Fate? Destiny? What a load of guff

“Bailey, you sure?” said one of the blokes at the bar, presumably to the old innkeeper.

“When ye work in a place like this all ya life, ye get pretty bloody good at telling fake from real. And that there… that’s the genuine article if I’ve ever seen it.”

Whole bloody shop went dead quiet after that, and the lass with the tats used that silence as an opportunity to stroll on up to the bar next to us. Behind her was one of the ratty-looking blokes from that dungeon. Tattered clothes, horrible complexion, all skin and bone, and most importantly, no armband. Good on you, lass.

“My apologies for announcing my arrival by asking a favour, but as my fellow summonee has said, we have come here as penniless as beggars, and our companions have hardly the strength to go on. Could I trouble you for some food and ale? Once our deed is done, I swear to pay the cost back tenfold.”

“Don’t even speak of paying back, lassy! Ye lot came from god-knows-where to solve a problem that by all means should be no concern a’ yours. Ye and ya companions eat free. Least I can bloody well do, if ye plan to get rid of that great bloody lizard for us.” He then turned his attention away from the tattooed girl and back to me. “My apologies, lad. Ye weren’t the first penniless passerby to boldly proclaim yerself a legendary hero, so I hardly gave ye a second thought. Had no idea ye were the real thing.”

“Don’t mention it, mate. Water under the bridge, innit.”

I decided to refrain from telling him I didn’t wanna be here at all and was only planning on killing the dragon so I could get back in time for the end of the footie season. The old innkeep told us he’d prepare the best food and drink he had on hand, so me, the tatted lass, and the ratty bloke all walked past the staring patrons and took a seat at the table where I had left Court. To my surprise, after a bit more staring and muttering, the crowd seemed to go back to minding their own business. Seems like people in this world know how to mind their bloody business. Top lads.

“Mister… Archie, was it?” said the tatted lass, sitting down opposite me.

“Just Arch. That ‘-ie’ rubbish makes me sound like a ruddy woman.”

“...right. Mister Arch, after your display in that dungeon, I had hoped to speak with you before advancing further in our quest, though you left too quickly for me to keep up. If you hadn’t stopped here, it’s likely you’d have completely left us behind.”

“Didn’t think anyone would try tagging along, to be frank. You all looked stunned to bloody silence.”

“Could you blame us? I am aware that you hold none of the fascination with this world that the rest of us do, but do understand that we all have been waiting for this moment for a very long time. For that moment to finally come, only to be soured by… that awful sight… it was hardly a pleasant time for us.”

“Aye, fair enough. But, all that bein’ said, why’d ye come after me? Surely it’d have been quicker to just waltz right on by.”

“Quicker, it may have been, but I wished to speak with you. Regarding both what has been done, and what is to come.”

“Oh, Christ, love, don’t get all cryptic and uptight on me. Say what you mean and what you say, don’t make me check out of the conversation, yeah?”

The tatted lass looked back at me with disappointment on her face. Don’t be so bloody shocked, love. Shoulda figured by now I don’t got the patience for the wishy washy rubbish.

“Very well,” she sighed. “I’ll get down to brass tacks. The guide you took, Ms Courteney-“

“Court.”

“…the guide you took was intended to go with Mr Benny. Your actions deviated from those predicted in the nomicon. He was at first distraught, believing you had introduced uncertainty to his journey. But something unexpected happened.”

“He grew a feckin’ spine?”

“The nomicon changed.” Her voice went grave. Real flair for the dramatic, this girl. “The sacred book, which had been known for its unwavering accuracy, changed its prediction. Or, in other words, your actions rerouted fate.”

“Oh, load of shite.” I rolled me eyes so hard I almost worried they’d get stuck at the back me head. “‘Fate’ and ‘destiny,’ that’s just a load of woolly rubbish that cowards tell ‘emselves to feel better about their failures. If my snap decision was enough to rewrite it, fate ain’t so bloody important, is it?”

“You… do not believe in fate? But the Drakonimcon’s predictions have supposedly been 100% correct until you threw a spanner in the works. Does it not seem to you that fate is indeed real, but that your role as a legendary hero allows you to alter it?”

“Seems a lot more likely that the book has only been right ‘cos everyone’s been followin’ it all this time. Only took one bloke ignoring it to make it suddenly change its mind out of nowhere? Some prophet that book is.”

“...I see.”

She didn’t seem to have any dramatic response for that one, so she went all quiet on me. Didn’t even break the silence herself, it was actually the old boy bringing us our food and drinks that did that.

“Full portion of roasted ham and potatoes for each of ye. The ham might be a bit heavy for the frail-looking pair, so start ‘em on the spuds and see if they feel any better. I’ll be back in a jiff with some ale to wet ya whistles, too.”

“Ah- my thanks, Mr… Bailey, was it?”

“Yeah, cheers, chap. This one here looks about ready to croak it,” I added, giving Court a light shake to make sure she was still awake.

“Never you worry, ladies and gents. Least I could do for those risking their necks to protect me ‘ome.” The old innkeep laid the food down in front of us and turned away, but was stopped by the girl with the tats.

“Mr Bailey, would you mind if I picked your brain on something for a moment?” she asked, looking off into space like she was somewhere else entirely.

“Hmm? Ask away, girl. I’ll give you what answers I can.”

“In this world, where the prophecies of the nomicon are taken as gospel, how do people perceive the idea of fate? Or rather, do the people of this world believe everything to be pre-determined?”

The old man didn’t reply straight away. Looked like he was giving some real proper though to it, actually. Can’t say I’d have done the same in his position. Without the context she must have sounded ruddy loopy.

“...what’s ya name, lass?”

“My name?” she answered, cocking her head slightly. “My name is Darcy. Darcy Black.”

“Well, Ms Darcy, ye’ve asked a question for which the answer changes like the wind between each and every man and woman ye ask. The predictive power of the nomicon can hardly be called a fluke, of course, but as to whether its contents are determinate or just predictions, that’s a debate people have argued over since long before I was born, and likely will still argue over long after I’m dead.” The man chuckled slightly, as if he found the question entertaining. “Me personally, though? I think fate is simply what ye make of it. Ye follow ya set path through to the end? That’s the only path ye’re gonna walk. Ye try and walk another path? Ye’re gonna end up at a new destination. Important thing is that ye’re the one makin’ the decision. Maybe you’d have ended up there anyway, but ye can always die happy knowin’ ye choose yer own path for yaself. To me, fate is simply that, and nothing over.”

“I-I see…” from her expression, it seemed like this Darcy lass had expected the innkeeper to back up her view, and was surprised when it wasn’t quite so black and white. But, to her credit, she took it in stride, answering with nothing but a small smile and the phrase “you’ve given me something to think about.”