Portal:History/Fire paved my way 3

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August peered into the reflections of the flame dancing on Martin's irises, and felt in his gut that the leader was tormented by doubts. Now the young bollard was so unlike the image that had surfaced in his memory that the councilor felt almost betrayed. Realizing this thought, Augustus immediately dropped it. There is too much holding on to Martin anyway for the adviser to weigh him down with his distrust.
For a while the leader of the bollards was silent, as if he had forgotten that he was calling out to his interlocutor. He looked at the red-hot coals silently and unblinkingly, stirring the pieces of wood in the fire with an iron bar until the piece of iron got hot and Martin threw it away. Glancing at the rust-stained fingers, the young man brushed them off lightly, then got up and walked back to the weapons rack.
- You know, August ... - Martin chuckled for some reason. “Sometimes, when I think about where our path lies, I’m not sure that I’m doing the right thing. Flanders awaits us at the end of one of a hundred paths, but do I - not you, but just me - have the right to trample the grass of its meadows?
- Where do you get these thoughts from? - August skillfully restrained his excitement. - Martin, if it weren't for you, we would not know, let alone dreams of Flanders. Many of us would not be alive at all. They would have killed me for sure, even then! ..
Martin ran his fingers over the smooth butt of the rifle and lifted it off the rack. Feeling the tingling tension, August got up, not taking his eyes off the revolver, and quickly handed the leader a box of cartridges. Martin nodded and slowly spoke again, reloading his rifle along the way:
“Each bollard has contributed to this path, Augustus. That's just ... More and more of my decisions denigrate us. The deal with the Lunatics seemed like a necessary measure. We have not been in these lands for a long time, and we need to arm people. But today I sent you to talk to Pete, a man who has forgotten about honor. The people of the Wasteland are doing terrible things for his favor, and we have made an agreement with him. What if this and other not my best decisions lead us astray?
Martin spoke softly so that only August could hear him, and that made his voice sad. Now the leader of the Knights Riders looked his age, and the councilor saw himself as the same in him. The boy who thinks he's ready to lose. He needs to remember why he started everything at all.
“Each of us walks along the path you have laid out,” August said, straightening his shoulders. “Day after day we walk into a land that is not marked on any of the maps, but we continue on our way, Martin. Do you know why? Because even if we find Flanders one day, but fail to set foot on its land, its existence alone will be enough. It means that there will be others worthy, and we will direct them. How you guide us all.
As he said this, August smiled. He suddenly realized at once a thought that had long stuck in his head. Flanders was almost unattainably beautiful, but Martin's ideals are able to live here, in this dying world. Augustus only wanted a chance to save another child who saw assassins feasting on the ruins of his home, so that the bollards could follow the honor and not lose a single glorious battle.
The adviser looked down at the revolver on the counter. "Emily". Let the weapon with which Augustus pave the way for a new family to Flanders and defeat enemies, be her name. The name of the one who disappeared into flames on the last day. The one whose smile he will forget only after many years.
Martin did not answer to Augustus, but he knew: the leader's doubts had turned to ashes. The advisor has done his duty again. 
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