[Written in Darkonese]
Gregory and I sat in the backroom of his bookstore in front of his fireplace. It seemed almost like old times, only I was five years older. We drank tea like we did back then and sat in silence for a time. This was our ritual. We would sit and drink tea, both of us silent until I felt comfortable enough to begin speaking.
The wood crackled and sparked within the fireplace and warmed the small room. The wing backed chairs we sat in were so comfortable that I often would fall asleep without knowing I did so and Gregory was kind enough never to wake me. But he knew I had something on my mind, I had told him so as soon as I entered the bookstore and the little bell above the door announced my arrival.
I sat forward in the chair, my hands cupping the tea cup and my elbows on my knees. I started into the fireplace and began to speak to the man I had came to think of as a grandfather since I was very young, “Gregory.. I have things to talk to you about and I know you wont approve of them. But I need to get these things off my chest and you're the only person I really trust anymore. You've always been there for me and practically raised me from the age of six until I left here and went to Barovia.”
I paused, taking my eyes off the fireplace, head slightly lowered and not quite making eye contact with Gregory. Gregory turned to look at me also. The shadows being cast by the light of the fire making his face seem more wrinkled then it was. He nodded and waited for me to continue.
I fought for the words. I'd open my mouth to speak and then close it again, finally the words came, “There was a man training me in particular set of skills, these skills are the sort that one would use to spy on others and assassinate people. It would appear I was very good at this sort of thing, because it didn't take long before I was like a shadow in the night. Few could see me unless I desired it.
Now, this man is no longer around, which means one or two things. One, he's dead, which means he wasn't as good at this sort of business as he thought he was, or two.. he's in hiding. But that's not what is bothering me, avus.”
Again I paused, sorting out my thoughts...
“What I want to talk about is the fact that there was times when he was at his most vulnerable that I wanted to slit his throat. Not because I was angry with him, but because I felt that he was weak, because I thought he was using me, because I can't stand arrogant people, and mostly because I knew I could.
I say he was weak because even after another business associate of ours betrayed someone else that we were working with, he wouldn't follow through with the punishment he was threatening him with. That being, the removal of the man's tongue. Even the other man in the room with us agreed that this man that just betrayed a ally of ours should be given a second chance.
I honestly could not believe the words coming out of either of their mouths. I wanted to rush forward, slam the betrayer's head against the table and remove the tongue myself... and then do the same to the other two.
See, my anger has become that great, avus. So great that at times it scares even me. I see someone walking along with a stupid look on their face and I want to remove it with a dagger. I want to stab them over and over again, pouring all my hate, all my anger, all my strength into each and every stab until I collapse from exhaustion.”
Yet again I paused. I sat the tea cut down, stood and walked over to the fireplace. I put my right forearm against the mantle and leaned my head on it and gazed long and hard into the dancing flames.
“I don't know where all this anger comes from. I don't know why I can't trust anyone, why I wear this mask of detached emotions and calmness.” I turned my head on my arm to look at Gregory, “Avus, I'm a raging storm of hate inside. I have no friends. All I have are contacts, business associates, and employers. I'm always paranoid. Even now in this place here,” I motioned around myself with my other hand and then ran my fingers over my bald head, “I don't feel safe. It's like I'm being watched every day and every night, and I /can't/ shake that feeling!”
My voice rose there at the end, and I turned from the fireplace and began to pace before it. My hand instinctively reaching for a dagger, one that I never let anyone know I had. I stopped the betraying hand before it reached the hilt and sought out another dagger. I pulled the dagger free and began to toss it into the air and catch it as I paced.... a habit I formed some time ago.
Even though all of this, Gregory remained silent. He was always good at that, listening to me rant and rave about all manner of things. Perhaps that is why I respected him above all others, why I trusted him, why I loved this man I thought of as a grandfather.
I released a sigh, forced myself to relax, concentrated on the flipping of the dagger. It always soothed my troubled mind. “You know I've even thought of just ending it all? I've sat in a opium den with a dagger close to hand and a glass of wine laced with poison. But something always stops me from doing what must be done. You see, I can't let them win.” I looked at my grandfather, “They wont break me, I wont allow it.”
I returned to my seat and Gregory refilled my tea cup. I took up the cup once again and sipped, nodding my thanks to him, he returned the nod.
“Remember when I was young and I told you how much I feared mirrors? I still fear them, you know. I walk into a inn room and the first thing I do is toss the top sheet of the bed over any mirror in the room. I then search the room from top to bottom, lock, unlock, and relocked the door.. I sometimes even trap the door and the windows to be absolutely sure I wont be disturbed, and you know what? I still don't feel secure.” I fell silent and sat back in the chair with my eyes closed.
It was some moments later, I don't know how long had passed, that Gregory finally spoke up. “Did that help any? I know you didn't come all this way from Barovia to lament and get advice. You came to talk and get this weight off your shoulders, I dare say though I doubt it helped very much. The weight you are burdened with is the like of which few men can carry.”
I looked over at Gregory, “You're right, I didn't come here for advice, I came here to hear myself talk.. to finally say what I've been thinking and feeling.” Gregory simply nodded and replied, “You know I don't approve of what you do for a living. But it's not my life to live, paulo migale, so I wont tell you what to do. But I will say this... be careful, ita? Not just for me, but for the memory of your mother and most of all for yourself. Now, have some more tea, it's good for you. I'll even read one of those ghost stories you loved so much as a child.”
I froze in my chair and slowly turned my head to look at Gregory, “You know all too well I hated those stories, avus.” He poured fresh tea for the both of us and smirked.. “Ah ita, you did... but you never stopped me from reading them, if memory serves me correctly.”
I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the tea, “Ita. I never did stop you... very well, do your worst, avus. Fear keeps us on our toes, isn't that what you used to say to me?” He smiled over at me, “Ita. I did say that.”
And so he read from a well worn book on the mantle, one that I came to fear and love in equal parts. I hope he dies of old ages, sitting there before the fireplace, wrapped in a woolen blanket... and in his sleep, peacefully.
Praeclarum custodem ovium lupum.