Chapter XXIII#
Old Man Ramblings#
what a waste of time!
Warning
Chapter illustrations currently WIP.
“What, he just fucking disappeared?!” I slammed a hand against my seat. A rock. We’d gone a bit further south to some taller, more stealthy grass. “Neither of you saw him leave?”
“No,” Bia said, head in her hands. “Fuuuuuuuck.”
Arodorros shook his head. He seemed somewhat unbothered. I balled my fists, tthe handle of my undismissed dagger digging into skin like the blade itself.
“And you,” I growled. “What a bloody grand idea. Dive straight into their fucking stronghold for some pieces of dusty old rubbish paper. Is that hightier brain still working up there? Has Dawne sent a defective model?! What plan – ”
“There were risks,” Arodorros raised a hand. “And there were rewards.”
“I’ll start a fire,” Bia attempted to arrest my momentum. “Cook us something to eat…”
She knelt down and started drawing a smoke concealment ritual. We paid her no mind.
“Risks your boss misinformed you of and you further misinformed us of,” I snarled. “Rewards undefined and – what the hell does this even mean? This paper is all fucking nonsense.”
“It is not,” Arodorros sniffed, snatching a sheet from his dimensional bag. “This one, per example – ”
“Will be entirely useless,” I said.
“Here, just the first part, and you’ll see,” and he read. “A light is coming soon. There is a bar of gold in here. It will be taken by the fire. It will leave the other metals disturbed as it so withers, limned in its flame.”
“Speaking of,” Bia said. A spark bloomed on her hastily assembled pile of our spare firewood. “What are we thinking?”
“Barbecue this fucker,” I pointed at Arodorros. “And?! And what does that mean for us? Anything useful whatsoever? I fucking doubt it! This entire operation was a waste of time, given us nothing, and now you’ve killed Lloyd.”
“He was the first to volunteer,” Arodorros shrugged. “And I doubt he will be dead. The Haelborne will likely use him as hostage.”
“Oh, because that makes it so much better,” I snarled.
“I’m just going to roast some crienbeast,” Bia poked some containers out of her dimensional bag. “That alright with you two?”
“Allow me to continue,” Arodorros with a rare tinge of annoyance. “This passage can be deciphered with some simple deductive thought. Your friend, his entire outfit and his hair coloured gold, was taken by the fire. He has left you upset with his absence – ”
A flood of colour surged through my eyes and my hands surged towards Arodorros, knife still held. It sliced through the paper he held with buttery satisfaction. It stopped at his wrist, unable to penetrate high-tier skin. My foot swung at his rock seat through the fire. It didn’t break but lurched backwards and so did he onto the ground. The noise did not protrude through my ears.
A hiss loosed my lips. I stepped over the fire, kicking the paper in as I did so. Arodorros got up. I didn’t care. This little shit would pay. He would pay in suffering. He would pay in blood. In lives. In whatever I fucking demanded, and it would not return Lloyd here but it would let me rest assured his killer was dealt his deal.
A hand on my shoulder. I continued, knife still raised. He backed away, raising a hand. I would hope in fear, but I didn’t bother with that ugly carving of a face. There was nothing worth seeing there, as worth as these sheets of shit we chose over common sense.
“Ari!” a voice shouted, dragging me backwards. A knife turned on it but was slapped away.
“ARI,” it repeated and I snapped back. Bia clutch my outstretched wrist, eyes wide.
“Hi Bia,” cold, and retreated, my glare seated squarely at Arodorros, who wrang his hands in anger.
“You burnt the predictions,” he said.
“I burnt a piece of useless garbage,” I said. “Its particles have been released back to the world where it can be actually useful.”
“If that piece was relevant to your friend, it may have contained other things relevant to him.”
“From the shit I read, all the writing’s ruminations on the meaning of life or some other useless shit. Faelorn’s a good man with useful connections, but he’s still a bloody moron.”
“Then you didn’t read deep enough?” Bia scoffed, no doubt unhappy with the ‘good man’ comment.
“I’m built for analyzing monster encounters, not literature.”
I sat back down, fingers pressed against temples. “Neither of you saw him go.”
“Did you?” Bia said.
“No,” I stewed in silence. “This makes no sense. He was right goddamn behind us. How could we have lost him?”
He just disappeared. Gone without a sign – Arodorros didn’t even notice his presence vanish, so they put him under some kind of stealth spell? Didn’t hear a sound – but I suppose the chase was already quite a racket. Lloyden fucking Limril. Ughhhhhh.
“Maybe…” Bia started. “... no, I don’t know. Why him? If they could sneak him off with that much ease, why not grab Ari?”
“Obvious,” I snorted. “The hourglass has to be relinquished willingly. Easier to do if you’ve got leverage.”
“Whatever you do,” Arodorros warned. “Do not hand the hourglass over for him. He is not worth the mess it would be if the artifact got into the Haelborne’s hands.”
“Couldn’t care less,” I assured him. “And whatever other prophetic treasures have you read up from our oh-so-worth-it haul?”
“I am not qualified to understand all of them,” he said. Whether he lied or not, my faith in Dawne was quickly waning. “But our more knowledgeable Matriarch will find them very useful.”
“Why don’t you ask them, then? Show me something to prove this was worth a life.”
“One does not simply speak to the Matriarch,” his nostrils flared.
“What, is she deaf? Can she read? I imagine its easier to transmit text than voice, with your kingdom’s tech or not.”
“I do not possess a direct line to the Matriarch,” Arodorros said angrily. “If I did, I would not sink to such low decorum as to speak to her on a matter of curiosity. It would be a waste of her time and my dignity.”
“Then I’ll count it unproven and our arrangement is over. You leave us the hell alone.”
His voice froze cold. “You will come to Dawne, whether you like it or not. I will not let you compromise the Matriarch’s design over some petty feud.”
“Great, we stick together then,” I shrugged. “That’d be better actually. Keep you around. What better way to repent for your sins than clean the mess you caused yourself?”
“What?”
“We come to Dawne. You will stick with and ensure Lloyd comes back safe and sound. You will trade your life for it, if necessary, as you’d so callously throw away ours.”
He stared. “Either way, you come to Dawne. I may as well go about that peacefully.”
“Grand,” I snarled. “But not enough. You give me all that damned paper.”
“No. In fact, you hand yours to me. These need to be returned to the Matriarch.”
“And they will be if we get Lloyd back. If these few sheafs of ‘prophecy’ are worth as much as his life to you, then we shall trade. If Lloyd is returned to us safe and sound, the Matriarch gets her prize. If not, I drop it straight into the biggest fire I can set.”
He narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brow.
“Which is more important, Arodorros? Me and my hourglass, or these useless papers?”
“You are difficult,” he said, and plunged his hand into his dimensional bag. I accepted the trade, safely tucking the notes into my own bag.
“...Are we done?” Bia interjected. “I think the meat is about cooked.”
Bia hadn’t messed up the crienbeast meats entirely and it was an okay meal. We got moving again, looking for somewhere farther from Troltano and more sheltered to pitch tents. There was a small forest and the tents are pitched now.
I’m pondering Arodorros’ fortune telling nonsense. It has a certain fantastical appeal to it, despite its many, many layers of bullshit. Faelorn never seemed like some oraclic sage – more just an insane person.
How would it work, even? Either Faelorn’s witnessing of these visions somehow molds the future to fit them – which would be some distribution of power, hell forbid – or our destinies have already been plotted before us. His visions would simply peek into wherever those threads of fate are stored and draw them out all twisted and weird for him to hallucinate about.
The world would have to be written long before we’d set our steps on its soil. It would make every single thing I’ve ever done meaningless and not by my own will. It would mean that whatever happened, there would only be one track things could go, because that whatever would be one.
Yeah, that makes no sense. Then again, nothing has around here for a while.
I get chased down by a bloody shadow demon. It turns out my parents are criminals. I’m embroiled in some worldwide conspiracy about interdimensional fucking space rats. The mentor from an ancient advanced kingdom that holds all the strings turns out to be some kind of fanatic for his queen and an absolute moron. My friend was mysteriously disappeared without our noticing.
Ugh.
I’m going to go out hunting. It’s late and Bia’s in bed, but I’ll be quick.
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