Keenin's father had been the first to go. He knew this because Keenin never remembered having such a person in his life. I figured Keenin’s father left the small community of Stonefield in search of treasure in the days of The War of Gold. His mother had been there making bread, scattering flour across the counter and floorboards. Keenin used to sit drawing pictures in the dust. He wasn't expected to go anywhere. 

We who found him as a child knew this because he didn't speak to us even when we passed him food to eat and told him that we were going to use his empty house. I had to throw Keenin out of his home to make him realize there was more to the world than waiting for a missing parent. He had picked himself up from the ground and noticed me then. That’s when we realized that we were friends. 

Eventually Keenin followed me to work, and by work I mean to steal things. He was good at being quiet and I was good with time. We might have all stayed together in his house like this except that the authorities came by and I guess that they didn't know that Keenin had actually lived there so we all had to leave. That’s when we adopted a castle in the graveyard. Alright, it wasn't a castle. It was what people would have called a masolium and it was damn cold, but nobody bothered us there.

That was a good time in our lives and I thought that one day I could get a more honest job and we could make this world work in our favor.   

Then…we lived our lives.     

Those were the last words of the story he had spoken to the knight Rupert Saulsberry, an ironic guy known more famously for his talking horse. Rupert had been interested to know who Lester missed the most since he left home to be a knight. And in the end Lester had come to see that he and Keenin had parted ways long before the journey began.

Lestor often thought about it as he rode horseback down the dirt roadways with the horizon at his back and time stretching out in front. Today, a younger knight named Steven rode with him, keeping the slow pace as they neared home. Steven was one of the new recruits and this time it had been Lester’s turn to take him along.

"You must have more good stories left to tell," Steven said.

Lestor had told him a story about waking up with a skunk on his stomach as a punishment for not waking up early enough for his teacher. It had taken Lestor a good three months before he stopped falling asleep on watch and sleeping in till noon. His previous life as a nighttime thief combined with his body’s need to preserve energy between meals had made him sluggish.

"It’s not as though I accomplished any worthy deeds like slaying a dragon," Lester replied as he lightly pulled his horse’s bridal to keep him on track.

Dragons and other monsters usually kept to remote corners of the world. Dia’s draconian friend Clide had assured them that ice dragons had no intention of leaving their snow-covered mountains.

“But you were so confident with those bandits.”

“Experience,” Lester said. “That’s all it is.”

“You cut them right down.”

“Well, they should not have killed so casually for their money.”

There was only so much criminal behavior he could turn a blind eye to. 

“I am sorry that I threw up on you.”

That…

“It happens,” Lester said. “Put my laundry skills to good use.”

“Seriously. Laundry skills?”

“My punishment for getting into fights during my school training. Next time remember to bring extra clothes. And bring more rope and less spell charms. Those bits of paper work about half the time and only if your target gets in range,” Lester told him. 

“I’ll try to remember,” Steven said. 

As they approached the City of Meladona he could see a crowd growing by the gates as more visitors arrived for the peacetime festival to be held the following evening. It was a nice affair with bright clothes, lots of food, and many performances. 

The first year Lester had drunk till he passed out at the tavern and Dia and his friends had managed to get him over to her house, tie him to a chair with ribbons, and decorated him like a girl. This year, he was returning because he felt bad spoiling a kid’s fun. 

“Lucky that we made it back in time,” Steven said. “It would have been a shame to miss the festival.”

“A bit too many people for my liking,” Lester said. 

“Really. I thought you like chatting. Those villagers enjoyed your company.”

“That was called business negotiation. It’s reserved for privileged clients and underprivileged individuals who truly need some help.” 

“Did you at least talk to your friend Dia again?”

Lester had been out with Steven a few times and had let slip his irritation with Dia’s situation. 

“I left a letter in her room.”

“What sort of letter?”

“It was some ballad that an admirer wrote. I thought the guy should have a chance.”

“You gave her someone else’s love letter.”

“She deserved it. Heck, the guy deserved it. If she’s only going to live for so long, then she should learn to relax and enjoy herself. She’s acting like romance it too good for her delicate sensibilities and it’s pissing me off, after all that Keenin did.”

“What about you and Natsuka, I think you said her name was.”

The memory of her freckled face and auburn hair falling loose from a delicate crown of braids came to mind. 

“It was nothing special,” Lester replied. 

If she was still waiting for him now, he would be surprised. 

“Really,” Steven nudged. “Because if you wanted to make up the festival is a good time.”

“So I hear.”

As they approached the gate, people moved to the side to let them through. They passed lazily under the shadow of the wide archway and into a brightly lit inner courtyard, this one featuring a statue of Meladona’s the first ruling king. 

“I am serious,” Steven said. 

“No more talking,” Lester said. “Let me worry about my own matters.”

They quietly made their way to the city block owned by the Order of the Holy Knights. The only notable feature other than the crescent shaped barracks reserved for younger knights, was the tall tower that housed a library of precious books - mostly restricted for the use of the Lotus Guild. Guild members with higher standing were issued nearby government housing. 

Outside the stables Lester dismounted and lifted off his saddlebags. A stable hand came forward to secure his horse. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Steven asked, turning his horse around. “We have to report.”

“The bandits are gone. I’m sure you can pass that along,” Lester said. 

“I guess…” Steven relented. 

Lester slung the saddle bag over his shoulder.

“Or we can both slack off.”

“No. I’ll do it,” Steven said. “It’s part of the experience, right..”

“You are the best.”

Lester turned and wandered back out to the streets, passing along a line of row houses, occasionally returning the greetings of friends and companions. In little time he came to stand in front of the door to his home. A basket of eggs had been left at the door, likely from a certain farm girl. You offer to fix a broken wagon one time and look what happens. The local kids had stolen all but one egg.  

His eyes slid from the basket to a familiar piece of paper tucked under the door. This he bent down to retrieve. 

It’s always worth the wait.

The message gave him mixed feelings. For one, he loved the way she let him indulge in heroic deeds. But who wanted to wait for someone who was never there? 

*