"Once again, we are much grateful for your generosity," the foreign-looking swordsman, apparently called Kojirou, said as he plucked off one of the roasted duck's wings and added to his plate.

"No no, please do not worry, it's the least we could do after all the troubles our knights had put you all through. Her Highness had asked me to convey her regret at her inability to join you at the table herself," the boy, old enough to be called a man but still so young in his eyes, responded, offering up platitudes that he had heard over a thousand times but which did not sound like platitudes at all when he said them. It was clear that the kid was still wet behind the ears, but he hadn't seen many squires that had such an air of sincerity and open-mindedness to them. Or maybe he had, and all those years of constant exposure to the uglier sides of the world had clouded his view, causing him to become too tired to give things a proper second look anymore. Anyhow, Brain's first impression was that he liked the kid, even if he'd be better off not being so straight-laced and serious all of the time.

In any case, he was too busy indulging himself in the feast before him to pay any mind to any conversation at the table. After the misunderstanding from earlier had been resolved, Princess Renner had invited them to dine at the inn she was currently lodging in, even going out of her way to rent out the whole place just for them. Of course, she couldn't attend herself, nobody would be asinine enough to leave someone of her status in a room together with a bunch of shady-looking people, no matter the number of guards at her side. This arrangement suited Brian just fine though, he had no interest in getting involved in the world of politics any time soon; that has always been more of Gazeff's style anyway. He would have refused the invitation altogether had it not been for the ear-splitting protests of his grumbling stomach, demanding its long overdue payment, he would have refused altogether. As it was, he resolved himself to grab a quick bite and made himself scarce before he got caught up in anything more bothersome. From the princess' errand boy to the two weirdos next to him, everybody at this table utterly reeked of trouble.

His self-control on the other hand, despite having steeled himself in accordance with his plan, had been woefully unprepared for the sheer audacity of the dinner set in front of him. In the middle of the tavern, by far the most lavish establishment he had seen in this town, stood a large table, big enough to comfortably host around ten people, creaking under the colossal weight of the food set upon it, occupying almost every bit of space available to showcase its grandeur. From poultry to duck to a whole pig, every kind of common meat you could find was present, cooked to such perfection that Brain could swear the meal had such glimmer to it. Or maybe his eyes had started watering from the smell, he didn't really care either way. All he knew was that it took every fibre of his being to stop himself from directly lounging onto the table and start shoving the food in his mouth with his bare hands.

From the juicy and tender flavor of the meat to the enveloping, the mouthwatering tang of the side dishes, some as simple as mashed potatoes, others so strangely looking he couldn't even identify, everything tasted simply divine. He could feel the warmth of the food travelling through him, an enveloping sense of warmth that seemed to wash away the misery of his past, even for a moment. For the first time in who knows how long, he felt alive, aware of himself and his body in a way he had forgotten he could be.

Brain was thankful that there weren't any people around him aside from the servers and the other three people at the table, none of whom gave as much of a glance at the borderline animalistic way he had started devouring everything around him. As his stomach filled and his sense of reason slowly returned, he became aware of how shameful of a display he might appear; a dirty and torn-up vagrant who acted like this was the first time he had seen a warm meal in his life.

In reality, such an arrangement wouldn't have seemed out of place for him even a couple of moons back. Life was so much easier back then: get hired by a bunch of people to guard them and their goods, deal with the occasional sellsword who was either ignorant of his reputation or simply didn't have any self-preservation instincts and, most importantly, don't ask any questions. That had been the recipe for the comfortable and carefree life he had lived for so long. Good food, a good place to sleep, good women. That was the life of such a fool who deluded himself into thinking something as superficial as 'comfort' held any meaning; the life of an ant who dutifully went about its day, blissfully unaware it could be squashed at any moment. But then that dreaded, or perhaps fateful, night came, and everything changed.

Or perhaps nothing in the world changed. Perhaps all that happened was that he finally became aware of his insignificance; aware of the backstage behind the curtain from where he had performed all his life, walking around with any sense of self-importance for the benefit of amusing the audience. Ever since that night, everything had lost its meaning. Ever since that night, money became but a pouch loosely tied at his waist, slowly shrinking with each passing day. Ever since that night, sleep could no longer grant him any reprieve. And ever since that night, the only thing in which he could find any solace was the bottle in his hand.

"A pair of bloodshot eyes, shimmering in the darkness like heralds of hell. That mocking smile, looking down on him as if he was but a fly to be swatted. Its pale skin, its otherworldly complexion, those sharp teeth, its small stature that nonetheless towered over him, her entire existence; a monster that shouldn't be allowed to walk on the same earth as mere mortals. It was something that defied reason, defied comprehension, it was DEATH AND RUIN INCARNATE AND ITS ONLY AND BEFORE IT THE ONLY THING THEY COULD DO WAS OFFER UP THEIR PATHETIC LIVES AND PRAY FOR A MERCIFUL END!"

The fork clattered to the table, a cacophony in the small room that seemed to magnify in Brain's ears. His eyes were locked on the offending hand; the wretched thing trembling violently like an abused dog–and that must mean that he's the master, and aren't dogs supposed to listen to their masters?-So why wouldn't the damn thing just stop shaking and shaking and shaking and–!

It didn't stop. It couldn't stop. Cold sweat soaked his back, the room around him closing in like a vice, its walls pulsating with such sheer malevolence that he could hardly breathe. Every breath felt like he was inhaling shards of glass, and his stomach twisted, the remnants of his meal transforming into a putrid concoction that clawed at his throat. A bitter taste, like bile mixed with ash, flooded his mouth, prompting him to seize a tankard of something–he didn't care what it was he just needed–

"Hands! Off!" The other person at the table, the midget, growled as he glared at him as if those eyes behind the thick-rammed glasses could pierce holes through his skull. "Mind your own drink."

Shaken a bit from his thoughts, Brain did a quick double-take around him and saw that there was indeed a cup set right by his plate that he had missed before. That wasn't however as surviving as the forest of empty glasses that surrounded the blue-haired child(?). If he had been told that an entire squadron of knights had drank at their table while he was distracted eating his weight in food, he'd have believed it.

"Um, is it... alright to let him drink that much?" The knight, Climb, asked, echoing his own concerns.

"It is not for a mere bodyguard to tell off his employer. Plus, I wouldn't worry about him" Kojirou brushed him dismissively as he took a small sip from his own cup. Alcohol didn't seem to suit his taste, as Brain could make out the subtle scent of tea leaves from his seat. "When it comes to his kind, there is not enough liquor in this whole country to drink them under the table."

"Is he a dwarf?"

"No," the other swordsman corrected him. "An author."

On the other hand, the so-called author didn't give any sign that he was aware of being the subject of the conversation. He seemed lost in his own world, gently caressing the mug in his hands while muttering something about a "yandere", whatever the hell that meant. Brain had to admit that there was some truth to Kojirou's words, the alcohol seemed to barely have an effect on him. Aside from a slight color of his cheeks, he would have passed for sober any day of the week. That wasn't to say that he was in great shape, however. In fact, between those sunken eyes and far-off expression, Brain couldn't help but be reminded of the pathetic silhouette staring him down in the mirror every day. Even the hair was a similar shade of color. It was a good thing there was such a big difference in stature, the last thing he wanted was to sit across a constant reminder of the parody of himself he had become.

Unbidden, his lips clung to the rim of the tankard, his parched lips lapping at the edges just to find a bit more of the amber liquid that was saving him. He barely tasted the sweetness; all that mattered was the numbing burn that trailed down his throat. He slammed the empty vessel onto the table, his hands trembling so violently that the very table seemed to quake in response. He asked for another. The tankard in his hands was full again. And then another. And then another. And then the burn began to overtake the waves. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He was swimming in molasses. He was– He was fine. His eyes opened, his eyes glanced low.

His hands were still. Completely, utterly, still. The storm might spur up the waves for a little while longer, and those heavy clouds did not give sign of clearing any time soon, but he was going to make it. As long as he grabbed tightly onto the handle, he could float. 'What was that that Gazeff used to say? Any journey is made easier along with a trustworthy companion? Well cheers to that, I couldn't agree more!'

"Must you insist on acting like a kicked mutt even while we're having dinner? It really takes away from the enjoyment of the food, you know." The remark was so out of left field that Brain hadn't even realized the midget was talking about him at first. It was only when he glanced across the table and he saw the speaker's expression that it clicked.

"You're one to talk," he humphed, gesturing towards to tower of vanished booze by the brat's side. "Are you trying to drown yourself and take the whole hangar with you?"

"Please don't compare my hard-earned and totally justified brooding time with your pathetic display over there." He countered, unbothered. "I do think it's appropriate for you to have used the word 'drowning' though. It fits, in an acerbic sort of way."

That same expression, that he saw every time a passerby glanced by him in the street. Or when an innkeeper kicked him out after he had ordered one too many drinks at the nearby dump that barely passed as a bar.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he gritted out between his teeth.

" To put it simply, you're the sort of person who enjoys flailing around the shore, prostrating himself on the sand and letting the waves cover him in so you could pretend you've hit the ocean's depths." Throughout all his talking, the halfling's tone had never once wavered, maintaining the same detached and montone speaking pattern; like a professor repeating the same lecture over and over again until he knew it by heart. Yet even so, those infuriating blue eyes never once left his own "You waltz around all over the place as if you're burdened with some terrible weight upon you. You think nobody has it as bad as you, so you feel justified to wallow in your own misery."

"Mr. Hans, I think that's enough." a distant voice tried to intervene, but the samurai stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. That was only something he barely noticed though, all his attention was on the midget's insufferable prattling, mouthing off as if he was so much better than everyone else.

"I have some news for you. You're not the only one who's had it rough. Most common people live their lives despite knowing they amount to nothing in the grand scheme of things, but because they accept it, they gain value. You, on the other hand, were just a special little snowflake who thought he had it all figured out. No wonder you couldn't take being knocked down a peg." That expression of being looked down upon like some street cur by everybody around him, too high off their ignorance to bother with a reject like him.

*THUD*

The high-pitched screech of plates and cutlery banging against the tiled floor managed to harmonize with the bang of his own fist as it was violently brought down, clearing straight through the polished wood of the table. And in its wake remained a deafening silence, echoing and bouncing by every wall as if the very room around them was holding its breath in anticipation.

"SHUT UP!" He had meant to scream it at the top of his lungs but found himself unable to do so. His mouth was clenched so tightly it was barely able to let out a slurred sound. His whole body was trembling now, not from the freezing cold of the sea's ripples, but a raging flame that burnt throughout his body, roaring to be let out. He wanted, no, he needed to let loose all of this heat and anger and frustration. And there was a very enticing target right in front of him. "Stop talking like you know anything about me! You have no idea of the things I've seen things! You've never felt that monster's breath upon your skin, you've never had its fingernails dig out through your flesh like paper. How dare you stand there in that cushy chair and pretend like you have any idea of what I've been through?!"

He leaned forward, an unspoken challenge for the current source of his ire. It was taking considerable effort not to give relief to the itchiness of his right hand, clutched so tightly it had taken on a sliding shade of purple. All he needed was a simple push, one more venomous word or backhanded insult to finally take him over the precipe. So of course, the aggravating brat refused to give him even that. He simply leaned back to get more comfortable in his chair and took a swig from his cup with the same casualness one has when discussing the weather.

"You're right. I have neither the knowledge nor the interest towards anything regarding your past. What need would I have for a simple recollection of events bearing no relation to myself, all the more of one plagued by the biases of an unreliable narrator? No, what I seek is the simple truth that's laid before me, the one I ascertain with my own eyes. My role it's simply to give voice to the voiceless reality one experiences, nothing more. You're free to do with it as you wish, to accept it and to confront it or to simply bury it in the blind spot of your vision. It makes no difference because the only certain thing is that once given form, the words and the meaning they carry cannot be taken back."

"To hell with all your pretty words! What makes you think that-"

"Then why don't you leave right now then?" Hans cut him off, appearing to have grown tired of the subject. "You have no reason to be here beyond the one you gave yourself. Or better yet, take a swing at me and see how that goes. Do anything, just stop being such an eyesore for everyone, it's painful to look at and I already lost all my patience for this crap half a day ago."

"Now now, as entertaining as this has been, I do believe we have startled the lovely personnel working here more than enough already," Kojirou stated, glancing over the obviously uncomfortable servers, having retreated as much as they could from the heated table. "What do you say we put this dispute on pause and return to enjoying this perfectly pleasant dinner? Or what remained that's not currently gathering ants on the floor, at least."

"Yes, I would like that as well," Climb added.

Brain could practically feel the collective sigh of relief of everybody present at the proposal, safe from him and the brat. There was a part of him that wanted to refute it, to continue to push on and escalate, to not give that smug bastard any semblance of victory. But the other part of him, one growing larger by the second, was beginning to sober up from the emboldening of both rage and wine, getting replaced with the barest echoes of humiliation and shame. Here he stood, a grown-ass adult, getting into it with somebody looking like a twelve-year-old. He was no better than those morons chasing them back in town.

He spared one last look at the mouthing brat, before swallowing something thick at the back and his throat and pushing his chair back to stand up.

"I think... I think is about time for me to go. Tell Her Highness I am thankful for her generosity. Oh, and sorry for the table" he said, turning towards Climb and the staff respectively.

"No need to worry, I will be paying for it." the blonde assured them.

"Thank you! And again, I apologize." He started pacing towards the door, not quite sure on his feet but without any obvious stagger to his movement. "Then I guess this is goodbye."

"Perhaps for now. But I do get the feeling we will be meeting again, Brain Unglaus." Kojirou told him, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"Brain Unglaus?!" Climb exclaimed behind them.

'Wouldn't count on it' he thought but elected to be quiet. With a half-hearted wave, he bid them goodbye before grabbing the doorknob and turning. He had expected to be greeted by the cool night breeze and a darkened, poorly lit alley. Instead, what awaited him was the emaciated form of a bleeding corpse, sprawled onto the entrance's rag, with what at first glance was a wooden spear sticking from his back.

As if smelling the blood seeping into the pavement below, his sword came unbidden before he had any time to process. he could hear the cluttering of chairs and panicked shouts behind him, but couldn't spare the time to turn. No, he wouldn't have been able to, even if he could. He stood there, frozen in place, seconds that stretched into eternity yet passed with unbridled hurry. Unmoving, not breathing. For behind the curtain of darkness behind him peeked multiple sets of red, bloodshot eyes.


AN: Thanks to Mysterious Heroine X for helping out with the chapter. Be sure to check out her stuff, she's a much more competent writer than me.

God did I struggle with this one. It's probably because I'm too addicted to reading Berserk to concentrate on doing anything else. Please read Berserk. READ IT!