The harps of angels could be heard as Kyle poked his head out of the closest outhouse he could find. He heard the chuckles of his co-workers as he exited and got back to his designated post, realizing that this must be some kind of regular reaction from newbies. Or worse to think about it, a regular reaction from the less hardy and manly of the bunch. Kyle claimed to have some skill in magic and knife fighting, but he knew he wasn't what anybody would call "jacked". He was lithe and limber, and not at all suited for this. Despite this, Kyle wouldn't whine, suppressing all of his annoyance towards these people within himself. Well, other than Ron. As hours passed and Ron continued to be encouraging about pushing Kyle to his limits, the man's opinion on Ron started to shift slowly.
Ron was a bulky idiot with the only thoughts in his head being of keeping morale up and ensuring that everybody was doing their job. He did this in a way that wasn't par for the course for a work boss, though. "Don't slack, boy! Work hard so you can go to the bar in Rush Valley, get a stiff drink, a good fuck, and a long night's rest! Your muscles will scream, but you'll be happy that you pushed yourself!", Ron would protest, noting Kyle's faltering stamina and shaky legs. "Keep pushing yourself! Your parents may have been all cushy with you in yer life, but I'll reform you into something else!", Ron would continue. "Believe in what little power you have, ye hear? If you can't, you'll never get a raise! Moreover, you'll never get married and have a family! You'll stay single forever.", Ron would scold.
As day slowly turned to night, Kyle still taking notes of the various mining outcrops as time passed, he thought of his family. Not of Tomoe or of HER world, but for a brief moment, his family. Down in humble Marigold. A father who would ignore his existence while studying magic and was absent more often than not on expeditions, and a mother who scolded him as an underachieving layabout. Both viewed their son as a cog in a greater machine, and neither cared for him, ultimately. Being told about his lazy nature growing up, he never tried once he realized he wasn't chosen for greatness like others were.
Ron reminded him of something akin to what he once wanted to be. Somebody strong and unafraid of the world. Somebody devoted to their beliefs and deciding above all else that they couldn't compromise on their vision. Even if Ron was a simple foreman, he had the drive of someone more valuable than anyone else, Kyle thought.
That's why, when Kyle delved into farther depths of Dawncliff Mine late at night, searching for some more valuable ore deposits for his employer in Rush Valley, he had a gut feeling he was being watched. After finding a variety of shiny rocks that almost made up a rainbow in their brilliance in one unassuming corner of the caverns, he knew his suspicions were correct when he heard a stomping footstep erupt from a few meters behind him. "What do you think you're doing here, Winger?", the voice would boom as a light shone.
Kyle whipped around to see Ron, arms crossed and wearing a mining helmet with a lacrima attached for light. He held a stern expression as he glared at his subordinate, waiting for an answer patiently.
"I, uh... well, you see, I'm..."
"Gaining some ground for another employer? That prick in Rush Valley again, I take it? Always sending people out here... hey, Kyle, you know he's trying to take our jobs, yeah? If he does what he wants, we're all out of work and he takes all the profits."
Kyle would nod his head in acknowledgement.
"So why? Is it money? Is money all it is?"
Again, a nod of the head. "Just business.", Kyle muttered without making eye contact, head down.
"Kyle, I..."
Ron turned away for a second, shaking with rage. He was a working man trying to provide for his family, and knew no other life than one of labor. No talent for magic or for battle, no other path than to support others at simple manual labor in order to support himself. After a life of toiling away and honing himself to become a master of labor, a profession not so noble to the public eye, his reward was to see the greedy try to tear it all down. He was furious, and turning back towards Kyle, made it clear.
"You seemed like an alright guy, but I guess you were just scum in the end.", Ron would say, cracking his knuckles, stepping forward, and letting loose a right hook to Kyle's face.
Years of labor and training, honing his body to become a tool only for mining and to be the most durable among all his peers. Working many mining operations, Ron was the epitome of both charisma and efficiency among anybody who he ever worked with. That was the life he lead. That was his entire purpose. And so, to channel the frustration against the greedy nobility who spat on laborers and charged them next to nothing for their work, and unleashing all that feral rage out on Kyle as the sole receptor...
"Was that all?"
Silence overtook Dawncliff Cave. Kyle had taken the hit to the side of his face, leaving a slight bruise, but not sending him spiraling back the way it at first looked like it would. Even Kyle was a little surprised, but the sting in his cheeks was overpowering the shock. It was as if Ron had tried to punch a boulder - there was no chance of a break. Kyle looked up at Ron with hate in his eyes, boiling over and building to a crescendo as he reciprocated the attack with one of his own.
Kyle swept towards Ron's legs with a kick, which shattered the foreman's bones on impact and sent him to the ground. Ron would cry out in pain and agony, looking up at the agent of the rich. The symbol of all that was wrong with the world. He saw, for a moment, a devil. Afterwards, he saw a man. And one final breath later, he saw a man who was...
"Ah, I get it now. The gloomy expressions. The lack of work ethic. Above all, that look of yours right now. You're..."
Smash.
With a single fist, Kyle had crushed Ron's head into paste on the earthen floor. It was strength that flowed, yet he remained ignorant to it, assuming it was a burst of adrenaline. He couldn't be somebody so durable. So ruthless. So emotionless. Yes, at the very least, he knew that last one wasn't true.
He knew it wasn't true because the water that fell now in a cavern from which rain couldn't enter, meant it could only be him shedding tears.
It made no sense to do so. He'd known this man for a day. Yet to Kyle, it felt as if it had been the majority of his life. He felt emotion as if feeling it for the first time, and had no idea what it meant. His chest ached as if fit to burst, and there were no words he could use to describe this feeling. None, save a handful.
"I'm sorry. I'm... sorry...", he squeaked out through tears, though didn't know why the death of a man he'd known for a day had resonated with him so strongly. "You're right. You were right. I'm..."
Kyle struggled to his feet, shaky and uncertain. He stumbled out of the cave, leaving Ron's corpse there to be found by workers tomorrow. Any witnesses that lingered as he made his exit were also dealt with, allowing nobody to trace it back to him. Or at least, he hoped nobody would figure it out. He took the information that he had compiled on Dawncliff Mine's profitable outcrops and gave it to his employer in Rush Valley, doing so all without a hint of satisfaction on his face. He politely accepted his reward money and found a bar in town to spend the night at before returning to meet up with Tomoe.
Don't slack, boy! Work hard so you can go to the bar in Rush Valley, get a stiff drink, a good fuck, and a long night's rest! Your muscles will scream, but you'll be happy that you pushed yourself!
The words would echo in Kyle's mind as he sat down after ordering a drink. After finishing a single mug and not a drop more, no happiness on his face at all, he'd retire to his room for the night. Laying down in bed, he'd listen to rain downpour outside for hours on end, thinking. He knew that, if anything, he'd accomplished his job for the night. Back to work tomorrow. Still, his mind lingered on the image of Ron's death. His mind processed the foreman's words one after another, one after another, again and again and again, always on repeat, looping in his head. Why did he care so much? There was nothing to care for, knowing this person for a single day and killing him at the end of it. It was the same as usual. Business as usual. Nothing more.
"I'm...", Kyle would mutter to himself, needing to acknowledge it to make it a reality. He needed to say openly what Ron was going to, if he would ever find sleep tonight. "I'm weak. Fragmented. There's not a single thing about me that amounts to anything more than the henchman of another, a sorry excuse of a lackey. There isn't a single fucking thing I can do right other than follow orders, and... and I won't be able to stop myself in the future. I'm not meant to be more than that."
He would mutter such things to himself in bed, over and over, for hours. He twisted and turned with ideas, but eventually succumbed to sleep. There was nothing else for it. However, the final thought before sleep finally took him was...
But if I could, for a moment, imagine a better life... is Tomoe's path the correct one, if it brings about this kind of despair along the way? And if it ever got to that point... could I decide a better path? Do I have that right? I...
But that was enough for one night. With that, Kyle had fallen asleep in a relatively comfortable inn room in Rush Valley.
WC: 2,500/2,500
- EXIT -