A Bored Lich

"This way," Thomas said as he led the Fisher family further down a hallway. The walls seemed to close in with each step. He knew it was cruel but what other way was there?

Thomas was weaker than Shay. He couldn't get any information out of the lycanthrope unless he fulfilled his side of the deal. Even then, he could only pray that Shay would stand by his words. The worst case, Thomas could walk away and let the problem fester like a disease. Doevm would probably know what to do.

Thomas wanted to laugh at himself. "Probably" was an understatement. That Lich was never wrong. Doevm could think of thousands of plans and do them all by himself. Doevm, however, wouldn't do any of that because he didn't care about three random people.

Instead of coddling Thomas's mistakes, Doevm would lecture him about his arrogance and naivety, then leave him to solve the situation on his own. Because he wanted Thomas to grow on his own, he wouldn't allow the others to help him either. That was for the best, lest they see Thomas at his worst.

That left the young noble alone, hungry, and out of options so he walked onwards while trying to ignore the pain in his stomach. He picked up the pace, even going so far as to look through doors for anything he could eat. Rat, bird, or even if it was a fly, he would stuff it into his mouth if he saw it. Nothing.

Penelope raised her head up. "What was it like?" she asked, disrupting his thoughts.

"What was what like?" Thomas replied, almost welcoming the distraction.

"Fighting the monster. Was it hard?" Childish fascination and wonder radiated from her curious gaze, and he puffed out his chest a bit.

  "It was tough. Just driving it off was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." Junior leaned closer as Thomas relayed his "glorious" battle. Mr. Fisher opened his mouth to stop the two children from bothering him but Thomas waved him off.

The little sparkle brightened: "I bet you trained a lot, didn't you?"

"I've spent years mastering my spear but the monster was really strong too."

"Can anyone learn to fight?" she asked.

"Anyone can but not everyone does," Thomas quoted Jameson, finding a subtle smile had grown on his face.

"Did you find an old man in the woods and then you learned his ways and then you got super strong?"

Thomas cocked his head to the side. "No, are you asking about a story or something?"

Mr. Fisher stepped closer. "She found a book hidden in a tree and taught herself how to read it," he explained. "She's been fascinated with this stuff ever since."

"But you're just a kid," Thomas gasped. "Even I had trouble and I had teachers."

Penelope nodded. "Yeah it's great but I can't fight off monsters. Speaking of monsters, we never got a good look at the wolf. Was it really big?" She continued to rattle off question after question. "Did it growl at you and everything like that?"

Thomas paused: "It was humongous. It growled a lot. Just a single paw was as big as my chest." He ran his hand over the deep gashes in his chest-piece and, when he pulled back, felt cold blood along his palm. "It was terrifying."

The girl reached over his shoulder and poked at the torn metal. "So your armor kept you alive? Cool." Mr. Fisher stepped a little closer to his daughter, disappointment overtaking his patience.

Thomas frowned. "I could have died. Do you still think it's cool?" Penelope nodded and he contemplated making her walk the rest of the way.

"Penelope, that's enough," Mr. Fisher urged. "You're obviously bothering him."

"I don't know why I can't hear this kind of stuff," Penelope insisted. "Thomas, maybe you can help me understand. My mother is a guard but she never tells us monster stories. She says I'm a girl so I should be more focused on girly stuff but I don't like make-up or talking about boys. Junior and father get to hear her stories but I don't. Isn't that unfair? Why can't I hear about fighting monsters?"

"I think it should be your father's decision," Thomas relented.

Mr. Fisher nodded in agreement. "And my decision, as it always has been, is to wait until you're older to tell you."

Penelope pouted and went silent. Thomas gritted his teeth as he was gently reminded of the burning pain in his stomach: "Would you stop asking questions if I told you?" If Penelope was to die, who was he to deny her a final request? Maybe it could lessen the guilt eating away at his soul, if he even had a soul after the day was over.

He couldn't take much more.

"Yes, I wouldn't ask questions ever again!" Penelope exclaimed.

Thomas took a deep breath. "Penelope, your mother doesn't talk about fighting monsters because she has watched her comrades die. She's been beaten before. You gotta make sacrifices when you fight."

Penelope shook her head: "No, you're lying. My mother's a hero, and heroes don't lose. At the end of the story, the heroes always win."

Thomas could barely think about his words before he blurted them out. The pain was incessantly gnawing away at his mind. "Life is crueler than that," he explained. "Everyone has to struggle for their goals. You don't just train for a few years and you're good to go."

"Monsters don't train like warriors," Penelope insisted but she was hesitating and she knew it. "If monsters don't train, how could they beat people? They can't. It doesn't happen."

Thomas shook his head. "Think about it. If your mother won all the time you wouldn't be here...I'm sorry I didn't mean it like-"

Too late. He looked over his shoulder to find tears welling up in her big brown eyes. He heard a suppressed cry who he assumed was Junior, who curled up tight on his father's back.

Mr. Fisher closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're not to blame," he mouthed the words.

It sure felt that way. Thomas wondered if he really wanted to grant Penelope's last request or if he just wanted to convince himself that sacrificing children was necessary.

The worst part? Penelope sobbed into his back. He could almost feel a part of her childish naivety wither away. He stopped walking and put his head in his hands to hide his tears. Everything just hurt so much. It was too much. 'I hate myself,' he thought. 'This is it, rock bottom. I just made a little girl cry to make myself feel better. I want to go home.'

"I know mother fails sometimes," Penelope sobbed. "Sometimes she would come home and father would send me and my brother into our room but we could still hear her crying. Is it like that?"

Thomas slowly lifted his head out of his hands. A part of the statement resonated within him as if he had forgotten something. After some thought he said, "...yeah, it's like that."

"You knew?" Mr. Fisher gasped.

Penelope nodded. "I didn't want to believe it. I just thought she'd have bad days. I guess you all were right, I don't understand. Why does mother want to be a guard? Why would anyone do something that makes them sad?"

"Because sometimes people have to make sacrifices for the greater good," Thomas echoed his former statement but he couldn't make it sound as believable as before. His words came out hollow.

"Sacrifices...like training?" Penelope asked.

"No, sacrificing people," Thomas wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore as a new pain took the form of a throbbing headache.

"Penelope, stop bothering the poor man," Mr. Fisher barked. "We should be moving on with the time he's provided for us."

"No but he is wrong, father," Penelope argued. "Mother cries but not because people died."

"Why do you think your mother cries then?" Thomas practically begged just to get it over with.

Penelope wiped a tear away and said, "After she would cry, she would train harder and longer than usual. Sometimes father would have to carry her home because she trained for so long. After she'd finished training, she'd cry less. That means mother cried because she had to train harder.. That was her sacrifice. Isn't that what it takes to be a knight, to be strong?"