Seven years passed, since Roelgenheld took Keith in as his own.
Morning light poured through the cracks in the stone shack. Roelgenheld stood at the sink, washing the dishes left over from last night's dinner.
"Keith, could you bring me a clean dish rag?" he called over his shoulder.
"Alright," Keith replied.
He gripped the chair beside him to stand, then gave a long, satisfying stretch, arms reaching high. Letting out a relieved sigh, he grabbed a clean rag from the damp wooden table and made his way to the opposite side of the stone counter. Roelgenheld glanced up and offered him a warm, relaxed smile.
Keith extended the rag. "Here," he said, hopping down from the counter.
Roelgenheld finished scrubbing the last plate with the old, grimy rag before grabbing the clean one to wipe his hands.
"Nothing beats washing your hands after cleaning a bunch of filthy dishes," he said with a chuckle, rubbing the gunk from between his fingers and palms.
Keith turned his head, stealing a glance at him.
*"Why does he take care of me?"* the question echoed in his mind.
Roelgenheld bent down and sat beside Keith, placing a hand on the boy's head and ruffling his hair with a grin. "You're always a big help."
Keith groaned, trying to weakly push the hand away.
Roelgenheld chuckled. "Well, someone's a bit feisty." He pulled his hand back—then without warning, snatched Keith into a playful headlock.
"Hey—!" Keith's eyes lit up with determined fire. He struggled, inching Roelgenheld's arm away… just enough. Seeing an opening, he bit down on his arm.
"Ow! You little—!"
Roelgenheld let go, stunned. Keith had broken free.
"OH MY—TO ALL THE GODS—CONGRATS!" Roelgenheld roared with laughter. He scooped Keith off the ground and spun him around with pride. "Keith, you did it!"
Keith blinked, confused. "Did what?"
"You made your own decision!"
He set Keith down gently onto a wooden chair near the kitchen counter. Keith pulled himself up to sit on the stone counter as Roelgenheld leaned against it, still beaming.
"Keith… in life, you need to learn how to make your own choices."
Roelgenheld stood and poured himself a glass of whiskey from an old bottle. He sipped it down in one go, savoring the burn.
Keith tilted his head. "What do you mean, 'make my own decisions'?"
Roelgenheld set the empty glass on the counter, then walked over and patted Keith's head. "It means you have free will, kid. That you don't have to wait for permission to act. You decide who you are."
Keith nodded slowly, the idea settling in his mind. But before he could respond, Roelgenheld coughed—hard.
Dark blood splattered into his hand.
"Oh, this?" Roelgenheld said quickly, wiping his mouth. "Just an allergic reaction to the whiskey."
But Keith saw the truth. The way Roelgenheld's shoulders tensed. The sweat rolling down his brow. He knew it wasn't whiskey.
Still, Keith made a choice. He nodded in agreement, pretending to believe the lie—easing the moment so it wouldn't unravel.
They both looked out the window. It was late.
"Well, kid," Roelgenheld sighed, resting his hands on his hips, "it's getting late. We need some rest. I think it's time I trained you. Starting tomorrow."
Keith's eyes lit up. "About time! You know how long I've been waiting to hear that?"
He rushed to the couch and threw a blanket over himself, grinning.
Roelgenheld burst out laughing, clutching his stomach, giving the wall a few hearty slaps. "Keep that enthusiasm in the morning. You'll need it."
The wind whispered outside as they both fell asleep in the stillness of the wasteland night.
---
The sun rose, golden rays cutting across the sky.
Keith's eyes blinked open as the light struck his face. A surge of excitement hit him.
He ran to Roelgenheld and gave him a light shove. "Wake up!"
Roelgenheld groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Brat…" he mumbled. "You're up early."
He sat up with a long stretch and a yawn. "Ten minutes. Then we head out."
Keith jumped with a bright, proud smile. "I can't wait to start traveling!"
Roelgenheld went to the cabinet and pulled out a few pieces of old bread.
"Let's eat and pack while we've got daylight."
They ate quickly. Keith packed what little he had, while Roelgenheld gathered supplies—food, weapons, water, clothing—everything they'd need for the road ahead.
"Brat," Roelgenheld said, adjusting the strap on his pack, "this training's gonna be rough."
Keith gave a firm nod. He knew. Understanding how the world worked was the first step to surviving it.
The two of them, mentor and student, were finally ready to step into the wider world.