-Don't worry about the money. You helped me, I help you.
After this meeting, Moriner did not forget to give Linnea the boots he had previously purchased and began gathering the modest belongings necessary for his departure.
I'll write a proper post later
Added 3 hours 55 minutes later
Great and tragic changes in life often sneak up on their victim unnoticed, when they least expect it, only to deliver a fatal blow with a single powerful strike. No matter how prepared a person may be, they can never prevail in a hopeless game against their own fate, and every single match won by some miracle will cost them manifold subsequent humiliation. And the more the doomed prey tries to break free from the predator's tight grip, the more it prolongs its suffering and agony, bringing only additional pleasure to the hunter himself. Foolish philosophers, who proudly praise the utility of physical and mental pain for tempering character and strengthening will, in reality have never encountered life upheavals sufficient to easily turn their primitive faith and ideology inside out.
No one in Moriner's family was distinguished by a positive outlook on life, and after the reforms of the newly minted Empress and his encounter with the statuette, he lost whatever hope remained for a happy future. But on the other hand, he did not believe that fate had been excessively unfair to him: over the last few months, the student could count a dozen instances that could have significantly and irreparably worsened his existence. He studied at a prestigious academy, lived in comfort and wealth, had practically no conflicts with classmates or teachers, was quite healthy, unburdened by heavy and monotonous work, and aimed for good career prospects. But alas, we grow accustomed to the good too quickly, we stop noticing it too easily, while even the slightest hardships can painfully cut our souls like a sharp knife for many years.
The crunch of sticky, fresh snow underfoot tore the student from his binding gloomy reflections. Fortunately, the journey to his new place of study was not far, and Moriner left the academy early in the morning to make several transfers important to him. Stepping to the edge of the hastily cleared road, he walked with a confident stride away from his home station, risking soaking his feet in small, neatly piled snowdrifts. The local enterprise seemed to be belching smoke into the sky without any break, leaving a light lilac haze hanging in the air. Tiny gray snowflakes danced playfully across rooftops and the shoulders and heads of rare passersby hurrying on their own unknown business.
Reaching the gate of his childhood home, Moriner froze in stupor: the fence was completely gone, the front door, taken off its hinges, lay nearby in the garden, construction ladders blocked the windows, and part of the roof was cluttered with some tools and other repair equipment. Junk and debris were scattered everywhere; loud hammering and coarse voices could be heard from inside the house. Unable to tear himself away from the scene before him, the student stood motionless until one of the workers, who had stepped onto the porch for a smoke, noticed his gaunt figure.
-What do you want? -a little man shouted rudely at Moriner, and then, receiving no answer, hobbled toward him, pulling his head deep into his tattered jacket. -Are you deaf or something? Or are you from Master Regor?
-Me? Oh, no. Forgive me. -Moriner turned sharply on the spot and almost ran away from the house, leaving the builder to watch him go in confusion.
-What's happened to people these days, pfft. -Tossing his cigarette butt into the damp snow, the little man shrugged and hurried back inside.
Another snowy station, ten minutes along a deserted path, and a gloomy landscape of burials and graves. Moriner had heard that in former times, demons and other unholy creatures had repeatedly desecrated these places, raising the dead to serve their terrible deeds, but now this seemed more like fictional tales. Either way, according to rumors, the city authorities had indeed restored the cemetery relatively recently, so currently only the first generations of common families and poor citizens of the empire rested here. The student had no desire to verify all these facts right now.
His father had never cared for special events or rites; he was unwilling to throw money away on them and was not a religious man himself, so obviously, his current place of rest was nothing more than a mundane formality. After some effort in finding the modest plot, Moriner was surprised to find dried, frost-covered flowers there.
"Probably simple-hearted Mityena." -He remembered the sole servant with warmth. "I hope she is alright."
The student stood for a while, shivering from rare gusts of cold winter wind.
-Forgive me, father. -he spoke softly but clearly. -I failed you. I couldn't be with you in your final moments. But I hope you found peace and serenity... somewhere.
He remained silent for a bit longer.
-You know, I got rid of that statuette. And also, I was hired as a military journalist! And our class almost won the Competitive events. Also, an acquaintance and I nearly blew up a female student with a homemade grenade launcher... And because of me, a church burned down, many people died... Oh yes, I fought for the first time in my life. Or rather, I was simply beaten while I was unconscious. And I spent time in solitary confinement. And girls often visit me, yes. Though mostly for my wallet... Haaa, what an eventful first year!
Another pause.
-I'm afraid I won't manage, father. If war breaks out, I won't be able to stand up for myself. I didn't want to take lives using a weapon, and now I will take lives with a single stroke of the pen. And the most terrible thing is that no one has the power to prevent it. It's as if there truly is some Creator, only not kind and merciful, as religious enlighteners like to imagine, but something else entirely. As if he too is writing his own book, and also twists the fates of many thousands of innocent souls with a single sentence, simply for his own amusement.
Moriner kept rambling and muttering until his lips were covered in a layer of ice and his breath was cut off by a gust of cold wind.
-Alright, farewell. Thanks for listening, father. I really do feel a bit better. -Wrapping his winter cloak tighter, Moriner adjusted his slipping bag and strode toward the station with wide steps, almost sinking into the snowdrifts.
-Orion, Orion! -someone's animated shouts woke the student from the slumber that had overtaken him. Pulling his blue-tinged cheek away from the side window, he looked out by habit, as if trying to recognize his new stop.
"Well then, Moriner, here is another turn in life. I hope I don't veer off the road."
Ment
