Chapter 11 Used to Be

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"As much as Krushem hated to admit it, it seemed to him that Japeth and Aric would've been the perfect match."
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Chapter 11 Used to Be

"So? Will ya take the offer er' not?"

Krushem stared into his second mug full of lukewarm beer before he raised his gaze to the pirate sitting across from him. He raised the rim of the mug to his lips and tasted the maltiness of it. It was a caramel flavor that helped to warm his belly, and drinking it gave him the high he yearned for.

"Nightfall at the outskirts of the Camelot village it is," Krushem confirmed.

The pirate gave Krsuhem a curt nod before he stood from his seat and sauntered out of the building. Krushem sat there still, swirling the beer around in his mug, his thoughts churning.

Kewinsky's bar resided between Foxwood and BloodBrook, not too far away from Camelot. It wouldn't take very long to get there. If Krushem left now, he could get there by the time the sun set.

So Krsuhem finished his drink before heading out on horseback. It was only the sound of hoofbeats that shattered the quiet air along with the distant cry of birds. A light breeze picked up, sending fallen leaves dancing through the air.

Krsuhem felt that air blow through his hair, and he reached back with one hand to draw his hood over his head.

In the company of nothing but his horse who couldn't even talk let alone keep Krushem entertained, Krushem trotted along on said horse. His throat felt parched after a while, so he grabbed his spare flask and took it upon himself to take a swig of the beer.

The dirt path ahead of Krushem was barren. Not a soul was to be seen as Krushem traveled along. The wind whistled through the trees looming on either side of the road and as the sky began to grow dark, Krushem glimpsed shapes in the trees. Either those shapes belonged to prowling forest creatures or thieves hiding in the trees awaiting to strike. But thieves who hid in the trees usually targeted bigger game. They stole from armed carriages or wagons, and Krushem surely wasn't a rich fellow who owned lots of gold.

The thieves had no need to steal from a lone horseback rider wearing a tattered cloak with nothing on his person but a flask and a weapon.

Krushem glanced down at his hip where his sword was sheathed at his belt. The gold handle glinted, and Krushem felt his grip on his reins tighten until his knuckles whitened. He clenched his jaw and snapped his attention back to the path in front of him, struggling to push away the unwanted thought that was attempting to invade his mind.

The last time he used his sword was in the Trial against the School for Girls. He'd been so hell bent on getting to Aric. On stopping Aric from killing his mother.

But Krushem had failed. Well, it'd been a failure then. Now, Krushem saw it was no failure on his part. He'd tried so hard to pretend to be someone he wasn't. He had cared too much, just as Aric had said. Krushem had thought he had to help Aric, but that way of thinking had been wrong. Aric never needed Krushem's help. Aric hadn't needed to be fixed.

If Krushem had prevented Aric from killing his mother, Aric would've hated him forever. Sure, maybe Aric might be alive still if Krushem had kept him from killing his mother, but Krushem knew the outcome would not be what he hoped for.

Krushem had wanted Aric to become someone he wasn't. He'd thought Aric could be good, but it was Aric who taught Krushem that it was himself who'd been denying his own nature. Krushem had been weak at the School for Boys.

Now, Krushem could be strong. He could be everything Aric wanted him to be. At least following Aric still even after Aric's demise gave Krushem some inkling of worth in his life now.

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