Taking a life was always a taxing thing to do, a burden on the soul of whoever claimed another's. The adventurer had taken three, and barely managed to get out of the fight without serious injury. So Bethero had patched up the boy's wounds after that fight, all those hours ago. It wasn't anything major, but it wasn't the physical scarring the merchant was worried about. What would this do to the young man's mentality? Some never recovered from this sort of thing, while others basked in it. Neither option seemed like a good one to the merchant. Still, he decided to simply give the young man some space, hoping he would be alright.
Another few hours passed. Askold had chosen to remain silent, still. His eyes held a blank and hollow stare, his gaze aimed to the ground. Heavy steps carried him forward, keeping at pace with the wagon. The merchant shot a quick glance over at the boy, before looking up to the sky. It would be dark soon, but he didn't truly want to stop. Durem was just another day away, but they would be at a disadvantage, traveling in the dark.
"Come on, Askold." Bethero said calmly, trying not to startle him. "Let's rest here for the night. We don't want to continue in the dark, now do we?" The young adventurer turned his gaze up to the merchant, giving him an empty stare and a simple nod in return. So Armand pulled back on the reins, signalling his horses to stop. As the wagon halted, Askold shuffled around to the back. He simply dragged his feet along, as if every step was forced.
Despite the hesitation and slow, lumbering movements on the younger man's part, they had eventually set up camp for themselves. The merchant did the rest after basic setup. Made a fire, prepared a meal, and tied the horses. Even after this, however, the adventurer had not spoken up at all. Every answer he gave was either a nod or shake of his head. This just caused Armand to sigh, before muttering something under his breath and turning away. All he could do now was sleep, and hope he was better in the morning.
Askold stayed up for a while longer, sitting by the barely burning fire. His legs were pulled into his chest so he could stay warm. He stared at the dimly lit fire pit, which started to settle by now. Nothing was left but embers, and then it faded. It would serve as a bitter reminder to the young adventurer that all life must come to an end. The same had happened to those bandits on the road. He had simply put out their fires. Snuffed them from existence. It was a cold, harsh truth to come to. But he simply had to come to grips with it. They were dead. He was alive. Askold pulled a blanket over his shoulders and decided to stay in his seated position. Shortly after, he closed his eyes. He was asleep now.
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Askold found himself awake, each long stride he took carrying him up the dirt road. His eyes turned up to see... Himself? And he was with Armand? "Hey! That's not me!" The adventurer shouted out to the merchant, but neither the older man or the other him responded "What the hell is going on here?!" He practically screamed those words, still hearing no reply. It was no use. They wouldn't react, no matter what he said.
So he simply decided to follow on, trying to figure out what was happening at the same time. As the duo moved on, the young man began to recognize the scene playing out before him. It was earlier that day, when the sun was high in the sky and they were on their way to Durem. Why was he back here? And who was that fake him! Askold was getting confused and irritated by this whole thing at the same time. But he snapped out of it, when he realized exactly what time it was.
A small axe flew out of the forest, planting itself in a tree on the opposite side of the road. The other Askold stopped in his tracks, turning to face where the projectile came from. When the three bandits emerged, Bethero jumped into the back of his wagon like he had done before. But something different happened this time. Something rather disturbing, to the young adventurer. The other him charged at the bandits, like he had done before. But this time, he hesitated.
The bandits took advantage of the larger man's hesitant mood, and brought down their weapons on him. Askold's eyes opened wide and a look of horror found its way onto his face. The blades had gone through the other him entirely, only the hilts of the bandit's swords protruded from his back. Two or three inches of the tips of each of those weapons were revealed on the opposite side. The three men had plunged their blades straight through him, but he wasn't dead just yet.
But he was too shocked to move, either. The axe dropped from his hands and fell to the ground. A cloud of dirt flew into the air when the boy's weapon of choice made contact with the dirt road. He looked down, seeing his own blood dripping onto the path. When he tried to move, the bandits twisted their swords before pulling them out. The young Askold didn't last long after that. He fell to the ground, coating the dirt roads crimson red. He would be dead soon, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The three evil men didn't stop there, however. Bethero was pulled from the back of the wagon and thrown against the dying young man. He desperately pleaded for their lives, tears in his eyes. The bandits simply laughed at the merchant and the supposed leader stepped forward. He brought his foot down onto Armand's right shoulder to keep him in place, make sure he couldn't get away. The merchant looked up in sheer horror as the man followed up by raising his sword. His scream was cut short, the blade piercing his chest and going straight through his heart.
Both were dead... Why? That wasn't what happened at all! Askold ran at the bandits, trying to attack them. He found that his attacks did nothing. His large fists went straight through them. But wait a minute... How was that even possible? Seemingly right after he tried to attack, he was transported to a dark room. A single light was shining overhead, streaming directly down onto him. There were no walls and no floor. Just absolute darkness. The adventurer was scared and alone now. No one to help him...
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Askold let out a scream, jolting up immediately after opening his eyes. His breathing was heavy and he searched the area around him. He was back at their camp, where he had... Fallen asleep. The entire vision was just a dream. The young man began to laugh quietly to himself, as Armand rose from his mat, alerted by the boy's actions. He simply stared at the adventurer, dazed and confused as the boy's laughter got even louder.
The young man brought up his hands, running them over his face. He was alive, and so was Bethero! "It really was just a dream! He laughed some more in relief over the situation, which caused the merchant to just continue to sit there, still confused. All he could guess was that Askold had a bad dream. But the look of puzzlement and the furrowed eyebrows settled in short time, being replaced by a smile. It looked like the young man was over his state of shock, at least.
So the merchant rose up from where he had been sleeping, and walked over to the adventuring boy. "So, are you feeling any better now?" He was relieved when the boy gave him an eager nod of his head and a wide, rather silly looking grin. Bethero couldn't help but laugh a little himself. "Alright then. How about some breakfast..." Armand said, more so to himself than the young man. Not that he thought Askold would disagree with food. So he gathered everything he needed and moved back over to the fire pit. With a bit of effort, they got a fire started again.
After a few minutes, their morning meal had been made. Armand served the young man first, rightly assuming he could use the energy after how he was yesterday. So without hesitation, the adventurer took the food prepared for him, and started shoveling it down. There was little time for breathing, but he was starved. The merchant simply held in his laughter, preparing his own meal while he did. Askold had already finished his much larger portion by the time the older man started. "Hey. I know what I need to do now." Bethero turned his eyes up from his plate, giving the young man that confused expression again. Furrowed eyebrows and all. "I'll only kill people who wanna try an' kill me first!"
The merchant swallowed his food and a smile found its way across his features. He brought up his left hand, gently placing it on the much larger shoulders of the young man. "That's a very good vow to yourself, Askold. Just make sure you never betray it." Askold looked back down at Bethero, wearing his usual eager expression. He gave an energetic nod to the man in return. He had made that promise to himself, and he swore on his own life that he would never betray it.
