He had watched the soldiers cut down his father's rotten corpse and throw it away like refuse.
He had carried the remains himself. Then buried them beside a waterfall deep within the forest. A beautiful, peaceful place.
He hated his father for what he had done. Yet he hated himself even more. His actions had caused this.
Still, his father's words never left him. He would protect his mother and sister. No matter what.
But he failed at that too.
The town head's men, having gotten away with killing the father, soon turned their attention toward the mother.
They visited some nights after.
Askkarl returned from training late one evening to find his home engulfed in flames. His heart skipped a beat. Then he ran. He crashed through the doorway and stumbled into the burning house.
His mother and sister lay on the floor. Motionless and lifeless. For a long time, he simply stood there.
He failed… again.
