Almost a year ago.
I open my eyes and look at the tarpaulin above me. While the bed is warm, the freezing cold runs into my face, invading the flesh and bones of the rest of my body piece by piece. The brittle bones grate on one another, causing small pains that are the constant companions of my life by now.
I don’t sleep often, but when I do, I always regret it. I look at the woman next to me, she’s much younger than I, and I notice that something is different from usual. Normally, I get a sense of victory and accomplishment whenever I make my bed warm for the night, but somehow I feel a strange strain from my shoulders to my cheeks, and something alike to pain just behind my forehead. It doesn’t feel good.
Maybe I’m sick. This would be something new, I was never sick before. I don’t know how old I am exactly, but my skin is shriveled, my hair is gray, and my muscles are waning. I’ve become much older than I’d ever expected, so maybe my health has deteriorated enough for me to catch a cold or something.
I slip out of the sheets and look for the trousers that I carelessly threw away yesterday in the act. I grit my teeth to fight back against the chill, but I won’t complain about minor discomforts like freezing temperatures.
With trousers on, I leave the tent. The grass under my naked feet is covered in rime, and I can see heaps of snow around the camp, serving as a cover against the wind. There are several men and women wrestling with each other on an open space that serves as a playground.
Someone greets me from within this cluster of tents. “Good morning, father.” This is my daughter. Or is it the cohabitant of one of my sons? She also wears only trousers. Some of the women of our tribe like to at least use a piece of cloth to make their breasts not sway around, but in this case, there is barely anything to work with. “I’ll fill you a bowl.”
“Sure.” What is her name again? While she looks like a Sveta, it may have been the name of her mother. I’m sure I had a partner called Sveta at some point. Remembering all of them and which one had a child with me is difficult, due to how many there were over the course of decades.
I really have to be sick. My heart hurts a bit. Maybe the ‘exercise’ yesterday was too much.
With the bowl in my hand, I go to my fire and chair. I drink and eat and think about the days my brothers-in-arms used to drop by, back when we were younger and any of them lived. Olvert was the last one, the tribe laid him to rest last summer, and since then, I have spent my meals mostly alone. Aside from the greetings, that is.
Everyone who passes me greets me. This is to be expected for a well-known warrior such as me, someone who lifted this clan out of the dirt to one of the greatest ever known… Somehow, thinking that used to impress me more.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something is different today. I watch my offspring eating at the same fire, some of the younger ones even fighting about who feeds the baby. That’s probably not mine, so either a grandchild or a great-grandchild. They call it Tor. A former chieftain of the clan was called Torvald, so maybe that’s the real name and Tor is just a nickname? Has to be a boy then.
Taking care of babies is a chore. I always left this to my mates. When I was younger, I used to play with and teach the children after some years, at least when they were old enough to hold weapons. At some point, I even stopped doing that.
Fir, Freyn, Olwald, Svetson, then… I don’t know. Hilda, Gunri, Jevska… I certainly have more children, but I forgot most of their names.
What do they have to do with me anyway? What is that? This mushy feeling in my head, in my chest.
I need to stop sleeping entirely. It may be nice after exhausting yourself, but that’s not worth feeling this strange like today. . It has to be an illness.
―○●○―
The current day.
The sun greets the new morning, and I stretch my arms. These old bones creak, reminding me of their frailty. Like every single day. “Urgh—”
“Is something wrong, Grekk?” asks a young blonde girl. Her name is Katarine, and she’s royalty. The oldest princess of a kingdom two or three months to the southeast, a kingdom that has a respectable military might and while it has very fertile lands, my clan only bothered with it once during my lifetime.
Good lands often bring strong people with it. Maybe it’s the good food that makes people that powerful.
“Only age, Rine-kun.” This is her nickname here, though Kati would make more sense to me. Well, as we both are the only people from this world within this group, I shouldn’t wonder about different naming senses.
Rine-kun has blonde hair that barely touches her shoulders, rose-colored skin, and stunningly bright eyes that show the fire that lives within this very cheerful girl. She’s also a real beauty. If I were back in my twenties or thirties, I’d totally try to bang her.
She’s also the strongest in this group. Agile, skilled with the sword, and a honed battle-instinct. Also a hero despite not being from another world. It has something to do with the ring on her finger, but I don’t really get it.
Rine-kun and I did the second nightshift. Or rather, I just didn’t sleep. Since learning how to deal without, I don’t indulge in it often. Especially since last year, when waking up became a repeating experience of soberness, additional pain, and regret.
Though not needing sleep doesn’t mean not needing rest, which has become especially clear now that I’m old. So we had a nice conversation for a while, while sitting at the fire to warm ourselves up. Winter is coming, and I find myself thinking of whether asking for a blanket is already too much. I used to run through the winter topless, but now look at me: Wearing a poncho above my bare skin because I feel so cold lately.
“The sun is up, time to wake the others,” Rine-kun says with excitement as she jumps straight from her ass to her feet. She goes to the tent that stands next to a cart, then she stops and seems to think about something for a second, then she goes on her tiptoes.
“Phew… What are you doing?” The sharp male voice from the tent sounds half yawning.
Rine-kun sways her head slightly while blushing. “I want to give you a wake-up kiss.”
A third voice chimes in, it sounds distant and intellectual: “Would you mind not indulging in your mating rituals in the tent I’m sleeping in?”
“Ara! Good morning!”
“Good morning, Katarine-san. Also, good morning, Momo.”
Now another voice joins the conversation: “Good morning, everyone. Rine-chan, please remember to keep some distance.”
“That’s unfair, Kyou!”
“You broke two ribs yesterday and if Ken and I weren’t heroes, I would have spent hours trying to rearrange every bone fragment!”
“To be precise, Momo, Kenta-kun’s ribs were already broken and she just displaced the fragments.”
“I’m sorry, alright!”
“Rine-chan, I like you, and while you may be more physical than I deem necessary, I don’t want to talk you into that. Unless it causes harm to my patient.”
“But you can’t just-”
Rine-kun gets interrupted by the intellectual voice. “Katarine-san, Momo? I think Kenta-kun has to say something.”
With a hoarse voice, the only male in this conversation speaks up the moment the other two went silent: “Too noisy! My head is splitting!”
“Ah, sorry Kenta.”
“…let’s give you some painkillers and then I make breakfast. Let’s talk things out after that.”
“Sure! Anything I can do to help?”
“Would you start peeling some vegetables? Arako, make some water for washing.”
“You want to wash Kenta-kun!?”
“I want to wash myself. About him… *sniff* Still doable for a day.”
“Stop sniffing me!”
This makes me laugh. “Kahahaha!” This is legitimately funny! Time for me to come in, I stand up and go to the tent, moving the tarp inside. “Lad, should I wash you?”
The boy I’m speaking to is Katsuragi Kenta. He’s rather short and most of his black hair is covered by bandages, same as his body. What is visible from his skin is covered in black and brown-yellow bruises. “Heck no!” Even though it visibly hurts him, he still screams at me.
“Ken, don’t get worked up too much. Also Grekk-san, would you mind not upsetting him?” The lass next to him looks like she could be his beautiful sister, long black hair, dark eyes, and a body which is almost as exciting as Rine-kun’s. Her name is Momokawa Kyou, also a hero.
“Momo, you’ve not been fun since yesterday. Are you so jealous of Katarine-san?” The other lass inside the tent has long white hair in a wild ponytail, and long, pointy ears. As she speaks, her face barely moves, while her ears seem to never stop, which paired with her blue-green double iris, high cheek-bones, and long nasal bone makes her look alien. Well, she’s an alfr after all. She insists on not being called an elf.
“This has nothing to do with it! You know that even if it did, it would be an easy fix! If you had [Check-up] in addition to being able to look at his status, you would vomit! *Inhale* Now we all calm down, being overly excited will only be bad for Ken. Ken, is there anything we can do for you?”
“…” He silently nods into my direction, and I know what he means. Then he turns to Kyou-kun and then asks: “Would you help me up?”
“Why would- oh. Sure.” She seems to also understand, maybe because she can determine his physical condition with a glance?
“Why? Why? Why?” Ara-kun begins to inquire in a tone that maximizes the annoyance.
“Please stop, Arako. You also know.”
“I want you to say it. Because I don’t have the [Check-up]-skill, as you kindly reminded me, and therefore can only make educated guesses. Does Kenta-kun want your help to masturbate? Or is it just defecation?”
I really like the alfr-lass, but when she’s pissed, she’s relentless. “Come on, lad,” I say and grab Ken-kun by his shoulder, lifting him up with little problem. Though it’s apparent that he’s feeling an intense pain.
This causes Kyou-kun to quickly give him some herbs to swallow, and ease washes over his face.
“What are you doing?” Ara-kun asks me in an act of curiosity.
“Just a dick-measuring contest,” I answer in a chuckle, which makes her satisfied enough. Kyou-kun and Ken-kun certainly cringe from that, though it’s actually not that far away from the truth, as the lad has to take a piss, and has problems to do so without someone supporting his body-weight.
As the only other man here, it falls on me to help him. “Phew…” he sighs, lamenting his sorry fate. I must say, for someone who can’t harden up his body, it’s a miracle that he even survived that fall from the cliff. Being a hero seems to have its benefits. “This is becoming worse…” he mumbles.
“The pain or the girls?” I try my best to not chuckle, to sound wiser than I really am. I’m the oldest here, after all.
“The latter.”
“I think they may be butt-hurt.”
“Hah?”
“I mean, your confession and such. You’re popular, Red Ranger!”
“…shit.” He must remember how his confession yesterday went and how it was not entirely what he expected. “This is enough, just keep me standing.” He grabs his improvised diaper that he had to wear while sleeping and pulls it down, then takes his junk, whose colorfulness makes even a former hardened warrior like me cringe, and lets it out as well as he can.
Most of it falls into the diaper as I witness seconds of pure agony, despite the pain killing herbs in his system. “Phew…” After he’s done he sighs in relief and looks at the accident. “…I need help.” He certainly feels pathetic right now.
I can feel this, I was the same a long time ago. In a sense, I’m also afraid to eventually turn into that. Yet somehow helping him makes me feel good. “Time to get you into your armor,” I say joyfully. “Then let’s grab a bite.”
I hate being wed in a fantasy world! 