While the knights finished off the remaining orcs, Zepar began inspecting the armor worn by the latter. It wasn't rare to see monsters in armor, but it wasn't common either.
"Custom made, by a professional from the looks of it," he muttered.
"I thought the same thing," one of the knights agreed. "It's not a small task to forge armor for orcs, either."
"No," agreed Zepar. "It isn't." He stood up from his crouched position and turned to face the knight. "Well met, I'm Zepar Blackthorne of Gilramore."
"Captain Jeremiah Vance of Ravenwood," Vance replied. "We owe you a debt, Master Zepar. We'd have perished without your aid."
"Just Zepar, Captain," Zepar said with a grin. "I'm still merely an apprentice."
"Well then, your master must be some teacher," Vance replied. "But I'd imagine with a display like that, you've got plenty of raw talent."
"In any case, I think I'll look into this matter," Zepar said solemnly.
"Why don't you join us on our journey home then?" another knight suggested. "Safety in numbers, right?"
Zepar gave the knight a once over. He was young, around Zepar's age. But he still had life and hope in his crystal-blue eyes. He held his helmet under his arm, allowing his long blonde hair to cascade over the back of his armor. He was shaven, but a bit of stubble had already begun growing again.
"Was this your first real battle?" Zepar inquired.
"Yes sir," the knight replied.
"What's your name?" Zepar asked.
"Orin," the knight said. "Orin, son of Valen."
"Well Orin, son of Valen," Zepar began. "First rule is, there's no such thing as safe."
Vance laughed at that. "You're not wrong."
With that, the knights resumed their journey home, with Zepar tagging along. When asked what had brought them so far from home, they answered that they had been tasked with escorting a visiting noble home. Apparently said noble had sent his own guard home without him to inform his parents that he'd be staying longer.
When night fell, Captain Vance suggested they all make camp. Travelling at night wasn't wise since many predators were night hunters. Zepar agreed, and offered to take the first watch. The knights were all too happy to accept his offer, especially after seeing how efficiently he'd dealt with the orcs.
Zepar sat by the now mostly extinguished campfire, stirring the embers with a stick from the ground. He'd been asking himself why he'd bothered helping these knights in the first place. Asking why he was following them home, ostensibly to look into the orc matter, while in reality, he simply worried whether they would survive the trip without his aid.
"You're not subtle, are you?" Zepar questioned.
"Aw, I thought I'd managed to sneak up on ya," Orin replied with a chuckle before dropping onto a log next to Zepar. "Got some sharp senses huh?"
"Hardly," Zepar scoffed. "That armor of yours clinks loud enough to wake the dead."
"I suppose you're right," Orin admitted. "But for us non-magic types, armor is a must."
"True, but why not seek out a mage to enchant it to be quiet?" Zepar asked.
"Mages charge a king's ransom for services like that," Orin said with a sigh. "And no noble in the world is gonna dedicate funds to making their soldiers more stealthy."
"I guess I never thought about that," Zepar admitted. "I've never thought of my magic as a way to make money."
"Most don't…at first," Orin said. "But everyone needs money eventually."
Zepar nodded thoughtfully.
"By the way, you should really do something about that infuriating look in your eyes," Zepar warned.
"What look?" Orin asked in confusion.
"That hopeful 'I wanna make the world a better place' look," Zepar sneered. "Being an idealist is gonna get you and others killed on the battlefield."
"Where'd that come from?" Orin asked, mildly offended.
"Experience," Zepar replied. "The world is a cruel and unforgiving place, and idealism will only lead to suffering."
Orin studied him for a long moment before speaking again, and when he did, he sounded annoyingly patient and understanding.
"Ah, in other words, you lost hope a long time ago," he said quietly.
"You could say that," Zepar said quietly. "Anyways, I'm going to get some rest, since you're here, I guess you'll be taking the next watch." He stood up and turned to head to the edge of the camp to rest. He'd only walked a few steps when he heard Orin speak again.
"It may be naive, or even foolish," Orin began. "But I'll hang on to my hope a bit longer."
"Why bother?" Zepar challenged without turning to face Orin again.
"Because nothing will change if everyone gives up," Orin replied.
Zepar said nothing, not trusting himself to speak in the moment. Because deep down in a part of himself he thought he'd buried years ago, he couldn't help but grudgingly respect Orin's resolve, and envy his strength of will. He rolled out his bedroll and laid down to rest, hoping this strange new feeling would vanish by morning.