with the State. The next morning the office of the Grand Marshal had issued my permit for magic usage. They love their permits. Well, that’s good, right? Order instead of chaos.
