Disclaimers:
All the characters in this fic is copyright of Karashi, if there are any
similarities between my characters and actual characters, it is purely
coincidental. NPC characters and the Game Ragnarok Online belong to the
Creators of Ragnarok.
Author's Notes:
Me: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and commented on my fic ^^ *huggles
everyone* Here's the second to the last chapter of Lonely Road.
Chapter Eight
Darin arrived at a small, snow
covered house enclosed within solid brick walls. The gate had been left open, and
The Scribe bolted across the powdery field until he reached the patio. He
collapsed into the house and tried to catch his breath.
The living room was sparsley
decorated, with only two chairs, a table, a fireplace and a grizzly skin rug as
furniture. It lead to another room, which Darin was never allowed to enter. The
Scribe assumed it was where his employer slept.
When the surge of adrenaline finally
stopped, Darin noticed there was no fire blazing in the hearth. He scratched
his head a little out of disappointment. The muffler and leather coat were
soaked from the snow, and his tweed pants were equally wet. The Scribe began to
realize just how cold it was inside, and began to wish he was in Morroc.
"Are you hurt?" a deep voice asked
from behind him.
Darin spun around to find the
man in the leib olmai coat with a bloody sasquatch pelt slung over his
shoulder. The raven haired man shook his head, a little disturbed at the fact
his employer held no weapons.
"N-no, Mister K-K-Kaedyn." He
answered shivering.
Wordlessly, Kaedyn dumped the
pelt in a corner and headed to the restricted room. He emerged minutes later,
holding a wolf fur jacket. Darin gratefully accepted the dry clothing and the
color of his cheeks gradually returned.
"You're here for more money?"
the man gestured that they be seated.
"Oh no, not at all, Mister Kaedyn. I
came here to tell you that I'm almost done with the book." Darin answered, "And
I have some interesting stories about the Assassin's guild, the Midgard
Masquerade, random guild stories and of course The Schattenjägers."
"I see. And were you able to…?"
"Of course! If there's one
thing I pride myself in, other than being able to take things down correctly,
is getting stories out of people." The Scribe grinned, "Even those who are not
so inclined to speak find my charm irresistible! I'm kidding about the latter
of course." He hastilly added.
His employer gave a small
smile of amusement, "You do have an uncanny talent of making people talk. Now
will there be anything else? Because if not please excuse me, I have things to
do." Kaedyn began to head outside.
"Like pay for Miss Addy's
private room in the asylum?" Darin randomly said. The man paused in mid-stride
and turned to The Scribe. "I thought your hair was gray, and your eyes were
lime colored. I just realized that you have silver hair and bright green eyes."
"Are you trying to be devious,
Darin?"
"No, with you I'll be direct.
Mister Kaedyn, you were the only one willing to sponsor me on this endeavour.
And in exchange I promised to search for tales involving a certain persimmon
haired merchant. I've gathered several stories, some from her directly, some
from her former guildmates and some from other people. And more often than not,
the name of a certain silver haired priest kept popping up."
"Is this what you call being
direct?" Kaedyn chuckled.
"This is as direct as I get."
Darin shrugged, "I told Father Hacky earlier today that I wanted to interview
members of the Jaded Crimson." he paused, noticing his employer's clenched
fists. "And it's because I believe that every coin has two sides. Meaning I
want to hear Miss Addy's story from the priest's perspective. From your
perspective."
Kaedyn shook his head, "There's
no reason to pity me, Darin."
"Oh this is not out of pity,
Mister Kaedyn. I'm truly serious about wanting your side of the story. If I can
handle Mister Irlan's twisted way of thinking, I'm rather certain I can handle
yours."
"Do you really?" the silver
haired man smirked darkly.
Swallowing, The Scribe nodded in
an attempt to suppress the growing sense of fear. Wordlessly, Kaedyn motioned
for Darin to prepare the materials,
"You're lucky I'm in a
generous mood today." The man grimaced, "Otherwise I would have silenced you."
"And I appreciate your
generosity very much." Darin nervously chuckled, "All right, I am ready, you
may begin any time, Mister Warse."
Warse released a deep sigh,
and leaned back into his chair thoughtfully. He closed his eyes, and tried his
best to retrieve his memories. Those he had been smothering with anger and
regret, while feebly justifying his actions.
"There is a…"
Warse Kaedyn
"There is a lie to every truth
and a truth to every lie. Which is which, is for you to decide." It was my
mentor's favorite line, and I live by this every day of my life. We are nothing
but lies and truths encased within flesh. Nothing more than solidified
deception and candor. Nothing more than walking falsehoods and certainties.
Everything we say, everything
we feel, everything we do is tainted with its counterpart. A kindness will have
a selfish desire buried deep inside it. A brutality will have a self-righteous
belief hidden at its core. A mistake stems from good intentions. A favor grows
from manipulation. And yet we are condemned for our lack of purity.
We hate those who harm us,
those who wrong us. We exhault those who indulge us, those who obey us. We hate
others for their weakness, while denying our own.
We are all hypocrites.
May Odin smite me for saying
this, but I do not believe in the sanctity of the cloth. I never have, and
perhaps I never will. All those years meditating as an acolyte in the abbey
served nothing but to affirm my disbelief.
"We can never be pure, our
duality will not allow it." My mentor told me one day.
"So why do we become priests,
Father Lie? Why do we engage in all this talk on holiness? Why do we still
bother?"
"Warse, you ask me these
things because you still don't understand."
"Oh and you do? Why
don't you ever just give me straight answers?"
"There are some things that
are understood but cannot be explained." He answered sagely. "When you learn
what it is you do not know, then you will stop asking me about this."
"So asking is a bad thing?"
"No," Lie laughed, "asking is
never bad. You'll just be asking me about other things."
My mentor could read me so
well. He was an oriental man, one that had the beauty of ancient wisdom. His
eyes were like the richest obsidian silk and his dark hair was always neatly
combed back. He was a man who could read the truths in men's hearts, a gift I
had also been blessed with.
But even with the empathic
ability, Father Lie remained a mystery. He was enshrouded in so much knowledge,
I couldn't fathom his emotional depths. But my attempts at reading him honed my
control of the skill, and soon I could sense the emotions of anyone I wanted.
There are those who are as
shallow and as small as puddles, they never held my interests for long. People
who are backstabbers and scammers, they are all but a small collection of
droplets on the cobble-stone street.
There are those who are as
gentle as streams, their soft, quiet flow easily bored me. People who are
conformists, spineless worms that worship anyone more powerful. They congregate
together but their fear prevents them from raising their voices.
There are those who are as
frantic as white water rapids, they could very well have swept me away. People
who are fanatics of anything and anyone, even themselves. Their blind passion
prevents them from realizing the futility of their empty search.
And there are those who are as
deep and majestic as oceans, they drew me so much that I feared that I would
drown. Their complexity and unpredictability fascinated and at the same time
frustrated me to no end. I do not seek these people out, if I did I could never
bear to leave them. I have only known two individuals. Father Lie was one of
them.
Yes, was, he has long
expired, by my very hands. Don't take this the wrong way, I did not wish him
any harm. But he asked me, no, ordered me to battle with him.
"But why do this? Why must we
battle with each other?"
"Empaths aren't meant to wander
Rune-Midgard, we are both abominations in the All Father's eyes. And service
for the All Father must be done as purely as possible." He explained. "Also…
you are still lacking in something. Something I cannot comprehend, save that
you will only understand of this through loss."
A priest against an acolyte,
was the loss Father Lie referred to my life?
"Fear not, I shall use nothing
but my body. I shall not call upon Odin's protection." He promised. He didn't
need to read my heart to know that I was alsp going to abide by his. We were
both hybrids, trained for combat against the undead and the living.
In the end, I defeated him, up
to know I still don't understand how. All I recall was a pain in my chest and a
burning blindness in my eyes. When my vision cleared, my mentor was lying on
his back, and the ground was turning crimson.
"Well done." Father Lie
smiled, "I'm glad I have taught you to fight properly. I only pray to the All
Father that I have taught your heart just as well."
"No… no!! Father Lie, I'm so sorry.
What have I done? Hea-"
"Lex Divina." He croaked
painfully, preventing me from casting the spell. In silence I watched him die,
he never physically heard my screams and objections. But I made it felt, to him
and to those were unlucky enough to be nearby. When I could speak again, I
warped us to the Sunken Ship. Aboard a small, rickety raft, I paddled out and
buried him at sea.
Father Lie's words kept
haunting me, I was still lacking something. And I would only find it through
loss. I had already lost my mentor, my friend, my father… had I found it? For a
time I believed I did. There was a rage boiling within me, and I thought that
was what I lacked. If it was something as simple as hate, did Father Lie really
have to die? Was this Odin's will?
Because of this I resented the
All Father and everything that he stood for. Gradually, I grew corrupt, and
exploited humanity's duality to its fullest. With my empathic ability, I lived
as someone the church would be ashamed of, had it known.
I joined cleansing missions,
those that required slaughtering the undead. But I particularly enjoyed the
assignments that involved capturing fugitives. I accorded their untimely deaths
to their resistance.
While my blood-lust slept, I
sated my carnal hunger. It was at a brothel that I met Irlan, I heard he
belonged to a guild composed of socially disgusting members. And I decided I
missed having a constant human companion. So I asked him if I could join, the
hunter told me I had to pass a test.
"What do I need to do?" I
smirked. Irlan's emotionally volatile and destructive, I had actually
entertained the notion of befriending him.
"Simple, do you know The
Schattenjägers?"
"No, but give me a few days
and I will."
As he explained my task, I
could sense something underhanded emanating from him. Emotions can only give me
so much, I couldn't read minds. Had I known what his true plan was, I would
never have agreed. Irlan never intended to approve my membership, not that it
matters anymore. The information I was to gather for him was a cover up, he
only wanted to destroy her.
The encounter with the
merchant had been arranged by Irlan. It was near Prontera, he was taunting her,
mocking her abilities.
"Why don't you just run back
to your guildmates and cry?" he sneered.
"I bet you've had lots of practice
doing that." She retorted.
They continue to argue, the
malice from Irlan was as intense as the dislike from the merchant. Finally, she
decided to end the conversation and promptly turned her back on Irlan.
"Double Straffe!!" he yelled,
aiming at the girl. She spun around in horror, and as the projectile soared
towards her, I entered. A quick Kyrie Eleison was in order and the arrow
recoiled off the barrier.
I positioned myself between
the stunned girl and the hunter, "Your kind sickens me."
"Oh? And what are you going to
do about it?" he smirked.
"I'm going to let my actions
speak for me."
Before he could say anything,
I attacked. I needed no weapon to defeat the hunter, it proved easy enough. He
was never meant to engage in hand-to-hand combat, I was. I dealt a final
uppercut and knocked him unconscious. He was bed-ridden for at least a week
after that.
I turned to the merchant, and
asked her if she was hurt. I held out my hand and helped her to her feet.
"N-no, I'm fine. Thank you for
helping me." She blushed, smoothing out her clothes. I read her heart, and
found I was gaining her trust. I didn't have to say anything to get her
identity, she volunteered the information.
"I'm Addy Evional." She said,
offering her hand. I knew women like her yearned to be wooed, so I brought her
hand to my lips.
"Warse Kaedyn." I answered
with a smile. When I turned to leave, she called out and asked if I could
accompany her to Geffen. Thus began the deception within truth, and the truth
within deception.
Now, I had mentioned that I
have only met two oceans, and I believe one of them is in the asylum. She was
like Father Lie, only more… open. With my mentor, I had to pry open gate after
gate, climb over wall after wall. With her, I only had to gently knock and she
would let me in.
Greedily, I dove into her
heart, and submerged myself in the myriad of her sensations. She was profoundly
simple and utterly complex, perpetually open and unconsciously closed. She was
the sweet and the bitter, the wretched and the beloved, the innocent and the
perverse. And…
She was mine.
It has been little over two
years since I last heard from her or even merely stood in her presence. I am
barred from enterring the asylum but not by the Kafras or by the church. This
denial of passage is self-imposed. A sort of penance to pay for my sins.
I am not worthy of speaking to
her, or even seeing her face. And I don't understand why. She's not the first
woman I've wounded. She's not the first woman I left in a web of despair. She's
not the first woman whose heart I've played with.
But she will be the last. I
didn't know when, I didn't know how, but at some point, I stopped playing
the role of lover and truly became it.
When that happened, I lost all
interest in the Jaded Crimson. I had forgotten about my anger and resentment,
about Father Lie, and about the loss I am meant to suffer. But I had never
forgotten about humanity's duality.
Old habits die hard, and that
part of me wanted Addy in her entirety. Irlan had promised I could have her,
and Odin knows how much I wanted take her. I wanted to hear her scream my name
in feral hunger, to taste her sweet ambrosia mingling on my tongue, to feel her
bare flesh against mine, to be inside her completely. Heart, mind, and body.
Yet… I couldn't bring myself
to go farther than a kiss. It wasn't as if she didn't desire me that way, and
society's judgement held no importance for me. I don't know why, I couldn't
know why I chose to sate myself with common harlots.
The women who were tainted by
other people's perverse notions, by life's injustice, by the desperation to
live. In them I found horror within beauty and beauty within horror, a weakness
in the strong and a strength in the weak, suppression within freedom and
freedom within suppresion. Those women in the brothels, they didn't matter to
me. Whenever I went into their arms all I could think about was myself, how I would
use their body to satisfy me.
When I realized this, I knew
what it was that held me back from Addy. I wanted her so badly, but I wouldn't
dare give myself to her. I didn't want her to know me the way I knew her. I
couldn't afford to let her find out who I was before I met her. I was
too worried I might lose her.
And it… terrified me.
The idea that I could not bear
to be without her was unnerving. Had I completely lost myself to her when I
read her heart? Was she the part of me that I lacked, the proverbial other
half that so many bards sing of? I shouldn't have been so blind, so stupid,
or so cowardly. I chose to be who I was, rather than who I could be.
When I realized this, I
stopped giving Irlan any information. In fact, I stopped meeting him altogether
and I went through great lengths to avoid him. But our encounter was
inevitable.
"Where's the information you
promised to get? We had a deal, priest!" Irlan was angry, I didn't need to be
an empath to see that.
"Deal's off, Irlan. I don't
want to be a member of the Jaded Crimson any longer."
"You can't blow off the guild
so easily!" he growled.
"I believe I just did."
"You're going to regret it,
priest." Irlan was grinning wickedly as he left.
I should have seen it coming
but I was such an overconfident fool. Irlan had set a trap for me, and I fell
for it. I should have sensed it, there was something that felt out of place.
Malice, resentment, anger, I
only thought Irlan was busy imagining how we would battle. Then a spiteful glee
emerged in his heart. Addy was there, and he was going to tell her everything.
Father Lie's words came back
to haunt me that day. My mentor didn't say I was going to find what I
lacked, but understand what it was. I knew everyone's hearts, I could
read them so easily, but I couldn't say the same for myself. All this time I
had been so caught up in others, that I failed to see my own emotions. Fahter
Lie said I would only be able to realize this through a loss. I just never
thought it would be Addy.
I told her I loved her that
day, it was the first time, the last time, the only time I would utter those
words. When I told her this, Irlan kept laughing. I set Addy down in a safe
corner.
"Wait for me." I told her,
"I'll be quick."
My vision seemed to blurr as I
turned to the hunter and there was a sharp pain in my chest. The next thing I
knew, I held a bruised and bloody Irlan by the neck, and I was slowly squeezing
his life out. There came a scream, nothing like I've ever heard before. It was
pitiful, inconsolable, and desperate, yet it was exquisite, serene, and
jubilant.
"Addy?" I gasped, momentarily
forgetting about the hunter.
"Where's my Warse?" she asked
with a crooked smile.
"I'm right here…" I blinked,
gently taking her into my arms. She recoiled at my touch, her heart held
nothing but confusion and something else. I didn't have enough time to read her
further as Irlan dealt a hammer blow to the back of my head.
"We're not done yet, priest!"
he snarled through grit teeth. By the time I finished pummeling the hunter to
the ground, Addy had gone.
"That was the last time I laid
eyes on her. Tell me Darin, how does she look like now?"
"Well from what I hear from
other people, her hair has grown longer and she has lost a little weight. But
her huggles are still the same." The Scribe replied.
Warse laughed, "Ah yes, her
huggles, Odin knows how much I miss them. No one else could constrict breathing
the way she could."
"So I take it that the only
reason you employed me to gather tales was to check up on Miss Addy?"
"You must be a mind reader."
The priest chuckled, "Now if you'll excuse me, I really do have matters to
attend to."
"Oh, yes, thank you so much
for your time. The next time I return I'll give you a copy of my manuscript.
There are two of them actually."
"Why two?"
"Let's just say one will
contain more personal tales."
"If you say so." The empath
chuckled, placing a Biretta of Gemstone on his head. "Do you need a warp to
Prontera?"
"Ah… yes, if it's alright."
Darin replied sheepishly.
"Actually, now that I think
about it, I could just let the sasquatch have you for a meal."
The Scribe's eyes grew saucer
wide and dropped his things on the floor.
"No, maybe not. I don't think
I'll be able to find another scribe with your talents." Warse chuckled and
opened a warp portal. Wasting no time, Darin gathered his things and leapt into
the glowing pillar of light.
