Devil's tale

Devil's tale chapter 20

"Do you think Mormir deserved to die?" Avarice asked.

"Yeah." Jazz said simply, looking up from his romance-novel.

"No." Emily said hesitantly.

"What about you?" Jazz asked.

Avarice sighed. "I killed him. I never thought I'd ever have to take someone's life, yet looking back, there was no other way that could have ended. I think he deserved death, but I also think he deserved peace."

"You're not gonna spend the whole trip moping about it, are you?" Jazz asked.

"Killing someone is not something one gets over easily." Emily protested, giving Jazz an accusing look.

"No, and I doubt I'll be over it any time soon." Avarice said.

"At least you're open about it." Jazz pointed out.

"Keeping it bottled up does me no favours. It's better to let it motivate me to move forward." Avarice stood up and looked back towards the west.

"You said earlier you wanted revolution. What did you mean by that?" Emily asked.

"Until now, I've just wanted to run and escape, but there's still people back home I need to help. Mistakes I need to correct. I need to restore the college I helped bring down. I'll return someday and free Roland." He declared.

"Says the guy currently high-tailing it for the boarder." Jazz said.

"I'm not running! It's a- a tactical retreat!" Avarice insisted.

Emily giggled. "Sure it is." She said.

Avarice crossed his arms, sat down and pouted. Jazz began working on dinner. Using a metal pot from the supplies given to him and the minstrel way back in Galliard's village, he cooked up some foraged vegetables. He swore constantly as he worked, only able to use his left arm. His cursing usually prompted an indignant "Language!" or something of the sort from Emily, until finally, she stood up and went over to Jazz to help him cook.

"I'm fine on my own." The goblin insisted.

"No you're not. Let me help you."

"I'm sorry miss miracle, but just because I've only got one arm, doesn't make me helpless."

"No, it makes you crippled, and there's no shame in that! Let me help."

"Avarice! Tell her I'm fine on my own!" Jazz wined.

Avarice smirked. "She's got a point, pall."

Jazz rolled his eyes with a desperate sigh. "So this is what being a third wheel feels like... Fine, first thing you'll want to do is salt the carrots." He now addressed Emily, who clumsily took a pinch of salt and lightly sprinkled it over the pan. Jazz rolled his eyes. "That wasn't nearly enough, have you ever even cooked before?"

"Not really..." Emily said, fiddling her thumbs shyly.

"Then why ask to help-? Wait! Don't tell me. It's because you just have to help, isn't it?" The goblin asked in a satirical tone.

"Um, yes. Your point being?" Emily asked. Avarice couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, or just oblivious.

"Fine. Then get a larger pinch of salt and apply it slowly while I stir." Jazz said.

Cooking continued for at least another half-hour, with Emily constantly asking questions on the correct way to do things. Her eyes were always full of an enthusiastic look of wanting to help and to learn, and Avarice couldn't help but wonder if he'd been the same when he'd first met Jazz. He certainly remembered a couple of times where he'd tried to help the bandit with something he had no skill in, and Jazz had shot him down angrily. This time around however, Jazz's frustration stopped a lot faster and soon enough, he was, to Avarice's pleasant surprise, patiently explaining to Emily the details of cooking. Maybe it was because he'd been through this song and dance with the devil before that he eased up so quickly.