Rituals, Regrets, and Really Dumb People

Chapter 10: Reinhardt's Sons, Part 1

Corbin had always been an odd fellow. He'd been the third to join us after Reinhardt and I came up with the ideal of making a tyrannical kingdom on the north side of the Carcer all those years ago. Corbin and I were both young men back then, in our early twenties, and were filled with the vim and vigor of dastardly deeds to be done. We'd fought together side-by-side, pillaged many an upstart village, and were ardent followers of Reinhardt's word.

Corbin did not have the knack for the arcane like Reinhardt and I did—had. He was very much like Dimitri. While I know Dimitri's origins and motivations now, in retrospect, Corbin's origins were far more—underwhelming. Corbin was, if anything, a college drop out who cared little for improving his lot in life. He didn't strive for money or women, he cared little outside appeasing Reinhardt when he was the old sorcerer's lackey. The only thing he excelled at, far and beyond, was the art of the spear.

And he was damn good at it too.

I'd put him on par with Dimitri for a normal man in terms of deadliness and procession. He'd killed many with his work with the sword, but far greater was his skill in the spear. He took to it better than rifles and pistols and explosives, he never could learn even the most basic of sorcery, and he seemed to thrive off of the thrill of up-close combat. This all changed when Reinhardt died.

I only remember talking to him once after I had killed Reinhardt, and the only things he had to say to me was that Meredith would leave me and that I'd never be the leader or man that Reinhardt was. From there, we never spoke again, and he traveled out east, never to be heard from again. Well, until today.

"Barkeep, beer," Corbin said, looking at me and Lil with his stern green eyes. He did not like that we had intruded upon his getaway. "One, please."

"No beer for us?" I asked.

Corbin said nothing to it, the corner of his lips curling down. Okay, so I guess he still harbored ill-will towards me. It was to be expected.

"Corbin, I—"

"No, you will listen to me, first," he said. Oh, we were hitting it off well enough now. "Barkeep, beer."

"I'm coming," the barkeep muttered in annoyance. When he eventually came over, he sat the clay cup down for Corbin. "Here."

"Pitcher, please."

"Pitcher? Really? On the job?"

"Pitcher, I said."

"Wait, what is your job?" I asked the gloomy dark blond man. "You a bouncer?"

"Town constable," the barkeep answered for Corbin as he brought over the beer pitcher. "He sits here a lot of time though and just keeps to himself. Don't have much in the way of troublemakers."

"I like the peace, what can I say?" Corbin added.

"Well, I mean, it's good that you have a job you—uh—like." I would be complimentary, that'd help.

"Who's the lady?" Corbin asked. "New woman for you? Meredith finally leave?"

I clutched my hands tight and I looked from side-to-side to make sure no one was around. Once the barkeep left, I leaned across the table and told Corbin exactly what I thought. "Meredith did leave, ya happy you were right?"

"Yeah," he said in a nonchalant tone. "Told you she was going to chew you up and spit you out."

"She left with Typhous—"

"Ho. Wait, wait, hold up." He leaned back, bunched up his face and barked a loud, mocking laugh. He soon quit it, returned to his hateful gaze, and picked up his beer. "Get out of my town before I brain you with my staff. I don't tolerate tinpot cultists and lackeys to the Dark anymore."