Nations of Rothel:

Wayfaren: The nation of Lapha, Savior of Travel. His Mark grants the ability to pull oneself and others through alternate dimensions, warping distances by doing so. All potential additional conduits are related to this ability in some manner. Wayfaren is unique in that it has territories all across Rothel.

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“...I’m just saying that I should start small, you know? Work my way up,” Roy whined.

“But it’s like you said earlier: if you’ve already signed the waivers you’re basically halfway there,” I said, pushing my way through the gathering crowd.

“I also said that people change.” He stopped, placing a hand to his chest, adopting a sincere expression. “And in the last few seconds, I’ve changed. I’ve decided to be a pacifist.”

“Is that right?” I asked, stopping in place alongside him, the corners of my lips quirking up slightly. I sent my crow-self flying over the crowd with a simple command, allowing the connection between us to force it to wait outside rather than piloting it consciously.

“That’s exactly right,” Roy said with a nod. “Now, let’s go claim the spoils of your violence!”

I let out a short laugh at his enthusiasm. “Oh, so it’s just violence of your own that you’re suddenly opposed to?”

“Naturally. I -”

“Markus, you crazy son of a bitch, I knew that was you!” an enthusiastic voice bellowed, the words a bit slurred. Surprised, I swung my view around, searching for the source of the commotion.

A man stumbled out of the crowd, tankard in hand. The liquid sloshed, nearly spilling over before, in a surprisingly deft motion given his state of inebriation, he ducked his mouth to the rim and caught the wayward drops between his lips.

“Woah, that was a close one…”

A second man slipped out of the crowd with a long-suffering sigh.

“You really should’ve cut yourself off, Jack,” he admonished. “Katrina’s going to blame me for this, you know.”

Jack grinned, raising his mug in a mocking toast. “Guess that means you should have tried to cut me off, then.” He chortled, raising the mug to his lips and taking an impressively long gulp that left foam dripping down his heavy dark beard.

“Asshole.”

“Yup.” Jack whirled, his drink now safe from abrupt movements by dint of its absence. “Where was I...right.” He raised his arms wide. “Markus, you crazy son of a bitch, you’re back!”

Roy looked about as confused as I felt; quite an accomplishment, considering everything about this situation had caught me by surprise.

“Do you guys know each other?” he asked.

“Know each other? We -”

Though I was interested in the drunk’s answer, I decided to head him off.

“Maybe? I can’t remember,” I interrupted.

Jack gasped loudly, adopting a mortified appearance and clutching his metaphorical pearls. His friend, who as of yet remained unnamed, groaned.

“You forgot me...”

“The thing is, a few days ago I -” This time, I was the one who was cut off, my prepared excuse brought short.

“Again?”

Well, then. That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.

Jack gesticulated wildly, temporarily imbued with a flair for the dramatic that only actors and drunks could attain. “Can you believe this?” he asked Roy. When he didn’t receive an answer, he moved on. “Will!” he exclaimed, turning to his friend. “Can you believe this?”

“Actually, I can,” Will declared with a long-suffering sigh. “This is why you need to stop buying so many damn rounds for new people you meet. There’s such a thing as too much alcohol, you know.”

The drunk paused, aghast, while Roy and I exchanged bemused looks as we were momentarily forgotten.

“You don’t mean that, Will!”

Will ignored him, addressing us instead.

“This would be the third time we’ve met, Markus. My name is William, mercenary and member of Katrina’s Killers; this alcoholic pain in the ass is Jack, my immediate superior officer. Somehow.”

“And don’t you forget it!” the drunken superior in question laughed maniacally.

Thrown off by that surprising introduction, I examined them again. I had been so distracted by the insanity of the conversation that I had failed to note a few things the first time: both men were heavily muscled, with multiple weapons strapped in various places on their person. Jack, in particular, sported a staggering number of knives and a maze of scars that crisscrossed his visible skin, lending credence to their claim of mercenary work. Though, now that I thought about it, I wasn’t entirely sure what mercenaries did here.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“I am a bit surprised you don’t remember us this time, though,” the calmer mercenary continued. “I was pretty sure you two toned it down the second time around.”

I held up a hand, finally able to get a word in edgewise.

“Ah, about that. I hit my head a few days ago out in Foxwood Forest. I must have fallen off my mount or something; quite a bit of my memory feels extremely hazy,” I said, supplying one of the few excuses I had at hand. It was also a useful excuse for the future - it left room for Markus to ‘miraculously remember’ his past after he decided that he wanted his life back.

“Oh, damn,” Roy breathed. “Is that why you’re so…” he made a vague gesture, “you know.”

I cocked my head in inquiry, the blood soaking my shoulder now cold upon my cheek. “I’m so what?”

The former thief slumped for some reason. “Nevermind.”

Will and Jack professed their own condolences in turn.

I shrugged in answer. “It’s alright. I’ll just think of it as a chance to see the world in a new light.”

“That’s...a remarkably composed way of viewing it,” Will said.

Jack, meanwhile, took that as an encouragement to recount the events that had led to our past encounters; it involved many drinks and an ill-advised plan to compete in the Pits while absolutely blasted. I couldn’t find it in myself to be overly surprised.

Regardless, I drank it all in, eager to learn as much as possible about Markus. It made me feel closer to the man whose body I currently shared.

“...and you were so wasted that you just sat down in the middle of the fight and let the damn thing gnaw on you!” Jack laughed. “It was pure luck that it wasn’t Unified; wouldn’t have been able to just shift the wounds back to it, then. Honestly, I still don’t think you were even paying attention to whether it was or not, you were so out of it. Didn’t even remember it the next day.”

What the hell, Markus?

“It would have been a bit funny - in a terrible, traumatizing way - if it hadn’t worked out.”

Roy appeared unsurprised. “You know, I could easily see that all happening.”

“Like I said, crazy son of a bitch. And then somehow you topped the crazy against that Axtail, just now.”

“I told you that you looked insane,” Roy interjected.

“Everyone’s a little unhinged in our line of work - even William, here. Honestly, nobody is that boring. Who does he think he’s fooling?” Jack accused.

Before Will could speak in his defense, his drunken superior plowed on through.

“Oh! Speaking of work: that guy who hired you stopped by the other day looking for you.”

My heart jumped. At least, the one currently sitting in Reaper’s Grave did. I warred between dual states of excitement and dread; eager to provide Victor’s remaining family closure and yet terrified of doing so.

“Was his name Gil?” I asked, shunting my conflicting emotions away.

Jack scratched his foam-soaked beard with one hand, performing some sort of half-shrug with the other arm. “...Maybe? I wasn’t really paying attention. He owns that artsy store on Main, I think. What was it called? Bone Vegetables?”

“Bone Garden,” Will helpfully supplied. “Why would you go with vegetables?”

“Garden, vegetables. Pretty close. It tracks.”

“Only if you have a terrible sense for names. Who would shop at a place called ‘Bone Vegetables’?”

“I don’t know, artsy types? Not really my crowd, Will.”

I tuned out the duo’s bickering. I was beginning to suspect that they did this a lot. It seemed all in good fun, though, and I had sorely missed displays of camaraderie like it.

Were I not focused on other things, I’d have liked to try to work my way into the conversation. Instead, I was battling with the knowledge that I now had no excuse. Tomorrow, I would have to visit Bone Garden. Tomorrow, I would have to tell a man that his nephew was dead.

I would have preferred to fight the Axtail again.

At least that wouldn’t kill me inside.

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The haze was less than a comfort, when it rolled in; it snatched me from the distractions of the world outside, binding me in its wispy embrace, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts. Leaving me with nothing but my guilt. Retreating to my main body brought no release. After all, it was the crux of the issue. It was Victor.

“Has...doing this often?”

I thought that I had accepted this. Turns out, I had only put it aside.

“...creepy staring...in his own world?”

Victor was dead - well and truly - but he continued to live in the heart of his remaining family.

“Far...can tell.”

Tomorrow, I would kill him.

“...not doing this...days ago.”

Tomorrow, I would break a man’s heart.

“...there, Markus?”

A loud snap broke me out of my daze; I blinked owlishly, stripping away the haze that surrounded me. Three faces stared at me with concern in their eyes.

I breathed in at last, the inhalation shaking my long-dormant lungs.

“I’m here,” I said. “Just got to thinking about something.”

They looked doubtful, but thankfully chose not to press the issue.

I managed to brush them off, though Jack and Will refused to leave without the promise to come and visit them later; their mercenary group rented an area within the building, so they could be found there much of the time. From what they said, Katrina - who I assumed was the leader of their group, based on the name - would be happy to see me again. Apparently, she and Markus had gotten on like a house on fire despite her initial annoyance with Jack and Markus’ drunken antics.

After bidding goodbye, Roy and I were finally free to collect our winnings and reward. Though Roy didn’t fight, he did bet on my victory - which held 5 to 1 odds against me. When asked why he was so sure I would win, he had a simple reason.

“Always bet on crazy.”

That was fair enough, though I wasn’t sure that I appreciated the sentiment.

He was apparently so sure of this theory that he had also placed my minimum reward for competing down as a bet for myself, as well. While I might otherwise be annoyed, he had shown faith in my ability to succeed in doing so; not to mention, it increased the size of my earnings substantially. Roy took a fee for his services, of course.

I didn’t bother to argue.

With our pouches full of well-earned coin - or at least, earned in my case -, we split up under the agreement that we would meet up again at the same location the next afternoon.

I made sure to remind Roy that he had agreed to turn a new leaf, and that I had better not catch wind of any dishonesty in that regard.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I made far more today than I would have from stealing, anyway.” After a moment of reflection, he continued. “Besides, it was...nice.”

Stepping out into the cold night air, I smiled.

Tomorrow, I would destroy a man.

But tonight...tonight I felt like I was on my way to becoming a true hero.

One small step at a time.