The sound of flowing water constantly rang out in a small, poorly lit room, as a man stood over a large stone sink, masterfully washing dishes. His movements were quick and precise as he effortlessly handled the dirty utensils, taking care not to miss any spot or stain of food.
He seemed to be moving on instinct, with his gaze unfocused, deep in thought.
Quite a few minutes of mindless labour passed before the man realized he was done.
Thoroughly drying his hands on one of the towels hanging on the right-hand side of the sink, he walked out of the room, into the hall, closing the wooden door behind him.
The Four Fingers Inn was a well-known establishment located in the city center of the Velera Duchy, a territory under the Kingdom of Dorthe. Passed through numerous generations, it had become a staple in the community, hosting a large number of locals and foreigners almost every day.
The man trudged through the narrow space, then climbed the flight of stairs leading to the main floor of the building.
Without stopping, he continued on his way towards his quarters, occasionally answering to the remarks of his employees and coworkers.
He was quite popular.
"Mr. Rhonin, today went well."
"Nice work."
"Another day survived, good job, Rhonin."
Rhonin's fame was a natural thing, after all, not many owners go around entertaining, serving, or otherwise taking part in the completion of menial tasks such as washing the dishes.
Paired with the fact that the Four Fingers Inn, besides being his business, was also his home only accentuated this.
Finally arriving in front of his door, he slipped in the room, took off his shoes together with his work clothes and immediately laid down naked on the messy bed.
Through his tired, half-closed eyelids, one could almost make out the helplessness within.
Staring at the dark ceiling, he reminisced of a better time.
Childhood had been quite fun indeed, he thought.
Being taken care of, loved unconditionally by your parents, going to school and making friends.
What could be better than that? A breathless murmur escaped Rhonin's lips. He smirked unconsciously, if only for a split second, before his expression reverted back to neutral.
Many years had passed, he was twenty-eight now, still his mother's face was always in the background, haunting him about how they had lost her, how he had lost her.
His father, Kazenu, a foreign man from a land far away, was undoubtedly the person affected the most by it.
For the sake of his children, Rhonin and his two younger siblings, the man never faltered, he just kept going.
He fought like a warrior, so much so that it took a heavy toll on his health, until one day the inevitable happened.
With his death, his oldest, Rhonin, inherited his dad's proud business, The Four Fingers.
For a considerable time after that, Rhonin became extremely busy.
Mostly with matters revolving around the inn and caring for his younger brother Vabaen and younger sister Syanna.
Unlike Rhonin who was nearing his thirties by now, Vabaen and Syanna were just seventeen at the time of their father's death a few months back. The twins and Rhonin were never really that close.
One reason being the substantial age gap between them, and the fact that upon his mother's death Rhonin was just entering his teens, a time where most people more or less would form their life's path, while the twins were barely fresh out of the oven.
It was a foregone conclusion that such a traumatic experience would have a ginormous impact on a young boy, exponentially more than on a couple of forgetful babies.
Still, there wasn't any resentment on either side, just a very basic familial bond.
On the other hand, Rhonin was quite bitter and angry towards his father, the man who no doubt loved him, but very clearly never had too high of expectations for his eldest.
His final wish for his son included nothing but burdens and responsibilities, shackles.
Rhonin simply couldn't see it any other way, yet he set out to accomplish, each and every one of them.
He managed the inn, he slaved every single day and night to be able to send his brother and sister to a prestigious Academy in the heart of the Kingdom kilometers away.
He worked on building everybody else's dream, but his own.
Eventually the work was done, there was nothing else to do.
Then came the realization; it was while complaining and putting on his usual show for the paying customers about how he was an honourable knight who gave up on his dream for the good of others.
He never truly had one, a goal to strive for, nothing but childish fantasies and heroic tales of events that never happened.
Just like ignorance is bliss, wisdom is misery. Rhonin looked deep inside his heart and found no one; he didn't know who he was. He tried filling the void with physical exertion, doing tasks he wasn't obligated to do. He even took up hobbies and tried to form genuine connections.
At the end of the day, though, he was alone, his only remaining family members made minimum efforts to communicate, even after all he'd done for them. Some would say he was set for an easy life, that the road to happiness was blossoming under his every step, after all didn't he have the privilege of owning an increasingly successful establishment minus almost all the drawbacks, like providing for five different family members?
With his siblings under the care of the Academy, Rhonin had nothing and no one to worry about except himself.
Unfortunately, this supposed easy path to a better future felt suffocating to Rhonin. It wasn't that the man enjoyed difficulties, quite the opposite, in fact, if it wasn't for the duties faithfully passed down to him from his father, he most certainly would slack off any chance he got. Assuming that a task is easy, Rhonin was prone to gravitate towards it...
With a long and heavy sigh, Rhonin dispersed the jumbled thoughts circling around in his head and decided to get some shut-eye.
Like many others, this day had been exhausting, in more ways than one.
It wasn't too long before sleep overtook him completely. It was a dreamless night.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
!!
Rhonin practically flew off the bed in his fright at the sudden explosive sound of a horn that must've rippled throughout the whole city.
Unable to control his momentum, he crashed into a couple of pieces of furniture, his naked form doing nothing to lessen the impact against any sharp edges. Immediately, he fell on the floor, very much like a dead fish, before curling up from the pain.
"F*****ck!" Rhonin at this point felt absolutely done, preferring to stay right there on the floor instead of getting up again.
A couple of minutes later, though, that proved to be impossible as the heavy commotion outside, following the initial loud sound, was too maddening to ignore.
Panicking, he donned a pair of unwashed clothes lying on the floor, slipped on his shoes and burst out of the room. Immediately, his ears were treated to a chaotic cacophony of sounds that made his face scrunch up.
Many of his work acquaintances could be seen running around like headless chickens.
Rhonin, having still not completely been roused from his slumber, didn't really have the brainpower to speculate and figure the horn's obvious true meaning.
Just as he was about to snatch one of the chickens to interrogate, a familiar elderly man approached hurriedly.
"Rhonin, you're finally awake, was on the verg—"
"What's happening, Regis?" Rhonin rudely interrupted the old man named Regis with a question.
Regis paused for a moment, likely gathering his thoughts and not actually hurt by the other party's less-than-ideal tone.
Rather, a light, thrilled smirk tugged at his lips as he stated the current situation in one single word.
"WAR."