That had been good.
Relaxing.
Normal.
It had almost felt like home.
Almost.
The moment I drew that sword and laid eyes on it, I knew what was coming. It was established. Tradition. Inescapable when me and Fred were together and that topic came up.
Maybe the banter lasted too long. Maybe it wasn’t the right place for it.
But damn, I needed that moment. That one, fleeting second of levity.
To disconnect from everything that had happened today.
To reset.
I’ll never tell Fred this, but I am thankful for his presence. He’d never let me hear the end of it.
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Hah.
That would be a long, drawn-out exchange of banter. Even longer than this one.
He’s always been difficult to shut up once he gets going.
I’m actually the only person I remember being able to do it.
Heh.
Well, that’s that, then.
This whole thing proved something to me.
There was a decision that needed to be made.
For my survival.
To ensure Fred didn’t get me killed mid-battle.
Laughing while fighting is a good way to lose your edge.
God, I hate fighting.
Last resort of the wise.
And I always tried to be in that category.
But this isn’t Earth anymore.
I can’t avoid fighting by relying on institutions that leverage personal security for power and control.
Here, I’m never given a choice.
Not when mad goddesses with cryptic instructions demand my attention.
Not when shadow-warped rats lunge for my throat.
Not when orcs don’t even try to talk before they go straight for the kill.
No.
Survival is paramount.
And that means one thing…
I grit my teeth.
“I’ll never wield an orc sword again.”
- ? What happened the moment Rick picked up that sword?
- ? Why does he regret it enough to swear off orc weapons entirely?
- ? What did Fred do to make him seriously consider survival contingencies?
?? to witness the full story unfold.
made his decision. But that doesn’t mean Fred will let him forget it.
Some things are unavoidable. Some things are inescapable.
And Fred?
Fred is relentless.
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