Puff!
Chapter 10
The only good thing in waking up with a splitting headache is the knowledge that you still have a head at least.
Lyndon stirred, the blessed inky darkness of nothing dissipating from his mind as pain took over. He grimaced, skull buzzing, and as his senses slowly woke up, he felt stiffness and dull pain in his whole body. It was as if he had participated in one of those infamously brutal trials of the Amazons, and not a single muscle in his body had been prepared for it.
- Son of a bitch… – he muttered, one hand massaging his forehead, which he realized was warmer than usual.
At least that explained the occasional shiver running down on his spine.
Lyndon tried to force his eyes open, with little success. From the occasional peek, he thought he saw leaves above him. Leaves, that's weird… Weren't they out on the sea to—
The images of the sea monster, the sinking ship, its panicking crew and the treacherous captain exploded into his skull, like a sudden backhand out of nowhere.
Johanna
Lyndon cried out in alarm, sitting up and almost throwing himself forward. Johanna saw them, she saw Quiet! They had to get away from her before—!
- Leendonn!
The scoundrel shook his head, staring to his left. There was Quiet, sitting on a small rock that had a backrest and everything, small red eyes blinking in surprise. Lyndon let out a sigh of relief, seeing his charge alright. Then he had to double take at the sight.
At first he thought his aching head played tricks on him, but eventually he did come to the conclusion that Quiet's appearance changed slightly. It wasn't really obvious or huge, though: for starters, the golden tiara was no longer pure gold, but held a small ruby right in its center piece, like those chakra stone headpiece-things the monks used up north. The small wings also gained somewhat stronger light, and the wrist parts were now seemingly ruby gemstones as well. They were literally solid blood red stones that almost resembled frozen flames, the wing's "feathers" pretty much melted together with a few of their fibers.
- Quiet, what happened? – Lyndon stared, slowly processing more and more information with his sluggish mind.
The little angel's clothes were caked with dried mud, as if he went for a bath without undressing, but after that didn't bother avoiding dirt. They were on a clearing, in some kind of forest, but Lyndon had no recollection of how they had gotten here in the first place. Some of the trees were strangely twisted and bent, possibly courtesy of Quiet.
The little angel chirped happily, stood up and rushed there to hug Lyndon's torso. The scoundrel awkwardly returned the gesture, his brain desperately struggling through the haze of pain and slight fever to somehow catch up.
- What happened? – he repeated the question.
Quiet blinked up at him and chirped:
- Kvaiet… Leendonn arriyt! – he frowned, and tried again. – Kvaiet… arriyt Leendonn… Leendonn arriyt Kvaiet?
Lyndon amazed himself with this, but he somehow managed to understand that Quiet was probably trying to say that he had made sure Lyndon was alright.
- Thank you – he smiled slightly and petted the small head.
Quiet chirped happily and promptly disappeared into the forest. Lyndon sighed deeply, turning his attention to his surroundings finally. He had been lying on the ground, but was covered in a fine cotton blanket (was Quiet behind this as well?), and not too far from him the remains of a small campfire smothered. Considering the heavy smoky smell of everything around them, Quiet probably hadn't used dry wood for it. It was a bit hard to tell, but the scoundrel guessed it was morning. So… did he only sleep a few hours after… after what exactly?
Lyndon's expression grew blank, then alarmed. He remembered the sea battle. He remembered flying at the side of the ship, then… somehow ending up inside it. Then he had bolted for the main deck, eventually climbing onto it via a broken mast. He had knocked the captain into the sea as his revenge, then had gone for the nearest landing craft. Then… then Johanna had noticed them, destroyed the boat and had been about to deliver a definitely fatal blow when… when…
What had happened?!
Rustling leaves announced the return of Quiet. The little angel held a wooden bowl packed full with all kinds of fruits, some of them inedible. He set it down next to Lyndon who uncertainly took a pear.
- Quiet… how did we get here? – he asked.
The angel stared at him, before holding up his hands to his left and gestured:
- Puff!
He then moved his fists to his right and repeated the gesture:
- Puff!
To Lyndon's blank stare, Quiet could only shrug helplessly. He walked a little bit further away, stomped his foot and promptly sunk into the earth. A second later he rose a few meters away from his original position.
- Puff!
He picked up a small pebble and began dragging it along the dirt, while shaking his head vehemently. Then he returned the pebble to its original place, and instead of dragging it, he quickly threw it onto another spot.
- No valkkk! – he said. – Puff!
Lyndon's fuzzy brain worked overtime, trying to decode what his charge was trying to say, while he took a bite from the pear. It almost sounded like Quiet was describing teleportation, but that couldn't be it. There was just no way.
Lyndon blamed his shivering on the fever.
He let the matter drop, after Quiet failed to come up with other methods to explain it, forcefully shutting out the possible answer that became more apparent with every second. They were far away from Johanna, that's what mattered. Now he had to gather himself, figure out where they were and find a way to nearest town.
But you must go to the Nest of Wrath. There is… someone there, waiting for you. A monster you involuntarily helped create. You must deal with her…
Lyndon could hardly swallow the suddenly sour pear in his mouth. No… no, he will not go to Kingsport. Damn that place, he didn't care if the city got swallowed by the Burning Hells itself! Losing all of his appetite and getting anxious to just start moving, he placed the pear back onto the wooden bowl and stood up, folding the blanket into his backpack, along with some of the fruits.
- Leendonn?
- I am alright, Quiet, don't worry – Lyndon said, but his lie was so bad that not even the small angel bought it.
Still, Quiet dutifully raised one hand for the scoundrel to grab, and together they set out into the forest, leaving behind the camp. Tracking through the thick flora was a tiring process, and Lyndon's vision occasionally swam, the buzzing refusing to stop in his head. He could sense the occasional worrying look the angel sent his way, and a part of him was really frustrated by it for some reason. In all honesty, everything frustrated him right now, he noted sourly. He just wanted to get away from all of this shitstorm and just… just do something else other than this. Great, he didn't even know what he wanted. Yet another source of irritation.
Lyndon crushed his teeth together so hard it hurt, but managed to refrain from shouting and throwing a tantrum. Like that would achieve anything. Thankfully, the forest noticeably grew scarcer and soon their feet hit a dirt road, plowed up by countless cartwheel-tracks. So there was a town nearby. Lyndon looked around he felt his heart sink. The road was running between the forest and a jagged black cliff that formed a natural wall. He recalled these rocks, they were quite characteristic for this place. He had had a smaller hideout here once, one that was well hidden even from the Thieves Guild. Which meant…
Lyndon gulped, slowly following the road. A few minutes of walking revealed a sudden and quite steep slope, as the path began its descent from the hill, and maybe two kilometers away rose the walls of Kingsport.
Just as Lyndon had predicted.
The scoundrel stared at the city, fingers squeezing the small hand of Quiet. From far away, it didn't look like there was anything wrong with the port: the buildings, walls and towers stood, the wind brought the sounds of a busy life. The only clue that something was amiss was the absence of sea traffic in the huge harbor stretching out on the water with incredible size and complexity. Normally, it should have been pulsing with life, ships and boats swarming around its many planks. Now nothing moved there, not a single sea faring carrack could be seen. The harbor was Kingsport's heart, and it clearly stopped working.
Lyndon stood atop the hill, watching his former home. There it was… the one place he did not want to go to. He could just turn around, guiding Quiet along, and they could set out to one of the nearby smaller villages from where they could get a horse or even a caravan ride heading for Westmarch. There were three towns he could think of immediately from the top of his head, where it was possible to get those.
We all have a duty to uphold in this world.
Lyndon cast his gaze to the ground and slowly began his descent on the slope.
oooOOOooo
From up close, the city still betrayed no obvious sign of trouble, although subtly it showed its predicament to those who knew the place well. There were no travelers and merchants coming and going from the gates. More guards stood on the walls, as if they were expecting an attack, but nearly all of them kept their eyes on the city, and not on the surroundings. The gates were tightly shut, with four pikemen standing before them.
Lyndon frowned, feeling out the bag of money in his coat. He had a feeling he would need quite a few bribe money for this one.
- Halt, you vagabond! – barked one soldier. – What business do you have here?!
- To find accommodations for the night – Lyndon stated simply, stopping a few meters away from the guard. He made sure Quiet stood mostly behind him, hidden from sight.
- Turn around and drag yer flee-ridden ass away from here! – another pikeman spat on the ground.
Lyndon refused to let his poker face drop. He figured his beaten-up appearance really wasn't all that convincing. But what was up with the attitude, seriously?
- I can pay – he offered.
- We don't want yer filthy coin, beggar!
- 'Ey, money's money, boys – said the third guard.
- Aye, and ale and whores ain't cheap – the fourth agreed.
- I ain't gonna accept coin from this filth! – the first one shouted at his comrades.
- He's probably plagued, too! Ain't having that shit!
- Suit yerselves! I'll carouse t'night away from the sum I'm getting, I will!
- Like hell you will!
- Watch me!
The guards were positively turning on each other at this point, two on each side, angrily shaking their weapons, completely forgetting about Lyndon. The scoundrel eyed the unfolding scene warily. Kingsport had always been known for its disciplined militia. It had one of the highest public safety, that's why it became such a huge port in the first place. This was also the reason this town's Thieves Guild was more infamous and dangerous than any other all across Sanctuary: they needed to be that way, in order to thrive here. This scene right before him shouldn't have been happening.
It was also becoming quite clear that Lyndon would never get through here. The scoundrel oppressed a grimace from showing on his face, as his ears picked up the slight, but definitely angry humming coming from behind him. Quiet was clearly displeased with the scene, and Lyndon had to act before things got really out of hand.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he closed his eyes and temporarily wrestled down the dread in his mind. He pictured the only place he knew… or at least hoped was safe in this city.
The Ruby Rose, he thought.
Nothing happened at first. The guards' squabble grew irritating at this point. Lyndon was about to just walk up to the goddamn gate and kick it in, when there was a slightly painful tug at his guts and a small sense of lurching forward. He staggered from the sudden loss of strength, nearly falling over. Opening his eyes, he noted he stood on one of the side streets of Kingsport, far away from the gate he just stood before. A quick glance jogged his memory and he noted that he missed his original target by a couple of blocks. Close enough.
- Leendonn, puff! – Quiet exclaimed happily next to him, pointing at him.
Pushing the troubling thoughts out of his head again, he nodded without a word, then walked out to the main cobblestone street. They rushed along, Lyndon's senses tingling louder with each passing moment. There were people out in the open, most of them going about their usual business seemingly. But there was something in the air, a tension that covered everything like a thick blanket. Lyndon picked up on it, and he thought best to avoid locking eyes with anyone. Keeping his gaze on the ground, he heard a smaller group of men shouting profanities at each other not too far from them that quickly escalated into a fistfight. No one tried to stop them, instead a couple of bystanders began arguing with each other vehemently about who is going to win. Only a block away, a woman shrieked about the overpriced textile and tried to tear it out of the hands of the vendor. All around them, on the surroundings streets, the sounds of arguments, fights and breaking objects filled the air.
The entire town was one big oil barrel, just waiting for a spark.
Lyndon could feel it: a foreign aura, weighing down everything like a fishing net. It was vile, malevolent and definitely demonic, reminding him of all the times he stood before a powerful monster. One of them in particular, Azmodan came to mind. Lyndon pushed down his own frustration, clinging onto the experience he had received during his past adventures against such influences. He could feel Quiet's small fingers curling around his in agitation.
- It is alright – the scoundrel whispered to him. – Stay calm.
- Not arriyt – Quiet whimpered softly. His angelic senses were probably going nuts from this demonic aura.
- We will be fine – Lyndon promised half-heartedly.
He risked glancing around occasionally. The buildings were in pretty bad shape, as if riots were a regular reoccurrence in the city: broken windows, torn off signs, vandalized walls. On certain places, he swore he could see dried blood on the pavement. Yet despite the disheartening appearance, Lyndon couldn't help the flood of memories washing over him. There was that bakery, now ruined, where he and Edlin as kids had often received treats from the owner, a fat lady with a heart of gold. Down one of the smaller streets, stood the stone chapel where Lyndon had often taken his nephew and niece to practice climbing buildings. There was that house which had once had lovely flowers on its porch, flowers that made for great presents for whichever lady he had visited. Ah, the old Roger's house. That cranky blacksmith had been one hell of a fencing teacher. That closed ceramic shop over there, now with broken windows, had been one of the few places from which Lyndon had never stolen. It had been run by a couple with four children, they needed every dime they got. Lyndon would have bet that wooden pillar before that inn's entrance still held the imprints of all those crossbow-bolts he had once fired at it, as a target practice. The so called "spring street", Edlin's favorite patrol route: the houses here used to proudly display window-boxes on the brink of collapsing from all the gorgeous flowers they held.
Everything was so familiar, yet so horrifyingly alien in its current state. First Johanna, then Edlin and Rea, now Kingsport… Lyndon had to wonder if he was destined to lose everything and everyone that was familiar in his life.
By some miracle, they ran into no trouble before reaching their destination. Lyndon finally dared to glance up at the proud entrance before him. It was one of the largest buildings in Kingsport, painted red and sporting one of the few stone entrances, equipped with pillars and everything. Above the large two-winged doors a golden trimmed sign proudly announced that this was The Ruby Rose.
The highest-end brothel of Kingsport. Once, Lyndon had been a regular here, and he hoped that former status would mean something even now.
This building suffered too in the current plight, most evident by its dark windows and eerie silence. Even in the day, there had been life here, but not now. At first, to Lyndon's knock, nobody answered. He grabbed the bronze knockers on the door and tried again, more forcefully this time. He hoped he didn't have to… sneak his way into here (don't say teleportation, do not say teleportation), he was far too tired for that.
- Go away! – came a muffled shriek finally from the inside. – I have a sword, and by all the gods, I am not afraid to use it!
- Bertha? Bertha, is that you? – Lyndon called out, recognizing the voice of the Mistress of this house. – Please, let me in! It's Lyndon.
- What?!
- I'm Lyndon! Please let me in! I really need a place to stay for the day!
There was a pause.
- Leendonn? – Quiet asked timidly.
- Stay next to me, alright?
The door's lock clicked loudly and one wing opened ajar.
- Lyndon? Is that really you? – Bertha peeked out, one hand clutching the handle of some kind of weapon.
- It's me, Bertha – Lyndon held up his empty hands, trying to smile softly. – So good to see you.
The door opened a bit farther, just enough for him to slip through. Inside, the paradox of familiar and alien continued for the scoundrel. There it was, the main hall with its luxurious carpets, chandeliers, candelabras, curtains, sofas, tables, plants, and of course the enormous main staircase that was the pride of this house. Yet, it also looked like a war zone. Most of the aforementioned luxuries were badly damaged one way or another, broken, torn down or hacked to pieces. The staircase missed most of its golden gilding. Bertha too mirrored the shape of her brothel: somehow she has managed to hold onto her slightly overweight body shape amidst all of this chaos, but instead of her usual noble attire, she wore rags becoming of a peasant woman. Her eyes were opened large and glimmered in a haunted way, her long black hair an uncombed mess that was held together only by a string, her face devoid of any make-up. She held a sword in one shaky hand, and from the stains on it, she had to use it not long ago. She quickly closed the door behind Lyndon, fumbling with the keys.
- Lyndon, I—I cannot believe it! – she stammered. – After all these years… Where have you been?
- All over Sanctuary, to be honest – Lyndon waved. – Listen, Bertha, I can see you are… not open, but can you give me a room? At least for today.
- I—I'm afraid my… former services are no longer available, Lyn – Bertha anxiously wrapped her fingers together. – All I have left are two hand-maidens and even them are… - she gestured helplessly.
- All I need is a bed, maybe a hot bath – the scoundrel shook his head. – Do not worry about me.
-… You have changed – Bertha said softly, looking into his eyes.
- Yes… Many things happened, really. I would have been surprised if it didn't change me – Lyndon nodded tiredly.
Bertha wanted to say something, but her eyes finally fell onto the small form of Quiet who tried to hide in Lyndon's coat. The woman froze up.
- Is that… a demon? – she whispered, eyes locked onto the bottomless darkness under the hood that was supposed to be the face.
- No. But he is not human – Lyndon admitted uneasily. – Bertha, please trust me. He won't harm you. We only want to stay for one night.
Bertha stared at him for long.
- You are not like everyone else here – she said finally. – How are you not like them?
- What has—?
- BERTHA, WHO IS THIS?! – came the shriek from somewhere deep within the building.
- SHUT UP, ELLA! – Bertha screamed back.
- THROW THEM OUT OF HERE!
- THEY ARE STAYING, DAMNIT!
- YOU ARE SUCH A STUPID BITCH!
- DON'T MAKE ME GO THERE AND BEAT YOU UP AGAIN! – Bertha howled, raising the sword angrily.
Lyndon clammed his mouth shut, stunned by the scene. Quiet whimpered and tried to wrap himself into the coat's tail, shivering.
- Sorry about that – Bertha mumbled in the pause, lowering her weapon.
- Bertha, what has happened to this city? – Lyndon asked desperately. – What is wrong with everyone?
He reached down and lifted Quiet from the ground, cuddling him to somehow calm him down.
- It all started… oh goodness, was it weeks ago? Months, even? – Bertha gulped. – It is so hard to tell, the days are melting together, Lyn. Everyone just… became angry and aggressive, like starved stray cats. We… we fight over everything, it is maddening. Nothing and no one is safe. There are riots. The city guards slaughter people, even those who did nothing. My brothel got destroyed, I had to close the doors and defend myself, because people still try to break in, just to fight me. Kingsport is dying, Lyn! These are our final days!
She pulled at her hair, trying to still her violent shivering.
- But… but you are different. You haven't gone mad – she pointed out after a pause. – How?
- I've… just arrived – Lyndon answered, deciding not to mention that he felt and fought the demonic aura. It would have only caused panic.
- The guards do not let anyone in or out, Lyn. How did you get past them?
- I… I have my own tricks, Bertha. You forget you are dealing with the best con artist in all of Kingsport – Lyndon tried for a weak smile.
- That is true – Bertha's mouth twitched as she was trying to return the gesture as well. – So… you said you wanted a room?
- Yes, at least for one night. Can you give me one?
- Come with me. Some of them remained relatively untouched. I'll give you my best available, I swear – Bertha began scuttling towards the main staircase. – It is so good to have you back, Lyndon. I wish I could welcome you properly…
- Do not worry about that – Lyndon shook his head, following her. – I am just glad you are okay.
The rooms closest to the stairs were trashed, true to her words. Most of them even missed their doors, revealing the destruction –and in some cases, carnage– inside. Dried blood covered some of the beds and the carpets, or painted the walls in a gruesome way. Lyndon could picture the fighting happening, attackers going from room to room, slaughtering those trapped inside, mostly women, no doubt.
Whatever demon was responsible for this, they had a lot to pay for.
As they went deeper, the corridor and the rooms became less and less damaged. Bertha fumbled with her keys and opened a door to one of the more spacious ones. Apart from the layer of dust and the few spider-webs in the corners, it looked exactly like the glory days: expensive crystal glasses stood on a mahogany night table, a giant king-sized bed covered in silk and satin took up a good chunk of the space, gold-laced curtains covered the windows that looked down upon the small backyard of the building. By the wall, a giant armoire stood, still stocked with fine clothes and a long, dark blue coat. In one corner, separated by a gorgeous-looking wood-ivory folding screen from the rest of the room, a copper bathtub lied. All the ornaments were still in place.
- This is the royal suite – Lyndon looked around in awe. – Bertha, I—I can't pay for this.
- Do not insult me! – Bertha snapped in sudden anger, before reeling herself in. – S—sorry about that… But fear not, I do not expect you to pay.
- What? Bertha—
- Money has no meaning anymore – the woman interrupted him, laughing bitterly. – Look around! Do you believe coins are worth anything here?!
- At least accept this much – Lyndon offered the bag of money from his pocket. – I—I heard the Hero of Sanctuary was coming here. She will free Kingsport, you'll see.
- The Hero—You know of her? – Bertha gasped. – I heard rumors! She wrestled with gods, did she not?!
- Ehm… yes, she did.
A small glimmer of hope lit up in the mistress' haunted eyes, as she took the payment.
- There is a chance – she whispered. – Oh, Lyndon, thank you so much! We might survive after all… She can help us, right?
- I am certain she can – Lyndon nodded, swallowing the bile in his mouth.
- Gods bless you, Lyndon! – Bertha shouted, suddenly pulling him into a tight hug, startling Quiet who let out a loud but short shriek and clung onto Lyndon with greater force. Lyndon awkwardly returned the gesture with one arm, feeling miserable.
- I will prepare the best bath you ever had in your life, I swear! – the woman let go of him, rushing out of the room. – It is the least I can do!
Lyndon let out a shaky breath. Right there and then, he hated himself like never before. He tried to set Quiet to the ground, but the angel held onto his clothes, scared to the core.
- Leendonn, baadd. Big baadd – he whimpered, eyes filled with tears, wings quivering like those of an anxious butterfly. – No go, Leendonn…
- It is alright, we are safe here – Lyndon whispered to him, pulling down the hood and stroking the white hair reassuringly. – We will stay for only one night, okay? Nothing bad will happen.
He almost bit his tongue at that last lie.
Quiet sniffled:
- Ssskerrrd.
- I know you are scared. But we are safe. Trust me, please.
- Huumann baadd.
- She is just as scared as you are. Everyone is scared. There is a demon nearby, but I bet you can feel it as well.
- D-ddeeemonn baaddd…
- They don't know you are here. They won't find us, I promise – Lyndon rocked him gently. – We have a good bath, a long sleep, then we are out of here. Alright?
-… Arriyt – Quiet whimpered, wiping the tears off his cheeks with his tiny hands.
He allowed Lyndon to set him down on the ground, but refused to let go of his trouser-leg. Steps sounded up in the corridor and Bertha appeared in the door, carrying a large basin chuck-full of steaming hot water. She had a fresh bruise under her eye.
- Ella will bring the other one soon – she stated as she poured the water into the bathtub.
- Did she beat you up? – Lyndon stared.
- She tried to. I beat her up first – Bertha glanced at him helplessly. – We are all trapped in this madness, Lyndon. I pray the Hero arrives soon.
She placed a bar of soap and two towels next to the tub, then left again. True to her word, a handmaiden showed up in her place, bringing another basin. She looked far worse than Bertha, thin, pale, full of bruises and cuts. Most of her hair was gone, her white apron grey and tattered. Ella looked like a lunatic that broke out of an asylum. She just stared at Lyndon with her haunted eyes, not saying a word, refusing to look elsewhere, as she was expecting the man to ambush her. Quickly emptying the basin, she practically fled out of the room and closed the door behind herself.
Lyndon let out a loud sigh, and gently began to undress Quiet who blinked at the bathtub in confusion.
- Come on… let's get you clean.
The little angel showed no resistance, only uncertainly kept looking at the water even as Lyndon lifted his nude body from the ground and slowly eased him into the tub. Quiet stiffened up for a second, but almost immediately eased up and let out an almost happy hum. Lyndon couldn't help but smile slightly at the scene. He gently scrubbed his charge clean with the soap, from top to bottom. Quiet did not fight him, although his wings darted out of the way of Lyndon's hands, possibly due to an involuntary reaction. He splashed the water, playing with the foam, his fears temporarily forgotten. Lyndon allowed himself to get lost in the happy scene, to at least calm himself down for the moment.
- Hey! Hey! I will do it myself, don't worry – he laughed a little as he had to lean back, away from the tub. Quiet gathered a handful of foam into his arms and tried to smear it on the scoundrel's chest, no doubt intent on helping him clean up as well. The little angel chirped back, mimicking the laughing with his voice.
When they were done, Lyndon lifted him out of the tub and quickly wrapped him into one of the towels, rubbing him dry in the meantime. He gently placed him onto the bed and covered him up with the blanket.
- Now, try to sleep. You are pretty tired, aren't you? – Lyndon cooed to Quiet, lulling him. – Have a long, deep sleep and when you wake up, we will go to Westmarch and leave this bad place behind, alright?
- Mhmhm arriyt – Quiet mumbled, eyes already closing from the warmth.
Lyndon stood over the little angel, the small smile slowly disappearing from his face. It was his turn to take a bath, finally ridding himself from the grime of this mad adventure so far. The clean feeling helped somewhat with his mood, although nothing could truly cheer him up now. He wished he could just stop thinking, but there were no distractions now to draw his attention away from his dark thoughts.
A part of him did not want to be here at all, and was currently berating him vehemently.
Why did you come here?! What can you do here?! You can't help these people! Did you come to kill her?! As if you could! She was always your soft spot, there is nothing you can do against her.
It was horrible, seeing his once beloved city in this unholy state. Kingsport had been a jewel of the Kingdom of Westmarch, far prouder and nobler than the capital itself. The people were suffering here, an alien anger invading their minds.
And Lyndon had made sure that Johanna would arrive here with even greater delay.
He wanted to somehow reach in and tear out the crushing guilt from his chest. People were dying or spent their days in sheer terror like Bertha, and their salvation was still so far away, because of him.
He was one true failure, was he not?
You won't be able to do a fucking thing against her, just watch! You are useless!
Lyndon washed their clothes in the bath water after he was done, donning a night gown he found under the bed's sheets.
- Stupid… useless… worthless – he mumbled to himself, hanging the clothes onto the folding screen to dry.
Myriam had seemed so sure that he could do this task… whatever the hell it was. The vecin lady had too much faith in him, he realized. He couldn't do anything right, after all, only fuck things up spectacularly. All he had to do was look back upon his life to see it clear as day. Rea, Edlin, the Thieves Guild, Johanna and now Kingsport. Nothing was safe from his misfortune-bringing touch.
You hate yourself. That is good, an unknown voice suddenly hissed in his mind.
It would have been too subtle for a normal human to pick up, but Lyndon's keen senses received the words clearly. They knocked him out of his stupor and he hurriedly re-erected his mental defenses against the demon.
Glancing at the armoire, he quickly dressed up into the fine clothing. Making sure Quiet was sleeping deeply, he opened the window and climbed out, disappearing into the night.
Been a while, huh? To be honest, I'm not sure how fast the next chapter will be coming, considering the bit of a chaos that is in my imagination right now, but this finaly days of the semester was shitty enough for me to get this chapter done.
Onward to ever deeper parts of the abyss, I say!