Fable - Ask A Walking Memory

[Talus]

Varés
Henry Bauer

Talus stood quietly on leaning on the side of the window, watching the streets below with no small amount of disinterest.

Varés was one of the Free Cities of Cortos, one of the few places that the Radiant Church had not managed to dominate completely. The Count here had somehow kept control through force of arms and political maneuvering. He was a smart man, by all accounts, and that was why Talus had come here in the first place. At the behest of General Ilyena he had made his way here by ship in hopes to speak to the Count.

So far the attempts had not gone well, though that wasn't due to the Count himself. His advisors were...less than trusting when it came to foreigners, and thus Talus and his men had been trying to worm their way into the Palace for two days now.

They had an appointment in the afternoon with the Vizier of the city, a smarmy man that Talus had learned to disdain early on. It was obvious that there was some sort of game being played. Pieces were being moved on a chest board that they were not privy too, and he couldn't help but feel more and more aggravated with each meeting.

He was just about done with the whole fucking thing.

"Major?"​

Talus turned his head as one of the men spoke. None of them wore the armor of the Guard, nor anything that would mark them as Anirian. To do as such would have been utterly foolish, even here in Varés. "Talus, while we're here Fe-"

His words suddenly died on his tongue, lips thinning as he caught sight of someone familiar. In an instant he felt his throat go dry, his eyes flickering over the crowd as he pushed himself away from the window's edge. He caught sight of the figure again, watching him as he moved down the street. Is that? No. Can't be.

A muted curse passed his lips, and then he turned to his men.

"Stay here." He hissed at the soldiers, then immediately stormed down the stairs and out of the building.

 

[Harry]

I didn't have the surgical and anatomical knowledge to rip the blight out of my own body.

I was a Dreadlord, not a doctor.

But I listened to the voice long enough, deeply enough, and eventually found the source.

It had always whispered many things to me.

When I questioned my actions, it validated them.

When I felt doubt, the words it spoke in the back of my mind strengthened my resolve.

It was a woman's voice. She was dear to me, but I don't know her name.

The way my heart thundered when I heard the voice... I loved her.

So what compelled me to silence the voice?

To freeze my own blood? Seize it- pull it from my chest?

I don't know, but I pulled.

And pulled.

...

...

I woke. Where am I? I don't know... Who am I?

I'm Henry Bauer, the Dreadlord... Henry Bauer, the friend... Henry Bauer, the father...

I am Henry Bauer. What I become is up to me.
​

Varés wasn't meant to be a permanent home. More a milestone, so to speak, between the point of awakening to... well, wherever the endpoint was. I'll move on after a little while.

Years passed.

It was mere coincidence that brought Henry to Varés. He would have walked aimlessly were it not for the passing traders that found him trudging through the chaparral Amol-Kalit. They were Cortosi- and kind. They took him in, let him work for a place to sleep and food to eat. It was more than he deserved, but he didn't know that. He wanted to repay their kindness and move on.

Yet here he was, years later.

With a heavy sack thrown over his shoulder- containing an assortment of root vegetables- Henry quietly hummed a military shanty as he walked down the street. He was an outsider only by appearance. Those that he passed greeted him in Cortosi, and he happily answered. Of course, they hadn't welcomed the Anirian at first. His accent had been a giveaway. His caretakers vouched for him, which allowed him to earn respect and trust, which he did.

Now here he walked, a bit thinner than when death followed his wake- and considerably tanned. His eyes were still as stunningly blue as they had always been. When the sunlight hit them, the colors came alive and danced. When he spoke, his scarred face lit up with emotion.

Henry stopped for a moment and dropped the sack at his feet. He wiped his brow and sighed with relief. A gentle breeze rolled down the street as he took a small break. It was a hot day, but not particularly humid.

Not that he'd ever felt bothered by the heat.

 

[Talus]

Talus ran like a man, slamming the door shut behind him and crossing onto the street.

The moment his feet struck the dirt road he slowed, his gait falling in step with the rest of the crowd. A hood was pulled over his face, the brown cloak dragging over his features to conceal his pale Anirian skin.

Slowly his gaze flickered through the crowd, catching sight of the man that he'd seen.

Lips thinned for a moment as he fell Into step behind the man. He followed him in silence, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind as he observed the figure. The entire time he frowned, watching for any sign of familiarity.

It can't be. Talus thought to himself. He's been missing for years, Sierra doesn't know where
..even Virak...

He had asked the Guards spies in the House to track Hal, to find some hint of a death or secret mission, they'd come up empty.

Talus had long since assumed his friend was dead. Perished in some far away land under some quest of murder. He knew he was likely chasing a ghost, had made a mistake, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Then suddenly the man came to a halt, dropping his bag and wiping the sweat from his brow.

Talus shifted his steps, moving around and passed the man. His head turned to peer under his hood, and then he came to a sudden stop. Time itself seemed to freeze. The moment hanging in the air for far longer than it had any right to. His boots struck the dirt, his gaze met his friend. He took in a breath. "Hal."

He said, practically stunned silent.

 

[Harry]

Years ago, Henry had acquired a keen sense to detect when he was being shadowed. His rise had been a meteoric one. Respect. Spite. Fear. His name had been spoken in all manners, in every faction. That keen sense was long gone, as even when the hooded man stepped around him and stopped, Henry still hadn't noticed him.

Hal.

He nonchalantly turned towards the voice. Nobody had ever called him Hal since he woke up, but something deep in the back of his mind unconsciously twitched. Though Hal meant nothing to Henry, being addressed as such felt oddly familiar.

"Huh?" He responded to Talus. Henry caught a glimpse of fair skin under the hood. Of course, there were plenty of fair-skinned Cortosi men, but none of them sounded like that. Did the stranger get him confused for somebody else? The former Dreadlord hadn't even considered that this man could be somebody from his shrouded past. "Sorry, friend. No Hal 'round here."

 

[Talus]

Confusion flickered over his features.

He looked at his friend, his head cocking for a moment as he searched for some sign. He spotted no lie, no deception, but he was confident this was Hal. He recognized him, saw the look in those eyes, the lines of his cheeks.

"Hal." Talus had grown up with this man. Had survived hell with him. "It's me."

The Dreadlord urged quietly.

"Talus?" There was a hint of desperation to the words, his hands coming up with open palms in a gesture of confusion. "We've known each other since we were..."

He was about to say since they had been at the Academy, but he realized the verbiage out here on the street would not be welcome, not to anyone who recognized it. "Since we were kids."

 

[Harry]

Henry looked at Talus, his childhood friend. The young man's rugged features gave him an aged look, but his eyes contained a glint- a faint shimmer that only the youthful could possess. He wished he could answer Talus' desperate tone with the same level of emotion. The former First looked upon the Third with a cold, solemn gaze. Henry's expression softened, and he smiled, almost sadly, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head at Talus.

"I'm sorry."

In the years that Henry could even remember, he had seen Talus' type come and go. Not the Dreadlord type specifically, but the soldierly. The types that weren't meant to be in Varés. The ones up to no good, or so the locals would say.

"Look," Henry sighed, "I have work that needs to be done. If you'd like, this evening I'll be at O Touro Adormecido. A tavern. Hard to miss- there's a black bull sign outside."

He bent down and tightly gripped the sack, lifting it to a resting position on his shoulder with alarming ease. The former Dreadlord was ready to leave, but an important question popped into his head.

"When was the last time you saw me?"

 

[Talus]

Talus nodded, it was something, and although the man could simply be trying to throw him off...he decided to trust him.

Hal had never betrayed him. Had never told his secrets or tried to kill him, had never sought him harm. The man had served Virak, but to his soul Talus believed that in the end the two of them were friends.

The two of them had fought together, eaten together, trained together. They had survived years at the academy, fought for scraps and supported one another in their most desperate times. Both of them had been twisted in some way, but both of them had held a glimpse of life. Had he never left Talus was convinced his friend would have joined the rebellion.

Perhaps he would still.

"Alright." He nodded his head for a moment, remembering the name of the Inn and the sign.

It was a chance to talk, to learn what had happened at the least. Perhaps to see his friend for the last time. He would take the opportunity.

A frown touched his lips when Hal asked his question, his lips thinning. "A little over two years ago."

It was a night one could hardly forget.

 

[Harry]

The young man nodded and adjusted the sack on his shoulder. Henry absently stared down the street before swinging his gaze back to Talus.

"Tonight. I'll wait for you."

When he made the pact years ago, a day didn't pass where the voice was silent. It was a perpetual torment. An unending whisper that deprived him of sense and sleep- but in turn gave him power. He had been desperate for it—a weakling with the tenacity to crawl his way up from mediocrity to greatness—a fool who filled his cup too full.

As Henry did his day's work, he tried to think of questions to ask. Many came, but as he thought up more and more, the desire to know the answer shrank towards the back of his heart and mind.

He sat in the tavern, leaning back into his chair as he worked on his second cup of cold ale. It was full of many others like him, workers that wanted to unwind. Henry paid attention to who came and went as he anticipated his former comrade's arrival.

 

[Talus]

Talus stepped into the tavern with no swagger. He kept his profile low, dressed in workmens clothes and with a cloak over his head.

The color of his skin still did not match those around him, but most within the tavern didn't pay him much attention. The people in a place like this didn't care about the other patrons as long as they didn't bother anyone.

As far as they were concerned Talus was just another foreigner.

He glanced around the room for a moment, finding the tall Hal in a sea of bodies and quickly cutting across the room to make his way towards him. He sat himself down opposite his friend, gauging his features for a moment before speaking.

"I'm glad you came." Talus said, frowning a moment.

 

[Harry]

"Says the one who showed up last," Henry met Talus' frown with a shit-eating smirk. It was far more expressive than Henry the Dreadlord had been. He leaned back in his seat and grabbed his mug with two hands. "Have a drink or two. I invited you here; it'll be on me."

After the Third got as comfortable as he could, the former battlemage cast his frigid gaze over the man across from him.

"My first memory is waking up in the desert. West of here. In mangled armor. Fancy sword with me." He had no difficulty in figuring out that he had once been a soldier. The exact kind, however, was a question that remained unanswered to this day. No normal soldier carried the scars he did. Had the powers he had.

He stared at the table and took a swift, deep gulp from his drink.

"You probably have a lot of questions. I do, too."

 

[Talus]

Talus considered him for a few moments, looking across at his old friend. There were marks of familiarity, that much was sure, but there was also something different. His lips thinned for a moment, and he motioned to a nearby waitress.

A drink was ordered, but his focus was hardly there. "Fewer than you might think."

The Dreadlord said.

He knew quite a bit about what had happened with Hal in House Virak. What they had him do and where he went. That piece was not a mystery. Not to him. The Guard had helped him immensely.

"What do you remember?" Talus asked. "Obviously not me, but..."

Sierra? His own child? Or was it really all gone?

 

[Harry]

"Oh," he shrugged, "fair enough."

What did he remember? Memories? Not a one.

"Not long after I woke, I found that breaking men was natural as breathing." Henry's hands slid down his cup and rested on the table. "Swinging a sword, swinging my fists. Doing magic."

He turned his palms up and looked down at them as if he were holding something only he could see. "My body remembers plenty." Henry's cold gaze rose to meet Talus' but there wasn't a single ounce of ill-will behind those eyes of his. "I don't remember a thing."

 

[Talus]

Talus frowned for a moment, searching his friends expression. A question crept to the forefront of his mind. He felt a pang of guilt for it, for Sierra, but...he couldn't help it.

They were Dreadlords.

They had been raised as soldiers. Taught to kill, fight, and slaughter their way through whatever enemy dared oppose them. All of their lives that had been their duty. Escaping it had seemed impossible. Talus had dedicated the last two years to ensuring it wouldn't happen again.

That the younger generation, his children, Hal's children, wouldn't have to go through the same torture that they had.

That didn't take away their pain though. That didn't take away the hurt and agony. That didn't take away the fact that they had killed their own friends and condemned themselves to a lifetime of haunting memories. Talus frowned for a moment, then finally he asked the question. "Do you want to?"

Who was he to give those memories back to his friend.

Who was he to force Hal to remember the life he'd left behind.