26 Ravalor VIII

15.06.2024

 

There had been a sense of unexpected routine developing over the last days. Since Ravalor’s arguably very dramatic new vision not much of anything had happened.

No more visions, no unexpected turns of events, nobody trying to suddenly murder him. Which was good. Arguably it was really good.

His sleep rhythm was still non-existent because he couldn’t rely on the sense of exhaustion he felt to tell him when to sleep. It was just there and constant, and that was normal. For that reason he tried to not sleep too much. Since he didn’t fall asleep easily and when he slept he didn’t do so for long with no real benefit to it, it wasn’t too hard from a practical point of view. Even when subjectively he felt like spending every hour of every day in bed just to maybe find rest anyways.

So the Stargazer kept his attempts of “sleep” to the appropriate night hours, which had already once or twice ended up with him stubbornly laying in the large bed pretending to sleep.

The Edge of the universe ran on a 25 hour day with 9 of those putting the station in night mode, which included dim lights and a reduced noise floor.

In the morning he got up and dressed before spending the morning hours in Zenozarax’ study. He read and explored the texts Zenozarax had pointed out to him and beyond that. For imminent questions he consulted the familiar here and there, but most of the time he dedicated himself to quiet learning the way he enjoyed it the most. In solitude and with no interruptions.

For noon, like today,  he’d go and join Pelagius for lunch. Ravalor of course wasn’t eating but he took the chance to see and be seen. Usually he wouldn’t make such an effort to become part of any community (in any capacity), he was and had always been much more comfortable at the edge of civilization looking in. But the situation here was different. The population was too small and too gated to make staying outside of it possible without raising even more attention. The weak sense of hostilities after the destruction of the Dawnbreak had ebbed, but there was still some caution in the people’s eyes. He was used to that well enough.  

He also went here for lunch to listen to any news Pelagius had about the ongoing events within the station. Pelagius was part of the small group of station security, which usually took care of minor troubles only (besides the Aeven related troubles which where solely Pelagius’ responsibility), but if anything Pelagius took the job seriously and Ravalor had quickly learned that he was the right man for the job indeed. Pelagius was still considered an outsider to these people and yet he seemed to know about everything happening inside the station and everyone living in it. Ravalor had asked him how he knew all these things, to which Pelagius had shrugged and said “I just listen and if I don’t know something I ask. That’s all.“

The early afternoon after he spent mostly like the mornings, but allowed himself some more casual reading of Zenozarax’ library as well.

Once late afternoon came by he went to check in with Wolla Tanax. As Xaronzul had suggested he had asked chief engineer Cebex Fen if he could lend a hand on the station and the small goblin had looked at him like god had put upon him a great revelation. Eagerly he had been welcomed and promptly undergone an intense three hour interview reviewing his skillset. He was put on the evening shift which suited him just fine. Wolla Tanax was overseeing both the evening and the night shift and had taken a quick liking to him too. As it seemed he didn’t have to try very hard with most goblins here.

It was mostly menial work, but he enjoyed doing it. Replacing parts, fixing conduits, testing connections. Jobs that were important to the station, but not so important as to become a serious problem when he unexpectedly slipped into the void while doing them. It was like having a little bit of purpose here. And that felt nice.

Like his moments reading the books of Zenozarax’ library, it wasn’t yet pure enjoyment, but a part of him was looking forward to it. But his shift wouldn’t start for another five hours. Maybe he could join the afternoon one too, Ravalor wondered, but he had the feeling he had been, for now, deliberately put into a less dense work shift. Just for observation. So he didn’t want to overextend himself.

“I think we could speak to him soon,” Pelagius said after finishing a bite from his plate. He was a very polite dining partner, never talking with his mouth full and keeping the cutlery rested as he spoke. The plate with a decently sized chunk of meat, brown sauce and a side of diced red vegetables looked tasty enough, but based on Pelagius’ usual mindful way of eating it it was impossible to tell if he enjoyed it or not. “He seems a lot calmer these last days. I think some of what I flung at him the other night actually stuck.“

“I hope so,” Ravalor admitted. He sat across from Pelagius, hands folded on the table. “From what you told me I’d like to not let it go out of hand like that when we talk to him.”

Pelagius nodded thoughtfully while chewing another bite from his meat. Then he said, “Me neither, but I don’t think you grasp yet how bad he can be. You experienced me at my worst, but Aeven — sometimes it’s like he loses all grasp on reality. You can’t reason him out of that, neither with words or fists.”

Ravalor didn’t comment on that — because maybe Pelagius underestimated how bad his worst had been from the outside perspective the Stargazer had experienced first hand back on earth.

Pelagius put the knife and fork aside, wiped his hands on a napkin and went for the small pouch on his belt. He pulled a few folded pieces of paper out of it and shoved them over to Ravalor. “That’s everything I could remember. I didn’t write a journal about all the things he said but it should give you an overview of where he’s at.”

“Thank you.” Ravalor took the sheets and for now lay them aside. He had asked Pelagius to write down everything he remembered Aeven saying so far just to get a feel for what would be expecting him. And hopefully an idea of how to deal with it.

“Frankly, it’s probably all of the worst times. You know, those that stick to your memories while the good times fade away,” Pelagius mused before returning to his meal.

The Stargazer nodded thoughtfully before he said. “I understand the sentiment, though it doesn’t work like that for us.”

Pelagius mid-bite raised his brows, inviting him to explain while he kept on eating.

“All memories are treated equally. They are always there, the good as well as the bad. We can choose to prioritise some for quick recollection, or we can choose to archive others, making them unlikely to come to mind by chance. But they will never be gone completely or fade away.”

Pelagius, for a moment forgetting about his meal in astonishment, maybe even bewilderment, asked, “You don’t… forget? Anything? Ever?“

Ravalor shook his head. “We only lose memories if, for example, I would die now.”

“Precarious subject, is it not,” Pelagius murmured, but let Ravalor continue.

“It’s the truth of the situation. The memories of this Part are not yet remembered by the rest of me and I’m not connected to them. So when I die, all my experiences will be lost to the void and I will never know what it is I did here.” He told it in a perfectly detached way — but the mere idea scared the living hell out of him. Even though he could still see a sliver of temptation in it, or maybe that just made it worse. To just forget all the misery, the shame and guilt. But he’d also forget the good intentions, the people that had helped him along the way, Pelagius, Sasha, Yrsa and Breen, Gowen and his wife. And the sacrifices they had made. He would also forget finally, after two tousand years, learning what had happened to him, and to Zenozarax. The wizard he was now would simply die and disappear forever.

He was someone now. Someone separated from the wizard he used to be. Right at this moment there were two versions of who the wizard named Ravalor was. Both incomplete, but both with their own set of unique memories.

“Hm.” Pelagius frowned slightly, but he seemed to get the concept because he didn’t ask further, instead returned to his original question. “But to be perfectly clear, as long as that doesn’t happen, you remember everything you ever did? Clearly? In detail?”

“I do.” Ravalor confirmed but added as an asterisk, “Though depending on whether or not they are active or passive memories and how old they are, it can take some time to recall them. Especially when they are not clearly associated with an unique event. I have memories I, as the Stargazer, am only subconsciously aware of right now. Let’s say some memories of my Engineer that occured while I wasn’t paying attention. He’d know about them and where to find them in an instant, but without him I don’t. I can still access them, I can find them and recall them, but I’d need to search them first because I don’t actively know what they are.“

Pelagius’ brows had risen with every word a little bit further and by the time he ended he had apparently lost him for good. It was probably a rather abstract concept for someone who until not too long ago would have been already baffled by the concept of a lightbulb. Though, maybe he was giving Pelagius a little too less credit.

“I think I get it. But, I don’t think I can wrap my head around the fact that you remember everything. Not only everything but everything from several points of view... I guess I’ll have to be more careful how I pick my words around you.“

“I don’t think you of all people would have to worry about that.“

“I take that as a compliment.” Pelagius gathered the plate and cutlery and stood up. “Alright, tell me when you’re ready to talk to Aeven, will you?“

“You’re not going to finish that?” Ravalor nodded to the still half full plate.

“It — isn’t bad,” Pelagius said diplomatically, “I’m just still getting used to the taste of this meat.”

“What is it?“

“Nothing I ever had and Gnash only grinned diabolically whenever I asked. I’m not yet convinced it isn’t human meat.”

Ravalor stared at Pelagius utterly taken aback.

“That was a joke. But really, the menu said volmer meat, and I have no idea what that is.“

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

“Oh great. So it is probably human.“

“I really doubt that.“

“Sure.” Pelagius smirked lopsidedly and gave him a small nod and miniscule bow to accompany his goodbye. “Until then.” A polite relic from another time.

Ravalor nodded and watched Pelagius drop his plate whole into the recycler and then leave the restaurant.

Then he picked up the sheets of paper Pelagius had given him and began to read through its contents. The picture it painted of Aeven was grim.

Switching from very clear awareness to moments of utter illusion and decompensation. Questioning the reality he was now trapped in almost within every incident Pelagius had recalled.

How would one prove to him that this wasn’t just an illusion, a hallucination, a trick or scheme of cruel magic. How did one prove reality to be true to someone who desperately didn’t want to believe it to be so?

He didn’t dare to do this without a very solid plan of how to handle it because they would probably only have one chance. Aeven was already predisposed to the idea that he, Ravalor, might have betrayed him in some form or another after seeing him in the hall, at Zenozarax’ side.

So whatever they told Aeven next would need to be very convincing …

He quietly murmured to himself in frustration. He knew all those things as theoretical facts — what needed to be done was plain and simple. But then why did he fail to put these facts into actual words and sentences that would achieve the desired result?

“Ah,” an old voice muttered close to him, “There you are.”

Realising that the words were directed at him Ravalor looked up from the datatab — and saw the old man whom he had seen first and last shortly before his recent vision. The man smiled lightly behind the grey beard, his back was bent by age and his voice warm but raspy.

“Do you mind if I sit? I can’t stand too long anymore,” he asked and perplexed, Ravalor shook his head. Besides there being plenty of empty tables around, so far none of the station’s residents had gone out of their way to talk to him. The old man sat down, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. Then he asked,

“How are you? Ravalor, right?“

“I’m… fine,” Ravalor said carefully, unsure what to make of this unexpected interaction yet. He didn’t know this man, he had no idea what he would want to talk to him about, not even a context clue as to what his intentions were — this left the strands of his mind that always tried to predict every possible turn a conversation could go in a state of idling uncertainty. This he found woefully uncomfortable. But obviously it would be impressively rude to just stand up and leave right away.

“That’s good. Very good. You gave me quite a scare there, son. You hit your head pretty hard,” the old man said slowly, taking some deep breaths between his sentences.

“You do know I’m a wizard right?” Ravalor asked after a moment of brief hesitation.

“I’m aware.” The old man laughed hoarsely. “Still, I don’t think hitting your head is something your kind does for fun?“

“No, it isn’t,” Ravalor admitted. Then after a moment he asked, “Do you need anything?” It probably was a little rude too but the old man just chuckled.

“Need?” He shook his head. “What is there for me to need here?” The man said and Ravalor almost wanted to point out that he wasn’t referring to the whole of the man’s life but he was also quite aware that the man apparently used his question to start on a tangent about something he just wanted to say for the sake of it. So Ravalor let him continue.

“There really is nothing. I am taken care of well, I don’t complain about that, no. It is good living, it is safe. But the young folk have little use for me anymore. Of course not. Look at them, busing around. They don’t pay attention—” He looked into the restaurant. Ravalor followed his gaze and true, of the people coming in nobody paid either of them much attention beyond a passing glance. “—and frankly, it can be a little lonely. So, would you humour me with some conversation? If you have the time?”

“Don’t you have family here?” Ravalor only asked for politeness sake. In truth he would like this conversation to be over and return to things that mattered a lot more to him right now. In theory, as a wizard, he would be perfectly capable of entertaining a conversation and still do a lot of other things with his mind, but lacking four Parts of himself and being very, very tired, he felt barely capable of even following this one line of thoughts.

“No. Not anymore. I’ve always thought of myself as more of a loner. Maybe I was wrong about that,” the man said heavily. “You are too, aren’t you? Most comfortable alone?“

Ravalor hesitated to answer but said, “I’d say so, yes.” But here he was still sitting in the restaurant after Pelagius’ had gone, because the chatter of the people around reminded him of memories from the Warrior in Obermoor. Here he was still on this station, because the thought of returning to absolute solitude sent shivers down his spine.

“You would. But are you?”

“I’m not sure anymore either,” Ravalor admitted — surprised himself that he did so. The warm, and yet strangely sad smile of the old man was concerningly disarming. But maybe that was okay.

“Is that why you came here?” the old man asked.

Ravalor shook his head, not to deny but the answer to that question was too unclear even in his own mind.

“Listen, son—“

Ravalor was tempted to remind this old man that even while based on appearance the old man easily had 50 years on him, in reality he was at least about 4350 years younger than Ravalor. But in the end he didn’t do it — because frankly, he felt currently lacking in the assured sense of wisdom the old man conveyed.

“— I know your kind well. Chaos Wizards.“

“I’m not,” Ravalor interjected downright reflexively. “A chaos wizard, I mean.“

“You aren’t?” The old man’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.” He muttered, clearly puzzled by that revelation. “Oh you picked a peculiar place to be then. You shouldn’t be here,” he concluded, rightfully so.

As if Ravalor didn’t know that. He didn’t answer.

“Then what I wanted to say to you holds true even more.” The old man sighed. “Listen to me, Ravalor. You probably don’t want to hear this, but it’s true. These wizards are dangerous — to you. Out here, every wizard is to each other. I look at you and I can see that you aren’t like them. You probably never will be. And it will get you killed. It may get all of us killed.”

Ravalor felt tense, a frown on his face.

“You don’t want me to be here?” he asked.

The old man shook his head. “That’s not it. There is strength in numbers that is true. But with every wizard here, the risk for all of us increases. That is also true. And if you aren’t dedicated to the fight, you don’t belong here.”

Ravalor stayed quiet again. There was no hostility in the man’s voice and Ravalor couldn’t figure out his intentions. When the silence stretched further, the old man smiled apologetically.

“I apologise. I guess that’s why nobody is talking to me anymore.” He chuckled hoarsely. “It’s nothing personal against you. I just worry. This is still my home. My people. But I should get out of your hair.” He pushed himself with his hands up, grimacing slightly as a particular bend of his back seemed to cause a pang of pain. Despite that, he lingered for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to be as blunt. I don’t want you to just leave. I just worry you’re not aware of what staying means.”

“It’s alright,” Ravalor said quietly.  

“Good. Then I thank you for listening to me.” The man stepped back. “I’ll see you around. Or not. I don’t leave my cabin much,” he muttered as he shuffled off slowly. The “young folk” passed him by in their comparative hecticness. Looking past him as he left and ignoring him.

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