The campfire had begun to die down, leaving only small tongues of flame lazily dancing in the dark.
The wood burned slowly, releasing soft cracks—like whispers carried by the night.
Eiran was still awake.
He had been lying on his back for a long time, staring up at the sky where only fragments of stars could be seen between the ancient branches of The Oldreach. But his eyes weren't truly looking at the stars.
He was thinking about them.
These twelve people.
People who laughed as if the world had never been cruel to them.
At last, Eiran sat up.
"Captain," he said quietly.
Kael turned his head. "Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
Kael smiled faintly. "You've asked a lot of questions today."
"This one… is about all of you."
A few of the unit heard him. Bram grinned.
"Oh no. Is this a confession session?"
"If you start crying, I'm leaving," Daren added.
Eiran shook his head quickly. "I just… want to know."
He looked at them one by one.
"Why are you here?"
Silence followed.
Not an awkward silence.
But the kind that comes when people decide—alright, let's be honest tonight.
Bram
"I used to have a village," Bram said casually.
"Up north. Cold. Harsh. The people were harsher."
He stared into the fire, then laughed softly.
"The village was destroyed. No heroic tale. No grand war."
"Just… gone."
He took a swig of his drink.
"I walked. Fought. Lived from day to day."
"Until one night, I collapsed in front of a bar."
He gestured vaguely toward Loxra.
"Helder and Mara didn't ask who I was."
"Didn't care if I was a barbarian or a beggar."
Bram glanced at Kael.
"The captain didn't come to that bar to recruit."
"He just came to drink."
He chuckled.
"I challenged him. I lost."
"Not because he was strong—"
"but because he refused to fall."
He shrugged.
"So I followed him."
"Because I didn't want to walk alone anymore."
Daren
Daren leaned back, his grin wide.
"In the city, they called me a soldier," he said.
"In my village… they called me a swordsman."
He snorted.
"In the kingdom?"
"They called me 'unclear.'"
A few quiet laughs followed.
"I have talent."
"But no lineage."
"No emblem."
He looked at Eiran.
"I don't want to be a knight for honor."
"I want to prove that people without names…"
"can still stand side by side."
Sereth
Sereth spoke after a brief pause.
"My family was noble," he said calmly.
"Once."
Firelight reflected in his eyes.
"When we fell, nothing I said mattered anymore."
"I'm smart. I can read movement, supply, timing…"
He smiled bitterly.
"But nobles don't listen to fallen nobles."
He turned to Kael.
"I was in the same Imperial Academy class as him."
Eiran looked up.
"The captain was bullied often," Sereth continued flatly.
"Not because he was stupid."
"But because he was crippled."
Bram burst into loud laughter.
"HAHAHA—Captain, you really got beaten up a lot back then?"
Kael shrugged, smiling as well.
"They said I didn't belong there."
"A fallen noble."
"No Vire."
He took a drink.
"But I graduated."
Sereth exhaled slowly.
"I saw how Kael was humiliated…"
"and still showed up the next day."
He stared into the fire.
"I followed him because he never treated soldiers like tools."
Cale
"I wasn't an academy student," Cale said quietly.
"I learned from outside the fence."
Eiran fell silent.
"I stood outside."
"Watched them train."
"Copied the movements."
"Failed."
"Tried again."
He smiled faintly.
"I had talent."
"But no permission."
He lifted his bow.
"Kael didn't laugh at me."
"He said—if you can see farther…"
"then that's where you belong."
Arnold
Arnold patted the small supply cart beside him.
"I'm forty," he said cheerfully.
"Not talented."
"Not strong."
"Not smart."
He laughed.
"But I promised my village."
"That one day, I'd return—not as a hero…"
"but as someone who didn't run."
He raised his cup.
"I don't need a name."
"I just want to make it there."
Ivo
Ivo lifted his twin swords.
"My father was a fisherman."
"I entered through open registration."
He smiled crookedly.
"Dual-sword talent."
"That's as far as it went."
He looked at Kael.
"The captain said: that's enough."
Lys
Lys grinned brightly.
"I wanted to be an adventurer since I was little," she said.
"My parents were poor."
"So my dream was treated like a joke."
She stared into the fire.
"Kael showed up when I had nothing."
"That was enough."
Varek
Varek turned his rosary slowly.
"I committed sins," he said calmly.
"I'm alive."
"That's the heaviest punishment."
He smiled gently.
"Kael gave me direction."
"Not forgiveness."
Nox
A voice from the shadows.
"I stole," he said simply.
"Because the world didn't see me."
A pause.
"Here…"
"I am seen."
Elden
Elden tapped his massive shield.
"They said I wasn't fit to wield a sword."
He laughed quietly.
"Said I was only good as a wall."
He looked at Kael.
"The captain said—"
"someone has to stand in front."
The fire dimmed briefly as the night wind passed.
The sky opened wide, filled with stars—calm, distant, uncaring toward the world below.
Eiran stared at Kael for a long moment.
Then, softly but honestly, he asked,
"Captain… if everyone here has a big dream,"
"then… what's yours?"
Kael didn't answer right away.
He lay back, one hand behind his head, eyes fixed on the night sky.
"I want to prove one thing," he said at last.
He paused, choosing his words.
"That people rejected by the world…"
"can still build a place of their own."
The fire crackled.
Eiran fell silent.
Ruen stared up at the stars.
Kael turned his head, looking at Eiran with a faint smile—the smile of someone who had walked far, and still wanted to keep going.
"Eiran," he said softly.
"What do you think… kills a person?"
Eiran frowned.
"Being killed?"
"A blade?"
"Poison?"
Kael chuckled.
"No."
He looked back at the stars.
"Does a person die when pierced by bullets," he said lightly,
"cut down by swords, or poisoned?"
He shook his head, the smile still there.
"No, Eiran."
"Hahaha… people don't die from those things."
Firelight reflected across every face.
"A person," Kael continued, his voice calm and deep,
"truly dies…"
"when they are forgotten."
For a moment—
no one spoke.
Then Bram lifted his bottle high.
"HAHAHA! Then we're not allowed to die today!"
Laughter exploded.
Daren laughed loudly.
Arnold whistled, tapping the cart.
Varek smiled and bowed his head.
Ruen stood frozen.
He looked at Kael, then at the unit one by one.
Knights.
Elite soldiers.
No—
more than that.
And Eiran…
his chest felt full.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Just one clear, burning feeling:
He wanted to be part of a story that would never be forgotten.
The campfire burned brighter that night.
Not because of the cold—
but because none of them wanted the night to end.
Arnold lifted a leather flask high.
"Alright," he said in a rough but cheerful voice,
"anyone who refuses to drink tonight guards the horses tomorrow."
"BLACKMAIL!" Daren shouted.
"Tradition," Bram countered, snatching the flask first.
He drank deeply, wiped his mouth with his arm.
"Ahh… tastes like home."
Eiran sat near the fire, eyes shining.
He had never seen them like this.
Not as soldiers.
Not as knights.
But as people… still alive.
Ruen accepted a cup from Lys hesitantly.
"This… strong?" he asked.
Lys grinned. "If you have to ask, yes."
Ruen took a sip—then coughed violently.
"THIS—this isn't a drink, it's a punishment!"
Laughter burst out.
Kael sat slightly apart, his back against an old tree.
Firelight reflected calmly in his eyes.
"Captain," Bram called, lifting his cup.
"Don't tell me you're just watching."
Kael smiled faintly. "If I drink, you'll regret it."
"HUH?" Daren scoffed.
"Since when?"
Kael stood, took a cup from Arnold.
"Since I memorized every wrong bar song."
Eiran and Ruen exchanged looks.
"Bar songs?" Eiran whispered. "That one?"
Ruen frowned.
Arnold chuckled. "Bar kids never have grand songs."
"What they have," Varek added softly,
"are hoarse voices… and the courage to keep laughing."
Bram slapped his knee. "Alright! Then—the old one!"
He started singing first, his voice deep and off-key.
No one knew who truly began it.
Not Kael.
Not the loudest among them.
The voice came softly—rough, imperfect, but honest.
We drink not because we lost…
Eiran turned his head, brow furrowed.
It wasn't a war song.
Not a folk tune from the city.
Daren joined in, deliberately too loud.
But because tomorrow may never come—
Bram laughed, raising his wooden cup.
If morning comes, we laugh!
A few tapped the ground to a rhythm that barely existed.
Eiran glanced at Ruen.
"Have you heard this song?" he whispered.
Ruen shook his head.
"No… but it feels familiar."
Lys joined, her voice light, almost playful.
If it doesn't… pour another!
Soft laughter spread. The fire crackled as if enjoying it.
Eiran grew more confused.
The song was strange. Not polished. Not grand.
Like it was sung by people who didn't care if they were in tune.
Then came the next line—
Raise your glass, don't ask for names—
And Eiran froze.
His chest tightened.
That line…
He had heard it before.
Not once.
Not on a battlefield.
Not in an academy.
Not from travelers' tales.
In the bar.
The old bar on the edge of Loxra.
Ruen swallowed.
He stared into the fire, then slowly turned to Eiran.
"…This," he whispered, barely audible,
"this is a bar song."
Eiran remembered now.
Helder sang it while wiping tables.
Mara hummed it while counting coins.
Drunks sang it with wrong notes and loud laughter.
A song never written.
A song never named.
In this bar, we're all family—
Kael joined softly.
Not loud.
Almost as if afraid to break it.
Eiran's eyes widened.
The captain… was singing.
The world may forget who we are—
Varek lifted his face to the sky, voice deep and steady.
Tonight—we live…
All the voices met.
That is enough.
The fire swayed in the night wind.
Eiran didn't know when he started singing.
Suddenly, his voice was there—hesitant, late, but sincere.
Ruen followed.
Soft at first.
Then steadier.
No one laughed at them.
No one corrected them.
Bram glanced at them with a grin.
"Late," he said.
"But that's fine."
Eiran laughed quietly.
For the first time since leaving Loxra,
he didn't feel like he was walking away from home—
but carrying it with him.
Under the star-filled sky,
the two twelve-year-old boys finally understood:
this wasn't a song about drinking.
There was no leader now.
No voice louder than the rest.
Somehow, all voices met in the same place.
Bram stood, raising his wooden cup high.
Daren stood too, nearly stumbling, laughing at himself.
Sereth closed his eyes.
Lys grinned, tapping her blade against the ground.
Varek bowed his head, lifting his cup to the sky.
Arnold stood at the back, his voice heavy but warm.
Nox emerged from the shadows, quiet but present.
Elden stood tall, shield resting beside the fire.
Kael stood among them.
He gave no signal.
He simply smiled.
And they sang—
all of them, together.
We drink not because we lost
But because tomorrow may never come
If morning comes, we laugh
If not… pour another
The fire crackled loudly, as if answering.
Raise your glass, don't ask for names
In this bar, we're all family
Eiran felt his throat tighten.
Ruen sang with tears in his eyes.
The world may forget who we are
Tonight—we live, and that is enough
Their voices weren't perfect.
Their notes weren't always right.
But the song was full.
Full of laughter.
Full of wounds left unspoken.
Full of hope that didn't need explanation.
Beneath the star-filled sky of The Oldreach,
twelve people and two boys stood as one.
And for that night—
the world could wait.
Because they were alive.