Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

Richard stared at Oliver for a few seconds.

The glass still trembled faintly on the counter after the slam. Enough to leave the sound hanging in the air, uncomfortable.

Oliver stayed where he was on the other side of the wood, too big for the space, shoulders high, one hand closed near the empty glass. His question had been simple.

"If you can drink, you can talk. When do you start at the factory?"

Richard looked at him as if weighing whether it was worth spending more OXI on a crooked answer. The Ocean’s Law mark still worked on him, draining life in silence. Even healed by Zhang Xi, his body carried a full day’s exhaustion, ground down by a rule that didn’t care about reasons.

"I start," Richard said, slowly, "when my daughter is out of here and when I can walk without looking like I got kicked by a drunk horse."

Oliver didn’t smile.

He didn’t back off either.

His hand tightened a little more on the glass. Rhayne noticed. Veric noticed. Freya, sitting with Zoe in the corner, lifted her eyes for an instant and went back to speaking low with her. Zhang Xi only watched, as if the tension were a fever that didn’t need medicine yet.

Then I understood.

It wasn’t Richard.

It was the space Richard took up.

Oliver had seen me ask for him. He’d seen me bring a whole group to Red Squid, pay for teleports, face sixteen Divers, call Zhang Xi with humility, hold the tavern until the mark ended. For a man like Oliver, loyalty had physical weight. He carried crates, weapons, wounded people, and promises the same way: on his shoulders, without complaint.

And now there was another man being placed near the center.

Richard wasn’t competing for anything. He only wanted Zoe alive and far from that hole. Oliver, meanwhile, looked at the counter as if someone had moved his position on the map without telling him.

"Oliver," I said.

He turned his face toward me, but not his eyes.

"Come with me a second."

"Boss, if this is about—"

"A second."

The words came low. He obeyed.

We walked to the corner near a broken table, far enough not to put the conversation in the middle of the hall. Oliver stood with his arms crossed, his face shut. His posture said more than any sentence he could pick. He looked braced for a bad order, trying to take it before it hurt.

I spoke quietly. "You think I’m putting Richard in your place."

His jaw moved. Nothing came out.

"I’m putting Richard where Richard serves best."

This time, he looked at me.

"He knows Red Squid. He knows Drowneds, lying suppliers, hungry workers, small brawls, dirty debt, a threat that arrives before it becomes a threat. He knows how to sell to people who hate being sold to. He knows when a man is asking for a job and when he’s looking for a chance to steal stock."

Oliver breathed through his nose, heavy. "I can do that too."

"You can. And while you do it, who stays with me when things step outside the factory?"

He didn’t answer.

The question did more than a long explanation would. Oliver looked at the floor, then at Motörhead strapped to his back. The hammer seemed too large for the place, absurd next to glasses, bottles, and crooked shelves.

"I need you at my side," I said. "Not stuck in shifts, spreadsheets, bottle crates, and missing workers. Motörhead isn’t a tool for keeping time. It’s a hammer to open a path when the monsters decide to close one."

Oliver stayed quiet for a few seconds.

At the counter, Richard coughed softly. Zoe laughed at something Freya said, a short laugh, shy, almost surprised to exist. The sound crossed the tavern and reached Oliver too. His expression loosened a little.

"Is he good?" Oliver asked.

"He will be."

"You trust him?"

"I’m starting to. He was the one who helped me when I got to Thirstfall with nothing."

"Then I’ll teach him what he needs to know about the factory."

I nodded. "That’s what I wanted."

He let the air out slowly. He didn’t apologize. I didn’t demand it. Some things, torn out by force, come back small and useless. Better to let the man recover his own size.

We went back to the counter.

Richard watched us, not pretending otherwise. He was too old a tavern keeper to believe in private talks inside his own hall.

Before anyone spoke, he looked at his own HUD.

The change happened in his body before it showed on his face. His shoulders dropped. His breathing, short since I’d arrived, found a deeper rhythm. Color returned slowly to his cheeks, like an ember catching air. Richard closed his eyes for a second and braced both hands on the counter.

"It’s done," he said.

The Ocean’s Law mark had ended.

No one cheered loudly. That wasn’t a pretty victory. It was only the removal of a knife that had rested against his throat for a long time.

"End of the barroom talk," I said. "We’re going now."

Richard nodded. "Zoe."

She stood at once. "I know."

She ran to the back hallway before he finished the sentence. Freya rose to follow, but stopped when she saw Zoe disappear on her own. A few minutes later, the girl came back carrying a bag too heavy for her arm and a backpack slung any which way over her shoulder.

The effort turned her face red.

Freya took the bag without asking.

Zoe held the strap on reflex, as if she still had to prove she could manage.

"I’ve got it," Freya said, simple.

Zoe let go slowly. "Thank you."

Richard grabbed a smaller pouch; he had an inventory and didn’t need bags. Before leaving, he looked one last time at the tavern. The counter, the bottles, the crooked tables, the marked door. There were years in that look. Bad years, maybe a few good enough to make leaving hard.

He turned off the light behind the counter.

We went out the front door.

Red Squid was dark and wet under the night. A thin rain fell over us. Some windows had eyes. No door opened. No one tried to stop us. After what Freya and Zhang Xi showed, courage had grown too expensive for that block.

At the Oathmark, we paid the crossing to Azure Prime.

The light carried Red Squid away.

The air on the other side felt too clean.

We crossed the central plaza without stopping. Azure Prime still breathed night movement: carts, lanterns, guards, groups of Divers coming back late, Drowneds hauling crates as if the day had forgotten to end. Zoe walked close to Richard. Freya carried her bag as if it were something precious. Rhayne stayed a step behind Zoe, silent. Zhang Xi came calm, hood over her head. Veric walked slower than usual, still feeling his body.

Oliver stayed at my side.

When we reached the factory, the building was quiet. A few interior lights were still on. The smell of Lunaria, clean glass, and new wood had replaced the old smell of the tavern.

I handed Richard the access key code. "Oliver will show you everything. Stock, shifts, security, entrances, exits, who answers to whom. Tomorrow you start understanding the boring part."

Richard looked at Oliver.

Oliver looked back.

"Come on," Oliver said. His voice came lower than before. "We start with the stock. You’ll sleep there tonight, until you find a place of your own."

Richard adjusted the pouch on his shoulder. "After the night I’ve had, sleeping in the stockroom sounds like a vacation."

Oliver didn’t answer. He just opened the door and waited.

Richard went in.

Zoe followed her father, Freya still with the bag. Rhayne looked at me, as if asking whether I was all right. I made a small gesture with my hand.

But I wasn’t all right.

It had only ended for now.

I found the first free chair near the wall and sat before my body forced me to do it in a less dignified way. The fight against Veric, Red Squid, teleports, threats, the factory. It all came to collect at once.

I closed my eyes.

"Go to the boarding house, I need to rest," I murmured. "My whole body hurts."

I’d decided to spend the night there, near Richard, to keep him safe.

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