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Canât say Iâve really got anything to mention before this chapter. So, enjoy.
Novtumber, Year 168, Fifth Age
Aleks â aged 26
Aleks was really starting to resent the Rising Sun Innâs namesake. The morning sun was streaming through the east-facing windows, shining brightly on his table and reflecting off his tankard and into his eyes. The sunlight burned through him and just added to the cacophony of pain in his head, along with the miners that had somehow used fairy shrinking magic to fit inside his brain and beat it to death with tiny, little hammers.
More stout would probably appease them.
If he was being honest with himself, it wasnât really morning anymore, far closer to being noon, but he didnât care. He could also move tables, but he couldnât be bothered. And finally, he could sober up and leave the inn, but he didnât want to.
He deserved this, deserved this pain, at least, thatâs what he told himself.
He hadnât truly understood what Ayla had meant two years ago, about how the horrors of a mission gone wrong were all she saw with closed eyes, how the failings haunted her nightmares and how she couldnât recognise the face staring back at her in the mirror. He could understand it now, and by the Gods, he wished he didnât.
Their names and faces danced in his head. Their deaths played over and over again in his mindâs eye, and when he dreamt, they looked at him and asked why they died. Lucienâs laughter echoed in his ears, twisting to come out of the mouths of merrymakers who inhabited the tavern. And all the while, his guilt rested heavily on his shoulders like a worn cloak, his thoughts turning spitefully inwards.
The sound of a deliberate tapping pricked at his ears, sending pain through his head with unrivalled precision. He hunched in on himself and turned his head slowly to glower at the new source of discomfort. Recognising the figure striding forwards, seemingly oblivious to his suffering, he felt what was left of his pride shrivel up in horror, as if thinking of the ranger had summoned her.
However, Ayla did not pause as she walked past his table, and Aleks couldnât help but feel indignant. She must have seen him, she must have. And yet, she hadnât even had the courtesy to look at him in his misery, not even a passing glance, hadnât even said hello. He wasnât that overcome by drink that he was unrecognisable, so she must have seen that he was there.
He watched her walk up to the bar and ask the bartender for a drink. There was a shake of the head from the barman, but the woman persisted. She pointed at something behind the man, on one of the shelves, and pulled out a heavy coin purse. After a momentâs consideration, the man gave her a tiny glass and a little bottle. She paid three times as much as Aleks had for his stout, picked up her purchase and walked straight to the mageâs table, sitting down directly in front of him.
She was in her bleached dragonhide armour, which reflected the sunlight painfully in his direction and made her appear to glow like some ethereal creature. Her hair was loose and almost reaching her shoulders, a far cry from the look sheâd had when theyâd met, and was supporting a white archerâs hat, complete with feather.
If he had been sober, he might have called her beautiful, holding herself with confidence and grace. In his hungover-trying-to-still-be-drunk state, however, she was an eyesore, watching him fall apart with pretentious judgement and feigned sympathy.
âYou look terrible,â she stated as she uncorked her little bottle and poured the clear liquid into her tiny glass. After corking the bottle, she held the glass with both hands and sipped it delicately. After draining half the glass, she set it back on the table and leaned back in her seat, watching him. âSo, I guess this is the part where I ask if you want to talk about whatâs wrong. But as I already know the answer to that, why donât we skip that part?â
âOh go away, Ayla,â Aleks grumbled, looking dourly into his tankard. He would have been ruder to her, like he had been with Tiffy, but he knew better than to be overly antagonistic; even drunk, he knew better. He lifted his glass and took a long drink, almost draining it, before glancing up at her. âIâm not in the mood.â
âClearly.â
âI donât want to talk about it.â
âSo Iâd gathered.â
âAnd sitting there isnât going to make me change my mind!â
âOf course not.â
Aleks glowered at her for a moment, hating that she was being the very epitome of calm collectedness. Her face was impassive, showing nothing to indicate the events even bothered her. Â Instead, she just continued to look at him, watching, waiting for him to crack and talk to her.
He downed the last of his stout and waved to the bartender. It took a minute before his empty glass was replaced with a full one, and his coin purse a little lighter. He took his first mouthful of the swill, the bitter aftertaste burning the back of his throat.
She was still watching him. He tried to ignore her, but found it increasingly hard to do so. Her very presence was drawing out the desire to talk, in a way that only his brother could rival.
Might as well get it over with.
âItâs all my fault,â he announced quietly into his mug, though he knew sheâd heard him. He didnât see any movement, nor did he hear a request for him to speak up or repeat himself, nothing. He carried on talking to his ale. âIf I hadnât been at the Chaos Temple, no one would have had to come and save me. They wouldnât have died. I was the one who defeated the creature guarding the Fist of Guthix! I might as well have given it to Lucien! And now heâs even more powerful, he might even have the power to become a god. And itâs all thanks to me!â
Heâd said it. Heâd finally said it. It almost felt good just to get it off his chest, to admit how badly heâd screwed up. And yet, at the same time, it felt like heâd just sealed his fate, damnation for all eternity and everything that came to failures like him. But, as he already knew: he deserved this pain.
âWow, how terrible for you,â Ayla commented dryly. She reached for her glass and sipped from it, completely unaware of the indignant fire sheâd lit in his stomach, of the rage he felt at his pain being acknowledged so derisively. She returned her glass to the table and played absentmindedly with the rim. âAlthough, I do think youâre giving yourself too much credit.â
âCredit?â Aleks spat, choking on air. He stared at her, mouth open in shock and disbelief.
How dare she mock him. How dare she make light of the fact that six people were dead, and their enemy was now even stronger!
âYes, âcreditâ,â she answered. She leaned forward and brought her hands up to rest beneath her chin. She returned his outraged look with a gaze that had suddenly turned steely and unimpressed. âDo you really think the mission would have gone any better if youâd done something different, or if you hadnât been there at all?â
âYes!â Aleks argued, his anger at her finally boiling over. âI recruited everyone. I went to the Chaos Temple and dealt with Movario at the Cavern of Guthix. I solved that puzzle and took on the Balance Elemental that was guarding the Fist! Everything that went wrong was my fault!â
âI recruited half of them, so donât even try and sell me that one!â Ayla sniped back at him, her sharp tone instantly silencing any objection he might have had. âAnd no one had to join up, they all volunteered for this mission. And they all chose to go and save you when Lucien attacked, they all knew the risks!â
He didnât answer her; he didnât know how. A small voice inside of him was agreeing with her, telling him that she was right. But he was somewhere between hungover and returning-to-drunkenness, and it had inflated his pride such that every other part of him was either ignoring that voice or trying to shut it up, unwilling to admit defeat.
âAnd as for what happened beneath Lumbridge swamp,â she continued. He realised a second too late that his silence had given her the opportunity to speak. She had realised that he couldnât counter-argue her, and so was moving to the next point. âIt wouldnât have mattered who went down there, whether it was you or me. We both would have handle the obstacles and we both would have left the Stone unprotected.â
âThe Fist of Guthix,â he objected moodily.
âItâs the Stone of Jas, and you know thatâs what the infernal thing is called!â She snapped, glaring at him for interrupting her over something she clearly thought was trivial. She huffed and seemed to deflate a little, like a bird smoothing down its feathers after being ruffled. âMy point is, either of us would have defeated the Stoneâs protector and left it wide open for Lucien to steal. It was only you going down there because you thought you might learn more about the God youâve decided to worship⌠and because I needed to help Idria sort out the group from the Guardians who were going to teleport in if you needed help.â
âThey didnât help much, did they?â he pointed out, half muttering into the tankard as he took another mouthful. âHe still got away with the Fist.â
âYes, well, we were trying not to get ourselves killed by those twisted demons heâd summoned, in case youâd forgotten,â she answered him snidely. âAnd we werenât all powered up from touching the Stone, now, were we?â
He felt his stomach drop as he remembered that she had been in the temple as well, fighting beside Idria to take out one the tormented demons. A quick glance to her right forearm reminded him of the moment she had taken a swipe from the demonâs claws in her friendâs defence, the wound now tightly bandaged.
âRight,â he mumbled ashamedly.
âEither way, Lucien would have gotten the Stone, end of story,â she said, her tone finishing the debate. She took her tiny glass and sipped the last of her drink. She stared at the glass for a moment before sighing and putting it down, looking back at him expectantly. âSo, now that we both know that the mission would have been a catastrophe, with or without your help, whatâs the real issue here?â
He sighed as he realised that she didnât understand, couldnât understand. He had gotten people killed, again. He had screwed up a mission, again. He wasnât fast enough. He wasnât powerful enough.
It was dealing with the daganoths all over again.
âDo you want to know why youâre sitting here, drowning your sorrows?â she finally asked him after a few minutes of silence, tilting her head slightly to catch his attention. She had no idea how much his heart clenched at her question, but seemed to take him looking at her as permission to continue. âBecause everything youâve said today has been about you. âI did thisâ and âI did thatâ and âthis is my faultâ. Itâs as if you think youâre the most important man in Gielinor.â
He opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. He was about to tell her about everything that had happened in Rellekka, before realising that that was what she was hoping for. She wanted him to tell her more things that had happened to him, that had gone wrong because of him. If he did, then he was proving her right.
She was goading him. No, sheâd been doing it all morning, he was only now realising it.
âDo you really think that everything youâve been through is so terrible?â she questioned, her face suddenly full of sincerity. She wasnât asking just to throw him off balance, she actually wanted to know. âDo you really think itâs any worse than what Iâve been through, or what Thomâs going through in Morytania? Do you really think that?â
âWhat do you want from me, Ayla?â he asked sullenly.
He pushed his mug away and gave her his full attention for the first time since sheâd sat down. He knew he was giving her too much power over the next few minutes, but he found himself uncaring. He wanted an answer. He saw her expression flicker slightly as she noticed the change in him, saw the defiance and hidden desperation in his question.
âI want to know what you want, Aleks,â she answered after a minute of silence between them. Her sincere expression hadnât changed and he knew she was being honest. âI want you to make a choice about what you want to do with your life. Because right now youâre standing between the life of an adventurer and the boring, unexciting life of a museum scholar, and trying to live both is only going to hurt you. You try to own everything you do, everything that happens to you, like a scholar must for recognition, but that attitude makes you take the blame for things that, as an adventurer, you have no control over.â
Her words struck a chord within him. She was right. He was dipping his hands in both pots, and heâd finally gotten a finger bitten, so to speak. So, if he couldnât live two lives, and he had to commit to oneâŚ
Which one did he want?
If he was being honest, he wanted to pretend none of this had happened, go back to Varrock and spend his days dating pottery from the Second Age in the museum. But, he also wanted to make a difference in the world, and dating pottery wouldnât do that. Also, if he gave up now and became a scholar, the others would have died for nothing, for a coward who ran away at the first sign of trouble. Lucien would still be out there and would still be a threat. If he gave up, thereâd be one less adventurer out there to stand up to that maniac.
âI want that bastardâs head on a pike,â he said finally. He grabbed his tankard and drained it before squaring his shoulders and giving Ayla a levelled look. âI want Lucien dead, and the world safe from him. After that⌠after that, then I can figure out what I want to do with my life.â
âWell, itâs a plan. I guess I can get behind that,â she nodded solemnly to him. She pulled his tankard towards her and uncorked her little bottle. She poured a tiny amount in his glass before adding the same amount to her own. She corked the bottle and raised her glass towards him in a toast. âJustice for our friends?â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I'll say it now. We killed him, we killed Simon. We killed himand i wasapart of it Oh my go and there was his body and we killed him he's gone i wasthereanddidntdoanything w e kil led hi m simo n is dead hes dead hes daedhe we killed him i