SGE His Guarded Heart (Prequel to His Darkened Heart)

Chapter 10 An Escape

"Nature was supposed to be peaceful, calm and therefor this whiskey would be Krushem's peace."
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Chapter 10 An Escape

Krushem soon came to realize that he had a knack for thieving, and thieving was a good way to earn money fast. He didn't just go out of his way to steal gold from unsuspecting peoples' pockets—he also went about doing special Jobs. These jobs involved stealing a certain item from someone or someplace and giving the item to his "employers" who'd then pay him for his hard work.

Krushem should've been satisfied. He had a decent amount of gold to get by, but still—he couldn't shake the feeling that part of him was missing. He didn't wanna be plagued by the memory of having lost all he had, so many months after he went back home to Altazzara, he found himself in a bar called "Kewinsky's Bar."

The place was dimly lit. The floors were made of oak wood, and the tables were tall and circular. The bar was packed, people crammed onto every seat. A group huddled at a table were hollering, banging their fists on the tabletop as they demanded more drinks from the waitress. Other bar customers were chatting with the bartender about something or the other while others sat sullenly, gazes glassy.

Krushem stared at the menu hanging on the wall, and he felt a cold resolve sink into his bones. He made his way to a lone table at the back of the room and sat down hard on the rickety wooden chair.

The air smelt of sweat and alcohol. The smell of meat also wafted towards Krushem as he watched the waitress bring out a plate of food before attending to the group of loud men who demanded more drinks.

It felt like an eternity before the waitress made her way over to Krushem, and stopped before him. She looked overworked, her hair in a messy braid and her chubby cheeks flushed pink.

"What can I get you, young man?" She asked him, displaying her notepad and clutching a pen in her fist.

Krushem didn't know the slightest thing about what to order. He'd never drank a sip of alcohol in his life and until now, he thought he'd never drink it at all.

But now was about time Krushem started drinking something—anything to keep himself from feeling what he felt.

"A—a whiskey," Krushem said at last, stumbling over his words before he managed to steady his voice. "I'd like a glass of whiskey. Actually how about the whole bottle? That'll do."

He reached into his pocket to procure his money and placed the coins into the waitress's open palm. She counted them to see if it was the right amount before she nodded satisfactorily.

"I'll be right out with that, sir," she told him before she left.

Krushem didn't watch her leave. He turned his attention downwards and traced a finger against a crack marring the wooden tabletop. He remembered the first time he'd set foot into a bar.

It was what felt like at eternity ago, but it couldn't have been more than six months ago when Krushem had followed Armeq and Balleng and Carmelo into the pub.

That's where Krushem had met Aric.

Aric had sat at a table just like this in the back of the room just like this, looking so engaged in drinking whatever it was he'd been drinking. He'd been just an ordinary guy as far as Krushem could tell, but from the very start, he'd known something was different about Aric.

Krushem couldn't have known Aric was capable of such violence, but he also hadn't known Aric would've been befallen by a stab to the back.

Krushem had read of Aric's death a little while back after he took up thieving. He hadn't meant to take his sisters' copy of The Tale of Sophie and Agatha, but now he knew of what had become of Aric. Now he didn't have to worry over what Aric was up to.