Fifty-our years, had he wanted to he could have entered retirement by now, but no, he had to stay here and continue training these snot-nosed brats...
Oh god, how he sometimes lamented his choice from back then...
When one turned fifty as a hunter they are given a few choices...
There is the choice of retirement, mostly given to accomplished hunters, like himself, who had once killed a wyvern almost alone, a deed that earned him a medal from the king, a title from the pope of the god of hunts, though by now he tended to forget names easily, and relief in facing his sister and, one day, parents, when they died.
Actually, his parents were very virile for their age, still kicking at around eighty years, each of them.
But what was even more terrifying, he suddenly realized, was that his cat was stil alive, now thirty-four years old...
It would outlive him at this rate, he thought, slightly smiling.
And with that smile he also gave a smidge of hope to the cadets, normal hunters, he was making train outside, that was for sure.
How he knew that?
One of those insects, those flies, now flew, or rather, walked towards him, timidly, towards one of the top ten strongest people in the entire continent, despite his absurd age for active hunters, most dying around forty-five years, and asked him something, every word being hard to hear as he stuttered far too much, as if he was a machine that made every single word inaudible.
The child looked to be about twenty years old, older than the time he had applied for the hunters, not that he cared much, he had seen many such young people die, that was not his problem if he was suffering.
Better to suffer here than to die out here, that was what his instructor had told him when he had been suffering, but on the other hand, it did give him quite the bulk, he had big and strong muscles now, not even having backpain, despite his advanced age, something that lured out another gin of his stone face as some called him.
Actually, when he thought about it, the title of open-mouth had now become something they said he had gotten after he ate the meat of his enemies, devouring the heart of a wyvern and a wyrm with an open mouth, not that that came from the truth, he had been too exhausted after the wyvern to even think about that, not even really understanding how he won that until today.
And his wife referred to him as open-mouth because, according to her, he was always leaving it open for flies to swarm in when he slept, snoring like a factory that made wooden saws so others could replicate even a smidge of the sound.
... she had laughed after she had first told him that, eight years ago...
God, that was the reason he had married he-
"Sir?" the recruit, looking like a dork and being quite bad at using magic from what he had seen until now asked, ripping him out of his daydreams, not good for him.
"What?" Rondel snarled back, a bit of spit coming onto the body for which he was slightly sorry, but still, that was part of his job after all...
Indeed, there had to be someone to toughen them up, lest they be ripped apart by a band of goblins, ravaged by hunger after the cold months, or worn as living clothes by the orcish fey out there, beings he had killed in the thousands by now, each time feeling sorry for those they wore as clothes, stitched together as jackets, coats, and many other things, one of the worst things one could ever see, and each as powerful as a wyrm...
They had been discovered shortly after the wyvern had fallen, after he had gotten the title of dragon-heart, wyvern being a subspecies of dragons after all, and he had been so scared back when he had first seen them...
And with that his good mood was gone and the child looked like he was about to urinate onto himself, something that had previously actually happened, resulting in that child getting the nickname of yellow-leg, a result he was kind of proud of himself for.
Still , at least the child had the gall to continue his question, though now his comrades seemed angry and shushing him, nervous about something Rondel was unsure of where it had come from.
"Sir" he prostrated himself, though Rondel never thought much of that tradition, "We should have gotten to rest two hours ago, I was asked to ask you for rest, sir."
Oh, he didn't...
That little fart didn't just question him, I mean, he did forget the rest-hours, his watch having stopped some time ago as it seemed, his mind not even really realizing it, perhaps age getting to him, but this little twat just questioning him?
Actually, normally he would have just let them go at some point, but if today was already a long day, the sun just refusing to go down, as it normally went down along the time where they had to go rest, his choice of setting it with the dawn, why not let it stay with that.
Had he given his emotions control over his face, he would have had a devilish grin, but really, he didn't enjoy the thought of standing out here for a few more hours either, it was just too boring after all, he enjoyed his hunts, powerful beings, more after all, and at the current rate he might very well reach the next rank soon.
"You will work, train, run, until the sun sets, as you have always done, now back to your station, " he paused for the fraction of a second, "miss ask-the-question".
Ooh, that one wasn't so bad, he liked it, especially that he misspoke and said miss instead of mister, then there was the fact it would probably be one to stick, which the child also realized as he sighed and seemed to have his shoulders fall down before quickly catching them, fearing even more coming from Rondel.
Yep, those were the small things he liked about this job...
He sighed, bored again.