What's a man to do when his life has completely fallen apart before his eyes again?
Alexander did not know.
When his life had fallen apart for the first time after the raid on Oakvale, everything was made so simple to him. Perhaps this was because Maze had found him and given him a purpose. This purpose had been revenge on those who had killed his father and destroyed his home. This purpose of course had evolved overtime into including helping others and preventing their lives from being destroyed just as his had been…..
That never did interfere with his purpose on stopping Jack of Blades and getting revenge, of course.
But now things are different. There is no Heroes Guild to return to after fifty years of isolation from the rest of the world. So, he was left to wander the land of Albion. The flow of time meant nothing to him as it did not affect him as it did others. It was a miserable existence, watching others live their lives with such purpose. How Alexander envied them, how they were able to have such purpose while he did not.
The years passed and became decades, before the decades also passed and became centuries. Two hundred years into this madness, Oakvale had been consumed by Darkwood after the town's population mysteriously vanished.
In Rookridge, the tavern was fairly quiet. There was no one except a few traveling traders and the employees. As Rookridge is more or a rest-stop for travelers and not an actual settlement, this was to be expected, of course. It was rather lively because was dark, and many travelers were just arriving to the premises. The flickering candle lamps lit the plain interior of the bar, as many travelers took a seat at one of the many tables and began trading news and spreading gossip.
One man sat alone at the bar, choosing not to partake in any gossip or social matters. The man's blonde short hair was slightly which gave him a slightly disheveled appearance which somewhat contrasted with his clean-shaven face. His light blue eyes showed disinterest at any of the discussions the traders were having. He wore simple lower class clothing under a gray cloak. He silently drank his beverage, only asking the barkeeper to refill his drink every once every so often. He had arrived sometime around five o clock in the evening, before all the travellers and traders arrived. No one dared to approach him, for he gave off the impression he obviously didn't want to be bothered. Even the barkeeper kept his distance when he wasn't refilling the man's drink.
"Hey! Did you hear what happened to Oakvale?" a trader said to a chubby travelling trader that was shorter than him, who was one of his drinking companions
The blonde haired man suddenly sat up from slouching and laying his head on the bar. His light blue eyes showed some curiosity but he continued to sit at the counter and began to finish his drink that the barkeeper had refilled.
"What happened?" the short chubby trader asked, though by judging from his voice he was clearly drunk
"I thought everyone had heard! Oakvale is gone! All the townsfolk are gone..vanished! No one knows what happened to them." The man said, using various tones and hand movements during his explanations to make the topic more dramatic than it already was.
"Serves them right…" the blonde man said silently to himself as he finished his drink.
It was silent for a few moments before the drunken trader remembered something about the topic at hand.
"Wasn't that the home of the Jack-Slayer? How bloody ironic, the town where the only useful hero had been born was also the town where the anti-hero movements began. It wouldn't be a surprise if they had killed him too!" The drunken chubby trader burst out laughing and hiccupping and a few others joined in.
The sound of a stool moving quickly silenced the laughter. The blonde haired man stood up and took slammed a bag containing about one hundred gold on the countertop.
"Thank you for the drinks," he calmly stated, forcing any emotion that was trying to show itself back into the depths of his mind. "I am taking my leave. Good day."
The blonde haired man pulled the hood of his cloak over his head before briskly heading towards the exit. No one could have guessed what could have triggered this sudden outburst though.
"Hey you! It's not safe to go out at this hour! You should have the sense in ye to at least stay until morning!" the barkeeper shouted at the hooded man.
The hooded man paid no heed to the barkeeper's warning and continued out the door. What do they know about anything? He never had any problems traveling at night before, especially when he was a Hero. What do they know about him? Nothing. They were all just a bunch of fools who didn't know how lucky they were to have a purpose, something he did not have for himself anymore.
He had been trapped in a meaningless existence. Any purpose he may have once had is long gone and forgotten. An existence like this is nothing but pain and misery unlike any other and none of them will experience pain such as this. Instead the citizens of Albion are blind and oblivious to his suffering and to them; he had been reduced to nothing more than mere joke. He wasn't respected enough to be spoken of in an honorable manner. This only continued to drive the sword deeper into the wound, it seems some pain is not meant to heal.
A/N: I had to write this to display some of the emotion Alexander's currently dealing with. Don't worry, we'll get to the happier bits soon, I hope. I am sticking to this series hopefully if schoolwork and other activities or any unforeseeable circumstances interfere too much.