The derailing of the tale

 If I were different, I could have greater effect.

That if I were kindlier, I could wring smiles from the saddest of people, that if I were wealthier, my charity would be endless, that if I were better than I am, I could change to fit the times.

‘For the longest time, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I forgive you for being you.’

Those were words I wanted to tell myself, to rid myself of this idea that I could no longer call myself a considerably moral person. I didn’t think I had become a terrible person, just a careless one. A tired one, perhaps.

“The ledgers, Agreste. They just don’t match what the councilman reports. If we bring this to the public purview, there’s simply no chance it doesn’t raise eyebrows.”

I looked up at the crimson-haired figure sitting in the opposite seat of the train car. He held several sheets of papers in his hands, thick as slates, and his fingers had grown callouses too large to bear, as if he had sewn armour to his own flesh. He had dark circles around his eyes, he too had fatigued himself. It was only common, it was only our work.

“I don’t really want to talk of ledgers today, Stellan. Not sedition, not retribution, not revolt. I don’t want to stir up controversies, or expose truths…”

“Then what do you want?”

I let out a sigh, leaning on my hand as I closed my eyes. “I want to rest, I want to see my wife… I want to see my child. I want to eat, smile, laugh, and enjoy my life for a moment. Please, a week perhaps…”

“You’re losing heart.” Stellan frowned. “The Agreste that sought to bring smiles to others, this isn’t who I work with now. The one capable of burning his mind to its dwindling embers, forgoing sleep to track these leads… he was here two weeks ago, now where has he gone?”

“He has grown tired, Stellan. He wants to renew himself. He is only human. He is I.” I chided, sinking back into my seat as I drew my hat over my eyes, enshrouded within its shade.

The train rumbled along the elevated tracks through the mountain-spattered coast, clouds hanging not far from the roaring engine, burst free from the air by its inane speed. Each time I had bought a ticket for the Ava’rr, being the only train connecting Osheae and Aethine, I was imbibed by some sense of joy and wonder when piloted around by the machinations my world had not yet conceived.

And now I felt nothing. No child-like elation, no happiness in it. It had become an aspect of my life, mechanical, mundane. And I cursed it most of all, that I had lost its sense of ‘new’ and ‘exciting’.

I often feared that the death of wonder would pursue my other enjoyments.

What kind of day would it be when I found I despised my pen on paper? When I couldn’t fathom stringing words together poetically? At that time, would I even bother to speak aloud? How would I communicate with my darling child, would she grow up without the voice of her father?

It was only a fear because I knew that I was the worst at forcing myself to do things. Because I was weak-willed and pathetic.

“What day is it, Stellan?” I rubbed my temple as I let out a groan. Time was too annoying to pay any real attention, I had none of it. Actually, it was only recently that I had lost patience. I had lost many such things.

Stellan reached beside him, procuring one of the newspapers he had picked up prior to boarding.

“It’s Yeswen.”

“The 17th?”

Stellan shook his head. “No, the 24th.”

My eyes widened.

“It’s the 24th already…?”

I ran my hands through my hair, glancing out of the train’s window towards the crystalline shores.

I had begun to forget things, simple things. Pointless things that anyone might forget. But my memory had always been impeccable. At least, in good health.

“My anniversary is tomorrow.” I smiled pitifully. What a good husband I certainly was.

“Motherfucker…” Stellan cursed. He looked particularly despondent, I knew that he had been preparing to ramp up our course. He didn’t think we were doing enough, he didn’t think that the Baron of Lilacs, the Herald of the Stars was having enough effect.

Because we hadn’t really changed anything at all.

Wasn’t I being foolish?

At the end of it all, what was I really doing here?

“I’m going home, Stellan. We’ll continue in a week, I promise. Until then, just lay low. Print some papers. If the city guard finds you, call for Mr. Macdonagh. The baker’s boy knows where to find him. But I don’t think I need to tell you all this, you won’t need it. Because you aren’t-“

“-a fool.” Stellan finished my sentence. “Fuck you, Hayes.”

When he called me by my surname, I at least knew that he was distancing himself so he wouldn’t get overly aggravated. And he was doing that for me.

“Thank you, Stellan.”

He pursed his lips, leaning back on his hand as he looked out at the same grandiose sight. “Whatever.”

A loud rumbling shook the sides of the train car, illiciting our immediate attention.

“We ran over a rock.” Stellan murmured, tilting his head back against his seat. “Don’t get in a fuss.”

“Trains don’t run over rocks.” I said, furrowing my brows. I stood up from my seat, grasping onto the balancing handle above. I looked out past our secluded cabin through the windows above Stellan’s seat.

And I watched as the passengers scrambled, as fire filled the train car ahead.

“Alright, Stellan. Let’s clean up a mess. They really did do it.”

My head pulsated wildly. It was more agony than I could pretend to handle.

I was so desperately tired of these things.

“They really did try to kill us!” Stellan exclaimed, grasping the stacks of ledgers as he hurriedly shoved them into his briefcase.

“Why did you spread that we’d be in the train-car ahead? Why didn’t you just say we weren’t going to be on the train at all? What if someone had gotten killed?”

He shook his head in annoyance. “I wrote to your mysterious benefactor, had them buy all of the tickets for the seats in that car. It was empty the moment that it took off.”

“Kitsch Yulier? How the fuck did you get in contact with him?”

“Belligerence and determination.” He chided. “Forget that, how are you going to pretend that there wasn’t an attempt on your life when you speak to your wife later?”

I tilted my head, smiling faintly. “Belligerence and determination.”

We made our way past the passengers of our car, and they were happy to let us. After all, the more people in between them and the danger, their odds of survival increased drastically. All of this was in the minds of those ignorant folk who didn’t bother to assess the true situation, that they probably weren’t in much danger at all.

There was a massive hole in the center of the next car. Metal smoldered and ash pooled at its floor. Bright-orange flames had already devoured the interior, and only smoke and smog remained, leaking at a rapid pace out of the opening.

Stellan first tried the entryway ahead. It was imperative to get to the engine room in these sorts of situations.

“The door ahead’s blocked. We can’t get to the operator this way.”

“This will be the second time I’ve climbed onto the rooftop of a moving train.” I chided.

“Again? Why does it always come down to the most theatrical solution for you?”

I shrugged. “Future anecdotes?”

As we walked towards the hole that had been blown in the side of the train car, Stellan mused harshly. “For someone who wants to see his wife and kid so desperately, these seem like dangerous measures.”

“Ah, forget it. Who’s targeting us anyway? Red Republic?” I pondered, climbing out of the hole that had been blown into the side of the car. The metal singed the palm of my flesh, but it had already scarred itself over many times. I was unperturbed by the burning of the parts of me that had died.

“Red Republic doesn’t usually blow things up. If it’s really unsettled militants, then wouldn’t Seventh Guard be more predisposed?”

“Well, whoever it was, they almost killed me and left my daughter fatherless. I think I’ll have to kill them myself.”

Stellan let out a vicious scoff. “Like you could kill anyone.”

I pursed my lips. That sentence seemed almost ironic. The younger version of myself would have thought it laughable. It might have even triggered some remnant guilt. But even that was a thing I had lost at some point.

The most shameful parts of me must have also been forgotten.