35. Selvaria in the year 7932

Roland

The house was cold as Roland lifted his head. He had a mean headache, his mouth was dry, felt rough and he was very, very hungry. After the weeks with his illness, the fever, and the weakness he had enough of this shit.

"Urgh.", grumbled the man into the sheets. They were warm at his spot, cold in the rest of the bed. The glas in the windows were blind of frost, the chimney cold and unused because Roland just fell into bed the days before.

He wasn't in the mood to get up. He wasn't in the mood to light a fire. He just wanted to die. To die for good. But how do you do that? He died how many times now? Four, five? Thats more than most, if not all, people have done. Normally dying was an one-time-event.

Nothing Roland could recommend right now, it wasn't romantic, it was nasty and hurtful, from what he could say. But his body wanted attention, so he had to get up.

With a strained sound he rolled over, only breathing, existing and hurting. Althaea looked down on him from the painting. They were so beautiful, even in death. Fucks sake, even Althaea died twice.

"Is that your punishment?", he asked the wooden ceiling with the huge bars. One could still see the shape of the trees. "Is that your punishment for me? Because I killed a god? For the love of my life?"

Silence.

"You knew what I was going to do, right?" He sat up on the edge of the huge bed. "You shut me out of death, of ... what? An Afterlife? You knew what I was going to do."

Still silence.

"You are as guilty as I am." He sighed, got up, stretched and looked into the chimney. There wasn't enough wood in it, so he put a bit into it and lit it up with a thought. Over eight hundred years taught a lot.

"You are as guilty as I am.", repeated the smith nearly without a tone in his voice. Yes, he killed a god. He would do it again and again and again if that would mean that he either could die or get Althaea back. Alive and well, not dead, dying or short-lived. He would do more than killing a god if necessary.

The chimney started to get warm, so Roland tapped through the house, lit a few other chimneys and the stove in the kitchen. He was hungry, he wanted tea and mead. Wait, Althaea was a herbalist as well. Did they store poisonous things in their workshop as well?

But... he had to go in there. Got to a room filled with everything Althaea was. With their scent, their laughter, their blood and tears. Their craftsmanship...elvish crafting? He was never sure when it comes to elvish things. Like the first time they changed from the female form into their male form without notifying Roland beforehand. 

That was an interesting day.

But apparently the word craftspersonship was the better word for that, since Elves were...well, Elves.

Anyway, Roland looked into the flames and decided to not burn himself to a crisp. Not now. He died a few times now and none of it was pleasant. Good thing Althaeas parents weren't alive, they probably would have done a lot of things to him now just like in the past.

He had only a bit of dried meat in the chamber. Well, meat and mead was not a bad combination. He thought about getting into Althaeas workshop to get something dangerous to mortals - like Belladonna or a really deadly nightshade poison - but he couldn't bear the scent, the thought or just the feeling of their presence.

Or rather, the feeling of her absence.

Their absence, sorry. Since Althaea was presenting themself more female than male, Roland always thought of her first and then them. Not because of ill thoughts, mind you.

"I love you.", whispered the man into the empty kitchen, where only the fire crackled. "I wish they would let me die."

He tried again. With a sharp knife he smithed himself. He had no hope to die, but he tried anyway. While his blood pumped out of his arm, he still hoped for a bit if peace, but was disappointed.

Oh, hello. Poor boy. Until next time.

He woke up in a huge puddle of blood. The mead was already boiling, so he was dead somewhere between six and fifteen minutes.

"Fuck." 

Now he had to clean the puddle, which he only did by throwing a good amount of sand on the dark red liquid before gobbling up the meat and heating himself up with the hot mead.

That was better, way better.

He removed the bloody sand with a shovel - Bloody Sand? A good name for a drink - and cleaned himself and the rest of the kitchen.

What now? 

He needed provisions. He needed drinks, he needed livestock or maybe someone who would supply him in exchange for coins or trade.

Urgh. Everyone he knew was either dead or vanished with the death of Althaea. The next village was only a few days journey away, so not too bad.

He cleaned the dishes, left the kitchen and stepped into the large garden. Flowers and berries were growing like crazy and he needed to clean the garden from the weeds. But that was kind of the purpose. Honey bees, sometimes Blinking Bees, butterflies, bumblebees, you name it, were regular visitors. The second purpose was to hide the three large crates with gold, silver, gemstones and coins in them.

He dug one up with the same shovel he brought out the bloody sand. He just needed one crate and then he put earth and flowers back. Once the spring was in full course everything would be back to normal.

With a bit of magical help to get the crate into the house he put it next to the living room chimney. The crate was not sealed with anything, not even with a Ritual of Lock. Inside it rested a few smaller boxes in a dark brown wood. The box on the left was filled with a lot of coins from various currencies, Aureli the dominant one. The Dragon Sun Empire was a force which was founded only a few hundred years ago, but with their aggressive tactics they made an impact, and so did their currency.

The heavy gold coins with the dragonhead on one side were worth a lot. They also gathered a good amount of the other Aureli coins and draps. An Aureli gold coin was worth an entire month of food and - depending on the merchant, conversion rates, taxes and daily prices - you still got change back.

Roland grabbed a few draps, a Silver Aureli and three Gold Aureli, put the box back and put a deer fur over the crate. Not that it would be bad if someone broke into the house and would steal off him. He couldn't care less. 

The Gold Aureli were just for having them at his disposal rather than for a necessity right now. Silver Aureli and the few draps should be enough to buy him a good amount of provision in the village.

"I could smith you things if you have the need.", he offered the farmer and his wife. "Tools, jewellery, a plough, I can also bring my tools for repairs."

"Why would you do that?"

"A man needs to be busy." Roland shrugged as he handed over one of the Silver Aureli. The farmer got big eyes, apparently they've never seen an Aureli before. "Or I can just help you with gardening or the fields."

"You definitely have the muscles for it..." The farmer let his gaze wander over Roland, who stood in trousers, shirt and a long cloak before him, a cart directly next to him. "I tell you what: if my wife permits, you can help plough the fields and we get you the same amount for half the price."

"No." The woman, a middle aged human, shook her head. "He also need to cook and to help me in the kitchen."

"Its fine for me. I can also help with the pots if they are broken, dented or whatever."

"Then we have a deal.", smiled the farmers wife, her wrinkles deepend a bit. She came a bit closer and hugged him. "I am so sorry for your loss."

"I..." Roland looked down, then he hugged her for a brief moment. "Thank you."

"Do you hold up?" She stepped back, tears welling in her eyes.

"As much as I can do."

"As much as any of us.", said the farmer, scratched his head under the cheap hat. "That is all we can do, aye? Holding up, pushing through..."

Roland nodded again, before he grabbed the handle of the cart, thanked them both and took the path back to the house.

Pushing through? Through what, exactly? Situations? Yeah, maybe, but there was always a situation. Small, large, good, bad, playful, hurtful... why is it required for mortals to push through? Why can't they just exist?

"You should let me die.", he mumbled to the slightly muddy road.

He was answered with silence.