Sailors filed past Tobias down the ramp as he stared down at Vincent. They hurried toward shelter, the loud tavern a welcome sight after nearly three months at sea. As Harle passed him, she stopped and offered a kind smile. "Thanks for getting us to Raiaera in one piece, Stalt," she told him. "We might not see each other again, but good luck in your endeavors."
He nodded, but Tobias did not look away from Vincent nor did he smile. "Enjoy Raiaera, Miss Harle. It is a very different land from Dehlos. Gold is not a god to them. You will find necessity, not greed rules in this land." She nodded quietly as she shuffled past and left the two men to their awkward staring match. "I did not expect to see you in Beinost," the Dehlosian replied finally when they were alone. "I explicitly intended not to."
The wind howled. Lightning streaked between dark clouds, and the sky opened. A deluge ravaged both men before Tobias broke the silence again. "When I left," he stated over the storm, "I knew that the Hierarchy could not stop the chaos. I thought magic was the corruption that ate away at men, and that your methods would only serve to exacerbate the problem."
Both his arms rested at his sides, and Tobias made no movement to reach for weapons. His eyes moved over Vincent thoughtfully, and he considered the apparel that his old friend chose. It was strange, in a way. "In Kebiras, I came to understand that the scope of my hate was narrow. With that weakness, I became no different from the root of the problem- and it was a problem I was blind to. I could not see beyond what I wanted to see."
One hand rose, peeled back the hood, and fell once more. His hair had grown to shoulder length, messy and plastered down by the rain. All trace of kindness and joy had left his expression, which now looked harder than trueforged steel. His eyes remained the same regal golden color, but lacked all semblance of life. Many times he had recalled Vincent and Alyssa. Her name still stirred something within him, albeit buried deep. Whatever warmth remained in Tobias, it was slowly dying.
"I have work to do, Vincent," he told the man. "I came back to do what I couldn't, those two years ago. I know my enemy now. I will fight the corruption with that knowledge."
The words of a Fallen King resonated deeply with him. "Only the wicked can slay the wicked," he whispered to himself.
His lips twisted into a grim smile, and he tilted his head. "I will make a better world," he told the boy he had watched become a man. "For the people who truly deserve it." Tobias gripped the ornate sword hilt at his hip. He could feel the sorrow there, a guttural roar from the immaterial. "For the people who were not allowed to see it."
As he looked at Vincent, he could feel the rage sizzling in his gut. He knew what the man was, but could only guess at his intentions. Had he come to see an old friend, or to make him answer for old crimes? Could it be that he intended to stop him outright? "Let me pass," he demanded gently.
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