"Is this seat taken?" I asked, trying to discern if the man in front of me was indeed Silas.

"Suit yourself..." he mumbled, taking a long sip from his mug until it was empty. "Burps! One more!" he shouted at the dwarf behind the bar, demanding a refill.

I scrutinized him, but no matter how long I stared, I couldn't be sure if this disheveled figure was Silas. His beard was soaked with ale foam, and his hair looked as though a pack of wild animals had hacked at it. He reeked of alcohol and vomit, and his eyes were bloodshot, devoid of the spark that used to define Silas. While there were a few striking resemblances, the Silas I knew would never let himself fall to such a low.

Soon, the dwarf I had met behind the bar arrived with two mugs of ale.

"For an ale you ask, an ale I'll bring! How 'bout you, lad? We've got the best chicken in Buckleberry, and if ya ask me, probably the whole eastern realms!"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," I replied politely.

"Such a sweet tongue ya got, lad! Ain't never had a visitor as polite as you. The chicken's on the house!" the dwarf exclaimed merrily.

"How come he gets stuff for free and I don't? I've been polite plenty of..." The man across from me started to complain but then abruptly stopped, looking like he was about to vomit. Thankfully, he managed to hold it in.

"Give ya a drink on the house? That'd be the end of me! You'd drink the whole place dry! I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I ain't stupid neither!" the dwarf retorted with a shrug, dismissing the man's complaint before heading back behind the bar.

"Here, drink," the man said, sliding one of the mugs toward me.

"Thank you," I replied.

"Stop being so damn polite!" he snapped, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Do you think you're better than me just because you're well-spoken? Let me tell you something; I was a master with words once! There was no one in the four great realms better than me! No one!" he screamed, though it felt like his anger was directed more at the world, or perhaps at himself, rather than at me.

"Oy, Silas! You might wanna lower it a notch. Some of us are here to unwind after a hard day's work," a large man with long white hair warned in a low, authoritative voice.

Silas? So it is him! I knew he looked familiar, but I never imagined he would give up on himself like this. Ever since I met him that day in Emberfield, he was always a dreamer. He was always happy whether he was broke or living in a barn. What could have happened to him to turn out this way?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Shut your trap, Orion! Or I'll shut it for you!" Silas threatened, barely managing to stand.

"Take the ale from him, kid, will you? He's a mean drunk, and if he takes another sip, trouble is bound to come," the man Silas called Orion advised me with a firm voice.

"There are two things I will never part with, even in death: my trusted lute and a cold ale!" Silas screamed, grabbing the lute from beside the table and charging at Orion, who was almost twice his size.

The sound of the lute striking Orion's face echoed through the tavern, drawing everyone's attention.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" the crowd began chanting, forming a circle around us.

"I don't fight drunkards. Walk away," Orion warned.

Silas, his hands clutching the lute's neck, swung again, striking Orion's face. The blow had no effect; Orion didn't even flinch.

"Are you made of stone?" Silas exclaimed, panting heavily.

"Let him go, Orion. He's not worth our time," the woman sitting with Orion advised.

"Fine..."

The two began pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

I sighed in relief. Seeing Orion's colossal back, I knew he was no ordinary man; that was a fight I'd rather not have. As they left, Silas hurled the lute at Orion, and he stopped in his tracks. A tense silence fell over the room; something was about to happen, and I feared I would be caught in the middle of it.

With a swift turn, Orion lunged at Silas, his fist as big as the bard's head. Instinctively, I stepped between them just in time, catching Orion's fist with my own. The impact sent shockwaves through the tavern. Tables and glasses rattled, the ceiling and the floor shook, and the townsfolk dove under tables, thinking it was an earthquake.

"You're not ordinary, are you?" Orion said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Neither are you," I sighed heavily, releasing his fist.

"You didn't have to butt in; I could've handled that," Silas remarked, standing behind me.

"How about a thank you, huh? If it weren't for me, your drunken ass would be six feet under!" I yelled at Silas, genuinely frustrated with him for the first time ever.

He throws his life away like it’s nothing. His life isn’t just his own anymore; there's a family in Emberfield waiting for his return every day. It infuriates me that he's cast aside their memory and that he no longer remembers mine. If only he knew the joy he brought to my family and me, if only he knew what I owe him, for there wouldn’t be a Valerian without Silas. It pains me to be the only one holding on to the memories of the past.

"I never asked you to save me..." Silas pushed me aside and silently disappeared into the crowd.

You might not remember me, but I remember you, Silas. No matter who you are now, I'll always remember the person you used to be. You were my light, and if I accept you as my darkness, my life would be lost forever, for there is no day without light. I'll help you remember who you are, what your gift brings to people, and what your light does for the world; that I promise.

"Orion, watch out!" the woman with him shouted.

She grabbed a giant halberd with a golden shaft and a single blade atop, leaping across the table to protect Orion from a hooded figure emerging from the shadows. She was so focused on the threat in front of her that she didn’t notice several more hooded figures with daggers emerging from the crowd.

"There are more of them!" I screamed, hoping she would notice, but it was too late; one of the hooded figures drove a dagger deep into her gut, and she collapsed without releasing her grip on the halberd.