without Drache there to whisper blasphemous thoughts, it was suddenly far too easy to listen to his own.
What was the point, though? His fate was sealed, no matter what happened. Eventually, they would kill the chaotic intruder who had invaded Schatten, and Teufel would reassert his will. There was absolutely no point in doing anything other than obeying.
Obedience is well and good, but defiance has always had its place.
Hot tears stung Friedrich's eyes. Drache.
Of course. Who else.
I thought you were gone. You went so abruptly, and there was nothing but cold silence …
Defiance has a price, but I am back and shall have more care. I would never leave you, beloved. I couldn't, even if I wanted, which I don't.
You said 'we'.
Yes.
You are, or were, a Seer.
What I was, what I am, I cannot say. It little matters anyway. I am as bound by fate as the rest of Schatten.
Despair crawled through Friedrich's gut, and he tried to fight it—but knew it was futile. What he wanted didn't matter. Eventually, despair would conquer him, and like all his previous incarnations, he would die of madness and alcohol and freezing cold.
That may not be true, Drache whispered, the words a soft caress across his mind. Chaos walks the land, and with his every action, he breaks another thread.
Friedrich ignored him, refusing to get his hopes up, and slowly stood to return to the dining hall. He had Seers to reassure and wine to drink.
Chapter Five: Ill Omen
David cried as he stood at the edge of the cliff, unable to sing the hymns along with everyone else as the priest cast Reimund's ashes into the wind. Reimund had been strict, at times even downright hard with him, but he'd taken care of David when the rest of the village would have left him to die as a lesson on why it was foolish to act as his parents had.
But fate was fate, and Reimund had said it was his fate to see to David, though he would not tolerate a boy who did not work hard and earn his place. David had done his best, every step of the way. They were not father and son, but he always thought they were as close to that as they could be. Reimund had taken care of him, not thrown him out, even when David had been scared he would.
And he was dead. David cried harder, lowering his head as the last of the ashes were thrown over the cliff. What was he going to do? He wasn't Reimund, he had still been learning Reimund's duties, learning the tricks and nuances of being the village supplier. It took years of experience to get the hang of what and how much to buy so the village did not suffer in between the months when he was able to make the journey to buy more supplies.
Killian's father always helped with the transporting and the hauling, but the real work fell to Reimund. David knew much, but he didn't know enough. The village would suffer if he did not master the duties quickly. He wondered if they were simply going to search for a replacement, and then wondered fearfully what would happen to him if he was cast out.
Surely, they wouldn't. He'd been good, he'd worked hard. He had earned a place in the village and overcome the stigma of his parents, the whispers he overheard because nobody except Reimund had ever admitted to him what they'd done.
The priest finished the ceremony and led the way back down the cliff, trudging through the snow, the sound of his bell casting notes of finality across the mountains, which echoed the sad refrain. Back in the village, David quickly retreated to the house he'd shared with Reimund in the center of the village, slipping in the back way to avoid the front half where the goods were stored.
It still smelled like tea and the stew that Maja had brought them a couple of days before, enough to last them a full week. Bowls of it, along with bread and Elza's herb butter, still sat on the table. David's quiet tears turned into full sobs as he sank to the floor and drew his knees up against his chest.
Reimund deserved a better fate, deserved
What was the point, though? His fate was sealed, no matter what happened. Eventually, they would kill the chaotic intruder who had invaded Schatten, and Teufel would reassert his will. There was absolutely no point in doing anything other than obeying.
Obedience is well and good, but defiance has always had its place.
Hot tears stung Friedrich's eyes. Drache.
Of course. Who else.
I thought you were gone. You went so abruptly, and there was nothing but cold silence …
Defiance has a price, but I am back and shall have more care. I would never leave you, beloved. I couldn't, even if I wanted, which I don't.
You said 'we'.
Yes.
You are, or were, a Seer.
What I was, what I am, I cannot say. It little matters anyway. I am as bound by fate as the rest of Schatten.
Despair crawled through Friedrich's gut, and he tried to fight it—but knew it was futile. What he wanted didn't matter. Eventually, despair would conquer him, and like all his previous incarnations, he would die of madness and alcohol and freezing cold.
That may not be true, Drache whispered, the words a soft caress across his mind. Chaos walks the land, and with his every action, he breaks another thread.
Friedrich ignored him, refusing to get his hopes up, and slowly stood to return to the dining hall. He had Seers to reassure and wine to drink.
Chapter Five: Ill Omen
David cried as he stood at the edge of the cliff, unable to sing the hymns along with everyone else as the priest cast Reimund's ashes into the wind. Reimund had been strict, at times even downright hard with him, but he'd taken care of David when the rest of the village would have left him to die as a lesson on why it was foolish to act as his parents had.
But fate was fate, and Reimund had said it was his fate to see to David, though he would not tolerate a boy who did not work hard and earn his place. David had done his best, every step of the way. They were not father and son, but he always thought they were as close to that as they could be. Reimund had taken care of him, not thrown him out, even when David had been scared he would.
And he was dead. David cried harder, lowering his head as the last of the ashes were thrown over the cliff. What was he going to do? He wasn't Reimund, he had still been learning Reimund's duties, learning the tricks and nuances of being the village supplier. It took years of experience to get the hang of what and how much to buy so the village did not suffer in between the months when he was able to make the journey to buy more supplies.
Killian's father always helped with the transporting and the hauling, but the real work fell to Reimund. David knew much, but he didn't know enough. The village would suffer if he did not master the duties quickly. He wondered if they were simply going to search for a replacement, and then wondered fearfully what would happen to him if he was cast out.
Surely, they wouldn't. He'd been good, he'd worked hard. He had earned a place in the village and overcome the stigma of his parents, the whispers he overheard because nobody except Reimund had ever admitted to him what they'd done.
The priest finished the ceremony and led the way back down the cliff, trudging through the snow, the sound of his bell casting notes of finality across the mountains, which echoed the sad refrain. Back in the village, David quickly retreated to the house he'd shared with Reimund in the center of the village, slipping in the back way to avoid the front half where the goods were stored.
It still smelled like tea and the stew that Maja had brought them a couple of days before, enough to last them a full week. Bowls of it, along with bread and Elza's herb butter, still sat on the table. David's quiet tears turned into full sobs as he sank to the floor and drew his knees up against his chest.
Reimund deserved a better fate, deserved
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