It seemed like a habit now, visiting the tavern every evening just like he used to when his master was alive. But the man who had taken on the young woodworking apprentice wasn't there anymore, leaving Connor alone alone with his thoughts and a flagon of ale.
The other regulars were there, laughing and chatting away amongst themselves. Many of them waved to Connor as he sat at the bar, but they mostly let him be. They understood his visit was a ritual, a memorial to the man who had bought him his first drink when he turned sixteen.
The tavern was a little more crowded than usual tonight, Connor noticed as he sipped at his drink. A few faces he didn't recognize meandered around, talking in hushed whispers to the other patrons. Some people waved them away, but Connor watched with an uneasy feeling. The strangers were dressed in foreign uniforms, marking them clearly as guards from the Northern Provinces.
Why, then, were they here?
One of them spotted the blond man sitting alone at the bar and approached him confidently. "Excuse me, sir," the young guard, probably not much older than Connor, began, "Might I bother you?"
Connor motioned to the empty stool beside him, and the young guard graciously accepted.
"We're looking for a young man who works as a carpenter here."
Connor took a swig of his drink to hide his surprise. "Who is it? If it's Adrian, he's been dead for a few years now."
"I believe his name is Connor," the guard explained. "His father was named Taron. Do you know him?"
"Why are you looking for him?" Connor answered, taking another drink to push down the growing panic. "What did he do?"
"Nothing, we just need some information, but no one here claims to know him."
The young carpenter was glad everyone seemed to be looking out for him. He glanced around the room to notice many people watching the exchange carefully, ready to rush to the blond man's defence if needed. "Information?" he asked, turning his attention back to the young guard.
"Yeah." The guard sat at the edge of his seat, hoping to finally get some hint to the man's whereabouts. "We believe he may have first-hand knowledge of our mark."
A chill ran down Connor's spine, and the guard raised an eyebrow at him.
The carpenter coughed awkwardly in a pointless effort to hide his discomfort. The guard leaned even farther forward in his chair, and Connor couldn't help but smile at his own ineptitude. He always was a terrible liar. "I am Connor," he admitted. "What information do you need?"
The guard leaned back with a smile and produced an envelope. "Our captain wishes to speak to you about a recent incident that may be related to your parent's death," he explained, handing over the paper to Connor.
The blond man took it and flipped it over in his hands. The envelope was sealed with a wax seal, the initials KG stamped into it. "Is this a summons?"
"Unofficial, of course," the guard reassured him. "Captain Kaine is hoping you'll help us catch the man who ruined your life before he ruins anyone else's."
Connor couldn't stop another chill from creeping down his spine. "You mean..."
The young guard merely nodded, looking at the carpenter with pity in his eyes.
Connor put his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on the bar. Try as he might, he was unable to stop his whole body from shaking. The strange message from the previous night kept playing in his head. "He's back?" He asked, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.
"He's still out there, Irene. They say he killed the Grand Advisor!"
Connor's wife stood in the path of her husband's frantic pacing, indignantly blocking his way. "So? That doesn't mean you have to risk your life trying to help them catch him."
The couple stood in the narrow hallway outside their bedroom, a small travelling pack slung over Connor's shoulder. They had been discussing the situation for nearly an hour, much to Irene's irritation.
"I'm not risking my life," Connor explained, trying to push past his wife who remained stubbornly blocking his path to the door. "I'm just going to speak to their captain."
Irene scoffed. "What can you tell them? You haven't seen him in years, Connor."
"I know," he agreed, "but I used to know him. Anything I can tell them about him will help."
Irene latched on to his arm, desperately clinging to keep him there. "It's still too dangerous," she argued with a pout. "I won't let you go."
Connor gently lifted her chin to meet his comforting gaze. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable she seemed, like a toddler about to lose her favourite toy. He felt her iron grip weaken as she relaxed, looking into his eyes. Her arms unravelled from around his and snaked around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a deep kiss.
"Are you sure I can't come?" she asked again, although she already knew the answer.
"There's really no need. I'll be fine," he reassured her, kissing her forehead gently.
"I know," she admitted, "but I'll miss you."
"I'll only be gone for a week." He gently brushed the hair from her radiant face, amazed as he always was at how soft her skin was. "I need to do this, Irene. For Mom and Dad."
She looked away, sighing deeply and hugging him closer. "I know."
The two remained that way for what felt like forever, taking comfort in each other's embrace. Connor briefly debated staying and not telling his story to the guards, just staying home with his loving wife and letting the world pass him by.
But the memory of that night was fresh in his mind, as it always was. He wanted to make sure that man couldn't hurt anyone anymore.
Connor pulled away from Irene, his mind made up. He kissed her lips at the front door one last time before opening it.
"I love you, Irene," he said, stepping out into the dark night.
"I love you too, Connor," she smiled at him, but her eyes looked sad as she stood in the doorway, "but please be careful."
He nodded and kept walking backwards, memorising his wife's face as he walked away from the log cabin house her father had helped them build together. His heart ached as he finally walked out of her sight, and he turned away sadly, continuing his steady walk towards the most painful part of his life.
He couldn't believe it; his older brother had resurfaced after so much time had passed. Connor put his hand on his heart, feeling it's rapid beating, threatening to burst out of his chest. After all these years, why was he still so afraid of him?
He felt unsettled as he walked in the brisk night air. Every movement made him jump, every unexpected sound from the shadows made him cringe in fear. He felt ridiculous and embarrassed. He was a grown man, for goodness' sake! He had grown tall and strong like his father, capable of swinging an axe and felling a tree with nary a thought. He was no longer a tiny child afraid of what lurked in the darkness.
And yet he couldn't stop his heart from racing, feeling like a thousand eyes were trained on him from the shadows.
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