"If Japeth had truly known Aric, he'd know that much about Aric. He'd know not to be so damn weak."
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Chapter 12 To Be Weak
For a long while, Krushem somehow couldn't bring himself to unfold that piece of tattered paper as if whatever was written on there was meant to be kept a secret.
He wasn't meant to find that paper. To read it. And yet he had found that paper and stuffed it in his pocket because his curiosity was too great to ignore.
He'd stuffed it in his pocket and carried it with him all the way away from the schools. Daybreak arrived but Krushem was too tired to carry on any further, so he set up camp in the woods.
But curled up beneath the trees and staring up at the night sky, Krushem couldn't sleep. His insomnia emerged once more, leaving Krushem's thoughts racing.
Eventually, the urge to read that letter became too much for Krushem to bear and he snatched it out of his pocket. When he unfolded it with trembling hands, his gaze flitted over the scratchy handwriting and his gaze lingered at the bottom of the page. The letter was signed from "Aric."
Krushem inhaled sharply and his chest heaved.
The writing was scratchy and yet intelligible and elegant in its own way as if Aric had taken great care to write this. It was as if Aric had poured his whole heart into this letter.
"Dear Japeth..." Krushem read aloud to himself, clutching the letter with both hands tightly as if to brace to himself for what he'd read next. "I remember when we used to sit on the steps in front of school just talking. The blueberries we'd eat. The smile you'd give me. The way you scooted closer to me like you needed me..."
The further Krushem read, the more his heart sank deeper and deeper in his chest as he came to the realization that Aric and Japeth were indeed far more than just "friends." It went far deeper than friendship. Far deeper than blood.
"We were together," Krushem continued, feeling his emotions attempt to betray him, but he steeled himself, struggling to remain composed. Boys don't cry. "Together before your idiotic brother gave me no choice. You knew I couldn't just stand there and let him push you around like that. I gave Rhian what he deserved."
There was the Aric Krushem knew. The Aric who showed no mercy. The Aric who did the things he believed was right to him, even if it meant bringing harm to others.
But then..."I did it to protect you. To protect us because Japeth you are my friend and I would've done anything for you. In a heartbeat, always."
As Krushem read on, his mind flitted in the distance to a memory of when he'd heard Aric crying out for Japeth, being as vulnerable as he could ever be. Krushem still wanted to deny it. To deny the fact that Aric could ever care about someone as much as he cared about killing his mother of torturing others. Krushem didn't wanna believe that Aric could ever care about anyone over him.
This letter wasn't some innocent note written to Japeth. No, this letter was full of meaning. It was a letter to the boy Aric cared about above all else, the boy he was willing to let go of in order to be strong; "I have to be strong or I'll never move on from you. That's why I'm letting you go, Japeth..."
Krushem felt a surge of anger overcome him, an anger he couldn't quench and he felt his fingers clench as he tore the letter in half.
If this letter was to be believed, then Aric was indeed not a monster. That's a belief Krushem had always held onto at the school for Boys as well as afterwards, but this letter also meant Aric and Japeth's friendship or relationship or whatever the heck it was went far deeper than Krushem himself wanted to admit.
Krushem kicked the torn pieces of letter away and shunned the spot he'd once laid in in an attempt to sleep. He would get no sleep tonight—not until he had a drink or a few.
It was times like these where Krushem found himself drinking a drink or two. He told himself he would just drink enough to feel the buzz he wanted, but two drinks turned into three and then four and then five and so on until Krushem couldn't collect his memories of before he blacked out. When he did that, he usually awoke outside pubs or on the sides of roads, only rarely ever finding his way back to his makeshift camp.
He was lucky he hadn't been robbed or injured during his occasional blackouts, but Krushem liked to think he was pretty adapt at avoiding being caught in bad situations.
Krushem had already drank that whole whiskey bottle a few hours ago, but the numbness he'd felt from having consumed that wasn't enough to chase away the unwanted thoughts plaguing Krushem's mind.
So despite his tired state, Krushem gathered his belongings as well as Aric's whip and mounted his horse before riding onwards. He soon came across a quaint looking building and as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, Krushem tied his horse to a pole outside before entering into the building.
It more of an eatery place than a bar with families packed into the dining area. A woman was cradling a baby in her arms, struggling to soothe it while two young boys were throwing food at each other, squealing all the while until their father scolded them.
Krushem didn't wanna be there any longer than he had to so he quickly ordered a bottle of beer and as soon as he got it, he paid up and hurried to leave, only to stop when he overheard two men talking.
"Aye, people say King Rhian wants to burn all the rulers' rings. Ever heard about that man becoming pen mumbo jumbo? It's a load of crack if you ask me," one man said, cackling.
"We'll, that One True King thing ain't such a bad idea, man," the second man responded. "With the pen's abilities, you can rule the damn woods and no one would ever stand up to you. If it's true what they say, then King Rhian won't just be king of Camelot, he'll be king of us all."
But Krushem paid the two men no more mind and stepped outside, shrugging their words off as just rumor. When it came to the discussion of kings and whatnot, most of it was just gossip anyway.
With his drink in hand, Krushem led his horse into the trees where he settled down on a rock and started to drink, welcoming the burning, rancid taste of it.
Krushem didn't know how long it took him to drink the beer, but soon enough he fell asleep and when he awoke cradling the empty beer bottle in his hand, he found it was past early morning.
Krushem figured it'd be best to not waste anymore time, so he mounted his horse and started his journey back towards Camelot.
It wasn't long before Krushem arrived to his destination, and he dismounted his horse and secured this horse to a tree before heading into the Camelot village.
In the daytime, the Camelot village was bigger than Krushem realized. When he first arrived at the edge of the woods at night to meet Japeth, Krushem hadn't much paid any mind to his surroundings. Besides, it'd been far too dark to take in all the houses lining the road.
But here and now standing on the road leading to the Camelot palace, Krushem surveyed the houses built from stone and wood. Some Villagers stood alongside the road, selling stuff ranging from cheap golden lion masks to fake wooden swords.
A wooden cart pulled by a horse clambered past Krushem, the driver shouting one thing or the other. A few other people were cheering, waving Camelot flags in support of some figure called "The Lion."
Seeing the villagers' oddly pristine clothing clean of grime and dirt and ranging between different colors, Krushem felt suddenly exposed in his attire which consisted of tight black breeches, heavy black boots, a sleeveless black shirt, and a heavy hooded cloak, red as blood.
To many people, Krushem might look like a damn assassin. Trying his best to be discreet, Krushem pulled his hood over his head and kept on the road, heading closer and closer towards the Camelot Palace.
He wondered where Japeth even was. But he knew it couldn't be that hard to find him given he was the Liege of Camelot.
So Krushem left the village behind him as he drew towards the palace. The drawbridge leading into the palace was down and there were only four guards posted at the walls as far as Krushem could tell.
But the guards didn't stop anyone from heading straight through the gate and Krushem slipped into the crowd that was bustling into the courtyard, blending in the best he could.
The courtyard was lined with stone fountains and marble statues depicting mighty lions, and while some of the people in the crowd started to veer towards the most impressive of the statues, Krushem slipped away into a side door.
He found himself in a narrow passageway. He followed the passageway along until it opened up into a roomy hallway whose walls were decorated with golden and blue Camelot banners. Krushem pushed through another door at the end of the hallway and entered into a room. He immediately knew as soon as he entered into the room that this room was the soldiers' quarters with its numerous beds made up with linen sheets and its smell of sweat and blood.
The soldiers' quarters of any kingdom would always be particularly placed close to the castle. If any intruders or attack happened to target the castle, then the soldiers would be close enough to protect the royals or flee from the castle if they absolutely needed to.
Krushem knew all this from his time of training to be a soldier back in Altazzara. During his soldier training at Altazzara Academy, Krushem had been taught the ins and outs of the palace. The soldier quarters were always placed in a way that soldiers could easily fend off attacks if needed coming from within the castle or outside it. That also meant the armory was always close by to the soldiers' quarters so soldiers could easily be prepared and arm themselves if necessary.
Krushem found that the soldiers' quarters were entirely empty as he made his way through the room. Perhaps the soldiers and guardsmen were busy with the crowd out in the courtyard. Besides, When it came to inviting newcomers into the palace let alone a whole crowd, then there would naturally be an increase in patrols and lookouts.
Krushem managed to navigate his way through the Camelot palace quite easily despite the fact he'd never been here before. The layout of Camelot palace was much like the Altazzara palace except for the fact no church resided within the castle walls of the Camelot palace.
Nonetheless, Krushem made his way further and further along until he reached a set of heavy golden doors. The doors were engraved with lions, which Krushem came to realize was a common symbol here in Camelot.
These doors were massive and wide, imposing even. But As Krushem stepped towards them, a soldier standing post on the left stepped up to intercept him, thrusting out his spear to block Krushem's path.
"State your business, sir," the soldier said, eyeing Krushem through his golden helmet. "The throne room is currently being occupied by his majesty, King Rhian Pendragon and the delegates of surrounding kingdoms. You may not pass unless you are a delegate yourself."
"I was looking for his liege, Sir Japeth," Krushem informed the guard, taking a step back. "I—"
That's when the guard on the right stepped forward and snatched the spear from the first guard's hand, his voice oddly familiar as he said; "It's all good. He's wit me. I'll take care of em."
The man's voice was scratchy, and it was obvious he was trying to hide his true accent behind a fake one. But then Krushem glimpsed the guard's remaining hooked hand and he recognized this guard as the very same pirate who he met at Kewinsky's Bar two nights ago.
The pirate grabbed ahold of Krushem's wrist and started to tug him away from the throne room doors, his metal tipped boots clinking on the porcelain floors. But Krushem wasn't one to be man handled and he ripped his wrist free from the pirate's grip to shoot the pirate a withering glare.
"Yer supposed to be discreet bout this," the pirate told Krushem, shaking his head. "Yer business wit Japeth ain't no one's business but yer own. The king no needs to know, got that?"
That once again confirmed Krushem's suspicion that Japeth had indeed hired him to steal Aric's whip behind his brother's back for some reason or the other. But how in the hell was Krushem supposed to know where to go to find Japeth in this golden hellhole?
Every inch of the Camelot palace was a stark reminder of the home Krushem had left behind. While the Altazzara palace and Camelot palace were quite similar to one another in terms of layout, the Camelot village was also similar to the Altazzara village, bustling with life and scents.
It almost made a pang of longing stab at Krushem's heart—almost. He'd become good at pushing away his emotions, at not feeling much of anything at all. Plus, the alcohol was a big help with that.
Aric had told Krushem once upon a time that emotions were weak and they wouldn't get him anywhere in the end. Krushem had held onto that advice for a long while now, and it had helped him all this time.
Loving was weak. Aric had loved Japeth and that had made him weak, he'd said it himself in that damn letter. Aric had done everything in his power to be strong, to be tough, and he had been. He'd been the monster everyone had feared. He'd been the leader Krushem looked up to at the School for Boys, a leader he had followed all that time because he believed in Aric and he still believed in Aric and always would.
Aric would never let himself be manhandled or ordered about. He would smirk and stand tall, as imposing as ever.
So that is exactly what Krushem did. He plastered a smirk upon his face and straightened, squaring his shoulders as he met the pirate's gaze. "Don't you ever touch me like that again," He warned him, his tone biting before he watched the pirate warily take a step back.
"Now," Krushem said, crossing his arms. "Take me to your employer."
The pirate didn't say another word before he led Krushem away from the throne room, but not before whispering to another Camelot guard who was obviously also a fellow pirate given his dirtied face.
Krushem and the pirate traveled further and further away from the throne room until Krushem found that they had arrived back where he'd began in the palace courtyard.
This time though, the crowd was gathered at the opposite end of the courtyard where a tall wooden stage had been constructed. The wooden stage was framed by billowing satin curtains in the back, and the pirate led Krushem up a set of back stairs before he gestured past the curtain with his shiny hook.
Krushem's gaze followed the direction he pointed, and that's when he landed his sights upon two people standing on the stage as the audience below watched them.
Krushem halted in the corner of the backstage to get a better glimpse of the show. He watched as Japeth himself stood upon the stage, tall and proud. He was standing over a boy who looked battered. Facedown at Japeth's god awful shiny golden boots, the boy struggled to rise his head but two armored guards pinned him down.
The crowd was loving every second of it. That was clear to Krushem by the way the crowd was hollering, cheering Japeth on as Japeth announced that this boy was a Camelot fraud and would need to be punished with "the perfect whip."
Then, Japeth seemed to sense he was being watched from the shadows and his gaze flickered over to where Krushem stood at the back of the stage, quiet and brooding.
The so called "Camelot fraud" was struggling against his chains, about to get up from his bowed position, but Japeth struck his foot out and kicked him back down. For a moment, Krushem's gaze remained glued on the boy as he strained at his chains and for a moment, Krushem recalled Leroy chained up. Aric had been standing over Leroy as Leroy cried, silently begging for mercy that wouldn't be granted.
Japeth didn't seem to be conflicted knowing he was about to torture a boy. Instead, he seemed giddy. His footsteps were sure and steady as he drew towards Krushem, and Krushem felt his fingertips curl around the whip nestled in the folds of his cloak.
"Did you get it?" Japeth asked, and Krushem almost didn't want to hand the damn thing over.
But Krushem needed the money. It didn't matter that this whip belonged to the boy that Krushem had followed. It didn't matter that Krushem had watched Aric whip thousands of boys and Japeth probably hadn't.
This was a business transaction. Nothing more.
"Just as you asked, Sir Japeth," Krushem replied, internally wincing at the fact he'd even address Japeth with such respect. "I found it in the Exhibition of Evil just where you said it'd be. The only thing I couldn't find was his old dagger. We can only suspect it must've been buried with him when he died."
Krushem's gaze dropped from Japeth's face to Japeth's hands as Japeth trailed his fingers over the leather of Aric's whip. There was an expression upon Japeth's face that Krushem didn't like; it was the look of a boy who'd just been given a great gift, the look of someone who'd found something they'd been searching for for so long.
"Thank you, Krushem," Japeth said. He sounded breathless as if he could barely believe that he had finally gotten ahold of Aric's treasured whip, but his thanks only made a flare of anger burn in Krushem's gut. Krushem hated how joyous Japeth looked, how naive he seemed as he touched Aric's whip with such care.
Tearing off his hood was all Krushem could do to keep himself from lashing out at Japeth. But when Japeth's icy blue gaze lifted to meet Krushem's, Krushem struggled to remain composed.
As naive as Japeth ever was, he of course didn't take notice of Krushem's struggle to not explode. Japeth's copper hair bristled in the breeze as he tipped his head to Krushem in what Krushem figured was meant to be a gesture of respect (as half assed as it was).
Japeth said, "I'll be sure to repay you in gold" before Krushem hurried to go, knowing that if he stayed there any second longer, he would surely reach his limit.
But suddenly, Japeth spoke again and Krushem found himself stopping, hearing Aric's name; "You knew him—Aric."
It was a statement, telling Krushem that Japeth full well knew he indeed followed Aric back at the School for Boys. But Japeth had already known that.
Somehow, Krushem found himself turning back, jerking his head up and down in response. "I followed him at the School for Boys—until the trial went bad," he told Japeth.
For the first time, Krushem glimpsed a flash of pain in Japeth's gaze as if the reminder of Aric gave him such sorrow.
"I'd just like to know..." Japeth began, his chilly voice surprisingly softening a few octaves. "Did he ever mention me at all?"
Krushem found his mouth was suddenly dry, and he drew his tongue over his lips to get some moisture back into them. An image flashed in his mind, an image of Aric himself, clad in his school boy's uniform, whip in hand.
Krushem couldn't recall how many times he'd stay in the Doom Room watching Aric whip boys and torture them, punishing them anyway he possibly could. It was sickening to Krushem at first. He'd once hated every bit of it but then somehow he started to enjoy it. Perhaps he even enjoyed it as much as Aric enjoyed it.
Aric was darkness itself. He was sadistic and cruel. That'd been his strength for as long as Krushem had known him.
But the letter....the way Aric had pleaded for Japeth when he wasn't even there to begin with. It was wrong. It went against everything Aric had instilled into Krushem.
Did Japeth know how weak he'd made Aric? Did he know Aric's darkness—truly?
Realizing he'd been standing there without a word, Krushem snapped out of it, scratching the back of his head. "Not directly," he told Japeth, pausing. If Japeth knew how weak Aric had been, would he let him go? Would Japeth set Aric free without hesitation? "But...Once, I heard him locked up in his room...screaming your name...H—he was begging for you not to leave him again. When I got in there, he acted like everything was fine with him. But I swear I saw the residue of a potion lying beside him."
Would Japeth decipher the meaning behind Krushem's words? Would he realize that he indeed had held Aric back, had weakened him?
Krushem could've lied. He could've said Aric had missed Japeth and had even written a letter to him, but that would only serve to make Japeth hold on even tighter to Aric.
"What was the potion?" Japeth wondered instead of asking why Aric would even be begging for him. It was as if Japeth was not the least bit surprised that Aric of all people would beg. But then again, their relationship went deeper than Krushem knew.
""It was an offensive potion I believe," Krushem responded, recalling the broken glass he'd seen scattered on the floor of Aric's room that day. "The students at the School for Boys learned about this one potion they could use against girls and make em see the person they desired most or something like that."
Krushem could see the wheels in Japeth's head turning as he struggled to comprehend what was being said. Krushem went on; "My guess is is that Aric used it for himself and he saw you—a hallucination of sorts."
Krushem waited to see the realization dawn on Japeth's face. He waited for the copper haired boy to come to the epiphany that it'd be best to let go of Aric, not hold onto him. Aric had let Japeth go. That was evident by the letter Krushem read, and yet if he told Japeth Aric had let him go, he doubted Japeth would even believe him.
But still...Krushem had to try something. He needed Japeth to know Aric was weak for having held onto Japeth for however long he had. Aric was better than that. Aric was powerful and great, and he had deserved someone who was truly loyal to him.
"Look," Krushem began, staring into Japeth's icy blue gaze. "Aric had a lot of darkness in him, a lot of hate..."
It was true. Aric had inflicted so much suffering upon those around him. He'd shown no ounce of mercy. At first Krushem resisted Aric. He'd resisted Aric's ways, thinking them unjust. But Krushem knew Aric was just doing the best he could to bring order to the School for Boys. Aric just didn't want to be weak, and he showed Krushem that he didn't have to be weak either.
"And I think that's what consumed him in the end," Krushem continued, lost in a time in which he had followed Aric, doing everything in his power to please the Sadist but never getting anything in return. "The time I knew him, he was so hell bent on killing his mother and beating anyone who dared stand up to him—"
He was just fine without you. He didn't need you. He let you go! Krushem wanted to shout, but Japeth cut him off before he could say any of that, his tone harsh; "I don't believe that. You didn't know him like I did. Nobody knew him like I did."
Krushem's thoughts were clouded with anger. He wanted to smack Japeth, to retaliate any way he possibly could. Japeth and Aric had eaten damn blueberries together, had "talked" to each other and Japeth had even needed Aric to protect him from his own blood. How idiotic and weak was that?
Meanwhile, Krushem had tortured with Aric, had seen Aric's darkness laid bare. Krushem would've done anything for Aric. Could Japeth say the same?
But lashing out would do Krushem no good, he knew. It would only complicate things further so he held his tongue and steadied his shaking fists.
"I don't doubt that," Krushem blurted, too stubborn to believe his own words. He saw Japeth's expression morph into a look of aloofness, and it reminded Krushem of Aric's facial expression, So much so that Krushem felt a sliver of yearning claw at his heart. "I—I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am."
The last thing Krushem had wanted was to apologize, especially to Japeth. But most of all, he hadn't meant to sound so...so sympathetic.
If Japeth had sensed Krushem's sympathy, he didn't show it because his blue gaze blazed and his gaze burned into Krushem, as hot as fire. "How can you know anything of my grief?" He snapped.
Krushem found himself shaking his head as if he indeed knew nothing of the grief Japeth supposedly felt. That grief of Japeth's was something Krushem would never be able to feel himself. Feeling nothing was better. To grieve was to be weak.
If Japeth had truly known Aric, he'd know that much about Aric. He'd know not to be so damn weak.
Instead of saying anything more, Krushem feigned a smile before he backed away from the boy Aric had called a "friend."
Krushem felt Japeth's gaze seer into him as he turned to find a different pirate waiting for him. Through the pirate's armored helmet, his sunburnt face peered back as he thrust a hefty sack of gold into Krushem's hands.
Krushem shoved the sack into his pocket before he made his way back through the courtyard and through the Camelot gates. He was about to leave Camelot behind entirely until he glimpsed a shop on the side of the road within the village, the sign indicating it was a messenger shop.
Krushem hadn't found Aric's dagger at the School for Evil. He'd told Japeth that the dagger must've been buried with Aric when he died, but there had to be some way to get ahold of Aric's dagger.
Krushem knew Aric was buried somewhere on Necro Ridge thanks to an obituary he'd read one time, but Necro Ridge was the burial place for hundreds if not thousands of infamous villains. It'd take forever to find Aric's grave there without a map or some help at least.
Krushem hadn't heard from Balleng or Armeq since they parted ways in Altazzara months ago, but he knew Armeq would at least help him (Balleng might've helped too except Krushem wasn't particularly fond of Balleng's incompetent attitude).
So Krushem slipped into the messenger shop. He found some parchment paper and an ink quill before he wrote down all Armeq needed to know; that Krushem needed help locating Aric's grave and that he had camp set up in the woods east of Kewinsky's Bar.
Then, Krushem sent the letter out with a carrier pigeon, and started for the exit of the shop just as the shopkeeper realized he'd been robbed.
"Hey you! Stop!" The shopkeeper called after him, but Krushem was already out the door.
By the time the shopkeeper had darted out of the shop, chasing after Krushem, Krushem had already mounted his horse before riding off, leaving the shopkeeper behind in the dust.
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Sorry for the wait!
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—Alexis Peters ❤️