บท 7: Aftermath
Ezra woke with a jolt, his breath ragged, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Stupid memories. He had been plagued by that same damned dream ever since the war ended and the rebellion was crushed. Ryzen had been hung for treason, his fate sealed by the powers that be. Ezra, on the other hand, was freed on the grounds that he had no choice but to join the rebellion, caught in the tide of events that had spiraled out of his control.
The Kingsguard had offered him a position, impressed by his performance on the battlefield, but he had declined. The last thing Ezra wanted was to work for someone else again. The thought of being bound to another master—no matter how prestigious—had left a bitter taste in his mouth. So, instead of returning to a life of service, he had wandered. And now, here he was—living aimlessly in some random frontier village, far from the man he once was, stuck between the past and the uncertain future.
Ezra ran a hand over his face and let out a slow breath. He knew he couldn't keep running forever.
Ezra got out of his bed with a groan, his muscles sore from the restless sleep. He threw on his clothes hastily, not bothering to fix his disheveled hair as he glanced back at the woman asleep in his bed. She was curled up under the covers, her breathing steady, unaware of his departure. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he lingered at the door. He really needed to stop doing this.
Especially since the woman was married.
The memory of her husband's face flashed in his mind—kind, honorable, completely unaware of what was going on behind his back. Ezra cursed under his breath as he quietly stepped outside, shutting the door behind him without making a sound. He leaned against the wooden frame of the door, staring at the horizon as the first rays of dawn began to peek over the distant mountains.
What the hell was he doing? Every time it was the same—he'd get tangled up in something he didn't want, trying to escape the emptiness inside, only to end up making things worse for everyone involved. He wasn't a fool. He knew he was no good for anyone, especially her.
A flash of regret washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by the same hollow feeling that always lingered after he let his desires get the better of him. He could walk away, leave town, but it never felt like enough. There was always something gnawing at him, some part of him that was broken, always looking for a way to fill it. And each time, he ended up alone again.
With a heavy sigh, he straightened up and walked off, determined to put it all behind him—for now. But deep down, he knew it was just another escape, and sooner or later, the cycle would repeat itself.
But before Ezra could leave the town, the weight of his actions weighed on him like a stone in his chest. He turned around and walked back into the village, his steps slow and heavy. He approached the woman's house with a sense of dread building in his gut. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, a young girl no older than thirteen stood before him. His heart sank.
"What are you doing here, Mister Ezra?" she asked, looking up at him with curious eyes.
Ezra frowned, feeling the guilt crawl up his throat. He reached out and patted the girl on the head gently. "I need to talk to your dad."
"Oh, he's just inside. Come on in!" she chirped, stepping aside to let him through.
Ezra nodded and walked past the girl, his stomach twisting in knots. He found her father sitting in the main room, his nose buried in a book. The man looked up at Ezra and smiled, his warm, trusting gaze a sharp contrast to the heaviness in Ezra's heart.
"Hey Mister Peralta, I need to speak with you in private," Ezra said, his voice low.
The man immediately looked concerned, but he shooed his daughter out of the room, wanting to give them privacy. "What is it, Ezra? Need some more work? You did a great job fixing the roof last time."
Ezra's chest tightened as the words caught in his throat. He had to tell him, no matter how painful it would be. "No... It's not that. It's about Rose," he said, his voice faltering. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Your wife isn't staying at a friend's house. She's at mine."
The man's face shifted to confusion. "What do you mean? I saw her walk to Sarah's house last night. I even walked her there myself."
Ezra sighed, the weight of his confession settling on him. "She left in the middle of the night, and she's been with me since. I slept with her last night... and I've been sleeping with her for the past two weeks."
He stood up, his body stiff with guilt, and bowed deeply, a gesture of shame and regret. "I'm sorry. I'm planning to leave soon, but I couldn't go without you knowing."
The man's face first morphed into disbelief, then understanding, followed by a flood of rage. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. "I trusted you, Ezra. I let you into my home... and this is how you repay me?" The words cut deeper than any blade could.
Before Ezra could respond, the man stormed forward, his fist flying toward Ezra's face with all the fury of a betrayed husband. Ezra didn't move; he let the punch land. The blow connected with his jaw, but Ezra didn't even flinch. He felt the strike, but it was nothing compared to the guilt he was carrying.
What he didn't expect, however, was the sickening crack that followed. The man howled in pain, clutching his hand as he stumbled back. His fist had struck Ezra's face with such force that it had broken his own hand.
Ezra remained still, his expression blank as the man writhed in agony. "You shouldn't have hit me," Ezra said quietly, his voice devoid of anger. "I'm not worth it."
The man gritted his teeth, eyes streaming with tears of frustration and pain. Ezra didn't move to help him. He knew this was something the man would have to face on his own—just like Ezra was facing the consequences of his own actions.
Ezra returned to the house he had been staying in and stood quietly for a moment, watching the woman sleep soundly in his bed. He sighed, his emotions too complicated to sort through. He needed to leave.
He shook her awake, and she stirred, blinking her eyes open with a soft smile. "Good morning, Ezra. Dressed already?"
Ezra didn't return the smile. His gaze was cold, unreadable. "I'm leaving the village today. I already told your husband everything that's been going on. I'd wait for him to calm down, though—he broke his hand punching me in the face."
The woman sat up quickly, her face draining of color. Her eyes widened with shock. "What? You... you told him everything? Did you even think about what this would do to our family? And I can't believe you're just leaving me to deal with all of this alone."
Ezra's jaw clenched, and for a moment, the surge of anger threatened to spill out. But he reined it in, taking a deep breath to steady himself before speaking. "Did you take into account what could happen if you slept with me when you started this relationship in the first place? I'm not denying my part in it, but at the end of the day, it's your mess to clean up."
He looked at her, his expression firm but tinged with something almost like pity. "One thing I can say for sure is that man loves you. He'll probably forgive you with time."
The words hung heavy in the air, but he didn't stick around to hear her response. He turned on his heel and walked out, his heart weighed down by the choices he'd made, knowing there was nothing he could do now except leave.
Ezra gripped the sword at his waist as he stepped out the door, determination settling into his chest. He was done with this village. He had nothing left here, and he wasn't going to waste his strength in some forgotten corner of the world. His path was set now—he was headed to the capital.
There, he figured, he could make a living. Probably as a sellsword. It wasn't a glamorous life, but it was better than letting his strength wither away in a backwater village where his potential was wasted. At least in the capital, there would be work, opportunities—chances to build something with the skills he'd spent so long honing.
With one last glance back at the village, Ezra turned and walked into the distance, his mind set on the road ahead.
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