They paused.

The afternoon was growing late. They had prepared for what seemed like months. Xanto had trained Marcus on what to expect. Now it was time for Marcus to begin his journey. It would take days. There was nothing left to say. Neither remembered the time long ago when Marcus had first run this type of errand for Xanto.

Xanto wondered if the greatest archers would pause like this after lining up their shot. It wasn’t that he was contemplating not sending Marcus. Now that the time was here and all that was left to do was set him off on his way, this pause wasn’t a validation as much as a taking in of the world before it would become changed forever.

Godspeed my friend, he thought as he smacked Marcus’ horse.

Now the waiting. Xanto pondered what could be done in this time. How would the journey change Marcus? What would transpire during this time? He wondered not if Marcus would succeed, he knew that he would. The world seemed to be changing, and not of Xanto’s design. He wondered how the world would be when Marcus reached his destination, if the payload he carried would be right or even adequate to the task. He felt a nervousness now that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Perhaps it wasn’t the world changing that was so concerning, but Xanto changing his mind about poking a stick into such a dark place. Saxstonia certainly had other priorities and this move might throw the kingdom into a civil war.

If character is measured by the punches that you don’t throw, and regret is filled by the shots that you don’t take, humanity must lie somewhere in between.