Arwell shook his head, his stomach rebelling wildly against the choice he had made. "Mom, we knew this was going to happen some day. I work as a soldier to help protect you and dad. And my unit needs me. I'd let them down." He stood, walking back towards his room to pack his gear.
Baxlana's face drained of color and she leaped towards her son, grabbing the back of his shirt, nearly tripping him. "No! Please, Arwell, you mustn't! You can't! You'll die! Those barbarians will chop you to bits and leave you dead on some battle field in Goerthe! I'll - I'll never-"
Arwell spun around, shaking. He was scared and angry and the choice was hard enough without his mother crying. "This isn't the time to be a coward mom! It's now or never! If I don't go we might all get massacred here!" Leaving that as his final word on the matter, he stormed back to his room and began shoving his uniform and other supplies into a rucksack given to all recruits for just such and occasion. Through the thin door he could hear his mother and father arguing.
"Jemmer, how can you just sit there!? He's going off to die! What happens if you hurt yourself?! Or if you get sick?! I don't want to be left alone out here on this blasted farm all alone!" She sounded as if she were a moment from tears.
"I know 'Lana, I know. But the boy's determined. If he says he going we have no way to stop him. It's the law. He has to go." His father's voice, too, sounded strained, as if he were fighting back some sort of guttural scream of protest.
Something wet dropped onto his hand and Arwell looked down in surprise to see a tear drop on his hand. Quickly wiping his eyes, he stood up, closed his bag, and steeled himself for the journey ahead. It would not be an easy one.
He opened his door and walked back to the kitchen. His mother stood in a corner, hugging her arms around herself, trying to hold back tear. His father still sat at the table, his eyes down cast, every muscle in his body tense.
Arwell went to his mother first, his heart tight in his chest. He gave her a hug and a kiss as she tried even harder not to cry. He then went over to his father. All those years watching him, and copying him. Doing everything just like him. And now for once he had to go where his father had not gone before.
"G'bye, dad..." He muttered. He wanted to say more, but the words were caught in his throat. He couldn't lose control in front of them. That would only break their hearts. So he said the rest as he placed a strong hand on his fathers shoulder. He turned to leave and found that the man had grabbed his arm.
"Dad?" He asked. "I have to-"
Just then Jemmer stood, and pulled his son into his arms. Arwell returned the embrace. They broke apart, and Arwell couldn't help but feel a little bit better about leave. More confident. More... ready.
He strode to the front door where moments before his destiny had been announced. He opened it onto the cold mornings he was so used to. He pulled his jacket tightly around him and tied his scarf tightly against his neck. He looked back once more at his family and smiled.
"I promise, I'm coming back. I'd miss your cooking too much, mom." And with that he left, ready to face the future.
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