Guilty Victim

Present time. That same day.

"Corydorin sure is taking his time with the fishing today," Rasbora thought as she finished packing the cloth of the last tent. With everything else ready to continue the trip, breakfast was the only thing missing.

Betta's foot tapped in an ever-intensifying rhythm. A hollow toc toc that wouldn't surprise Rasbora if it somehow devolved into a tremor. Better to avoid looking her way—as she might've been searching for someone to vent her ire on.

Seriously, what could be taking Corydorin so long? Maybe one of us should go looking for him.

But would she dare talk with Betta in her current state?

Let's wait a little longer.

Lucky for Rasbora, Corydorin appeared just a few minutes later.

Soaked in water, his clothes full of dark patches that resembled mud but blacker and nastier. A sharp, rotten odor accompanied him—the kind that spoiled one's appetite.

And oddest of all, he wasn't smiling. He also wore a slouched posture, his feet dragged and a hint of red tinted his eyes.

"Corydorin, are ya alright—"

"What took so long?" Betta's voice stomped over Rasbora's, throwing her out of the conversation.

"Sorry, the first catch was a bust." His voice was flat—weak like a dying flame.

He didn't force more words out and just began preparing the food.

Betta clicked her tongue and told him to hurry up. For the following minutes, Corydorin roasted the fish in silence, other than the cracking of the fire and the wind blowing outside their refuge.

Rasbora wanted to say something, but her throat swallowed the words and held them down pinned by the neck. She stood to approach him. Her legs resisted and pushed her a step back in the opposite direction. Her sight went to Betta—gawking, almost begging. The tiger-like eyes snapped back in Rasbora's direction, prompting her to sink into herself like a snail in its shell.

Her companion finished making breakfast. She ate without a word—as did everyone else—and the trip proceeded same as always.

Yet the pressure was so much more suffocating this time.

Hours flew like the wind—quick but pressing on her ears so hard it hurt. The end of the day couldn't come fast enough.

As usual, Betta put them in charge of setting up camp, then left with the buffaloes.

It's time.

Ya can do it, Rasbora.

Ya've had time to prepare mentally.

Now go.

…

"Corydorin, is something bothering ya?"

"No." He didn't turn her direction. His eyes reflected the cracking fire, but even with its light they looked dull as dead moss.

"Ah see…"

Now what?

Do I insist? Do I ask again?

I'll take a moment to think, then try again in a second.

The rest of the evening went on without Rasbora speaking another word.

ᗢ⫘⫘⫘⫘𖦹⫘⫘⫘⫘♡

"Say, Betta…"

"Hm?" Betta glared back like a growling wolf.

Don't be afraid. She might be terrifying, but she's also a Paladin. Paladin's are supposed to have a virtuous heart.

"Don't ya think Corydorin looks a little down lately?"

The two girls were alone again this morning, as their companion had left to catch breakfast.

Betta cracked her neck—a gesture probably unrelated to Rasbora's inquiry. Probably. "He does."

"Aye, so I'm not the only one who thinks so." She stared at Betta, forcing a light smile, putting her all into talking without talking because talking with her was so daunting.

Betta's response was to roll her eyes. "No, I'm not going to speak with him."

"B-but why?"

"Who knows. Maybe 'cause I don't give a fuck about his wellbeing? And you shouldn't either."

"But…" Rasbora's voice shrunk lower and lower. "Ya two are both Paladins…" Her last question was barely a whisper. "Why do ya bully him?"

Betta's eye twitched, and Rasbora took several steps back, hands raised, ready to flee for her life.

"How about you ask him yourself. Tell him I sent you so he won't make stuff up. Then you might just understand that your worry is wasted on him and he deserves every bit of misfortune he gets." Betta turned away then murmured the last words. "Every single thing that went wrong is his fault. Every. Single. One."

Whatever Corydorin had done, he seemed regretful—at least in Rasbora's flawed judgement. Regardless, there was no way Betta was justified in treating him like that. If anything, she should be cheering him up and supporting him so he could make up for his mistake.

If Betta won't give you a hand, then I will. I'm also a Paladin, after all.

ᗢ⫘⫘⫘⫘𖦹⫘⫘⫘⫘♡

Once again, as the sun was setting, Betta left with the buffaloes, leaving Rasbora and Corydorin on their own.

So, let's see…

How would Betta go about getting Corydorin to talk about his troubles?

She'd grab his hair and yell at him to spill everything—or something like that.

Better to ask what he himself would do.

"Ya know, ah never got to learn where ya come from." Rasbora said as she approached—but not getting too close. "Ah don't know the map very well yet, but let me try to guess."

No reply.

Rasbora swallowed and set her jaw. "Is it on the upper or the lower side of Topaz River?"

Silence.

"Ya're right, that would be too big a hint. Is it somewhere near the borders?"

…

"Ah know!" she exclaimed. "It must be on that big island we have at the bottom of the map. That looks like a fun place to live in."

Please, say something.

"Rasbora."

"Aye?"

"Don't bother yourself with me."

Had he said those same words with any other tone—some anger, disdain or maybe just a hint of boredom—then Rasbora would've just 'aye'd' and crawled away like a maggot.

Yet his voice was frail as a dry twig. So weak and miserable—so much unlike the man she knew. Somehow, that ignited a spark in Rasbora's otherwise slow and mushy head.

"Corydorin, something is bothering ya, even ah can see that much."

He mumbled a reply she barely caught. "Not you too."

"What happened yesterday that got ya like this? Ya can tell me. Ah promise ah won't make fun of ya."

He grunted something else, this one slipped past her ears.

"Come on, let me give ya a hand. What are friends for?"

Again, another mumble. "...ed Justice."

"Sorry, what was that? Can ya speak up, please?"

"I killed Justice."

"W-what? What are ya saying?" As the cold meaning of those words enveloped her, what little bravado she'd gathered slipped like smoke between her fingers.

"It was also my fault Temperance died. Betta, my companion for an entire decade, has given up on me—and rightly so. The council only keeps me around because I somehow still have my powers. I performed a forbidden ritual to resurrect the dead, cursing the name of the Divines, and I also—"

"Wait, wait. Please slow down. Ah don't get it. Why are ya telling me all this?"

"Because you should stop wasting your goodwill on me. Do you know why we're in this entire journey to begin with? It's because I…"

Too much.

It didn't even sound real. Like all of it could've just been an extreme exaggeration, or a very tasteless prank.

But Corydorin said it all with such a stiff face, and Betta treated him in such a bad way that, perhaps…

Perhaps it was all true—word for word.

Rasbora's mouth shut down, not letting out a single sound. She felt crushed from all sides by the stuff Corydorin had said, and her body refused to move unless to get away.

What does one do in such a situation?

A Paladin was supposed to resolve disputes, right? To protect victims and punish the guilty.

So what happened when a victim was also guilty?

And what happened when such a heavy burden was thrown at a pathetic bumpkin who struggled facing even the lowest Cursed?

Why had the Divines chosen her? She didn't have what it took to slay evil, bring peace or protect the weak. She was a weakling herself, after all.