So close. He was so close to achieving his goal, his hand only centimeters away from the socket. It was as good as done. But perhaps it was this confidence that turned out to be his downfall.
She came out of nowhere. He should have seen her coming. Even with only one natural eye it should be impossible to miss the enormous hulking mass of flesh, muscle and distorted faces... Especially for a thief trained to spot the best hidden loot under watchful eyes.A thief with the natural ability to see Keepers.
And yet she manages to take a swing at him, screaming horridly as her strike sends him reeling against the little porch of the building he had hidden under shortly prior. He grunts as his back hits the wooden pillar, but before the pain has time to set in, his keen senses, agility– and his comparative shortness – allow him to dodge her next blow, which tears the wooden planks to tiny shreds and bends the metal railings. The adrenaline rushing through his veins is probably the only thing keeping him on his feet and helping him make the split-second decision to stumble back to the fountain fast enough to shakily place the Eye on its designated socket.
Perhaps she was more attentive than before, assembling a greater number of statues, after Garrett has already managed to sneak four of the five Sentients past her. It was her final chance to beat him – and she failed. Her fate was sealed. Though she may have just made sure that the same fate would befall the thief that defeated her.
Garrett is vaguely aware of… something happening around him. There are voices, people perhaps, a stony hand reaching for his shoulder and a source of light somewhere in front of him. He feels a distant burning sensation on the back of his left hand but that is nothing compared to the sudden burst of white-hot pain radiating from his recoils with a groan, breaking off the thumb of the stone statue that almost managed to doom mankind. Pressing one hand over the gaping lacerations on his stomach, he uses the other to catch his fall as he goes down on his knees, somewhat surprised that any of his limbs are able to support his weight at all. The taste of copper fills his mouth and when he spits, a splatter of blood marks the pavement.
Sitting back on his heels, his eyes take in a blurry, askew image of his surroundings as a trickle of blood idly dribbles down his chin and beads of sweat glisten on his forehead in the dim illumination of the streetlights. There are people around, watching, unmoving (maybe Keepers?), and an old woman weeping. Nobody seems to spare him a thought, which is usually in his best interest. Though maybe just this once he would not be opposed to some assistance.
As usual, none is offered. At least it's a small blessing that the last of the Sentients had to be brought to the South Quarter where he could easily reach his dwelling and patch himself up. Well, he'd be there in no time if he could walk. It would prove a little more difficult to crawl there on all fours though – or rather threes since applying pressure to the slashes across his torso appears pivotal to tipping the scales in favor of he can even attempt to move in the direction of the building, his light armor is already soaked with blood and the flesh feels squishy underneath his palm. Certainly not something that a simple health potion would fix.
He starts the slow and agonizing crawl towards his home. It's not far, only a few meters. He can make it. The stairs might prove a bit tricky. But if he's lucky, his landlord hasn't reinstated another guard in the hallway yet. With everything going on – and a two-and-a-half-meter tall heap of human remains roaming in front of the building's entrance – he highly doubts that he has.
With great difficulty and already close to total exhaustion, Garrett has covered about half of the distance, for once not evading the light of the electric lantern next to the entrance of his home, when he hears a voice somewhere above to his right.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous Garrett. Not so sneaky now, are we?"
Taff.
A moment later Garrett feels something solid on his back. Something that all of a sudden presses down and effortlessly causes his shaky limbs to give out underneath him. The air gets knocked out of his lungs as he hits the ground and he isn't even able to scream when the weight presses his torn flesh onto the rough cobblestones. Instead, a hoarse wheeze escapes his lips, black dots start dancing in his vision and he breaks out in another cold sweat as the pain becomes almost unbearable.
"Finally got you, taffer. I'm gonna make captain for this. Off to Pavelock with ya!" The guard pauses briefly and shifts his weight, sounding a lot less gleeful when he speaks next. "Now, who was the unfortunate soul whose life you now have your conscience?"
In his anger, he drives his boot further into Garrett's back and Garrett, not knowing what he's referring to and just wanting him to stop, groans loudly and then manages to gasp, "H- Hag."
"Greg? I don't know no Gregs but whoever does will thank me later." Garrett vaguely registers the sound ofcheering somewhere off in the distance. "And the attentive citizen who alerted me."
Garrett would love to give that oh so attentive citizen a piece of his mind. If they were truly attentive, if they were aware of what he just did for them, for the whole City, maybe they would rethink their priorities.
Unfortunately, he is on the verge of passing out and in no condition to give anyone a scolding. And then, just like that, the foot is lifted off his back. Small draws in a shallow breath and uses his last remaining strength to curl up on his side andmove his hands to cover his injuries, though he doubts he's making much of a difference considering the amount of blood he has already lost, which becomes evident to him when he catches a glimpse of the blood trail he covered the pavement with in addition to his fading grip on consciousness.
The echoing voice of a girl cuts through the night and Garrett's blurry and tear-stained vision makes out a bluish glowing silhouette next to the guard.
"Stop! Stop this! You're hurting him."
A weak smile flickers over Garrett's lips at the uncontrolled shriek erupting from the guard's throat. "W- what the bloody..."
There's shuffling, shrieking and several more panicked voices around him.
"Ahhh! Run for your lives!"
"Get me outta this place!"
"Y-y-you have n-no say in this m-matter. L-leave at once! This is my p-prisoner," the watchman stammers, trying but failing to sound intimidating.
"Do you not know what he just did?"the echoing, ghostly voice replies.
"S-something c-cr-criminal, I s'pose."
The ghost approaches him and shouts, "Get you gone! Or I will haunt you for the rest of your days!"
Her threat is followed by a loud clang of metal on stone and a submissive yell of "I quit!" Then the hasty noise of boots trampling off in quick succession signals the watchman's departure.
"Run for it!" one of the citizens yells and runs off as well, the rest of the onlookers and anyone else who happens to be in the vicinity following suit.
"Gotta find a safe haven..."
Garrett has a hunch that the Keepers and whatever was left of the Hag are long gone. How much time has passed since he placed the Eye?
Lost in hazy thought, he belatedly registers that the apparition is now talking to him.
"Garrett? Garrett, are you still with me?"
He squints up at her and rasps, "Laur'l... Wh-... why're you-" He gets cut off by a coughing fit that ends with more blood splattered around his mouth and on the cobblestones, leaving him gasping for air.
Lauryl hesitates a moment until he has somewhat recovered, then appears to be bending down as she speaks, "I found that I could not rest until I knew the gray lady was defeated and you were safe. You helped me escape the Cradle, now I want to help you escape death." The last word keeps echoing in Garrett's ears long after she's finished her sentence.
As much as he would like to thank her for at least trying, and as much as it sucks that he's dying like this, after everything's done, Garrett becomes painfully aware that he is losing his futile battle to stay awake. He manages to give her a small, weary quirk of his lips in acknowledgment of her efforts and the last audible sensation he's aware of as his eyelids slide closed and the world goes dark is the surprisingly concerned ghost voice of the girl from the burned down orphanage that he thought was finally allowed to rest in peace.
When Garrett wakes up, he's confused. Confused that he is able to wake up at all.
The first indicator of his wakefulness is the dull, throbbing pain in his abdomen that admittedly isn't nearly as excruciating as he remembers it to be. There is also a somewhat constricting tightness around his ribcage and stomach.
He's lying on his back. On a soft surface. A bed perhaps? He feels almost relieved but then his hearing picks up voices nearby and his muscles unwittingly tense up. He doesn't exactly know why; if those people are after him this does not help. Maybe he is already chained to the bed and about to be tortured? Is the Trickster back for his other eye?!
As his nervousness rises, he realizes there is nothing he can do about his situation if he just keeps lying there. Instead, he decides to peel open his one natural eye and-
There are no guards, no Pagans, no monsters. And he isn't in some sort of torture chamber. No, he knows this view.
He's in his own home. His bedroom, to be precise.
But he isn't alone. There is the bluish glowing apparition of a girl in front of the now burning fireplace, a Hammerite in a red robe and hood leaning against his dresser, bathed in rays of glistening moonlight shining through his window,and a woman in a black dress seated on the chair in the left corner.
Right, Lauryl. And upon further inspection, with help of his mechanical eye, he identifies the other two as Inspector Drept and the Widow Moira, all three of them chatting lightly. Ironically, the only one that makes any sort of sense being there is the ghost.
Garrett blinks dazedly. What the taff are they all doing in his home?!Is it now common knowledge that he lives here? Maybe he's not out of the woods after all.
Inspector Drept seems to sense that he is awake because, without turning his head, he asks, "Why dost thou stare, Garrett?"
This causes the other two to look at him. Although it is hard to tell in Lauryl's case.
Garrett clears his throat which feels awfully dry. "Last I checked, this was my home."With his voice barely above a raspy whisper, he sounds a lot less accusatory than intended.
"Hey, you're finally awake!" Lauryl cheers, taking a tentative step towards him.
"Garrett, why didst thou not acquaintme of mine dear late friend's fate?" Drept asks, letting his gaze wander from the ghost to the thief.
Garrett blinks at him sluggishly. It takes a moment for the Hammer's words to make sense in his fuzzy mind but when they do, he can't help but let out a low growl in annoyance. "Didn't really have the time..." he croaks, then realizes that the tightness around his torso is caused by bandages. His expression softens slightly. "Is this your work?"
"Tis indeed."
Garrett presses his lips together. "… Thanks."
"Thou art most welcome, friend," Drept says with a faint smile and a vague nod. "Twas thine own diligence for which wast granted the medicinal waters of the Builder that wert used to save thee."
"The rust mites be thanked," Garrett says dryly and realizes belatedly that something feels off about this sentence, but his brain is too mushy for him to pinpoint what exactly it is. Now that the Inspector has mentioned it though, Garrett becomes distantly aware of feeling clean and fresh, like he's just taken a bath, but he is too embarrassed about the implications of that to address it.
Feeling trapped, exposed and vulnerable just lying there surrounded by people he barely knows, in addition to his discomfort at the notion of possible privacy invasions, he tries to push himself up on his elbows but in an instant, Drept appears at his side and pushes him back down.
"Verily, Garrett, thou needs must rest."
Garrett reluctantly lies back down with a grunt but only because the Hammerite's hand on his shoulder alone somehow seems to possess more strength than his entire body. He does make sure to convey his displeasure with a scowl instead, which he deems unwarranted a moment later when Drept props up his pillow and helps him into a semi-sitting position before offering him a cup of water. Garrett takes it with his left hand while his right one rests on his bandages, mimicking his desperate attempts from earlier (yesterday? Last week?) to stop the bleeding. He takes a few slow sips, savoring the blissful cool of the water.
Drept gestures at him. "What may that be on thy hand?"
Garrett frowns, then follows Drept's line of sight and carefully turns his left hand slightly to look at it, spilling a few drops of water in the process due to a small tremble in said hand. There's the shadow of a key on its back. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise but then a smirk slowly forms on his lips. "It roughly translates into 'I was right all along'." He pauses and frowns. "Though some of them probably knew..."He trails off. Then, in an attempt to dissolve the awkwardness he's feeling from being stared at while lying in his bed like an invalid, and because he has no desire - nor authorization - to explain glyphs or Keepers, he decides to divert the attention from himself to the others.
"I understand you being here, Inspector, and Lauryl of course, but..." He pauses as his gaze wanders towards Mrs. Moira. The confusion he's feeling seeps into his voice. "You?"
She flashes him a hollow smile which she then directs at Lauryl when Drept speaks for her. "Twas Lauryl's idea. She hath read Edwina's letter in which she disclosed she wouldth like to see thee again."For demonstration, he picks up the letter and holds it up. As if Garrett didn't know which letter he was referring to. As if there were any other letters in his tenement. He takes another sip of the water as he keeps fixing Drept with a blank expression. "One thing doth still perplex mine thoughts, however…" The Hammerite takes a skeptical look at the letter and points at a passage that Garrett can't see, seemingly re-reading it. "Thou didst break into her house... and waited upon her?"
Garrett narrows his eyes at him and unwittingly balls the hand on his bandages into a fist. "I've never waited on anyone; I merely brought her a glass of wine because she asked politely andno one else would. In fact, the Mistress had explicitly forbidden it but unfortunately for her, I'm not exactly known for following rules."
"That was very kind of you," the widow's mellow voice dances across the room. "And the fact that you didn't steal my inheritance proves that you have some sort of moral code."
Garrett isn't sure how to reply to her. It was just wine. He's done far more heroic things. And infamous ones, too. He'd rather let the second statement pass without comment as well, so he opts for drinking a few more gulps of water before setting down the cup on his nightstand, slightly surprised - and highly annoyed - at how heavily the almost empty cup weighs on his outstretched arm and that a turning motion as small as this makes his abdomen sting painfully while also causing the room to spin for a moment.
Seemingly accepting that she won't get an answer, Moira changes the subject, "You've got a lovely place. Who knew that a thief would legally rent an apartment?"
Blinking away the dizziness, Garrett gives her a disgruntled look. "Well, if you figure out how to illegally rent one, let me know."
She slowly tilts her head to the side and cracks a smile. "It's just such an odd picture. I imagined you'd simply have a hideout somewhere on the thief's highway or so."
"I certainly wouldn't miss having to pay outrageous sums of cash to my landlord. It's not my fault he's getting blackmailed. That's his business."
When Moira just gives him a somewhat commiserating smile in response, his attention is drawn back to the unlikely duo that he notices is looking at him expectantly.
He clears his throat. "So... Reunited at last."
Drept and Lauryl look at each other. "Ne'er didst I think I wouldst see the day after we wert put asunder."
"It took us long enough. At least one good thing that came out of this."
Placing one arm over his stomach and propping up the other one on its hand, Drept runs his fingers over his chin in contemplation. "I must admit I was most perturbed to find a ghost lurking hind mine window."
Lauryl raises her hands in a defensive gesture. "I wasn't lurking, I was trying to draw your attention. Who else could I have turned to?"
After her echo has faded, Drept casts Garrett an almost appreciatory look. "I spied twould be for naught ere long. But thou art more hardwearing than thou lookst."
"And then we had plenty of time to talk until you woke up."
Drept nods, then his face becomes pensive. "She hath assured me that I shalt no longer feel guilty about what hath happened in those years long gone. And that I shouldst acquire... a 'hobby'."
Garrett can't help an amused snort in response. "She's not wrong, you know."
"You could start with learning a language that everyone understands," Lauryl says, a hint of amusement in her ghostly voice which it retains when she turns to Garrett. "He used to speak normally."
"I know not what thou'rt talking about. Makest thou fun of me?" Drept replies and there is a certain playfulness present in his voice as well. Garrett wonders if Lauryl has always been this cheeky. One might even call her bold. Although maybe that came with being unkillable.
"I wouldn't dare," she keeps teasing.
After all the people Garrett has outlived, he's glad that at least these two have found each other again, after several decades no less. At least they have gotten closure.
However, that still doesn't explain why Lauryl is here in the first place and he'd be lying if he said the answer didn't intrigue him.
"Lauryl," he addresses her. "How are you back? Whatever happened with 'I'm finally free'? Do you mean to tell me our little ritual in the catacombs of Fort Ironwood was for nothing?"
Lauryl lifts a hand in his direction. "No! On the contrary. My spirit has been liberated but I chose to come back when I realized you were in peril. As for the how? Well, looks like being trapped in a haunted orphanage for decadeshas its perks," she says as she smiles at him.
"I would argue your presence did its bit in ensuring it is haunted in the first place," Garrett says and at that moment he remembers what she said when she showed up to save him. "Can you actually do that? Haunt someone for the rest of their life?"
Lauryl chuckles. "I don't know. But if anyone wants to serve as a test subject... I promise I will only haunt you affectionately."
"Dost thou not by now?" Drept asks with a quirk of his lips and Lauryl turns to him, somehow managing to look apologetic.
"I'm afraid my time here is limited. I can feel it."
Drept raises his eyebrows in surprise. Then he gives her a warm smile and puts an arm around her. "That doth make it all the more precious."
After observing them for a moment, Moira gets up from her chair and places a gentle hand on Lauryl's shoulder, giving her an affirming look. Then she goes to pick up her letter and examines her own words in silence while Garrett watches her. After a short while, she raises her head and looks back and forth between him and the other two before her eyes eventually settle on Garrett again.
"I see you kept my letter. And you didn't sell the wine..." She tilts her head questioningly. "You don't have many friends, do you?"
Garrett remains silent as he takes a moment to reflect on her words.
It's been a while since he's been in touch with anyone he considered a friend. He prefers to work alone and avoids having to rely on anyone if he can. Besides that, it's hard - making friends in his line of work. Not that he really needs any... Not that he's supposed to have any, according to the Keepers and their cute little rules. And it's not like he has many opportunities to perpetuate an active social lifestyle anyway. Now that he's thinking about it, he's spent most of his social time with the Keepers lately - and not exactly by choice. But there was one Keeper whose presence never felt like a nuisance to him: Artemus.
He admits that he enjoyed Artemus' company, more often than not, even though he rarely showed it. And he... felt something the moment he realized that the Artemus he had just talked to was only an impersonation of an acquaintance who was no longer among the living. No, not acquaintance, more like associate. A fellow. Or, perhaps even a friend? It would explain the sting he felt in his chest when he realized that he would never see him again. That Gamall had finally gotten the jump on him. That the last time he talked to Artemus - or at least thought it was him - he had already been gruesomely murdered and skinned and Garrett would never get the chance to actually talk to him again. It would explain why his death bothered him so much more than anyone else's. And why it took him so long to realize that something was wrong with him. No, he knew right away, just when 'Artemus' started talking, and if it hadn't been Artemus, Garrett might have acted on it immediately. In that moment though, he hoped he was wrong.
In retrospect, it's obvious to Garrett that he considered Artemus a friend. He just failed to realize this while the Keeper was still alive. Or rather, knowingly repressed it. And the loneliness he had felt right after the revelation of his death was the worst he'd felt in a long time and it was made worse by the fact that their last conversation had been a farce, an attempt to trick him - by the murderer of his friend who had worn his friend's face and spoken with his friend's voice but who was as antagonal to his friend as was even possible.
Yes, he despises Gamall, and Artemus' murder might just be the biggest contributor to that.
But, that's not what Mrs. Moira is asking and even less what Garrett wants to talk about, so he opts for giving her a valid explanation instead.
"Keeper writings are seldom a source of reference for me but… they've got a point with their whole 'The essence of balance is detachment' thing," he says darkly, not missing the irony that the one person he got attached to was a Keeper and wondering if Artemus ever thought of him the same way. He did use to call him friend and Garrett has a feeling that it wasn't just a turn of phrase.
While Moira hums in contemplation, Lauryl takes a few steps towards him until she's standing right next to his bed. He looks up, into her empty, glowing eyes on her radiant, glowing face.
"You know, Garrett... Even after all those horrible things that happened at the orphanage and the hopelessness I felt at the prospect of being trapped there forever, between two planes of existence... I don't regret playing hide-and-seek with Harold that day. You see, he was my only real friend and I was grateful that he wanted to spend time with me. I always felt like the odd one out, I was shy and petite and couldn't seem to make any friends. No one wanted to play with me. Except for him. And then he never stopped trying to get justice for me. Of course, I would rather have lived out my days with him but maybe it was my destiny to perish that day."
Garrett understands what she's saying, he really does, it's just that the one thing that sticks in his mind is her claim of being the "odd" one - in a taffin' mental asylum. He would have really liked to meet her non-dead self. Though he has to admit that her destiny talk rubs him the wrong way. Nevertheless, he gives her a small nod in acknowledgment.
"How it blesses me thou thinkst this way, Lauryl. Many days wast I troubled I hath let thee down..."
Now that she is up close, Garrett can see how Lauryl's face contorts in sorrow before she turns to look at her friend and walks up to him. "Nobody has ever cared about me as much as you. You are the only person who hasn't forgotten about me," she says, her voice wavering with emotion as she wraps her arms around his thighs. After a short moment of stunned silence, Drept places a hand on her head to stroke her hair.
"Ne'er couldst I forget thee, mine dear friend."
Lauryl's sniffle echoes through the room. "Without your perseverance, which arose solely from our short friendship, I would be stuck there forever."
"Mine perseverance and Garrett's bravery," Drept offers and Lauryl lets go of him, rubs her nose and directs her glowing eyes at Garrett who does not desire to be in the spotlight at that moment.
"Personally, I would call it a necessity rather than bravery."
"Oh, but didst thou not enter Shalebridge and helpest Lauryl of thine own free will? Wert thou driven by forces outside of thy control?"
Garrett considers his words. The lines between the two had become a little blurred since he'd met the Keepers. He's done a lot of things lately that he really didn't want to do but then again, this was not the first time, and the loot has been a great compensation. Maybe it was bravery after all and he accredits too much meaning to Keeper texts. With that mentality, one might wonder if anyone did anything of their own free will or if every action was foretold somewhere. But that is a rabbit hole that he's always intentionally avoided.
Before he has a chance to answer, Moira gasps when she looks at Drept and cuts in. "Dear me, the Shalebridge Cradle, the burned down orphanage? Oh, Garrett, I'm appalled you went into that haunted place!" Garrett can't help but think that she sounds weirdly protective. In an instant, realization dawns on her face and she turns to Lauryl. "Apologies, I meant no offense to you, little darling."
Garrett raises an eyebrow at the widow having no problem talking to a ghost like she's just another regular citizen but being flabbergasted at the mere prospect of entering an old building. Okay, granted, there's a bit more to it than that. And then again, he doesn't know what her initial reaction to Lauryl has been. Though for some reason he can't imagine it being much different than now.
Thankfully, their conversation seems to have put Lauryl in good spirits again. "I never liked it there, even while I was still alive. Oh, you should see Fort Ironwood, though. Or better not! That place really gives me the creeps."
While contemplating whether the Shalebridge Cradle or Fort Ironwood is worse, the Abysmal Gale is another place that pops into Garrett's head when thinking of creepy places he visited recently. In this case, however, Moira is the one with a connection to it but Garrett decides against telling her that he encountered and killed her undead husband there. Even though it was probably the merciful thing to do, finally allowing him to rest in peace, he can't imagine his wife being too thrilled about learning that he rose from the dead in the first place, just to get killed a second time. That is, if she doesn't already know. What she most likely doesn't know, however, is that the evidence clearly points to Gamall being his killer and wearing his skin as well. Turns out, all four of them are victims of her, one way or another.
"I was thinking about laying my late husband to rest there but I might reconsider..." Moira muses. She is a lot more lucid than last time Garrett met her, he notes, and apparently no longer in denial about her husband's demise. "He deserves nothing short of the best. And yet, nothing will be able to lessen my grief and pain of losing him."
Garrett just looks at her, the Keeper verse echoing in his mind once more. When Moira's gaze lands on him, he feels like she has an inkling of what's on his mind.
"Yes, attachment comes with pain. Sometimes, the two go hand in hand. But it would only have been half a life if I had never known Robert."
"But now he's gone," Garrett deadpans, his voice uncharacteristically rough as memories of Artemus flood his mind against his will. Attributing this surge of emotion to his battered physical state, he notices Lauryl giving him a thoughtful look as she tilts her head.
"He is. And he's not the only one." Moira gives him a somber, knowing look. "But he was here. He left his mark in the world. And I have friends that remember him. If it weren't for them, I would be all alone in my grief. They are my anchor now. Everyone needs an anchor, Garrett. Robert just happened to be the sturdiest one for me."
"I'd rather have no friends than friends who exploit my weakened mental state and steal from me while I'm grieving," Garrett argues, irritation evident in his voice.
"Who in particular?" she simply asks.
"I overheard a Brice and a Lavinia plotting to steal your telescope. Of course, I couldn't let them have it. But unlike them, I never pretended to be your friend."
"Oh, yes. I never could stand them. I trust you took care of them?"
Garrett's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This is a different kind of mad.
"I'm joking, of course. You're a thief, not a murderer, right? And I know there's good in you, don't try to argue with me. Though I'm sure you had a hand in their turning up unconscious in one of the guest rooms."
"Nothing anyone could prove," Garrett says with a tiny smirk.
"I'm sure of it," Moira replies, a certain mirth in her voice. Then her demeanor turns a little sterner. "I honestly believe that, one way or another, I would have eventually been relieved of my valuables that night and if not, then one of the following nights. Curtis cannot be everywhere at once - though he does try and I commend him for his conscientiousness - and I was in no state to assist him. I must say I am almost gleeful that you were able to nab everything from under my guests' treacherous noses, bar the one treasure they couldn't find."
Garrett blinks rapidly in astonishment at her seeming indifference to his crimes. "That's one way to look at it. I can't say I'm envious of your social circle."
"Well, when you possess a large fortune, there aren't many people you can trust. Perhaps it will be easier for me now to make real friends." There's a twinkle in her eye when she adds the last sentence. "You just need to be cunning enough to figure out who is truly loyal to you. I for one know that Curtis would do anything for me. And Ginny, my dear Ginny, there isn't a bad bone in her body."
"That's two out of... a long list of people, I presume. The ratio could be better."
"That's why I chose to marry Robert and not one of them. He would never have betrayed me. On the contrary, as you're aware of. Oh, do I miss him so... Why did he have to leave me so soon?"
While Garrett hopes he won't have to console her, because he wouldn't even know where to start, Drept approaches her and places a hand on her shoulder. "Thy husband shalt be in good hands with the Builder, hast he been a good man."
Moira directs a wistful smile at him, then turns to Garrett with an inquiring stare.
"Do you believe so too, Garrett?"
He is a little surprised as to why she would want his opinion on the matter and, being the cynical realist that he is, having no faith in any of the higher beings that all the different factions keep preaching about, he simply says, "I believe that he was a good man." It's the nicest thing he can think of with the information he's given, including his knowledge of Captain Moira having been a pirate, and judging by the Widow Moira's warm smile and acknowledging nod, she seems to appreciate his words.
"He was. The kindest and handsome, too, my Robert. Mysterious and roguish." She pauses, then gives Garrett a look. "A lot like you."
A deep frown creases Garrett's brow as his eyes widen in skepticism. This extracts a laugh from the widow.
"What are you looking at me like that for? Don't think I didn't notice that wanted poster of yours in your own home! I reckon you've had your fair share of admirers. Your luminous green eye does possess a certain charm, too."
"Uh…" Garrett's thoughts immediately wander to the remarks made by his fence Black Market Bertha (or just "Bertha" as she'd prefer to be called) and the shopkeeper Marla Madison, vexing and distracting him when he's just trying to shop or sell his loot. He always takes a moment to figure out exactly what he wants before entering, to ensure he doesn't have to stay longer than necessary. Unfortunately, they also know exactly what they want. Come to think of it, he can't remember a single time he entered that alley in Stonemarket Proper without hearing at least one flirtatious remark, not even necessarily from those two. Maybe he should start avoiding that place altogether.
Of course, there had also been Viktoria once. He doesn't know exactly what had happened there and what it could have become if she hadn't sacrificed herself, bravely but foolishly, but he knows that there had been something, on both sides, he's sure. Now that he's thinking about it, her death had had a similar effect on him as that of Artemus. So that's when he'd last felt like that… Still, perhaps it was for the best that he never got to find out what could have been between the two. Their history had been a little complicated after all.
Against his will, memories of the origins of aforementioned green eye begin invading his mind and his expression automatically adjusts accordingly. Either way, he must be looking somewhat perturbed, if Moira's carefree little chuckle is anything to go by.
"Now, now. Don't you worry, I will cease to put you on the spot for the time being. Though I think I have earned the right to tease you after your little break-in." She chuckles again but this time, Garrett tenses up a little, hoping she doesn't secretly still hold a grudge. "Still, say what you want but I find it admirable that you left me my inheritance."
That at least does not sound quite like a grudge. "Admirable might be a bit generous..."
"Oh, but thou hast helped me defeat the Hag after a string of murders which didst go on for decades, if not centuries!" Drept chimes in. "Thou hast saved us all. Tis truly admirable."
"And you saved me from the Cradle, set me free in the catacombs of Fort Ironwood and defeated my killer! All that without anything in it for yourself," Lauryl adds. Yeah, there was absolutely nothing in it for him, Garrett thinks, distinctly aware of a particularly well-stocked jewelry box under his bed. "You almost even gave your life for it."
"Seems like you've been quite busy lately,"Moira concludes.
Thinking back to the past couple of days, Garrett wearily shakes his head at the understatement. "You have no idea..."
Unable to let that statement hang in the air without a follow-up, the three of them prompt him to tell them what exactly he's been up to. At first, Garrett is quite reluctant to comply with their wishes as he's not in the mood for a long monologue and because it's going to be difficult to tell them his story without mentioning the Keepers. He's already let their name slip once but thankfully none of them mentioned it.
He suddenly realizes that this is probably the only time anyone other than the Keepers will ever know about everything he did. Heck, they are even interested in knowing. Maybe in the future this will prevent random citizens from assuming the worst about him and getting him into trouble. Plus, he does occasionally like to brag. But they don't need to know that, so he makes sure to let out a long-suffering sigh before he starts his tale.
"Fine, I'll humor you. Gamall, which is the hag's real name, has been using Lauryl's form since she'd killed her in the Shalebridge Cradle some 50 years ago." Drept nods in confirmation of the number and pulls Lauryl closer. "As you know, that's where she still was when I found her a couple days ago. She gave me instructions on how to make the Cradle forget her, including entering the Cradle's memories, though it's beyond me how that worked, and then afterwards when I reunited her spirit with her body which was hidden in a secret chamber in the undead-infested catacombs of Fort Ironwood, Gamall was forced to show her true face. Or- faces... I don't know if you've seen her. Hope not. But I'm sure you've heard tales about her and I am now inclined to think they're all true.
"Of course, it was down to me to put an end to her and for that I needed to steal five artifacts. I had to break into both the Wieldstrom Museum and Gamall's lair, the latter of which I accessed through the canals of Auldale. If it's still the same night as when you found me, I was in the museum... today? Yesterday? Something like that. Not to mention I had already stolen some of the artifacts before... Not for myself, mind you. And don't worry, the Pagans got their fair share as well." He casts a cautious glance in Drept's direction before his gaze lands on Moira.
"The reason I broke into your mansion was that I needed the golden slab your husband had brought back from his most recent adventure and when I was on his ship, among all the undead, I read in his journal that he'd sent it there. That slab is a book that's been lost for over a decade, called the 'Compendium of Reproach' and in order for someone who's not me to be able to even open and read it, I needed to find a special key in the Sunken Citadel, an ancient underground ruin that's inhabited by fish-people and giant rat-beasts... Can't imagine it being the most popular destination. But then again, the Docks usually aren't.
"I'm guessing that was about a week ago. I didn't need those things for myself but there are some people who believe in those nonsense prophecies written by-" He cuts himself off when he remembers the fanatic in the room, though Drept seems to him like one of the more reasonable Hammers. At least his life's work is based on a creature that existed. "Right... Uh, so I needed to bring the five artifacts to designated places all over the City and when I placed the last one, the Eye, a gemstone I've got some history with, though that's a story for another time, well, when I tried to place it, Gamall struck me and the rest is history."
Garrett decides not to mention that he's the one who destroyed the Clocktower, in case it was dear to Inspector Drept. It's not a very important part of his story anyway. Especially since the implications of its destruction tie in with the Keepers.
By the end of his retelling, Drept is gaping at him. "By the Builder, how didst I not take notice of any of these proceedings!"
Moira seems equally astonished. "My, my, is all this in the job description for a thief these days?"
Garrett scoffs. "For one who is too entangled with the wrong crowd, it would seem so."
She keeps looking at him in awe. "I feel like the world owes you a great debt. You should visit my mansion sometime and dine with me. Officially, for once. As my guest of honor, so to speak." Before Garrett has a chance to voice his thoughts that she might be crazy after all, she turns to the Inspector and the ghost. "You two are welcome to join us as well." He stands corrected: Now would be the perfect moment to mention it. Nevertheless, he finds himself hoping that Lauryl is allowed to stick around long enough to be able to take her up on her offer. "This calls for a toast! The wine is for drinking, Garrett, is it not?"
Garrett hesitates for a moment because he never really thought about what he was going to do with the wine. There's no real need to sell it now, the loot from the past few days will keep him afloat for quite a while and so far he's been pretty good at taking care of his small fortune. Retirement seems more in his grasp than ever now. Perhaps in this instance the value of a loot item is defined by its use rather than the price on it. He's not sure a few coins would have quite the same impact. Someone less pragmatically inclined might refer to it as 'sentimental value'.
"Might be as good a time as any," he says with a shrug, then adds quietly and mostly to himself, "Better, perhaps even."
Moira gives him a fond smile and grabs the bottle, briefly examining its label and then handing it to Drept after he's fetched a few cups. He pours the wine and hands out the cups before raising his in Garrett's direction.
"To Garrett, for all that which he hath done for the City in the shadows."Garrett thinks it's refreshing that his actions get acknowledged and appreciated for a change. Something the Keepers never did, always saying he did as it was written, always fulfilling some sort of prophecy. It had started getting on his nerves a long time wonders if the present moment is written in their texts as well or if his prophecy has come to a convenient end shortly prior. This certainly feels like a good starting point for the Unwritten Times. Garrett has an inkling that those are going to be his favorite ones.
Unaware of his musings, Moira follows Drept's example. "To Garrett, for possessing human decency amidstcriminal activities." Okay, whether he should be praised for not stealing something, which is what every regular person would do, he's not so sure. Especially since he prides himself on his thievery skills. It's how he earns his living after all. The only reason he's able to afford this dwelling in the first place. And the reason he put up that wanted poster of himself. After all, it's proof that he is pretty darn good at his occupation. He's known as a master thief for a reason. But he doesn't expect anyone to praise his crimes, least of all those who found themselves at their receiving end. Moira is already an exception. Maybe if she knew that he also stole her and her husband's donations to the museum…
"To Garrett, the thief with a heart, for being our friend," Lauryl adds and raises her cup. Garrett has several questions. How can a ghost hold objects? Is there wine in her cup? Would it affect her even though she's already dead? How much of an ethical gray area would it be if they were to offer her alcohol? Can she even drink anything? At the very least, his last question will be answered soon.
The main reason he's so interested in all this is so that he can ignore her words which are just a touch too much, no matter if she's right or not. And besides, he knows exactly what they all should be toasting.
"To the three of you, for keeping me alive for the greater good of all mankind."
Tonight, the wine isn't the only thing that makes him feel warm inside and for once in his life but likely not for the last time, Garrett allows himself to enjoy the company of others. And maybe, just maybe, from somewhere in the afterlife, Artemus is looking down upon him at this very moment, just like Lauryl had. And if he is, Garrett likes to imagine that he is smiling.