A N C I E N T L A U G H T E R
The old man laughed. It was good to be alive today. The two children fought in the dust, The larger threw the other down, cheering, until the weaker punched into his nose, breaking it and the scuffle resumed.
Oh what fun it is to ride, he thought. Then another attack happened. Hi system turned against itself, fierce pounding in his chest, like drums of pain. Vision swam, left then right and back, flashes of black and red. He knew that the master was coming. The portal faded into existence, a shadow on the air. The children looked up, surprised, as the soldier stepped forth. Fifteen. The old man nodded. Alias, Keblen, fetch numbers five to sixteen. You all go now. Any report? Barked the armoured figure. No, as usual, no suspicion, in this place. He gestured to the arid backdrop.
It is well. The children arrived and began to march through the portal. Some looked at the old man, their father, for guidance. He nodded. When they had all gone the knight knelt before the ancient. Here is the wine. The lord allows you seventy more years, adjusted. Maintain your duty. Thank, master.
He sat back after the knight had gone. What kind of life was this?