Chapter 7: The Weight of a Ghost
The vibrant energy of the Saikono night market had receded, leaving behind a hollow, expectant silence. The cold, which had been a mere suggestion at sunset, had now descended with the full weight of an autumn night. The air was sharp and thin, and each breath Fulan took bloomed before him in a ghostly white cloud.
Near the epicenter of the earlier destruction, Valerius, the blond swordsman, sat on a simple wooden bench. He was a solitary figure in the brittle, golden light of the street lanterns, his greatsword leaning against the seat beside him. He stared at the cracked cobblestones, seemingly lost in a world of thought, a portrait of the calm that comes before a final, terrible storm.
He heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching and looked up. It was Fulan, the boy who had appeared from nowhere. In his hands, he carefully balanced two steaming, lidded cups.
A faint, tired smile touched Valerius's lips. "You needn't have troubled yourself," he said, his voice quiet. "How much do I owe you?"
"It's nothing," Fulan replied, shaking his head. He offered one of the cups to Valerius and then sat down on the other end of the long bench. The warmth from the cheap, plasti-wood cup seeped into his cold fingers. He took a sip of the dark, bitter coffee.
"There is nothing better than a hot drink in this cold," Valerius murmured, cradling his own cup. He took a slow sip, his ice-blue eyes appraising Fulan. "Your clothes… you aren't from around here, are you? In this part of the kingdom, the days may be warm, but the autumn nights have teeth. Don't be surprised if you wake to snow tomorrow."
Fulan listened, but his mind was elsewhere. He let the silence stretch for a moment before turning to the swordsman, his own voice heavy with a burden that wasn't his. "Isn't there a Knight, or someone, who can stop this? A formal duel must have rules, a way to intervene."
Valerius chuckled, a soft, humorless sound. "So, you get right to the heart of it." He took another drink of coffee, his gaze drifting towards the empty, shattered street. "An official duel between certified adventurers is a sacred, violent thing. Low-ranking Knights are forbidden from interfering; it's considered a matter of an adventurer's honor. As for the high-ranking ones… they have more important things to do than babysit two broken men." He paused, then looked at Fulan, his smile turning wry. "My initial plan was simpler. I was going to let Borin strike me down when he first drew his axe. I thought perhaps… perhaps seeing me fall might finally quiet the storm inside him." He nodded towards Fulan. "If you hadn't intervened, I would be dead, and this story would have ended peacefully."
The words struck Fulan with physical force. His eyes widened. "Is that… is that your plan for the duel as well? To just let him…?"
Valerius did not answer. He simply took another slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, his silence a confession louder than any words.
Fulan understood. It wasn't a duel at all. It was an execution. A suicide. Borin would not destroy the village, because Valerius would not fight back. He would stand there and pay with his life, not for a crime, but in the desperate hope of mending a friend's broken heart. In that moment of horrifying clarity, Fulan knew, with absolute certainty, that this cold, detached man could not possibly be the villain of this story.
Valerius tilted his head back, his gaze fixed on the brilliant, cold stars scattered across the ink-black sky. "If I had never existed," he whispered, his breath a white plume against the darkness, "Mira would have stayed home. Borin would have eventually won her heart. Their story would have been a happy one."
Fulan's hand tightened around his cup, the flimsy material groaning under the pressure. "So it's your fault just for existing?" he shot back, his voice tight with a sudden, fierce anger. "What kind of nonsense is that? I may not know who Mira is, but her feelings are not a game. Whether you were present in her life or not, she wouldn't have fallen in love with him either way. Please, don't tarnish the image of someone who loved you sincerely like that."
Valerius looked at him, a flicker of genuine surprise in his weary eyes. "You know nothing of our story. Why does this anger you so?"
"Because it's a waste!" Fulan stood up, his own anger surprising him. He paced in front of the bench. "Because letting grief turn into tragedy is the most foolish thing in the world!" He stopped and faced the swordsman, his dark eyes intense. "I have a plan. A way to end this without anyone dying. But I need you to do one thing for me. I need you to trust me." He leaned in closer. "And I need you to stay on this bench. No matter what you see. No matter what happens. You do not move from this spot."
Meanwhile, in a small, wooded clearing just beyond Saikono's walls, a campfire crackled, spitting embers into the chilly air. The firelight cast long, dancing shadows of the two figures sitting on opposite sides of it. Fayrouz sat on a fallen log, watching the flames. On the other, Borin stared into the fire, the great, red-stained axe resting at his feet.
"Is your weapon alright?" Borin asked gruffly, his voice softer than before. "You seemed concerned for it earlier."
Fayrouz glanced down at the simple ring of blue fabric she was now turning over and over on her finger. "It is not a weapon," she said quietly. "Just a gift from someone very dear to me. But it is unharmed. Thank you for asking."
A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the crackle of burning wood. "You and that boy," Borin said finally, "you're heading for the Raganda Academy entrance exams, I'd wager. It's that time of year. The selection."
"Your observation is correct," Fayrouz confirmed. "I intend to join the Knight class."
A sad, nostalgic look crossed Borin's face. "Raganda… Valerius and I were in the same class. Best of friends." He sighed, a heavy, rattling sound. "I could never beat him. Not once. He was a prodigy with a blade." He poked the fire with a thick stick. "At the end of your studies, you choose a path: Knight, or Adventurer. I wanted to be a Knight, just like you. A life of service and honor." He stared deep into the flames, as if seeing the past in their dance. "But I loved Mira since we were children. And she… she only had eyes for Valerius. His only passion was the adventurer's path, the freedom, the danger. He was honest about it from the start. And because she loved him, she followed him down that path. And because I loved her…" He trailed off, his voice cracking. "I followed them both. A desperate fool, trying to protect her from the life she chose, from the man she loved."
His hand, resting on his knee, clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles turned white. "But on this last mission… we split up. Just for three days. A simple scouting task. I was gone for three days. We were supposed to meet back here, in this village." His voice began to rise, the grief giving way to fresh, boiling rage. "So what does that bastard mean, 'she chose to take the risk'?! What does he mean, she's dead?! I entrusted him with her life! He was supposed to protect her with his!"
He shot to his feet, his eyes wild with pain and fury. "I will kill him," he roared into the dark woods, the sound startling a flock of sleeping birds into flight. "There is no other way. Nothing else can quench this fire!"
He turned and began stalking back towards the village, a man marching towards his own damnation. The time was drawing near.
Fayrouz stood up slowly, watching him go. She looked down at the gift on her finger, then back at the man's retreating form. This was no longer a simple matter of a reckless fool. It was a tangled, tragic knot of love, grief, and misplaced guilt, and it was about to be severed by a blade in the dark.
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