Traveler’s tale

The hot summer sun rests down on the already dry land I’m slowly marching through. I’m
slowing down, asking myself:” Where am I?” I’m firmly holding onto the leather map I was
given:” This must be it, but it looks nothing like the Valbridge I’ve heard of. “ In front of me was
not a city, but a mere shadow of one. It was just a huge pile of rocks, which once represented
homes. This city stays empty and lifeless, with an eerie sense of doom surrounding it. I’m
walking slowly through what looks like a street, witnessing the falling of the once finest
manmade buildings. It’s fascinating to see how years of effort crash in a matter of seconds,
leaving just bricks behind. In the distance, blurred by the sand, I manage to see a man. As I
walked towards him, I could see him more clearly. He had a grey beard that was sliding down
the sand, leaving a trail behind it. He was short, old, and had an extremely curved back, and on
his back he was carrying a huge bag, even bigger than him. „Who are you? “, I asked him, once I
was close enough for him to hear me. At first, I thought he didn’t hear me, and as I opened my
mouth in order to repeat my question, he turns around, exposing his face full of deep cuts, each
having a story of its own. He looked right into my soul with his huge, tired and almost
completely red eyes, full of misery and pain. By the movement of his overgrown beard, I was
able to figure out he was about to say something, when he mumbled:” Why I’m just a
shopkeeper here! By the looks of your puzzled face, I may way your interest is to know what
happened here, is it not? “. Confused, I slowly moved my head up and down, showing approval,
on which he responded by inviting me to his shop. Several minutes of walking behind him
through this deserted town, we finally arrived in his shop. I sat down on a surprisingly
comfortable mattress, while the old man was pouring steaming hot tea into a cup. It was silent,
almost painfully silent. The whistling of the cold wind through the ruins of this once great city
was everything I could hear. The shopkeeper dropped down on a mattress in front of me. I could
feel his relief to be finally sitting. He ran his fingers through his beard a few times, and then he
started to tell me the tale of this place. „Just a few short years ago“, he said: “here laid, in all of
its glory, the city of Valbridge, the capital of Dormere, city whose residents were always striving
to sharpen their bodies and minds in the pursuit of absolute justice. Led by its king, Wamor the
Third, it stood for morale and justice, harshly punishing crime of any sort. The skyline was
decorated with the tips of high towers, built from marble and white stone. Truly a marvelous
place to live, until the war occurred, that is. You see, war is what turned this place into a
wasteland. The people of Badham attacked us over night, we didn’t see it coming. They...they...“,
the old man closed his eyes and started to cough violently. I jumped up and went next to him, to
make sure he is okay. He finally stopped coughing, and said:” They destroyed everything, and
killed everyone they could. Only the lucky managed to escape to Ostgate. The souls of the dead
remain within the walls of the buildings, creating negative energy, nobody can stay here and not
become insane. “. I was full of question, but the first one that came out of my mind was:” Well, I
stayed here for quite some time now, and I feel well“. He stood up, looked me right in the eyes
and said:” Or do you? “. Upon finishing his sentence he vanished into thin air, as well as his shop
and everything in it. I suddenly found myself sitting on a rock. I tried hard not to scream.
All on my own, I had time to rethink the purpose of this whole journey, asking myself why I am
undergoing such risk to find an answer to some pity question. I have survived 15 long years
without knowing my true origin, why not spend the rest of it like that? Badham was on a
crusade through this earth, killing all in its path, it would be a miracle that my mother is even
alive at this point. Maybe this whole journey was just a waste of time. I’ve left my home and all
the loving people that took care of me, for nothing. As I got up, determinant to go back to my
village, I took that one letter that set me on my path and ripped it into pieces. Piece by piece, I
started throwing the letter onto the ground, never to be seen again. Blood rushed through my
body as I prepared to throw the last piece of the letter, a piece containing my mother’s
signature and the words:” I hope you forgive me one day, Galoi. I love you“. And on the bottom
there was written:” Mom“. That once again gave meaning to my whole quest; it made me
understand that I am not a person, but a mere shell of one, a lost soul, seeking to find its roots.
It made me realize that that was not the end of my journey, it has just only begun, and I was
willing to get to the end. With no fear, I began my adventure, not knowing where it will take me.
Such is the plight of man, an endless journey into an unknown world that cares little about our
existence until it reclaims our soul, leaving a dead body to deteriorate in the ground until the
end of time.