guys i have an Eragon brainrot now :/

the angst opportunities murtagh gives me tho-


The Savory Den was louder than usual.

Citadel lords and their soldiers were arriving for Lord Rake's conference, something about easing the rift between the factions and uniting against Bleston as one whole undivided army. Garten personally doubted the whole thing. Lord Ronan was not famed for listening to reason.

Garten figured that after Heather got all her anger out, she would be willing to reach out and he could fully explain himself without causing a commotion. A bit one-ended on his side, but he had never liked the idea of putting energy into unwilling relationships. If Heather didn't talk to him, she didn't talk to him. But that was besides the point-the point being that Heather was completely ignoring his presence. Picket managed to hold a civil conversation with Garten, but whenever Heather was present, she was staring into space coldly.

Garten was bitterly reminded of his mother in those vacant eyes.

Picket seemed sullen as well, probably stemmed from the fact that Helmer did give him a sound lecture about hopelessness and despair. Garten, still on chaperoning duty, didn't pay attention much. He'd heard the same speech, in a thousand different variations from a thousand different voices. One of the most notable speeches about despair and not being able to beat the enemy without proper preparation was Jupiter's speech before Redback Valley. To be fair, Jupiter had been running on three hours of sleep and two cups of coffee, so the speech may have been a little incomprehensible. For all Garten knew, Jupiter had been attempting to convey a completely different message then what went across.

But his mind was wandering again. Heather was up to something, or knew something, or just was holding onto her resentful feelings. Short glances she sent towards him did not convey much.

"Longtreader!"

A familiar voice snapped Garten out of his thoughts. Captain Frye. Garten sighed to himself. It wasn't that he didn't like the Captain, it was just the obvious brashness and inability to keep his mouth shut that put off the Longtreader. Of course, Garten hadn't talked to him in more than three years, so who knew? Perhaps he'd changed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Heather frown and glance over at him quickly. She knew something he didn't.

"Yes, Captain?" Garten refrained from shouting. He didn't want to interrupt peoples' meals. In hindsight, it was too late. A lot of people were already focused on the interaction, eyes wide and conversations suddenly silenced.

"Why are you showing your face around here?" Frye demanded, jabbing Garten's chest.

Garten tilted his head, the cold looks on the soldiers behind Frye throwing him off. "I do live here, Captain," he said quietly. "I doubt you'd enjoy my presence at Halfwind, after the last incident."

The joke did not sail well. Frye's eyes bulged.

"Why you little-" he growled, before taking a breath and composing himself. "We all know you're a traitor," he said bluntly.

Garten, to be honest, was expecting literally anything other than those words. He was expecting a joke in return, a snappy jab, perhaps a sharp comment that he wasn't in uniform.

Anything but that.

Garten doubted his loyalties sometimes, in the dead of night. When the world was silent, he questioned whether or not he was on the right path. Whether he'd made the right choice sticking by Jupiter. All it had brought him was pain. Perhaps if he'd gone with Bleston, as part of the Waywards, maybe he'd be in a different place right now. Not spending his days running circles around his own thoughts.

"What?" he managed to force out.

"Are we accusing random soldiers now?" Lord Blackstar said quietly from his corner, raising an eyebrow. Garten's childhood friend was always quick to rise to the defence of the Longtreader family.

"He isn't random," piped up someone. "I heard he even talked to Morbin before the king died."

Garten spun to face the buck. "I would never," he spat. "Stop listening to rumours and do something productive with your life."

A low blow. But not lower than the whole rumor that he was a traitor.

"It's not a rumour-"

"Shut your mouth!" Victor snapped, standing up and slamming his fist against the table. "Captain, you should know better than to spread distasteful rumours about one of our finest soldiers-and one of Jupiter's closest friends no less!"

Frye sneered. "An eyewitness saw you speaking to wolves, and he's extremely reliable."

"Oh?" Garten snarled. "An eyewitness? At what? Jupiter's Crossing? Barely anyone survived that massacre. You weren't even there, were you?"

"Garten-" Victor began.

"You were with Lord Rake's army! You didn't see how they murdered my best friend, and you have the audacity to say that I had a hand in his murder?" Garten felt his anger rising. Why wouldn't it be?

Frye and Garten glared at each other for a good few minutes.

Garten laughed drily after those minutes. "I'm not fighting with you, Frye," he said drily, eyes narrowed. "You pick a fight with me, it' s your call." He smiled a little. "But trust me, you won't be getting out unscathed."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Victor rub his forehead and sigh.

He left the Savory Den, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and disgust with himself.


please accept my humble offering of this chapter, fueled by a can of Diet Coke, a tub of ice cream that my siblings kept stealing, and the pure spite i have towards the wasp that flew into my room when i was opening my window

much shorter than usual but eh