novelraw Chapter 97 : The Man Who Never Forgot
Chapter 97 : The Man Who Never Forgot
(Rooga POV)
The day started like any other. Father was in the field, practicing his swings alone. Mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she helped Eria eat. I was pretending to focus on reading while actually staring out the window, counting how many times Father’s sword moved before he paused.
That was when the sound of hooves broke the quiet.
A single rider was approaching — fast. Dust kicked up behind him on the dirt road, and as he came closer, I saw the gleam of armor, old but well-kept.
He dismounted before the gate even closed, pulling off his helmet with a grin that looked like it belonged to a man half his age.
“Darius Valemont,” he called, his voice loud enough to make birds scatter from the trees. “You damn ghost.”
Father froze mid-swing.
Then, slowly, he turned.
The man strode across the yard without waiting to be invited. His cloak was torn at the edges, his hair streaked with gray, but his eyes burned like a forge.
I saw Father’s lips move. “Kain.”
The name came out quiet — not afraid, but heavy.
Kain Marrowblade, as I’d later learn, had been Darius’s oldest friend. The two of them had fought side by side during the frontier campaigns before the Valemont exile. Where Darius was steady and calm, Kain was raw fire.
Now, that fire burned bright as ever.
He stopped just short of Father, looking him up and down. “You’re alive.”
“Barely,” Father said.
Kain’s jaw tightened. Then, without warning, he punched him square in the face.
The sound cracked louder than any sword strike.
Father didn’t dodge. He just took it — blinked once — and rubbed his jaw.
Selene appeared at the doorway just in time to see it. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Kain!”
“Don’t ‘for heaven’s sake’ me,” Kain barked, pointing at Darius. “You disappear for years — years — and this is where I find you? Living like a hermit, surrounded by trees that hum like they’ve got secrets?”
Father spat a bit of blood, smiling faintly. “You haven’t changed.”
“You think this is funny?” Kain snapped. “You almost died, didn’t you? I went to the bastion, to Bastille himself, looking for you. I would’ve fought him if I thought it’d bring you back.”
Father’s smile faded. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
Kain froze. “What?”
“If you’d known where I was or what happened,” Father said quietly, “you would’ve done something stupid. And I couldn’t let you get killed over me.”
The fire in Kain’s eyes flickered — rage mixing with pain. “You think I wouldn’t have come anyway?”
“I knew you would,” Father said. “That’s why I stayed silent.”
Mother stepped forward, her tone softer. “It’s good to see you again, Kain.”
Kain turned toward her, his expression softening immediately. “Selene… You haven’t aged a day. Still putting up with this stubborn fool, I see.”
She smiled faintly. “Some habits are hard to break.”
He looked past her then, toward me. “And this?”
Father’s expression shifted — proud, calm. “My son. Rooga.”
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Kain studied me with curious eyes. “He’s got your eyes, but Selene’s posture. That’s dangerous.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning.
Kain chuckled, turning back to Darius. “So this is the world you built while we were all out there fighting ghosts of the past.”
Darius looked toward the forest — toward Maori’s glowing tree in the distance. “Something like that.”
They talked long after that, sitting on the porch with mugs of tea while I listened from the steps.
Kain spoke about how the borderlands had changed — how the city of Asterion had grown too proud, how Revingale’s name had started creeping into every noble hall.
“When I heard the rumors about a new green paradise out here,” Kain said, “I thought it was just another story to distract people from the war debts. Then I saw this place. The trees, the light… it doesn’t feel real.”
“It isn’t,” Father said softly.
Kain frowned. “Then what is it?”
Father didn’t answer. Selene placed a hand on his arm. “It’s home.”
That seemed to quiet Kain for a while.
He glanced at me again. “So, Darius, you teaching him to swing yet? Or are you still hitting trees and calling it philosophy?”
Father chuckled. “Something like that.”
Kain rolled his eyes. “Figures. You were always a terrible teacher. Couldn’t explain your way out of a blade knot.”
Selene laughed softly, shaking her head. “That part hasn’t changed either.”
When the sun began to set, Kain walked out toward the field. He stopped near the old training post and rested a hand against it.
“You really built something here,” he said quietly. “A place that feels alive. You’ve done more with your silence than most men do with armies.”
Father joined him. For a long time, neither spoke.
Finally, Kain said, “You should’ve called for me, Darius. I’d have come running.”
Father looked out at the glowing trees. “That’s why I didn’t.”
Kain shook his head but smiled. “Still stubborn as ever.”
Kain stayed the night.
Mother said it was because the roads weren’t safe after dark, but even I could tell she just wanted Father and him to talk more.
Their voices carried through the walls long after everyone else had gone to bed — laughter, a few shouts, and the sound of mugs clinking.
It had been years since I’d heard Father laugh like that.
By morning, though, the peace was over.
The sun had barely touched the treetops when Father knocked on my door again.
“Up,” he said. “We’re training.”
I groaned and rolled out of bed. “Already?”
“Discipline doesn’t wait.”
Out in the yard, the grass was still damp.
Father nodded approvingly and handed me my sword.
“Today, we reach a thousand.”
I froze. “A thousand?”
He simply started swinging.
I barely managed a few swings before a low voice growled behind us.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Kain was standing near the fence, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at the sight of us. He looked half-asleep, half-annoyed, and completely done with Father’s nonsense.
“What kind of man makes a child swing a sword a thousand times?”
Father didn’t even pause. “Discipline builds muscle and spirit.”
Kain walked closer, his boots crunching against the grass. “Discipline, huh? You’re not building discipline, you’re building scar tissue.”
Father exhaled through his nose, still not stopping. “This is how I was taught.”
“Exactly,” Kain snapped. “You were taught that way because your body could take it. Not everyone’s made of iron, Darius.”
That made me pause mid-swing. “What do you mean?”
Kain turned toward me, ignoring the glare Father shot him.
“Your father isn’t normal, kid,” he said flatly. “Never was. He’s got this cursed blessing — his body heals faster than it should. Always has. You could cut him open and he’d walk again in minutes.”
My eyes widened. “That’s… real?”
Father stopped then, finally lowering his sword. “Kain.”
“No,” Kain said, stepping closer. “He needs to know. You push yourself like this because you can. You break, and your body fixes itself before the pain even settles. But this boy isn’t you, Darius. He’ll break and stay broken.”
Father didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground.
Mother appeared in the doorway, holding Eria in her arms, her face tight with worry. “He’s right, Darius. You forget what normal feels like.”
The silence that followed was heavier than any sword swing.
Kain turned to me. “Take a break, Rooga.”
I hesitated, looking at Father. His jaw was tight, but he didn’t argue.
Kain continued, calmer now. “You’ve got good form for your age. Strong wrists, clean motion — you’re already ahead of where most kids start. But training isn’t just about repetition. It’s about control, rhythm, patience. You’ve got to learn to listen to your sword, not beat it into submission.”
Father finally looked up. “And what would you know about patience?”
Kain smirked. “Enough to know you don’t have any.”
That earned him a faint snort from Mother.
He looked back at me. “From today on, I’m staying for a while. I’ll teach you properly — the way we used to teach before the war burned sense out of people.”
I blinked. “You’re staying?”
He nodded. “Someone’s got to balance out this lunatic’s lessons before you end up swinging your arm off.”
Father sighed but didn’t argue. That, more than anything, told me Kain was serious.
Later that morning, while Father and Kain talked near the edge of the yard, I sat by the pond and stared at my reflection.
So Father’s body could heal faster than normal.
That’s why he could train endlessly, fight endlessly… survive everything.
It made sense now — why his expectations never matched mine. He wasn’t cruel.
He just didn’t know what tired felt like.
When I looked up again, I saw Kain pointing at me while talking to him. He was probably saying something about how fragile I was.
Father crossed his arms, looking unconvinced, but he didn’t argue.
For the first time, I felt something strange — a mix of relief and guilt.
Maybe I wasn’t weak after all.
Maybe I just needed someone who understood what being human meant.