Long before Lindsey was ever born, Arion had already crossed paths with Yolan. A meeting that seemed written by the chaos of the times themselves. And I think... I need to walk you through it properly, so you understand how the seeds of that friendship took root in the middle of a war zone.
# Flashback. Fifty years ago.
BANG. BANG~~
Gunshots tore through the morning air, shattering the silence into pieces. Thick grey smoke billowed high above, swallowing what had once been a clear blue sky.
Inside a small house torn apart by the blast, a young boy sobbed quietly... "hic... hic..." ... crouched beside his parents, who lay motionless on the floor. His face had gone white. He clutched his mother's body, holding her tight against his chest as her blood soaked into the cold wooden floor beneath them. Tears fell freely, running down his cheeks and onto hers.
His left hand slick with fresh blood, the boy began to crawl toward the door. His trembling fingers reached for the cold iron handle, pulling himself away from the room that now reeked of iron and death.
The door groaned open. He forced himself upright, legs barely holding. He pressed his wounded left hand against his chest with his right, swaying as he crossed the threshold and stepped outside.
What met his eyes was a nightmare.
Firearms of every kind lay scattered across the red mud. Swords and knives were buried into tree trunks and earth at random angles. Shrapnel from spent grenades littered the ground. And soldiers... dozens of them... lay stiff and still, eyes wide open, staring blankly up at the sky. The boy walked past all of it with empty eyes, as though the horror had already stopped reaching him.
He stopped. His shaking hand reached down and closed around a black pistol lying in the dirt, along with its magazine. With stiff, untrained movements, he snapped the magazine into the grip... click ... and kept walking, chest burning with grief and rage too large for his small body to contain.
His steps grew heavier until his legs finally gave out beneath him. He crumpled against the base of an old oak tree, its trunk half-scorched from the fighting. His breath came in ragged, uneven pulls.
"Move, move!" Voices drifted from somewhere in the distance... sharp and commanding.
Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of boots hitting the ground, getting closer.
The boy pressed himself against the rough bark and peered around the edge. A group of soldiers in uniform sat in a loose circle not far away, catching their breath.
Without thinking, he burst out from behind the tree, pistol raised high. "HAAA!" His shout split the air, raw with everything he'd been holding inside.
"Everyone... positions!" the enemy commander barked, snapping to his feet.
The soldiers moved instantly. Metal shields went up. Rifles swung forward, every barrel aimed directly at the boy. These were soldiers from across the border... enemies of Arnesia, known for their brutality and their lack of mercy.
The boy froze. His courage drained in an instant at the sight of hundreds of weapons pointed straight at him from every direction. His knees began to shake again.
Just before the first soldier pulled the trigger...
"WATCH OUT!"
A sharp cry broke through the standoff. A figure came tearing out from between the trees, moving fast, headed straight for the boy.
Every head turned. Including the boy's. A soldier reacted on instinct and fired without hesitation.
But the man moved faster. In one swift motion he yanked the boy clear of the line of fire... the bullet whipping past by mere centimeters.
With the boy tucked against him, he sprinted in sharp zigzags through the trees up the slope, bullets chewing through the foliage around them. Leaves and bark exploded in every direction as the shots kept coming.
He ran without stopping until he found what he was looking for... a large pile of timber logs stacked against the hillside. He pulled the boy down behind it, while the soldiers spread out below, searching the undergrowth fruitlessly.
The man clamped a firm hand over the boy's mouth, cutting off even the faintest sound. They crouched low together behind the logs, the man stealing careful glances through the gaps every few seconds to track the soldiers' movements.
When the footsteps finally faded and silence settled back in, he slowly lifted his hand.
"Th... thank you," the boy managed, voice unsteady, head bowed low.
"What were you thinking, going at them with a pistol like that?" the man asked, his tone firm but not unkind, eyes searching the boy's face.
"I... I..." The boy's voice broke. "I wanted to kill them. I wanted to pay them back for what they did to my parents," he choked out. Fresh tears carved lines through the dirt and dried blood on his cheeks.
The man reached out and laid a broad hand gently on top of the boy's head, rubbing it slowly. "But you understand, don't you? What you did just now could have gotten you killed," he said, his voice settling into something warm and steady.
"I... yes. I'm sorry." The boy wiped his face with the back of his hand. "And... who are you, Mister?"
"Just an ordinary civilian. I was trying to sneak out and get a look at what was going on out there," the man said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a quiet smile.
"Out there? Does that mean there's a settlement somewhere nearby?" the boy asked, perking up immediately, a flicker of hope crossing his face at the word.
The man scratched the back of his head, looking slightly sheepish. "Well... not exactly a settlement. More like... one room," he said, with a vague wave of his hand.
"One room?" The boy tilted his head.
"Here... I'll show you," the man said, pushing himself to his feet.
They walked together across a barren stretch of open ground... spent brass casings and scattered weapons covering the earth, much like the scene the boy had left behind. But this time, no bodies. Only the silence of a battlefield after the fighting had moved on.
The man crouched suddenly, pressing both hands flat to the ground, feeling around deliberately through the dead grass.
"Mister? What are you doing?" the boy asked, watching him carefully.
"Just help me instead of asking questions," the man said without looking up, hands still searching.
"Look for something that sticks up out of the ground," he added.
The boy nodded and crouched beside him, running his own hands through the dirt.
After a few minutes of searching, the man found it. His fingers closed around an iron handle barely poking through the soil. He pulled with everything he had, the veins in his neck straining with the effort.
"Help me..." he grunted.
"Right!" The boy scrambled over and grabbed on with both hands, pulling alongside him.
With one last heave, a thick iron hatch swung upward... revealing a vertical ladder dropping down into darkness below. A cool draft of air breathed up from the depths.
They descended carefully, rung by rung.
"Watch your step... don't put your foot on my head," the man grumbled as the boy's boot grazed his hair in the narrow space.
"Oh... sorry, sorry," the boy said, adjusting his grip.
As they neared the bottom, the sound of voices grew gradually louder... the warm, unmistakable hum of people gathered together. They climbed down the last few rungs and stepped off the ladder.
What waited below was nothing like the world above.
A dimly lit underground bar stretched across a wide open space. Small rooms lined the walls. People who had lost their homes sat together, laughing and talking over one another, filling the air with a warmth that felt almost impossible given the carnage just above their heads.
"Alright. You'll stay here for now," the man said gently, placing a hand on the boy's back and guiding him forward.
Then he turned back toward the ladder. His hand found the first rung.
"Wait... where are you going?" the boy called after him, arm half-reaching out.
The man paused and rested a hand on the boy's head one more time. "I'm just going to check on things up top," he said, with a reassuring smile.
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" the boy called out.
"I don't know your name yet."
The man turned back. "Yolan!" he announced, tapping his chest proudly.
"Good name, isn't it?" he added with a wide, easy grin.
The boy's eyes lit up.
"Oh... and don't ever do something reckless like that again," Yolan added, pointing a finger at him with mock sternness.
"Mm," the boy nodded quickly. "I promise!" he said, with complete sincerity.
"Good," Yolan said, satisfied. He gave the boy's head one final pat.
Then he grabbed the iron rungs, climbed back up into the world above, and left the warmth of the bunker behind... not crossing paths with that boy again for a very long time.
That boy, of course, is the one we now know as Arion Houdoug.
... Flashback. (off) ...