What brings? Good question. Could say "duty," lie about "patriotism." But truth simpler: human stupidity pushed where not wanted.
— Need to talk to Esten de Stalvart.
Words fell into camp silence like stone in water.
Knight's face became stern as oak bark.
— He doesn't intend to talk to you.
Inside squeezed something childish—like years realizing: adults can say "no" just because. But I had trump.
— Tell—urgent matter. Marshal's order.
Marshal. Name-key in our world. Knight straightened as if shocked.
— Then go yourself, —waved to camp center. — No time.
Walked through camp under curious gazes. Each step neared conversation I feared as much as wanted. Life has moments when you realize: now something changes. For better or worse—but changes.
Esten's tent loomed not by size but aura of power. I stopped at entrance, inhaled air of simple decisions, stepped in.
Kierkegaard right: there are choice moments defining whole life. Scary not choosing wrong. Scary—choosing right but paying too dear.
And deep in soul lived that boy believing: if try, find door to fairy tale. Only now knew—behind each door may be dragon.
And sometimes dragon is you.