“The road to redemption is paved with a thousand corpses. After all, one who commits no evil has nothing to redeem.”

– Dread Emperor Benevolent

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Another ten days passed. The nights grew longer and the snow piled up. People grew more surly and unpleasant to be around.

Roland had found out that Olivier and Alisanne were leaving together. Since then, a perpetual storm cloud had followed him around wherever he went. He had already been distant from most of us. Now, the only person he spoke to on the regular was Morgaine. Often, they left together, heading out on their own.

I suspected they were plotting something. I couldn’t bring myself to care. So long as they weren’t hurting anyone, I wasn’t going to make it my problem.

I had enough issues of my own.

More time indoors meant more time to read. In a fit of inspiration, I had turned to the Book of All Things. It was supposed to be the Holy Book about the Gods Above. That was not what interested me. It was most likely that I had been summoned from beyond Creation. Angels were from outside of Creation as well.

It was amazing how much motivation you had to learn a new language when you were stranded in a foreign world.

Learning that in Creation, Angels and Devils were real had come as a nasty surprise. If real gods existed, then why hadn’t they done anything about the golden man? At first, I had only entertained the idea in terms of it concerning the existence of beings from beyond Creation. Then I brought the topic up with Maxime. The two of us now got together drinking every evening.

I found it helped drive off the thoughts of how I was so alone.

The two of us were sitting at our regular table. Successive generations of patrons here had carved plenty of unflattering images into the surface. It was in the leftmost corner, at the opposite end from the fireplace. Usually it would be cold, but Maxime usually used magic to create his own warmth. There was a large gap between us and anyone else. People avoided us as if we were diseased.

“Ssso Max, Iiiiii’ve been reading the Book of all Things,” I began, my speech just the slightest bit slurred.

“Oh no, girlie, don’t tell me you going all good on me now. Or you planning to do the whole naughty sister act and get down on your knees in front of me in one of them fancy white robes?” He leered my way unflatteringly.

I gave him a deadpan stare. It was spoiled when I hiccuped and knocked over my own tankard, spilling its contents all over the table. I scowled.

“The Book talksss about Gods and Angels as if theyyy are real. Are they?” I asked.

He looked at me strangely.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” he told me, firmly.

“Nooo, I’m fiiiiiine.” I denied.

He snorted. “If you want proof the Gods are real Girlie, just go to the House of Light for a day and ask for a demonstration. I’m sure the Sisters there will be more than happy to bring you to the Light, if you catch my drift.”

Conversation drifted there. Eventually, the two of us headed back to our rooms at the tower. I headed to sleep, for another night tormented by dreams of a golden sky. After nursing the hangover that struck me the next day, I decided to consider his advice.

My first thought was to dismiss it. If Gods were real, then they probably knew what I was and were fully capable of warning their followers about me. It didn’t take much thinking for me to change my mind. I had been in the town for a while now. If the Gods were going to warn the priests here, I would have already been noticed.

So I followed Maxime’s advice.

I took a trip to the House of Light. At first, they scowled at me even more than the people on the streets. Their attitude changed entirely when I asked them to tell me about their faith. After an hour of listening to a priestess babble excitedly about the Gods Above and demonstrate some minor miracles, I was convinced. The Gods here were real. That, or there was another extradimensional entity with Godlike abilities, handing out powers.

The results were the same, either way.

There aren’t any prophecies about the end of the world, so I don’t need to worry about it.

If I kept telling myself that, then maybe I would believe it. After seeing one nigh Godlike entity bring about the apocalypse, my faith in the good intentions of what appeared to be another wasn’t at an all-time high. At least these ones tried to pretend to be good. They even had a holy book. Scion had bad advertising in comparison.

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The end of the month had come sooner than I expected. Tempers were high at the tower. Roland had taken to snapping at us more and more often. Max and I had taken to staying progressively later at the tavern each night. The atmosphere suited us better here anyhow. Despite how foul his mouth was, he had never actually tried anything.

I found to my surprise I was actually starting to consider the man a friend.

The two of us were thoroughly drunk. That, or there were more tankards on the table than could physically fit. I suppose with magic, both could be true. The thought amused me. I giggled. Max and I probably reeked of alcohol. I hadn’t washed in two days, and I didn’t make for very good company.

Nowadays, I was usually either drunk or hung over, much to my chagrin. The stuff still tasted vile, but it pushed the haze that haunted me just a bit further away. Just one year ago, if I had known I would end up like this, I would probably have been horrified.

Back when I still had a purpose to live for.

A small voice at the back of my mind was shouting at me that I should try to do better. I had grown adept at muting it.

Max set another mug in front of me.

“Thanksss Max,” I beamed at him. His grey eyes softened in response.

“Say Girlie, you feel like telling me your story?”

He’d asked me a few times now, and so far I had always said no. Right now, though, I was brimming with confidence and felt like spinning a yarn.

Might as well talk about it, I trust his discretion regardless.

Licking my lips, I considered how to begin my story. I would need to exercise some creativity, to make it fit with the audience.

“Surrrre Max, ssso long asss you call me Taylor,” I replied.

“Alright Taylor,” he said, the tone of his voice odd. Why were there three of him?

No, don’t get distracted.

“The ssstory ssstarts a few years ago,” I began.

“Like all good stories do,” he agreed.

“For reasonss I won’t talk about, I was a messss, mister-misar-misher-” I trailed off, frustrated.

“Miserable,” he added helpfully.

“That,” I agreed affably.

“Soooo I went out trying to find a fight. Looking back, I thhhhhhhink I wanted to die at the time. Then I ran into a dragon that wanted to eat some children. Soooo I decided to do be a hero and try to save the children.” I smiled in recollection.

“And you survived?” He asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“It turned out the children were villains.” I giggled and took another sip of my drink. It was unbearably bitter. I was sweet in comparison.

“And what happened next?”

“We saved each other and they sssort of invited me to join them. Ssso I did.”

“So you were a villain then?” His voice had a sharp tinge to it.

“At first, then I became a hero later.” I agreed.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Redemption stories always have tragic endings,” he muttered.

“Heyyy, don’t spoil my story. I haven’t got to that part yet,” I complained, swatting at him with my stump. I knocked over a tankard in the process. He caught it deftly and placed it back on the table.

“I’m going to need another drink after this,” I vaguely heard him complain.

“Sssoo I’m going to ssskip a lot of the sssmaller ssstuff we did early on, like fighting a Tyrant, buuut sssoon before the sssea monster wrecked the city I learned our bossss had captured the Princess and had her in his dungeon. Rescuing her became my goal. It took some time for me to figure out he was ackshually the Chancellor, but finally I killed him and ssset her free.”

“And that was when things went awry?” He asked, leaning in.

I couldn’t help myself, I snorted. “Thingsss were always going wrong. I was sssort of failing myself into successs.”

“So, what came next, then?”

I continued my story, using the appropriate substitutions I had made up. Noelle became a demonsummoned by the Chancellor in his last moment out of spite. The Slaughterhouse Nine were an Evil cult dedicated towards trying to end the world. They had, in my retelling, made it their mission to try to create something equivalent to an evil god. Scion got no mention at all. I made sure to be vague on details.

As my story drew to a close, my eyes began to droop.

“You don’t have a Name any more, do you, Taylor?” He inquired.

“Nope.”

“What was your Name as a hero?”

“Weaver,” I replied. It slipped out before I even considered whether I wanted him to know.

“Looking back, I didn’t do a very good job. Lotssss of regrets.” I continued.

“Looking forward, you should try not to make new ones,” he murmured.

Our conversation stilled then. The two of us staggered back to the tower, supporting each other. Max was juggling coloured balls of fire as we hiked our way back home. We arrived at the ground floor. I took a seat to wait while Max went to find a bottle of wine from his room. We had made an evening ritual of singing songs and drinking before heading to sleep.

I didn’t know the context for the ballads and butchered the pronunciation badly. It didn’t really matter. Max arrived back, and we started to sing, punctuating every other line with a drink.

Hours later, I stumbled my way into bed. My sleep went untroubled by dreams for once.

Which was why it came as such a shock when I woke up by being dunked into a nearby pond.

Dawn had not even set in yet. The sun had yet to rise. The icy cold of a body of water that should have been frozen solid made for an unwelcome appearance upon waking up. I sputtered my way to the surface. My head was a throbbing mess and my mood was foul. After catching my bearings, I saw Olivier standing beside the pond.

His arms were folded, and his expression was stern. He wore his usual coat in addition to frilly long pants. Were I not so angry, I would have commented how well the look suited him.

How did he even carry me here without ending my rest?

“What exactly did you do that for?” I demanded frostily, poking his chest with my index finger.

He looked calm, unruffled. Ignoring my outburst, he began to speak in a measured tone. “For some time now, you and Maxime have been provided accommodations by me on rather generous terms. However, when the House of Light, the Townfolk and the other people living in the same tower as you have all raised complaints, I started to have some concerns.”

“So you’re throwing us out then?” I said bitterly. It didn’t surprise me. A part of me knew it would happen sooner or later.

His expression softened. “On that night, when we were struck by brigands, you told me that you were trying to improve the manner of your comportment. Would that girl be proud of how you conduct yourself now? Drinking all night and then causing strife during the day?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be like this if everyone but Maxime hadn’t treated me like an outcast from the moment I first arrived,” I bit back.

His eyebrows rose. “I have no recollection of this.”

“You wouldn’t, would you? Ever since that night on the road, you haven’t even been able to look at me properly. You avoided conversation when you could, as if I was diseased. Then, when I arrived here, it was more of the same. The people in the tower either pitied me or avoided me, and the people in the town outright disdain me. Then you wonder why I started drinking with Maxime.” I stopped, taking in a breath.

He frowned for a moment and then asked, “did you ever stop to consider how you appear to everyone else?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“When you first met them, what were they told about you?” Olivier pressed.

“That you found me and I discovered my gift in a fight.” I replied.

“Where you left the foe you felled with a face plagued by rot,” he explained.

“So perhaps I made a poor first impression. That isn’t a good reason for them to shun me, though,” I argued.

“Upon arrival, you proceeded to spend most of your time with Maxime, who had some notoriety already. You avoided associating with anyone else,” he continued.

“Because I couldn’t stand people either looking at me with pity or avoiding looking at me at all.”

“Did you ever discuss this with them? Try to find some shared common ground? If not, how could you have expected another outcome?”

How dare he.

“When I tried learning from them, they brushed me off, telling me that Artificing is the only skill I would need. Then, when I failed at that, they sent me off with Max into the mountains to pick herbs. Does it surprise you that I made friends with him? Is my friendship a problem for you?” I challenged.

“I take no offence at whom you make friends with. The two of you drinking is what the town finds fault with. You have a week in which to better yourself.” His face softened. “Would your father be happy to see you now? Don’t disappoint him, Taylor.”

I stiffened.

“Fix your own family problems before you go and start digging up mine. It’s not like you and your brother get along well, is it?” I hissed back at him.

His eyes became flinty, and he started to walk away. “One week, Taylor.”

I stormed my way back to the tower. I looked like a wet cat. My temper was foul, and I was itching for a drink. That usually soothed my nerves. After washing and changing clothes, Max and I headed out into the mountains.

He was quieter than usual. It struck me as odd, but I didn’t mind. He still made for good company.

Time passed and soon we were headed back. He stopped near the river. We were still a fair distance away from the town. His hands, I noticed, were shaking.

“Max?” I asked, concerned.

“Last night, you told me your story,” he began.

Did I?

I couldn’t really remember. I hoped I didn’t let slip something too concerning. “Is there a problem?” I asked, concerned.

“No, no. I just thought it was only fair if I told you my own in response.”

Oh.

I sat down next to him on the bank of the river. My hand reached for his. He grasped it firmly. Around us, snow fell and was pushed away by the field I had surrounding us. It was quiet, not even the chirping of insects could be heard.

“A few years ago, Taylor, I worked as a soldier.” His voice rasped as he spoke.

I realized that for once he was completely sober.

“I went from Fantassin company to Fantassin company, never staying in one group for long. The money I earned, I gave back to my family in Apenun whenever I returned there to help support them.” He paused.

“You can stop if you want,” I told him softly. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks. They made a mess of his beard.

“During the Summer five years past, I returned only to find a villain had killed my wife and daughter while I had been out playing soldier. The Redolent Torturer. He had been caught and killed before my return. The things he did to my family before they died…” His chest heaved as he talked.

“I know I probably would have died if I were there, but I always wonder…” He trailed off.

“You wonder if you might have saved them if you hadn’t been away from home.” I finished softly.

He nodded stiffly.

There was a lull in the conversation as we just sat and watched the falling snow. The moment was heavy, but somehow peaceful.

“You remind me of what I think my daughter would have been like, if she hadn’t been killed.” He said quietly.

My eyebrows rose. I couldn’t help it, I snorted.

“I hope you didn’t talk to your wife and daughter the way you talk to me,” I told him sternly.

He grinned at that.

“Nah, that came after. Thing is, I don’t like seeing a girl that reminds me of my daughter pissing her life away the way that I did.”

He reached to his side and pulled out the flask he usually carried everywhere.

“Olivier came by and offered me an ultimatum, you know,” he began.

“He did the same for me,” I replied.

“I’ll make you a deal, Taylor.”

“What kind of deal?” I asked.

“The kind of deal where I’ll try to stop pissing away my life, if you do the same for me,” he stated. As he did so, he popped off the lid from the flask, pouring the wine into the river below.

My breath caught. I felt a funny warmth bubble up in my chest.

“You’ll clean up your language?” I asked. It didn’t really matter much to me at this point, but it gave me room to think about what he was trying to do here.

“Now, girlie don’t go demanding too much of me,” he began, affecting taking offence. “But if it makes you make the effort, then I’ll try to change that as well.”

“No, no, that’s fine.” I said quickly.

He said nothing more, just giving me room to think. This was the second time today someone had approached me about this. However, it felt more personal. Like it actually mattered.

“Alright,” I breathed in, nodding jerkily. “We’ll both make the effort then.”

“Together,” he agreed.