Interlude II

Galen knew when someone was about to shit themselves from fear. It was a knack, really. Something you got from causing it to happen a few dozen times. There was just a posture shift to it. Like an involuntary release of tension in the body just moments before the stench caused your eyes to water. It was distinctive. And this fat, sobbing piece of sweat-soaked merchant meat in front of him, well, he had all the hallmarks of being about five seconds away.

Galen took another step closer, toying with the knife in his hand as he rested a hand on the wall next to the man’s head and leaned forward into his face until their noses were almost touching. From here, the man stank of piss and garlic, his eyes filled with the sort of primal terror a bird would have in the paws of a cat. He was stuttering and stammering something, but Galen silenced him by gently shushing him on the lips with the tip of his finger.

“You know who I am, correct?” He asked.

The fat man’s three chins nodded in unison.

“Good. Then I suppose you know what I do with things like this.” Galen said, bringing the blade up into the merchant’s eyeline.

The man nodded again.

“Very good. Then allow me to ask you one more time, Morden… Where is Eujin Vast?”

The fat man closed his eyes, his quivering cheeks going somehow even more pale.

“I… I… don’t know… I… He….” The man stumbled.

Galen drew back and drove the point of his knife through the man’s ear and into the wall, pinning his head there. The man howled, but choked off to a quiet whimper as Galen grabbed the man by the front of his tunic.

“Answer me! Where is Eujin Vast?” Galen shouted, spit flecking the fat man’s cheeks.

The man cringed and shrieked, his eyes gushing tears.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since he left for Transel! Please! I swear it! I don’t know!” The man said. He shrank down further, and then, all at once, a familiar pungent stench hit Galen’s nose, and he snorted derisively.

“How long ago?”

Morden whimpered, his words too soft and garbled to be understood. Galen twisted the knife, sending the man into another bout of howls.

“When, damn you? When did he leave for the capitol?” He asked.

“A few weeks ago! Probably going for business! I don’t know anything else! I swear!” Morden pleaded.

Galen locked eyes with the man, his gaze cold and unflinching as he slowly and methodically twisted the knife further and further. With the other hand, he gently slapped the man’s face to get him to focus.

“Listen to me, Morden. I need you to understand, because I am not a man who repeats himself. If you have given me wrong information, or have in any way misled me as to his whereabouts, I will ensure you never eat solid food or piss standing ever again. It may take me years, but I will ensure you suffer for every second you will have cost me on my path to get my justice. I do not forgive, and I do not forget. Are we clear?”

“Yes! I swear I mean what I say! He’s going to Transel on my life! Please, just don’t hurt me anymore!” The merchant begged.

Satisfied, Galen lifted his hand off the knife’s handle and turned to leave. Two weeks was not long ago. He might not have even arrived yet. That meant Galen had time. He was gaining ground. Day by day, hour by hour, he was getting closer. For three years, he’d been hunting. For three years, he’d been honing his skills.

Galen stopped in the doorway, turning only briefly towards the hollow thunk and accompanying yelp that signalled Morden pulling the knife out of the wall.

And now, Galen’s chance at justice was almost at hand. Vast would pay for what he’d done. He would be made to remember what he’d done to Galen’s father, and his poor mother, and then, he would suffer. And once he could suffer no longer, Galen would take his life, so that no one else would ever have to fear such a monster ever again. Then, and only then, could he return home. Three years was far too long to be gone from the one you loved. 

God willing, Mar would forgive him for what he’d done.