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The vile odor of rotting food and old alcohol filled Caspar's nose, dripping from broken bottles onto the floor. The smell was covered with that of dry blood filling his nose as he ducked into the remains of an old tavern.
A small place that was once a successful rest stop for merchants traveling from Enbarr to Garreg Mach, it was destroyed by the raging civil conflicts in the area recently. He only knew of it because he’d stopped there on his journey to the Monastery 3 years to the day. Maybe he was just feeling nostalgic, that must be why he risked closing in on Enbarr just to see it. He supposed… he’d also hoped to see a certain someone as well.
”Come on now Caspar, a Tavern? Really?” The voice of his best friend had rung out as he grinned like a fool up at him.
“Yeah! Come on, haven’t you ever wanted to check a place like this out? Our parents don’t have to find outttt…”
“Oh...fine, as long as I can take a rest.”
For some reason, he remembered the seats they’d chosen so long ago and set the table and chair back up just as he recalled it. It was then that Caspar began pulling the small ration for his meal for the day out, along with his dented flask. He needed to conserve his water until he got to the nearby river...but that would have to wait until dusk. It was unwise to be traveling in broad daylight towards Enbarr, it could only mean stirring up trouble after all. He did not wish to meet his grave unless it was at that person’s hands.
“Pfft….hahaha!”
Something about the thought of it was just hilarious to him, he’d gotten to the point that he would be entirely fine with death so long as he was killed by someone he loved. On one hand, he knew it was horrible to think such a thing. However, on the other… he found a smile reaching his lips as he unscrewed the cap of his flask and took a swig of his aged whiskey. “Lindhardt, you’d be pretty amused by that sorta though coming from my mouth, wouldn’t you?” He knew he was not there, and yet he felt like he knew exactly what his longest-held friend and love would say.
”Caspar, don’t be foolish, no matter the circumstance do you truly believe I could kill you? It would be far too tiring.”
Yeah, something like that, he could nearly hear him saying it right then and there.
But he knew for a fact Linhardt was not there, and if he were to ever see him again it would not be on friendly terms unless the Professor did return someday. When she returned, he decided as he took another swig of whiskey and took a solemn bite off of the jerky he’d smoked the week before. 4 pieces left. He would have to go fishing at the river as well, it seemed. Every day he wished more and more for at least one ally to roam about with. He was attempting to reach Garreg Mach, to see if someone there would be able to assist him, a one-man resistance would not go far after all. He had to learn that the hard way, and nearly lost a limb in the process. Yet every time he tried to make his way to the Monastery he was sidetracked or he had some intel that made it so he had to backtrack. It was tiresome but it had to be done, he was not going to stand by and let evil reign… even if it meant sitting in an abandoned tavern alone with his thoughts and the rain that was falling into his flask. Rain?
He looked up above, tilting his head to the side curiously. The roof wasn’t caved in on this side of the building so what was wrong?
…. Oh
He realized it just as a wave of pain flooded into his chest, and the so-called rain fell harder down his cheeks as he swiped his flask up and downed the rest of his whiskey. He didn’t ever see himself like this. He’d wanted to be a great hero someday, and yet here he was at the bottom of the barrel, sobbing alone in an abandoned tavern. Some vanquisher of evil he was, he was just a pathetic second son...not even that, anymore. He’d disavowed his family, and in turn, his friends as well.
He was so lonely… but he could never defect back to the Empire because he knew in his heart...he did not side with their ideals. He never would and so… he was stuck here. “Man… I really hate rain.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After his fit of tears and pain, Caspar nestled himself in a crude, disgusting… but at least safe, place to rest until nightfall. Beneath the bar, between the wood and the corpse of what he supposed, had been the bartender… poor guy. But he had to steel himself and not think of the last moments the man must have experienced, and fall into his restless slumber. He had to learn to sleep silently and to pray alone to live until he wakes.
He dreamt of the academy, his days spent training cheerfully, unaware of what the future would hold. He liked to think he was just as cheerful as before deep down. Who knows until he talks to another person, he mused to himself in his semi vivid dream. Train, eat, train, school, eat, train, eat, visit Linhardt, sleep, and repeat. What a life.
Occasionally he would be thrown into battle, but it never seemed quite real, like it was just a way to get stronger, not a real fight for his life. But now, there was no denying he was always in life or death situations...all of his thoughts came to a head and burst into nothing but dull pain as his eyes shot open.
THUD!!!
It was pitch black, but he knew it must be the table that had fallen over. Along with the thud came the clinking and shuddering of metal chimes. The kind worn upon the garb of dancers, as he’d found out back at the academy. It briefly came to his mind, was Dorothea still a dancer? Was she again working for the Opera Company? Or had she joined Edelgard, or perhaps… had she chosen to join the resistance in her own way as well? In the end, though, it did not matter much he knew for a fact this was not her. Should a magic wielder of come to this place, they’d have cast a small fire spell...right? For light. He supposed... This was what he deserved for oversleeping, a potential death sentence. He was certain as soon as he was found, he would have to brawl. He always slept with his gauntlets close by anyway.
But he was pleasantly surprised, then when the torch the other person was holding in the room was lit.. he heard muttering in a language he had no idea how to understand. The woman was muttering in distress, likely, she was out of torches at this point he supposed.
A woman speaking a foreign language… he had to take the chance. He jumped up, forgetting the bar’s presence hanging over his head, and yelped in pain.
“Show... Show yourself!” called out the voice of the woman… of Petra, but she was only met with the sound of sniveling and a rather large pair of arms wrapping around her. It took her a moment, a tall, sobbing blue-haired boy…. And soon she found tears in her own eyes.
“Caspar...I am having great happiness to be finding er…. To have found you.” She said, smiling at him after they separated.
“Man… you got no idea how happy *I* am right now.”
The spoke for a bit, reminiscing and praising their respective God’s for bringing them together. Finally, the topic of the whereabouts of the other members of their class came up as they began to head out to travel towards the river, and then back to where Petra was originally heading. Seems she had more aim than he. He learned Dorothea was traveling as well, supporting orphaned youths of the conflict. And he spilled the only location he knew as well… Linhardt. His friend had returned to his territory, choosing not to oppose the Empire, but in fact to almost support it. Unlike Ferdinand who’d denounced his place in the Empire, and Bernadetta who had stayed simply because she was too afraid to venture outside.
“So Linhardt is having… support of Edelgard’s path. “Petra mused, they’d found their way to the river, and she was filling her canteen and resting her aching feet.
“Well...yes and no. I guess..he just doesn’t care either way.” About the wellness of Fodlan, or him, his mind persisted.
“Mm...no. That is not how he is seeing it, I have certainty of that.”
“What do ya mean?” Caspar raised a brow as he lifted his head from the water he had been splashing onto his face to clean the bile from the bar off finally.
“I have no doubts he is not caring much about what side of the fight he is own….but Linhardt is always being on the side you are on”
“Always on my side…. How do you figure that?”
Petra smiled, her eyes cast towards the capital in the far far distance. “Because you two are having… much love in your hearts for one another. It is like myself and Dorothea.”
“Well….I mean..I guess you’re right. We’ll just have to wait to see them again, to be tooootallly certain.”
“We are nearly at the point of half…. The half-way point… soon enough, you will be seeing him again.”
“Heh… we’ll just have to give him a good reason to stick with us when he shows up instead of slicking back to nap in his mansion again.”
They looked at each other and laughed warmly as their minds fell to thoughts of their friends and secret loves, their families, their allies, and even their enemies. All of it gave them warmth and reprieve from the thoughts of the continued war... For once, he didn’t need to think about the past to be happy, only the future warmed their hearts as they stood, leaving behind the little river for greener pastures.