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.