Fenrir slouched in his seat, his body aching. The only other time he had felt like this is when he faced Sir Castiel, whose mere holy presence was enough to nearly disintegrate him.
Only yesterday, he had found and revealed his real identity to Mike, or at least the identity of his true body. It was quite confusing. Mike had seemed fascinated with the idea of using Necrotic Magic, a Magic that already specializes in creating bodies out of pure Magic and utilizing Souls, to create a body that the user can use as a second body.
He compared it to a permanent minion. Something that Fenrir took personally. It just seemed demeaning to be compared to just any other Minion. Sure, Alaster was creating and training Forgotten, which were also permanent Minions If Alaster died, they would still remain because they were bound to their Mana Crystal and not to his Soul, at least not directly. But it seemed quite crude to compare the two.
However, Fenrir’s current ache was not from explaining as much of the process to Mike, but of reuniting with Thomas. Tom did not care about Fenrir technically not being Alaster, he did not even understand the difference, all he cared about was that they had finally found their long-lost friend.
Mike as least understood that while Fenrir was built as a second body to the same Soul as Alaster, that Fenrir had developed his own personality. So while the two bodies shared goals and could share senses and thoughts, they still acted differently.
Fenrir, for example, had embraced his second form, that of a Demonic looking Wolf, and become more animalistic. Fenrir was rougher, more direct, and ruthless. He was more in tune with his emotions, and sometimes let them control him. Something that Tom encouraged.
When Mike had first informed Tom about Fenrir, all he had said was that they had found a direct link to Alaster. Tom had been expecting to find someone who had met him before and might know where their friend was. But when he saw Fenrir, his senses screamed at him that he was Alaster. Tom consciously understood that the two were connected, but separate, but his senses told him that they were the same person.
Tom had hugged Fenrir for several hours, unwilling to let him go for fear that he would vanish once again. And despite how powerful Fenrir himself was, Tom’s strength had cracked many of the bones that comprised Fenrir’s artificial body. Had it been a normal person, Tom would have casually, and unintentionally, killed them.
The pair had left a few hours earlier, leaving Fenrir alone to deal with Quinn. Fenrir’s Shadow Assassins had finally located him.
In the back of Fenrir’s mind he had noticed that before the two had left, Tom had seemed to want to say something but hesitated when Mike gently shook his head. He wondered what it was that Tom had wanted to say, but he respected the two enough to not push the matter, especially after seeing them for the first time after so many years.
He doubted it was anything that could harm him, so he was fine with letting it remain secret until they decided otherwise. Before they left, however, they did tell Fenrir where they had been staying, in case he needed to get a hold of them. They also informed him that they would return to the abandoned building sometime in the evening the next day.
Shortly after they left, Fenrir vanished from the building and appeared near to the target. For the first time, Fenrir, and therefore Alaster, caught sight of one of the men responsible for the death of his parents and kidnapping of his sister.
He was not impressed.
Watching from the roof above, Fenrir saw a drunkard shuffling around the streets in the redlight district. From the way those around him reacted, he was a regular. The man sloppily smiled at the scantily dressed women and joked with the men he passed. He was clearly well known in the area. Some liked him, some didn’t, and some seemed to only tolerate him for the coin he spent.
Quinn was a small man, and while his body had thickened recently, it was clear that his body had once been fit and built of muscle. His clothes were common and well worn, with various stains. His long stringy brown hair fell slightly below his shoulders and his unkept beard.
Yet, despite his disgusting appearance, and his drunkenness, even as he lifted a large jug of even more alcohol, he deftly stepped around a Porter transporting a box. He spun around the man, dragging his feet in the snow, and not spilling a drop as he drank, before continuing on his way.
Fenrir watched him, silently stalking him from the rooftops. A light snow had begun to fall, yet the air remained still, allowing the flakes to gently fall. The rooftops of the red light district were tight and hung over the street, giving the snow only a few feet to fall to the street far below.
The overhanging ceilings worked to keep much of the heat and light in the streets, but also worked to keep much of the stench and filth contained, as well.
Quinn continued to wander the streets, embracing the flirtatious remarks and gestures of the women as he passed. Yet he accepted none of their propositions. Eventually, he sat down in a covered narrow alleyway, took yet another swig of his jug, and passed out on a pile of filthy discarded rags.
Fenrir dropped from the rooftops, slamming into the cobblestone without a sound. His black cloak blew away much of the lightly fallen snow, creating a small flurry. With a face devoid of emotion, Fenrir drew back his greatsword, ready to thrust forward and sever the man’s head from his body. Yet he didn’t.
Instead, Fenrir vanished from the alley, leaving behind a man loudly snoring in the filth and snow, unaware of just how narrowly he had escaped death.
* * * * *
Beautiful rays of golden sunlight bathed the frozen world in comforting warmth, but they also stabbed daggers in the eyes of a sleeping drunkard.
“Aaarghh!” Quinn cried out, rolling over in his sleep.
The movement caused the rags he was using as a pillow to shift and collapse. Groaning and cursing, Quinn sat up with blurry eyes.
“Would you like some help?”
Quinn rubbed his eyes and saw a large man in dark armor standing above him, offering his hand with a slight smirk.
“I don’t need your help!” Quinn growled. He did not want anyone’s pity. His lousy attempt to bat away the man’s hand while standing up caused him to slip on some ice and fall back down.
“Never asked if you needed help. I asked if you wanted help.” The man said, offering his hand once more.
Quinn took it with hesitation, expecting some sort of trick, but the man simply helped him up.
The man stepped back to allow Quinn to brush himself off.
“Come, let me buy you breakfast.”
Quinn huffed, “I don’t take charity.”
“Who said anything about charity? I’m buying you breakfast, and in return, you can show me around the city. Its my first time in such a large city and I’m actually kind of lost.”
Quinn glanced at the large weapon on the man’s back, “An Adventurer?”
The man smiled, “Yep! I always wanted to come to the Capital and figured now was a good a time as any.”
Quinn chuckled, “You picked a bad time my friend.”
The man sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, I noticed. But it doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I’m already here. I figured I would sightsee while there are less people to compete with, then leave once my funds got low enough to take a few jobs. Now come on, I’m hungry, so I figure after your party last night, you are starving.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
At the mention of food, Quinn’s stomach betrayed him by grumbling loudly.
Quinn awkwardly patted his large stomach, “Well, I guess I could show you around in exchange for breakfast.”
“Let’s get to it! You can show me around while we find a good place to eat. This place is kind of dead anyway.” The large man walked out of the alley and gestured around to the deserted street.
Quinn followed him out, protecting his eyes from the direct sunlight, “Ugghh. Yeah well, this is the Red-Light District. It only ever gets busy at night.”
“The Red-Light District? So you had some fun huh?” The man joked, lightly patting Quinn on the back.
The light pat from the large man sent the comparatively small man forward a step.
“Not really, just some booze.”
“No ladies for you?”
“Just one,” Quinn sighed, “Not that she wants anything to do with me.” Quinn muttered the last part, but the man heard it perfectly.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll feel better with some warm food in your belly! Let’s go find a place!” The man loudly exclaimed, causing Quinn to wince in pain as he followed him down the street.
“What is your name anyway?” Quinn asked
“Me? Oh, you can call me Fenrir!”
Chapter 200- Redemption
“Come on Quinn, you said this was important to you.”
Quinn sighed, taking a step away from his friend, “You don’t understand Fenrir. I kept secrets from her, serious secrets. She knew what I did, but she never really understood it, and our children never knew. They just thought I worked as an attendant in the City Hall Records.”
“I know, you’ve told me this many times.”
“The line of work I did is heavy stuff. I thought I was strong enough to handle it, but after a few years, it weighed me down until I got so drunk one night I just broke down. I told her everything! In explicit detail I told her absolutely everything!”
“Do you still love her?” Fenrir asked, taking a light swig of his drink.
They were currently in Quinn’s small one room apartment. With just a small futon, a single chair, and a small table barely large enough for a plate of food and mug. Fenrir was currently seated at the table. It looked comically small compared to his large armored frame.
Quinn, currently stood in the middle of the small room wearing his nicest clothing, which was not much. It was simply the set of clothes that had the least number of stains.
It had been three days since Quinn had been found by Fenrir in the gutter. Since then, they had spent all day together for the last three days. At first, it was because Fenrir wanted someone to guide him around the City. But as more time passed, Quinn found that he enjoyed the giant’s company.
Slowly, Fenrir had been convincing Quinn into accepting certain gifts. He paid for hearty meals, he paid to have Quinn properly bathed and groomed, and now he was wondering if he should get the man a new set of clothes. As Quinn become more comfortable around his friend, he began to open up.
“Of course I still love her. I think about her and the kids practically every other thought.”
Fenrir offered him the second mug of juice, he had been forcing Quinn to become sober, “Then you have the responsibility to try.”
“Try? She kicked me out of the house!” Quinn exclaimed, but still took the mug.
“Quinn, the last time she saw you, you were drunk, and screaming about horrible things. Now, you are sober, cleaned up, and even have a job that you start tomorrow. You are more stable now. Come on, lets go! You will never know until you try.”
Sighing to himself, Quinn downed the rest of the mug, wincing when he realized that it was not the liquid courage he thought it was, and nodded to himself.
“Fine, lets do it.”
“Lets? No no no, my friend, this is all you. I will be there to support you, but you are the one that’s going to have to do it.”
Quinn groaned but set down the mug and turned to the door, “I understand.”
Together, the two friends left the small apartment. Fenrir had to duck and turn slightly to the side to get through the door.
The early morning sun shone brightly, warming the cold streets of Zolis. The street sweepers had already come through these streets, so most of the snow was gone, with the rest piled up on the sides. The streets were filled with people, despite the hidden tension that permeated the city, people still had things to do.
Despite the cold weather, the sun was warm and there were no clouds blocking the bright blue skies. No breeze brought frigid winds through the layers of warmth people clad themselves with. It was a beautiful day. The kind of day that made people smile, even with the tension and fear hidden beneath.
Quinn led the way with Fenrir right beside him. He of course knew where Quinn’s wife and children lived, but Quinn did not need to know that.
As they walked, Quinn grew increasingly panicked. Each step brough him closer to the one thing he had been avoiding for the last five years. He had been sending them what little coins he could during that time, but he had not been within five hundred meters of them since.
Fenrir noticed the panic and attempted to calm the man by pushing him into a clothing store. Ignoring Quinn’s objections, by the time they left once more, Quinn was now wearing a new set of clothing that was clean. The clothing was nothing special, they were just brand new.
Now dressed in good clothes, with a clean haircut and shave, and sober, Quinn felt like a new man. He felt confident! Now Fenrir just had to get the man to his wife before that newfound confidence fled him.
Pretending to be subtle, Fenrir gently, but firmly, pushed Quinn faster through the thin crowd. Quinn was so engrossed in his imagination of what he would say to his family that he did not even notice that he was not the one leading anymore.
In short order, Quinn stood in front of the door of what had once been his own home, now it was that of a stranger. The sudden realization jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked behind him at Fenrir, who stood at the other side of the street.
Fenrir nodded to him and held both of his thumbs up.
Quinn turned back to the door. Quinn took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, allowed all his negative thoughts and fears to saturate it, before he let it all out. Nodding to himself, he imagined all the things that could be, or should be.
He raised his fist to the door, hesitating as he imagined the night he had been kicked out.
He had been drunk that night, as he had been every night for a month before. He had been belligerently screaming, just as he had the month before, but this time, in his drunken acts, he had drawn his sword and swung it around carelessly. Quinn winced at just how close the edge of his sword, propelled by his own arm, had come to his youngest child, his daughter.
She had just been a baby then. She had been woken up by his screaming and was crying in her crib.
His wife, a trained ranger as a Novice, was able to disarm his drunken self and promptly threw him out. He had pounded on the door for several hours that night before he gave up and somehow ended up passing out several streets away.
By all accounts, Quinn had no right to ask to be taken back. He had no right to ask to be their husband and father again. But that was his one selfish wish. He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to feel their embrace. He wanted to devote himself to them.
Steeling himself with one more shaky breath, Quinn knocked on the door, feeling the rough wooden grain beneath his knuckles. He quickly stepped back; he did not want to crowd them. He was there to beg them to be taken back, he knew it. His once powerful pride had slowly been ground down over the years.
A few silent moments passed, but for Quinn it felt like an eternity filled with the mountainous pounding of his heart, the blood rushing through his ears.
Eventually, the door was opened a crack, revealing the eye of the woman he had once called his wife. The eye latched onto him before the door was slammed shut.
Quinn’s hopes and heart fell, but he understood. He had no right to demand to be heard out. If the mere sight of him caused such a reaction, then that was his answer.
He slowly turned away, hearing the snow crunch beneath his feet before his ears heard the quiet sound of a door slowly opening. He turned back around to see his wife in front of an open doorway. She was not a stereotypical beauty, but to him, she was the most beautiful women in the world. He fell to his knees in the snow.
“I know I am likely the last person you want to see right now,” Quinn quickly started talking, the speech he had meticulously planned the night before completely vanishing from his mind, “I know that I have no right to ask. But I am begging you to take me back. I have changed. I can’t promise to be perfect, but I can promise that I want nothing more than to devote myself to you and the kids.”
Quinn had planned a speech that would last ten minutes, but in the end, he barely spoke for one.
She watched him from the doorway in silence, her face passive and void of any reaction. Several tense minutes passed as she studied him, “Are those nightmares gone?”
“Not gone, but with the help of a friend, I have them under control. I cannot change what I have done, but I now understand that I have no control over the past, but I can control the future. A future that I want with you.”
Silence once more descended, even the few people in the street stopped to watch. Most were strangers, but a few were familiar with Quinn and his family. Fenrir continued to watch in the background. But to Quinn, none of them existed. The only thing that filled his existence was his wife, and the world behind her.
Her face gradually grew tense and red before tears began to fall, “Of course I’ll take you back.” She rushed forward and embraced him in a tight hug.
Clapping and cheers erupted from the small crowd. Despite the fear hidden in the background of the city, clawing to the forefront, everyone liked a love story. The sound of the crowd brought the three children to the door.
“Daddy!” They screamed before they sprinted forward, joining the hug.
Quinn kissed his wife deeply before he knelt down and embraced his children. Now noticing the crowd, his wife shyly began to usher her family into the house. Before the door closed, Quinn met the eyes of Fenrir and nodded. A nod that held an eternal gratitude and debt.
Fenrir nodded back, accepting it. The door closed and Fenrir began to walk away. It had taken four days. Four days of careful manipulation. The first body, Alaster, and his entourage, were now in Lissura Lands and were only a few days away from Zolis. The Castle had no doubt received reports of his entry and purpose and were preparing for him. But that was later.
Now, Fenrir’s plan had succeeded. He just needed to capitalize on it.