Reveries of a Solitary Walker

The library Dave worked in was a huge, expertly designed building, attached to the side of Duinford University. It was made of white stone and pearly white marble, finely chiselled to perfect blocks. In every single wall of the building, enormous wooden bookshelves stood erect, and organised every single book the building housed.

Dave's job was to navigate through the organisational maze of rows, series and shelves, and find the correct documents or books when given the proper information about their location. It could be pretty dizzying at first, having to learn how to accurately locate plates or series, but after a while, he found it pretty enjoyable, and he could stay in the library for as long as he liked after he was done with work.

It was a far cry from the action he was used to dealing with while hunting, it was more akin to the time he had spent with old man Sophos. He recalled the old man giving a small book to him, but he never really had the time, or the clarity of mind to read through it. Perhaps the time spent in the library was the best time to do that. He decided to give the book a read. He didn't know whether it was written by the man himself, but this didn't really matter. What mattered was the knowledge hidden inside of it. The first lines read as follows:

"Wishful thinking though it may seem, the truths which you will find in this work are well within our reach. The hordes of self proclaimed princes will tell you they were placed there by a higher power, that they were always meant to be there. They will fail to mention the crimson rivers of blood that have been following on their road to their little thrones. And here I am proclaiming, these rivers were painted red by the blood of you, the oppressed and exploited.

The sweat of their own backs can never be enough to get them where they are, they need to trick and deceive, exploit and abuse you, take the lion's share of your work for their own betterment, whilst feeding you only the scraps [...] "

It went on like that for thirty more pages. It was less of a political work, and more of a long pamphlet, although it could probably never be published. Dave understood that the only reason the old man had given it to him, was that it perfectly fit his situation. A small book filled with wonders and dreams of, but none of them would ever be actualised, he thought, despite the statement in its first sentence.

Regardless, the book did hold undeniable truths. Was the act of freeing Eddie and Asher not an act of revolution? He remembered the last conversation he had had with Eddie before helping him escape.

"Don't forget it, Eddie", he had said to him. "Your heart should be aligned with what you think is right. Not with banners and the current status quo"

The one thing he worried about was not Eddie forgetting it, but himself. It wasn't Eddie who had raised objections to freeing Asher, it was him. He had just finished work, and he started on his way toward home. Lost in reverie, he wasn't in any mood to read in the library. Instead, he just went to a small tavern he found on his way to grab something to eat and have a think. The tavern was dimly lit, and almost completely empty, other than the owner, two waitresses and a few clients.

"Will you order anything?", one of the waitresses asked, when she saw him sit down at the table.

"Yes, I'll just have a rabbit stew, and a pint of beer to down it", he replied with a slight smile.

The tavern slowly filled with people, and a couple of hours later it got buzzing with its regular patrons, although he stayed silent, slowly enjoying his meal. Sometime later, a young man sat next to him.

He was about his age, maybe a couple of years younger at most. He had a rough face, green eyes and black, scruffy hair, which Dave suspected was actually achieved through a lot of diligence. He was dressed in simple clothes, just a shirt, a sheepskin above that and some well-worn linen trousers.

"You were also a hunter eh?", he asked Dave, after looking at his attire.

"Used to", Dave stoically replied.

"We can't hunt in a city, after all. It was what I loved about my life, hunting", the young hunter said, with a longing in his face.

"It was. But we can't all live the way we want…", Dave said. He couldn't say any more, but he had a feeling that the man next to him could understand what he meant.

"I thought I'd live an easy life in the city. We all thought that, I think, but it didn't turn out like that. We got the short end of the stick, like so many others. We work stupid, menial works. Our life has become a routine. At least there was some action in hunting. I know you get what I'm saying…", the hunter said, frustrated, and heaved a nostalgic sigh for the days he lived sometime ago.

Dave had a completely different experience. His life for the last few months had been a small odyssey, travelling here and there, and always living one breath away from being discovered and convicted. He thought he understood the man though, in some way.

"Being in a city with such a big population… so many people are living their lives here, and I know none of them. There's no community here, and there can never be. I'm lucky to have found a good job, but I don't want to think I'll need to spend any time here", Dave said. What he said was true. He was happy to find work near books, and surely was well off in comparison to others, but he couldn't spend any more time here without feeling trapped and suffocated.

"My name is Drimys. I know there's no community here, but we could look after each other's backs", He said, with a slight, warm smile.

"I gotta leave now", Dave said, but then added "meet me here again tomorrow, same time".

Dave could make use of a new friend, and he felt Drimys was trustworthy enough to be his ally, someday.