Chapter 145 - Linked Fates
Why didn’t I say something?
Flynn raked a hand through his hair, ripping through any tangles in his brown curls. Not a wince. Without glancing at his fingers, he let the proof of his inner panic disappear on the cobblestones. He casually strolled down the street to get back to poshtown, his face the picture of routine boredom.
Inside, the cracks he fastidiously kept together for weeks were coming apart. He wanted to scream curses to the sky and slap himself. All his levels in Controlled Appearance seemed hardly worth anything.
Now’s not the time for foolish mistakes. Get a grip.
An easy tell of nervousness was becoming hyper-aware of your body, like suddenly realizing you had two hands. A lesson he had received long before gaining his skill. With an effort, Flynn stilled his arms at his sides and ordered his heart to slow to a more comfortable pace. There wasn’t anyone who would notice out here, but he couldn’t afford a blink out of place back in the clerk's office.
A fucking truthteller in Sylspring.
Most truth skills worked on your reactions, expressions, voice, smell, heartbeat or a combination of those; the best ones read your mana fluctuations. Those were still general skills with ways to counter them. The abilities of a truthteller were granted by their profession. Flynn had no idea if there was a way around them even if he knew how they worked. And he didn’t.
While his education at Hawkfield had not delved deeply into the topic, it taught him enough to know that hoping to deceive a questioner was pure lunacy. Truthtellers were chosen as children before they opened their First Seal. Brought up to unravel any lies wherever the Republic pointed.
Cursed gods and bloody idiots.
The governor of a minor territory like theirs shouldn’t have the pull to call one from the mainland, and certainly not send them out of Higharbor. That was what they told him, what he had believed till a few hours ago.
Could it be a mistake?
Kai had sounded completely sure, and Flynn trusted his words more than what the Voice or his pompous teachers told him.
Where did he hear it?
There was a chance his friend had misunderstood, though the knowledge he had shown made the possibility unlikely. His own curriculum had failed to mention the restriction truthtellers had to abide by. When one asked a question, it was the duty of a citizen of the Republic to tell them everything they knew. As simple as that.
His education was less broad than he had been led to believe. The more he spoke with other employees and—more often—overheard, the more incongruities came up. A sea of small, seemingly insignificant holes and deficiencies.
The scholarship program promised to create the first generation of Republic citizens native to the archipelago. He always thought that meant obedient and grateful little boys and girls, but maybe the lies ran deeper.
For all the time he had spent studying the crimes under Common Law, he had little understanding of how political positions were appointed above a mayor or the limits of the governor’s authority.
We were never really the same, were we? Never expected to do anything beyond what we were told or wish for more than the scraps they presented as gold.
Flynn had never considered himself particularly interested in the political machinations of the world. As long as he knew what was right and wrong, his friends and foes, the path before him was crystal clear. He knew what needed doing, it was only a matter of how to achieve it.
Then came the first thread, the first doubt. He hadn’t thought much of it, a single string hardly affected the final result. So he had pulled at it more out of pride than anything else. He wasn’t afraid of the truth.
Before he realized it, the whole tapestry was coming apart, his life spinning into incomprehensible chaos. The only choice he had was to keep pulling and pray the end result would make more sense than what he had now.
His steps rapidly led him toward the government building, just slow enough not to seem hurried. He gave a brief nod or smile to everyone who crossed his gaze while making sure to avoid getting entangled in a conversation.
Why didn’t I say something?
The impulse to slap himself rose again, he might have indulged it if no one else was watching. He should have done something, argued harder, said it wasn’t going to happen.
When Kai told him leaving was the only option and that he was coming with him, he stood there like goddamn fish on shore. As if he was drowning in a storm and someone threw him a rope, relief had flooded him.
He had muttered weak rejections, aware that anything but outright refusal would lead nowhere. The argument had not lasted half an hour before he agreed to the plan. Grabbed onto Kai with both hands, knowing he might pull him down with him, but too scared to let go.
Such a selfish bastard.
He had tied their fates together with a double knot, conscious he was leaving Kai the short end of the stick. No number of words would convince the Republic they were vague acquaintances after this. If the truthteller or the investigators found his links with the rebels, they’d both pay the price.
The pristine three-story building that housed the town hall stood before him. The heart of the bureaucracy that kept Sylspring going. Imposing white columns marked the main entrance guarded by a pair of enforcers in black uniforms.
The well-lit halls had never felt menacing before. Flynn faltered, straightening his own blue uniform to take time. A small stream of people came and went without sparing a glance.
I’m still in time to turn away…
With a polite smile, he went inside. The enforcers gave him a nod of recognition. No one stopped him when he walked past the public area into the employees’ offices. He reciprocated a friendly wave to the people he crossed, getting a few nods in exchange.
There were so many new faces, stuffing the place into a constant chatter of activity. He wasn’t supposed to be back for an hour yet, but the desk he shared with the other two assistants was free.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
He took a clean sheet of paper and ink, tapped the quill on his chin twice and began writing his letter of resignation. With his minor position, an oral notice to his senior officer would be enough, but the Republic loved their paperwork. A written notice would also show this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision taken today.
The words came easy, he had dreamed of the possibility even before the pirate raid, though he never thought he’d actually go through with it. He cut the snark and curses, leaving clear and apathetic words. A few concise lines: name, position and reasons to leave.
The accident offered the best excuse, many junior officers continued to leave or requested a transfer after the raid. He added a few more personal notes about his family, his desire for a change and a new opportunity in Higharbor like he agreed with Kai.
Checking his draft, he fixed any mistakes and added some pointless flowery. After a moment of thought, he added some more, clerks liked their meaningless big words. Satisfied, he rewrote it on a new paper in the best calligraphy he could manage. If not beautiful, it was precise. Higher Dexterity had done wonders for his writing.
Flynn forced his hands to slow down, his letters couldn’t appear rushed. Adding his signature and date at the bottom, it was ready. Not his best work, but it would do. As he waited for the ink to dry, he put the folded draft into his pocket to not leave any trace.
I’m really doing this.
Kai was right, this was the best solution for him, to keep him away from scrutiny. The truthteller‘s presence wouldn’t remain a secret forever, sooner or later they’d take a more active role in the investigation. If rumors began to spread, every action he took would appear a hundred times more suspicious.
If he was lucky, he could be gone before the questioner knew he existed. Few would suspect he had learned of the secret arrival the same day and chosen to leave.
Not zero, but lower than any day I wait.
Flynn loosened the grip on his heart and let a few slivers of nervousness peek through his facade. Some worry was expected when he was about to leave his job. He walked to his senior officer, waiting for the old clerk to pay him attention. His heartbeat raced beyond his control.
“What do you need?” Curt tone, telling him to be brief.
"I wanted to personally deliver my resignation,” Flynn placed the letter on the desk. His gaze lowered as if afraid to meet the judgment of his superior. He dried his sweaty palms on his pants, not sure if that was part of the act.
Voices and clatter of activity continued unabated, no one turned to look at him. The old man threw a glance at the paper and muttered something about how this job was harder than people thought and not everyone could do it.
“You have a day to clear your room and gather any personal possessions if you have any.” The clerk put his letter in a drawer and turned back to his work. Not even bothering to dismiss him.
Guided by Controlled Appearance, Flynn said goodbye to a few coworkers he had a friendly relationship with. It had only been a few months, and no one seemed overly distraught. He received a few pats and words of comfort, from their looks, most of them believed he had been fired.
Flynn wasn’t sure what happened till the sun warmed him with its rays. No one had stopped him or arrested him.
I’ve actually done it.
He walked to his room without looking back. Relief made him breathe lighter while guilt racked his insides. He had mentioned his imminent journey to Higharbor in his resignation to show he had no intention to hide. There was no going back now.
The claustrophobic four walls of his apartment—as they called it—were a welcome sight for the first time since he slept here. Room 253 had been his home for months.
If I never see this place again, it will still be too soon.
The bed and a chest took up three-quarters of the floor. Flynn quickly gathered a few pairs of clothes and stuffed them into a bag, ignoring whether they were clean or not. He hid one of his coin pouches in the middle. A dagger and three notebooks later, he was done.
Most of his personal belongings had been left with his sister, and he wasn’t going to get those back anytime soon. The rest were buried beneath a palm on the southern beach, together with most of his money.
There was still time before he had to meet with Kai at the docks. The boy had assured him he would find them a passage on the first ship to Higharbor. Flynn didn’t know how he could be so sure, but that didn’t even make it to the list of mysteries surrounding him.
Flynn walked into the hallway eager to leave this building behind. He had almost made it to the door when a young woman with auburn hair in a pixie cut entered, struggling to carry two bags. She was older than him, still shy of twenty.
Her face lit up when she saw him, flashing a sweet smile that made a dimple appear on her cheek. “Excuse me, could you point me to room 13?”
Flynn took a second to reciprocate the smile, “The rooms in this building all have triple digits, I think yours is in the other building east of the main square.”
The girl slumped down, letting the bags hit the floor, defeated. Still in the way of the exit. “Could you show me where it is? I’ve just arrived here and I’m still not very familiar with the town.” Her big hazel eyes looked at him.
Flynn stared at her, dazed while his mind considered a dreadful possibility. “Sure. I can take you there.”
The girl's smile widened, “Thank you a lot. You’re my savior, this is already the third building I’ve been to. I’m Annyl by the way.”
“Flynn.”
Annyl lifted her bags without any effort, moving out of the only exit. What were the chances? If a ship came to ferry the truthteller, it was possible it would carry more people. This girl was certainly not what he expected a questioner to look like.
“Are you also new?” Annyl hinted at his backpack.
Shit!
“Actually, I’m moving out.” Flynn began to lead the way through the streets at an unhurried pace. He stopped his eyes from glancing at each street they passed to calculate the quickest way out.
“Oh, why? Did you ask for a transfer?”
“I quit. I’ve decided to move to Higharbor.” And if she was a truthteller, was their meeting a coincidence or did she hear he was leaving?
“That’s a pity. It would have been nice to know a friendly face.” Annyl said sadly. “I guess it’s understandable, I’ve heard many people wanted to leave after what happened. Was it as terrible as they said?”
“Worse probably. I still have nightmares.” He could avoid her questions, but if he appeared suspicious the Republic might decide to try a more forceful method. He’d likely get stuck in Sylspring for days or weeks, and they’d take the chance to dig much deeper.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you think of that. I just can’t believe anyone would cause such harm, don’t you think?”
She says sorry and then keeps pushing.
Flynn’s face darkened remembering that night, “Yes, it was horrible.”
“Especially to the people they say they want to save,” Annyl muttered to herself, loud enough that there was no doubt he heard.
“What do you mean?” Flynn faked the confusion proper of a taboo topic.
“Have you not heard the rumors? Since you were here you must know more. I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but I promise not to tell if you do.” She winked with a conspiratorial smile.
“I’ve heard of them.” Even though that wasn’t why he knew.
“So you believe it was them?”
“Yes, I couldn’t believe they would push themselves so far, but everyone saw the fires before the accident began.” That should be enough, even if it was a pretty girl asking he had already pushed the limits of what he’d normally say. “I’m sorry I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I understand. I hope you have a good time in Higharbor, it’s a beautiful city. Any idea what you’re going to do there?”
“Not really, but bigger city, bigger opportunities, right?”
“Yeah, so you decided to move on a whim?”
“A friend asked me to go with him, he has always been very resourceful. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
“He must be a very good friend.”
“He’s the best friend I have,” Flynn stopped before a pastel blue building with a soaring hawk on the door. “This is the building.”
Truthteller or not, I hope to never see you again.