1866-06-04: For all that would never be...
For all that would never be…
Summary: After having received the news about his brother's fate, Jarret retreats to his room.
Date: 1866-06-04
Related: Recent logs and events, happens right after More Bad News.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Jarret  

Jarret hurried back to the room he was staying in during this stay, expression a stony mask, to hide the emotions boiling within. His mother's words in the letter burned in his mind.

"Mylord…" One of the guardsmen outside the rooms spoke. "Is everything all right?" The poor guardsman never had time to react before he was pushed up against the wall.

"Mylord!" Jarret could feel hands going to his shoulder, trying to pull him back. Blinking a few times, he saw he had moved to grab the guardsman by the throat. He could see the fear in the man's eyes… Andrey, wasn't that his name? Slowly, he let go, letting the man fall to his knees.

"What's wrong, Lord Jarret?" Another of the guards, one of those that had restrained him from trying to kill poor Andrey, asked him, but only got a bit of a snarl in return. "Send for wine, and stronger drink. Quite a bit of it. Only the drink comes into the room, and nobody else, not even any of you!" And with that, he stepped inside and threw the door shut behind him.

As soon as the door closed behind him, it was like all energy drained from him. Dropping into a nearby seat, the stony mask faded from his face as well. Tears he never knew he was holding back ran down his face, as he let out a pained howl. His brother… dead. They would never speak again.

"Why did you have to go get yourself killed?" He shook his head, leaning back in the seat and looking up to the ceiling. "Why did you have to go get yourself killed, and leaving me behind to…" And then those other words from the letter hit him, with the same force as a lance lifting him out of the saddle.

As such I have made it known that you are now the Heir of Sokar.

He had never wanted that weight on his shoulder. Sure, there had been a few times he had been thinking about how it would have been, but never wanted it. Especially not after spending so much time on battlefields. The battlefields were nice, easy, uncomplicated. He had known those ever since he was a squire, and being on one filled him with some sort of inner calm. But court, politics and such matters, not really. But now he would have to get better at those things. Too much depended on that.

And of course there were other sides he didn't like to his new role. Being heir meant need for heirs, didn't it? It was not that he was afraid of women, or didn't enjoy their company. There was something else entirely he was afraid of. Ever since he had been a child, he had preferred buiding a wall around his emotions, and his entire inner being. He knew he wasn't a good man, if he'd ever spend some time speaking with a priest, he would probably get a long sermon about that. After all, that is why he preferred not to speak with them. So he had hid his inner self away, and vey few people could ever get to it. His younger sister could, one or two of his cousins, and there had been a few more people he had met. A few people that he had encountered throughout the last year had made him believe there was something good there, but then again, those people seemed to have been driven away for some reason or the other. So what he really feared was someone getting close enough to see the creature within.

"Bastard…" he muttered, one hand going to his eyes to wipe away the tears from his eyes. But then there was a knock on the door, and he froze for a moment. "Yes?"

"Mylord, it's the drink you ordered," one of the guardsmen said, through the door. "Enter, place it inside, then get out again!" The man did so, expression looking both confused, worried and scared, before he hurried back outside.

Getting to his feet, and moving over to the drink, Jarret sighed. He poured himself some wine, and drained the goblet, not paying too much attention to the taste, just wanting the effect of the drink, both the wine and the brandy that had been brought.

And for the rest of that night, Jarret Sokar was drinking and weeping. For what had been, for the future, but more importantly, for all that would never be.

"When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide"
- Imagine Dragons - "Demons"

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