Your quiet sobs filled the small living room, your tears staining the letter you here holding in your trembling hand, smudging the ink and deforming the fancy calligraphy. You believed it was a cruel joke, sending a request like that, and thinking that an embellished writing would lessen the atrocity of its content.

Simon had received a letter a few days ago: the king had sent a letter out to every man of the kingdom, ordering that they would take back their armor and fill back the lines of the infantry, because the neighbouring lands were planning on expanding into his territory. When he had received it, it was a quiet, peaceful morning, and he was working in his small workshop.

He had served as a knight many years ago, but after meeting you, he had decided to retire and pour his passion into his pottery, which had been his source of income to provide for the two of you for the past five years. With you, he had found his peace– a tiny yet homely cottage, his beloved workshop. Until it all crashed down.

He didn’t know how to tell you about the letter, but as he pushed open the door and found you gripping the haunted paper between your delicate fingers, he knew there was no turning back now. “My love…” he whispered, slowly walking up to you.

“How long?” You asked, your voice charged with betrayal despite its hushed tone. “How long have you known?” Simon settled down beside you, kneeling onto the cobblestone floor. “Only a few days,” he murmured. “Believe me, I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

You slowly looked up at him, his hand, stained with clay, cradled your cheek. “I will come back,” he promised. “Even if it means I have to slay an entire legion, I will come back to you.”