Spiritbound [Spirit Magic, Military, Progression] (Book 1 Complete)

The news shook the captains to their very cores. It was something they would have never expected from Tucker, and for a moment, silence dominated the table. Brian dropped his joking smile before sitting up straight. He glanced over at Max, who had stopped twirling his cup, watching as the last cubes of ice danced in the amber embrace.

"You know, I always thought you were a bit crazy," Brian said. "But I'll take that back; you're straight up insane."

"Am I?" Tucker closed his eyes and smiled while holding his glass. "Don't you think it's about time someone went after them?"

"You're right. It is time someone went after them, but Tucker… the Emerald Tower isn't an easy foe. Their influence dominates most of the Avalon Empire," Max pointed out. "The Order wouldn't be enough to tackle such a foe, and I doubt they have the manpower to do so."

"I know."

"If you're aware… then why are you trying?" Max asked.

"Because it's the only way we'll win this war." Tucker held his glass in the bright light that shone above their heads. "It's just a hunch that I have, but so far it's never been wrong."

Brian gently tapped the surface of the wooden table. He could see the firm conviction in Tucker's eyes and the realization that there wasn't a point in trying to convince him otherwise. Each of them had their own paths, while Max and himself chose to follow the Sword Master's path. Tucker had chosen to chase the world's evil that lurked in the shadows.

The Emerald Tower wasn't an easy foe. They had hundreds of mages at their disposal. Mages who had crossed over the Fifth Circle and could chain countless spells together. Those who had reached the Sixth Circle would bend the rules of the world to their favor, and the only way to fight against them was to establish a domain of your own. And from what he had seen, that was a feat Tucker couldn't do. At least not yet.

The unease shown by Max was one full of concern. A veteran who had battled against dozens of experienced mages in his life. Yet, he didn't press the matter any further. All he could do was have faith that his friend would overcome the adversaries that came his way.

"It seems we'll all be pretty busy then," Brian said.

"Perhaps I should have listened to my older brother and considered retiring from active duty," Max jokingly said. "I never imagined we would face such a situation."

"Honestly, neither did I," Tucker commented. "I joined the Order thinking I would hunt monsters and capture bandits. Not get thrown into this crazy war."

"Well, there's a lot we would love to talk about, but I doubt the others will wait so patiently," Brian gazed at the men who were taking turns chugging down gallons of beer. "Let's have a toast to your future success, Tucker."

Tucker nodded, raising his glass. "To your survival as well."

"And to those we lost," Max added.

The three of them raised their glasses as the amber liquid shimmered beneath the warm lights. They tilted their heads back and gulped the drink down in one sitting. The cold brew vanished in moments, and with it followed a sense of relief. Tucker glanced around the room. He could see the men of the Thirty-First singing and dancing to the side.

"I really miss Luka!" Ray stood on the table, waving the glass in the air while singing his heart out.

The sight of the men surrounding the table, cheering and laughing, made the corner of Tucker's lips slowly curl up. He never thought there would be so many others who came to care and miss his friend. If Luka were here, Tucker was sure he would be up there as well, dancing with Ray.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, Liam and Jones joined him. "We really miss Luka!"

They sang together while missing every note, accompanied by a round of cheers from all the other soldiers. Smiles crossed their faces as they continued calling out names one after another, wishing all the best to those who had parted while bidding one final farewell. And in that joyful moment, Tucker couldn't help but wish for it to last just a bit longer.

"Your men are always lively, huh?" Max commented.

"That they are, it makes me wonder who they take after," Tucker said. "I've never done anything crazy enough to make them act like that."

"Really? I still remember the days they were running through the bastion with those weights strapped to their bodies," Brian teasingly said. "Those guys looked like they were getting dragged through hell."

"Ah, I thought those were just rumors," Max chimed in. "I heard they were lifting boulders and logs as well on the training grounds with nothing but their bare bodies."

Tucker froze for a moment, thinking back to their extreme training methods. "We might have gotten a bit carried away."

Brian and Max erupted in laughter.

"A bit?" Brian held onto his stomach, barely containing his grin. "Those guys looked like the dead after their training!"

"But at least those rumors of their captain burning down their barracks turned out to be false!" Max added. "When I heard that from my men, I nearly fell from my chair!"

Tucker gave an awkward laugh while smiling. He watched as the two captains reminisced about their days at the bastion. A gentle thud entered his ears, pulling his attention to the side. He glanced over to see the bar owner set down a wooden bowl of steaming stew and a small plate of mashed potatoes. The delicious scent drifted up to meet him, and even though Tucker had barely eaten since he returned. This meal seemed to urge him.

"I didn't order this," he said.

"It's on the house," the tavern owner brushed his hand to the side before leaving.

Tucker sat there in a daze, unable to protest as the owner returned to the kitchen. He gazed at the uniformly cut vegetables and the generous chunks of beef in the stew. An odd sense of familiarity surfaced as he grabbed the wooden spoon.

He lifted a spoonful of stew to his lips and let the rich flavors settle on his tongue. Tucker's eyes widened at the bowl in quiet surprise. It wasn't extraordinary by any means, just a simple stew you would find at any other tavern, yet the taste struck him with an aching familiarity.

But where?

The question drifted through his thoughts like clouds in the sky. The savoury aroma lingered in the air, and from the warm expressions of the others in the Thirty-First, he knew that they were also feeling the same sense of nostalgia. There was only one time he had beef stew with mashed potatoes, and it was when…

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Alfred made it.

Tucker smiled before bringing another spoonful of stew to his lips, listening to the heartfelt chatter that filled the tavern. His gaze wandered across the room. To the vibrant green plants hanging from the ceilings, the small pots perched by the windowsill, and the walls lined with simple decorations. Paintings and family sketches hung side by side, each placed with gentle care. The waiters and waitresses moved between the tables with easy smiles while tending to their patrons. All of it blended together into a single, cozy atmosphere that wrapped around their hearts like a comforting blanket.

It's not so bad. Maybe in the future I should open a cafe or something…

Yet as Tucker thought this, he slowly clenched his hand. It wasn't bad to have such desires and dreams, but knowing what awaited him meant it was unlikely to ever come true.

"You know, Tucker, the guys that followed you were thinking about giving you a nickname."

Tucker glanced up at Brian who said this. "They did?"

"Yeah, in fact after hearing about you possibly burning down the barracks I came up with one myself."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"How about…" Brian smirked before dragging his hand across the air. "The Commander of Ashe?"

"And that's… if I burned down the barracks?"

"Without a doubt."

"How childish, Brian." Max rolled his eyes. "A true nickname has to be one that embodies the spirit. One that is more fitting would be… Stormbearer."

"Are we giving nicknames to the Commander?" Liam slightly wobbled towards their table with a grin.

"We are, do you have one?" Max asked.

"If I had to give one for my favorite captain… it would be Captain Grumpy!"

"I'm your only captain…" Tucker muttered.

"That's true but that doesn't make my nickname mean any less!" Liam gestured for Jones to join them. "Isn't that right Jones? It's what we all called him during the training days."

"I… uh…" Jones awkwardly coughed. "I choose to remain silent."

Ray slowly made his way over using the nearby furniture for support. "Well… hiccup! I have a better nickname than all of you, and it's Lucky Tucker!"

Liam and Jones laughed while dragging Ray away. His friend was seen stubbornly clenching onto his whiskey bottle while fending off the guys who tried to pry it from his grip. He flailed his arms in protest, but was soon easily subdued.

"He's drunk out of his mind, isn't he?" Brian asked.

"Yep," Tucker replied. "He's a bit of a troublemaker apparently, but he's still a good fella."

Max nodded while pouring himself another glass. "He is indeed, I heard from the other soldiers in the Thirty-First that they've been offered positions as instructors with his reference."

"They're instructors?" Tucker tilted his head in disbelief.

"Indeed, there was another watchman who worked with Ray when it came to training the militiamen. It seems like both of them vouched to have the remaining soldiers train the next batch of recruits."

"That means they won't be on the battlefield…"

The words that came out of Tucker's mouth made him smile. It was a relief knowing that at least some of them had good news. That they wouldn't be sent to another hell. He would need to thank Ray and Eric when he got the chance, but for now, it was best to let them enjoy the party. Tucker stood up and fixed his loose shirt. He had finished his food and drank only a little bit, but that was enough for him.

"You're heading out?" Brian raised a brow. "The party just started."

"I know, but I want to get some fresh air," Tucker replied.

Brian glanced at Max, who shrugged his shoulders. "Well, don't take too long."

"Yeah, I'll be back shortly." Tucker waved his hand to the side while walking towards the exit.

He caught sight of the others fixing a wooden board to the wall, scribbling various nicknames on the surface with white chalk. One by one, tally marks were drawn beside each name, and soon the room was filled with life. The men entered heated arguments over which names would stick, and seeing the opportunity, Tucker slipped through the door as quietly as he could. The soft chime echoed behind him as he pulled the door shut and stepped into the night.

The Capital of their home was called Aurora. The city of lights. A name that only made sense in the stillness of the night. Everywhere he looked, lanterns lit the way, pushing away the darkness until it could no longer be seen. Tucker strolled along the empty path that led to the top of a hill overlooking his old academy. Stopping near an old wooden bench nestled beneath the branches of an ancient oak tree. His eyes lingered on the seat that was barely wide enough for three people, and slowly he closed his eyes.

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A young man with hair as dark as the night stood before his friends, gazing at the fireworks that spiraled into the air. He looked back, his hazelnut eyes meeting his two friends. They were all wearing long-sleeved green shirts with dark brown pants, along with a small silver pin of an owl to show they had been accepted into the Order.

"Gentlemen! We've done it, we're officially watchmen now." John clapped his hands twice in the air. "It was close; some of us almost didn't make it."

"Ahem." Luka subtly coughed. "Tucker."

"Are you trying to pick a fight right now?" Tucker scoffed while rolling his sleeves.

"Bring it." Luka held out his hand and curled his fingers towards him. "I dragged your ass out of training, I'll drag you right back in."

John gave a weary smile. "Alright, alright, enough of that now. We're not here to fight."

"Then what are we here for?" Tucker asked.

"To talk about our dreams."

Luka and Tucker both looked at each other before glaring at John. The spring leaves swayed in the gentle breeze as fireworks burst against the night. Dyeing the sky in bright colors that outlined John's silhouette. Truth be told, the two wanted to go back to the lounge and sleep, but since this was the last night they would be together for a while, they reluctantly agreed to their friend's request for a nighttime stroll.

"We'll start off with you, Luka. What's your dream?" John asked.

"I wouldn't mind retiring to the countryside and working as an instructor. Maybe buy myself a nice little mansion," Luka replied.

"There's nothing little about a mansion, ya goof!" John teased. "What about you, Tucker? What do you want to do?"

Tucker's eyes sharpened. "I want to be a Nightfall Ranger."

"Bwhahaha!" John didn't even bother holding back his laughter. "You? A ranger? You're outta your goddamn mind!"

"Just you wait, I'll prove you wrong. I'll be the youngest ranger in our Order's history," Tucker declared. "But don't worry; once I'm there, I'll treat you to the best meals possible. We won't be fighting for scraps or need to rely on our asshole families."

"You'll probably die way before then," Luka added.

"You make it sound like you're praying for my downfall."

"I mean… you're the weakest one out of all of us."

Tucker shut his mouth to the point where it made a fine line. He couldn't refute that. He had only made his third aura star recently. Yet for some reason, the smug smile written on Luka's face was getting on his nerves. "I'm what they call a late bloomer."

"Yeah, just like your love life."

Tucker immediately started rolling up his sleeves, only for John to quickly hold him back.

"Guys, guys, let's relax now. This is supposed to be a joyful moment," John worriedly said. "Besides, isn't anyone going to ask me about my dream?"

"Nope."

"Nah."

"You guys are pretty cold, you know that, right?" John sighed before squeezing into the empty space between them. He sat on the bench and gazed at the fireworks. "Well, I'll tell you anyway. I want to start a family."

"A family?" Tucker scratched the back of his head. "Then why are you a watchman? There's plenty of other paths to take than one as dangerous as this one."

"Well, I'm here to keep Luka from dying," John replied.

"And I'm here to keep you from dying," Luka added.

"Well, I ain't dying so you're both free to go," said Tucker. "But jokes aside, why a family? There's a lot of other things you could wish for."

"I just thought it would be nice."

Tucker sat there in silence. What was so nice about a family? He had spent all his time in the household alone. Even with brothers, a father, and a supposed mother, there was no warmth. Only a coldness that gripped onto his neck with every step he took. But maybe his home wasn't the norm. Maybe John would create a more pleasant atmosphere.

"In that case, I hope you accomplish your dream," Tucker said.

"Mhm, the same goes for you." John leaned back against the bench. "I'm sure we'll all make it and then meet back here one day and laugh about this moment."

The night bloomed with an array of colors. Each firework scattering its light across the dark like fleeting stars. Blue, orange, red, and many more colors cascaded downward. Their glows reflected in the eyes of his friends who sat shoulder to shoulder on the old wooden bench. Each explosion felt like a roaring farewell, one they couldn't put into words. And for a minute, it felt as if the world itself was stretching the night just a bit longer for them to savour. Soon, the trails of light would fade into smoke, and with it, the quiet reminder that the three would be going their separate ways.

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Tucker released a deep breath before opening his eyes. He stared at the bench with eyes filled with remembrance and sorrow. Both of his hands fell into his pockets. "I guess we didn't make it after all."