Alpha Instinct-Chapter 50: “Last Words”

He saw Kaleb’s horse tied near a small makeshift stable. He didn’t think twice. He mounted, spurred the animal, and set off at a furious gallop.

"Forgive me, Kaleb," he murmured to the wind, guilt gnawing at him, but the urgency was greater.

The road to Gothia stretched before him, a dusty path that seemed to stretch to infinity. He was not an experienced rider, but adrenaline and anger propelled him.

The horse, a strong and resilient animal, responded to the command, galloping at a surprising speed. But Leonard demanded more. More speed. More distance between him and the pain.

He forced himself not to think of Roland—of the laugh he’d only ever shared with him, of his strength and unwavering example, of his brutal, senseless death. But the images returned in flashes: training sessions, quiet advice, the unwavering friendship, and the countless times Roland had saved him, even as a child.

Why? The question haunted him. Why Roland? The treason... it was impossible. He knew Roland.

"I will find out the truth," he promised himself aloud. "I swear."

The sun was not punishing anymore at the end of the day. The wind dried the sweat on his face. He didn’t stop to rest; he didn’t allow himself to feel the exhaustion, the hunger, the thirst. He just pushed the horse faster and faster, further and further.

At one point, the horse, nearing exhaustion, slowed down. Leonard, reluctantly, stopped. He gave water and a little food to the animal, allowing it to rest for an hour. He didn’t rest. He paced back and forth, impatient, biting his nails.

Guilt gnawed at him for having taken Kaleb’s horse without asking. He needed to go back and explain himself to Kaleb and apologize. But not now. Now, he had to get to Gothia.

He forced himself to eat a piece of dried meat, to swallow the tasteless water from the canteen. He needed strength; he had to stay on his feet.

And then, back on the road.

The day turned into night, night into day. Two days of travel compressed into one, in a crazed race against time, against pain, against despair. He didn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep; he couldn’t even manage to rest.

Finally, the next morning, the walls of Gothia appeared on the horizon. The old and high walls, imposing and threatening.

He had arrived.

"But, what now?" He thought.

The city was large, a labyrinth of streets and alleys. He didn’t have a plan, he didn’t have contacts, and he didn’t know where to start. The exhaustion, previously suppressed by adrenaline, hit him hard. He felt lost. Disoriented.

A name came to his mind. The memory of the girl who was his only hope when he needed answers.

Silica.

The "almost" charismatic attendant of the Guild House. Roland was a Neumond. Silica probably knew him and would have information. The only person he could trust at that moment.

Leonard arrived at the Guild House exhausted, but the sight of the familiar stone building, with the griffin carved above the entrance, rekindled a flame of hope in his chest. Silica. He needed to find her.

Ignoring the pain in his back from riding nonstop and the fatigue that weighed down his limbs, he entered the main hall. The buzz of conversations, the clinking of coins, the smell of spoils—everything seemed distant, muffled.

"Silica!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion and exhaustion. The sound echoed through the hall, attracting curious glances and some looks of disapproval. He knew he was breaking protocol, that he was drawing attention, but he didn’t care. He needed her urgently.

An instant later, Silica emerged from a side door, her normally impassive face marked by an expression of surprise. And then, something unexpected happened.

She ran to him, ignoring the gazes of the other Neumonds, and hugged him. A tight, almost desperate hug.

Leonard, stunned, returned the hug, feeling Silica’s body tremble against his. But, amidst the warmth of the embrace, he felt something else.

"Calm down," Silica whispered in his ear, her voice urgent and low, almost inaudible. "You need to calm down, or you’ll be in danger. Am I clear?"

The message hit Leonard like a shock. The hug, the concern... they weren’t "just" for him. They were a warning. A sign that it wasn’t safe.

He nodded slightly, his mind racing. "Danger? What was going on?"

Silica pulled away, her face composed again, the mask of formality and disdain back in place. "Come with me, Mr. Leonard," she said, aloud, her tone professional, as if she were dealing with any other client. "We have a lot to talk about."

She guided him through a side corridor, past curious glances and whispers. Leonard followed her, trying to appear calm, trying to control the anxiety that gnawed at him inside.

Silica’s sudden plan worked. The people present thought it was a love affair, and they were covering up the gaffe of hugging in public.

Finally, they reached a discreet door, almost imperceptible on the wall. Silica unlocked it with a key she took from her pocket and motioned for Leonard to enter.

It was a small, spartan room, with only a narrow bed, a table, and a chair. A secret room, hidden in the heart of the Guild House. Which served as both a refuge and a prison.

The silence was profound in that small room. Leonard watched the closed door, his thoughts racing.

Spies. Danger.

Silica’s words echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the precarious situation he was in.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

Silica, on the other side of the room, opened a small safe hidden behind a panel in the wall. The metallic sound of the mechanism breaking the quiet made Leonard turn around.

She took out an envelope. A single envelope, of simple brown paper, but intact. And, on the seal, the unmistakable silver bear crest of Roland.

It was the letter Roland wrote with his heart at Thomas’s house.

Silica walked slowly towards Leonard, holding out the envelope. Her eyes, normally cold and distant, now shone with a mixture of sadness and hope, somehow trying to deliver comfort to Leonard.

"Roland asked me to give this to you," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "He said... he said that if something happened to him, you needed to know the truth."

Leonard took the letter, his hands trembling. The paper felt slippery in his fingers. He recognized Roland’s handwriting, firm and elegant, even in a moment of crisis. "To the lad" is written on the envelope.

"Read it here, Leonard," Silica continued, her voice strained. "Please. Don’t leave until... until you’re ready. The king’s spies... they’re everywhere."

Leonard nodded, without even looking at her and unable to speak. He sat down on the bed, the letter in his lap, his heart pounding against his newly healed ribs.

He took a deep breath, one, two, three times, trying to control the avalanche of emotions that flooded him. Pain. Anger. Fear. Hope.

His fingers hesitated a few times, and then he broke the seal. The sound of the seal breaking echoed in the small room, like a crack in the silence.

He unfolded the paper, again Roland’s familiar handwriting filling the page. He began to read, the first words hitting him like a punch to the stomach.

"Dear Leonard, ’my friend lad,’ if you are reading this letter, I am dead..."