A human mage, apparently in the prime of his life gazes around a well decorated manor, eyes lingering upon an item here and there. On the wall, an illuminated document brings a smile to his lips, a battle worn cloak with a large pattern sewn into its background immediately removes that smile, to a weapons rack with an archaic looking axe displayed front and center. Its the eyes which give away his true age, one who has witnessed great joys and equally great loss.
The mage gives a visible shake of his head and a glowing finger sets a stack of cord wood ablaze in the fireplace before he seats himself at a large table. He visibly gathers himself a moment and closes his eyes for a meditation while muttering something under his breath about summoning. After what seems like forever, his eyes and he reaches to a stack of tomes and journals and retrieves a leather bound book. He opens it up to an empty page, dips a stylus in an ink well and begins to write.
“174th day, 409 years after Lanival’s victory…
So, it is decided. The Furball’s memorial will be in a few days. I talk of closure to my friends, but really, will there be closure? How can there ever be ‘closure’? She was family. A furry rock in a tumultuous life. A trusted confidante, a friend, someone who reminded me when I was acting too much like I did as boy. So many memories. I’m going to miss her so much.
I am eighty-six years old. Eighty-six! And now I come to realize that I face not just the retirement of dear friends, but the final death of many as their souls join their ancestors. I am not nor will ever be ready for this. As the days pass since we learned of the Furball’s passing, the stabbing agony turns into a dull ache, all the more painful for its change. I don’t want it to change. I want the pain to remain raw forever but that of course is not the way of such things. By Meraud’s blessing, we learn to channel such emotions for whatever end we seek.
I have thought about that salient point. To what end? I know now my end calls for my resolve to be the Warrior Mage I know I need to be. I must aspire to follow in Lanival’s example. I remember always that Warrior Mages MUST be paragon. It is said that in any city’s defense, you can find the Warrior Mage at the gates, waiting for charge of darkness against our beacon of light. I realize what I must do. Though my own friends and family and especially, my soulmate are great warriors and fighters themselves, I resolve to be the Lanival to them. To use my shield arm to protect and my sword arm to rend in the name of extending the lives of those I hold dear longer.
Old age may take them all but damned I’ll be if anything else takes any one of us!
~By my hand