Delusion's Fall, Part 1

We circled each other, swords drawn, the woodland soil already sinking by our footsteps. I swung first, a low strike to test his guard, but he met it with a twist of the wrist and answered with a downward slash that nearly cracked my shoulder. Our growls disturbed the air around us, every sword clash ringing through the vibrating forest like iron drums played by a fierce wasp, each one pushing me back a step further than I hoped for.

He pressed harder, strike after strike, each heavier and faster than the last, my arms already aching from the weight of his blows. I ducked one, shoved aside another, barely holding against the rhythm of his onslaught. Iron met iron, falcata against falcata, in wild arcs that tore the air into pieces. He lunged low, then rose high, his blade slithering like a serpent, dodging all my parries and just barely missing my hand with his venomous fangs deep. I met him once, twice, thrice, before his iron found the side of my skull with a clang louder than reason itself.

Thodbargild’s sword struck me like a monk strikes the Sunday church bells of his monastery. And like one, my head ringed incessantly, the strike echoing back and forth in between my ears, reverberating throughout my nervous system, as my orientation failed to distinguish right from left, up from down, and front from back. I could barely stagger, already down for the count, embracing the dirt. The cold, tranquil, serene woodland dirt. I raised my hand to my temple, hoping for it to function like a clapper stay, dampening the vibration in my head and granting me internal peace also, but alas, it was futile.

Were I to stand up, I feared my head would explode from the pressure and my mind collapse from the stress. And yet I stood up, ready to face the brunt of his attacks once more. I felt my body surge with a sudden burst of terrifying energy—Kragnin—and I rose to my feet swiftly in single hurried movement. Too hurried of a movement. A short circuit in my brain, and I keeled over. Back unto the bitter, poised clay.

Thodbargild stood over me, his blade dripping crimson with my juice. “Such is the fate of halfwits who pursue that which their destiny misaligns with…” he murmured, barely a pant or huff audible. As if he had beaten an amateur. Well… I suppose he did.

He turned away from me, and walked off to help his magistrates. Was I of such little threat that he did not see a reason to end me? I didn’t know, and I couldn’t know. After all, I was long gone…

***

Back—“Thodbargild, that fiend”—in that hazy world again. It was a distortion of the rolling plains and coniferous forests of Gobland mixed together with my room back on earth. They blended into each other as the black void filled in the gaps. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that the gaps were the void themselves.

I rubbed my head as I looked around. “Oh, it’s you again, Frasmul.”

“Welcome, Clemens von Hohenberg. Friend.”

“I guess you could hear my thoughts all along.”

He sighed, lounging around on my bed that was glitched into a pine tree. “Wonderful job getting us killed out there. Lost my body to some incompetent fool—swinging around a sword like that with the footwork of a three-headed Zorian with a limp. What was that—some “game strat” from the world inside your monitor thing?”

I pointed at myself in disbelief. “It’s my fault, you say? This whole mess is your world, not mine. I didn't ask to get yanked here. If you'd manned up sooner instead of playing dead in your own head, maybe we'd have a shot. You could have given me advice, and, I don’t know, given me a few tips. A heads-up along the lines of: ‘Hey, by the way, you can make use of your Edekrag by doing X and Y’”

"Manned up?” He sat up straight, and his face contorted in defiance. “You talk big for a guy who hides behind a screen all day. I saw a few of your memories, don’t try to kid me. Lectures, games, dreaming of kingship. You're the one who turned my supposed destiny into a joke. And this entire situation is not like one of your loading screen tips. I can talk to you in the unconscious, like right now, but I can’t pop up whenever I want and tell you how things work. You weren’t even listening to the words I was saying anyway, so what would’ve been the point?"

“You’re the one that let someone else live your life and then cried when that same person was hanging out with his betrothed.”

He pointed at me as if to put all the blame on my shoulders. “And you’re the same guy who wanted nothing more than to escape his life and play house with a palace.”

I threw my hands in the air as if at a loss. “Well, let’s face it. We’re both screw-ups in this point in our lives. Both shared and seperate.”

He lowered his accusatory gesture. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“It’s just… so weird,” I continued, “I mean, you’re born in a medieval world with powers and all, you’re born the heir to a tribe’s chieftaincy, you’re born with incredible prowess even for a goblin, and what do you do? You run away from such a life. A life full of grandeur, and… You have the tides of history in your hands! THE GUY who united goblinkind. What kind of a man doesn’t want to have such a glorious destiny—remembered by all?”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head, melancholy in his tone. “You have this delusion in your head that this is all some fun adventure out in the boonies, but for me, this is reality. Real responsibilities weigh on my shoulders since birth, and my father’s death took away the final support beam that kept it from crushing me. All I inherited were his burdens. I would have preferred to live a simple life of modesty, and because you don’t, you are able to walk upright and enjoy kingship.”

“Yeah, well, I’m really failing at both those things right now. I thought I could handle it. Thought I could be a ‘Great Man’ of history, but... You know, you could’ve stepped up, and taken charge of your people. Instead, you left some random person like me live out your life for you.”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t want to face what it meant to lead. Easier to let things slide than risk failing like you did out there, friend.”

“I didn’t know there was another Goblin King—as if you could have done any better.”

While I remained stationary on my feet, he stood up and circled around the distorted haze. “Not the point. Seeing you being knocked around, I realize that’s my life that’s getting pummeled in. My responsibility,” his gaze wandered about as he continued his walk in circles. “I’ve been dodging it, same as you dodged your world.”

My arms crossed, and gaze low, I nodded and spoke through my teeth. “Guess we’re both guilty of running.” We stayed silent for a moment, exchanging occasional glances at each other.

“Listen,” I spoke up again, “time is running out. If we wait any longer, that fiend is going to kill our uncle and Hardalgmar. Your life, my adventure—everything for naught. One of us has to go out there and stop him, and it’s not looking like me.”

“Tapping out once things get hard?”

“Not at all. Just... y’know, ‘recognizing the field,’ you could say. This is your world with your people. I don’t fit in. I can’t fit in. Especially these whole war and political marriage things.”

“You’re wrong. The truth is that you were doing a greater job than I ever could. You should continue to live my life, and I’ll just take care of fights like these, alright? I can’t rule, and you can’t fight. I think we can have a symbiotic relationship in this body, friend.”

“…”

“Frasmul,” I said, my voice low, “this can’t continue any longer. We cannot keep running away from realityland anymore. I don’t know if I died in my original world or not, but I don’t want to live someone else’s life. I don’t another man’s glory. I want my own. Me, Clemens. Not us, Albaric.”

“…” he looked down in shame, “You’re right. Anz, you’re right. Always are. I call you an incompetent fool, but that’s simply hypocritical of me.”

I extended to him my open palm. “If I really am dead and have nowhere to go, I’ll stay here and help you. You do most, but I’ll help out with governance and politics if I can. Should be fun for me also.”

“I… appreciate it. After all my rude comments.”

“No worries. Get out there, and reunite with your sweetheart. I promise I won’t look at the monitor.”

Surprised with the sudden comment, he burst out in laughter. “Fine! It’s a promise, friend!” He reciprocated my hand, his grip firm and resolute.

“Viel Spaß, Freund.”