Another muffled sound signaled that his fist had hit the wall. It'd been a few days since he'd comeback on assignment, and Aruon still felt like he was going to burst.
He was angry at failing, and nearly falling into that Lord's trap. He was infuriated that he almost became a scapegoat to the beginning of a war. But he was also sad, that none had come to visit him and check on his wounds.
That last hit had drawn small amounts of blood, which now dripped onto the stone floor. Aruon always new he had bad luck, but something of this level...
And of course, he had again been too weak to protect his duty, even if it did turn out to be a traitor. On top of that he'd heard nothing of what became of the revealed mystery or the factions at work.
So this, then, was civilized life? Among his comrades, he still felt alone. The curious, sometimes accusing glances he was accustomed to was by now a habit of annoyance, but with so many here it was only a matter of time before someone chose not to accept what they saw.
A knock on his barracks door washed away his thoughts, giving him moments to recompose himself before he answered, 'Enter.'
Truthfully, his mentor was the last man he wished to see now. He'd failed as a Warder Student, as an apprentice to his teacher. Sargon seeing him in his meekest and tumultuous times was not what he desired. But then again, he was not accustomed to convenience. And his teacher was probably the one man he felt h could trust, even a bit. That said a lot of the respect he held for the Warder. "Sargon Gaidon, how can I help you this late at night?"
"I came to see about your injuries. That was a close one with the Blight from what I hear. It was reckless, careless, and..."
Each word made Aruon wince, but from pain and shame. But his mentor was not done yet, "I am glad you are safe, Aruon. Risk is not worth death when the dice are weighted against your rolls."
"I'm sure Samira Sedai got a laugh out of it. I've been trying to keep it as quiet as I can."
"Now that, Student, is between Samira Sedai and myself."
With that he turned to leave, reminding Aruon that hot stew and rest were on call from the Yellow's.
The mood around the Tower was as cold as ever. It was as if everyone knew what his failure meant, how his weakness had almost brought terrible things to the world itself. Amidst his training and small duties he felt so alone. It was like being back in the Forest.
With that thought, a sudden sadness swept within him making the healing wounds ache all over. What had his strength brought him?
So far he'd been chased by the Forsaken, made a fool of by many criminals; he could not even look any of his comrades in the eye anymore, and even when he did they only saw his eyes, not his words.
It felt like winter, but it was only fall. The pride he'd felt when he came to train was draining with the heat in his body. What was going to become of him at this rate?
He looked one last time at the hallway as the door closed behind his mentor. Something felt off in his heart now; perhaps it was loneliness (But I am surrounded by people), maybe it was the stares of malice and curiosity (Matter of time, that is), or maybe, just maybe, something was missing.
He laid back down, covering his hand in a light bandage made from a torn bed cover. Somehow, he'd never felt like such a child. Yet here he was, serving and trying not to get anyone else killed.
As he fell asleep, the last thought that crossed his mind was, 'Maybe I should have given my life fighting Ishamael. At least then I'd know why I lost and die with pride.."
The thought was laughable, but no sounds of mirth came from his heart. His dreams were plagued again by the consuming thought of the past. Words long gone, yet etched into his memory.
Late in the Barracks
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