The next day they hadn’t gotten to travel very far. Shammus had known today would be more of an eventful day regarding politics and relationships between party members, and hopefully less eventful in combat regarding how much of it was just the party.

  Shammus had sat down next to the now extinguished fire, having been extinguished by those on the final watch. He stared at the small notification, reading [Good Morning!]. He slowly rose from his sleeping bag which was awfully close to Bariton’s. He could’ve sworn Bariton placed his further away.

  Bariton was playing his lyre like usual, just playing a light tune. One that was light enough to avoid waking anyone else up. His eyes were closed as the sun shined down on him through the leaves. The prison of gold still floating well above their heads.

  “Nice handiwork on those runes.” Bariton stated with his eyes still closed. He doesn’t stop playing, but he does reach the end of the piece. He has to swap pieces, yet he does it effortlessly, the two pieces of art flowing into one another.

  “Thanks.” Shammus’s response was short. He was reminded last night that his allyship with these 4 was limited. They were comrades sure, but that doesn’t evolve further into friendship. They will abandon him when he’s no longer helpful.

  The music was beautiful, but he notices that this group are all of similar power as him. Bariton came back with few wounds, but he came back with many damages. And now he feels the lack of ache.

  “Who healed me?”

  “Clara did. During her watch without you awake,” Bariton said it like it was the most obvious thing to ever happen. “She said she tried when you were awake but you refused.”

  Shammus sighs. Healing magic was the most grueling magic to learn, even if you got a class related to it. Why would she do something like that? It’s a worthless endeavor anyways when he’ll probably wind up dead the next day.

  “Shouldn’t she save that for someone more important?”

  “Aren’t you?” Bariton looks confused as he says it, his words seem to have wings, “But c’mon, the others are soon to wake up here. Don’t you have something to tell them?”

  The silence afterwards is great, as slowly the lyre begins playing again. The others seem to wake up after a few minutes. The timeline of their waking up matches the timeline of falling asleep, almost to a tee, as they all group up around the campfire.

  Shammus looks at this in awe, confused as to what may be occurring. He’d never seen a group this close before, and he finds it odd to listen to what they talk about, filling the air with noise.

  “You need to understand, Bariton, the milk goes in after the cereal.”

  “Absolutely not! It’ll get soggy too quick.”

  “C’mon Bariton, it was actually illegal back in the 1700 era.”

  Shammus laughs at Judine’s comment before chiming in himself, “When was it made legal?”

  The group goes silent, before chuckles reverberated from them. Judine answers Shammus’s question, “Well, it was done during 1892 as one of the many hundreds of repeals during that time, including the need for the best war hero of the War of Lirdsuania to atone.”

  “Wait, what?” Shammus’s visible confusion at the mention of ‘war hero’ and that war together was odd. That was the war he was branded as a traitor and had been blamed for the deaths of his comrades.

  “C’mon Shammus, you gotta know the War of Lirdsuania! It’s taught in every school!”

  “No, that war was a devastating military failure. I was branded as a traitor despite simply doing what I was told. I followed orders and they blamed me for it.”

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  Shammus noticed his voice rising in tone, and had to repress his want to run. He wanted to run away from these people. They wouldn’t believe him. Nobody would.

  “Huh,” Bariton chimed in, “that’s pretty similar to the nameless hero. The very same one that went into hiding and was never seen after that war, but was shunned whenever he went out despite his participation in the war being vital.”

  Shammus stops, muttering something about there being no way his story was still known.

  “Yeah, it’s one of the best bard stories.” Bariton stands up and walks over towards Shammus, “I mean, it’s kind of overdone now, but it always draws in a crowd.”

  “Could you,” Shammus found himself starstruck, and also drawn to curiosity far more than usual, “could you tell me this story?”

  “Well I mean, you should know it, especially if you’re a veteran of that war if you so say… But of course!”

  As Bariton recounts his version of the story, he himself finds himself right in front of the council again. He’s reliving the memories, but with Bariton’s narration instead. His lyre began playing to accompany his smooth voice.

  “The hero was a man of great renown, one of the first people to reach SSR++ Rank after the first adventurers died. Especially despite not being registered as an adventurer, the feat was unbelievable. He had been personally scouted out by the Forsivo’s third prince at the time.”

  “The third prince was charming, to become the sixth king he’d make the kingdom most prosperous through warfare and military. He’d found this nameless hero without fail, and called out, ‘Oh great hero, neither of our stories shall end anytime soon.’”

  “The hero responded, ‘What may you mean?’ intrigued by whatever the prince has in store. The great prince continued, ‘I mean that you may want to follow me, as I become the king of this luxurious kingdom.’”

  Shammus let out a chuckle as Bariton continued onwards, “And with the prince’s charming voice, he led the poor hero out to war. This hero had impossible levels of strength, capable of wiping out entire villages with a Legendary skill he’d achieved over the years, and entire militias with a single sword skill.”

  “This hero had terrifying levels of strength. This hero was eventually given a singular mission, ‘wipe out the nation of Lirdsuania.’ The council demanded with great force in their voice! ‘Wipe them out without a chance to recover. Civilians, soldiers alike!’”

  “The hero had no choice but to obey, they had bound him with magic similar to what a Lich binds its undead with. If he’d disobeyed, they’d had slaughtered him or his family without fail.”

  “And so, he did as he was told, with a gruesome final battle he alone had removed the nation off the map. The council was terrified. They killed his family while he’d been gone, and when he came back they labeled him a traitor!”

  “The traitor was given a trial, the jury, the council and the judge, the new sixth king; the previous third prince. The king was given no power in this trial, only to overturn an innocent verdict to guilty, for the public had been scared that due to the king’s choice to bring the hero into the military, he’d let this monster loose with no evidence.”

  “The public had felt terrible for this monster, yet feared the hero all the same. The council had brought in fake claims that the public had no choice but to believe due to the lack of speech and counter arguments allowed from the hero.”

  “The hero was sentenced to death, but the King decided to overrule it. He wasn’t allowed to overrule the verdict of guilty, yet he did have the right to lessen the sentence. He lowered it to exilation, telling the hero to leave the kingdom, and live in naught but a shack in the forest.”

  “The great hero had no choice but to follow through. Too many innocent lives were at stake were he to fight back against the council. So he did. And he lived for ages in the shack, never seen again, and his name cut out of history.”

  Shammus finally opens his eyes, as he remembers how it really happened. The insults thrown at his face, his blaming for the deaths of his close comrades. The ‘evidence’ was simply just the mission he was told to do.

  “They really changed the story, huh?”

  “Well of course, it’s not by historians, it’s by entertainers. History is twisted by entertainers to make it more… fun, more easy to digest. More rhythmic.” Judine answers Shammus’s question, “But I wonder, you speak as if you don’t just know the story, but rather you lived it.”

  “That’s right…” He felt dry, his very voice felt prewritten. “The hero’s name is actually Shammus, and I was the one who killed the innocents as ordered by the council. But the story made me seem far nicer.”

  “I had every chance to decline the order. I was strong enough to leave and not kill any innocents. They had no real threats against me. I had no binding spell around my neck.” Shammus knew his guilt was his own, but that’s what was the worst.

  “Also, mind you, that story was pretty similar to what actually occurred. It was just… my guilt was lessened. And I refuse to accept it. I am no person who’s nice, I am no great hero. I simply followed orders.”

  “What do you mean?” Bariton asks, his voice just dripping with curiosity. Curiosity that made Shammus squirm.

  “I was not bound. They had nothing on me other than my meaningless pride.”

  The silence after that word was full. It was gluttonous too, everconsuming.