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It’s a warm day in Baldur’s Gate as Rugan stands in the small cemetery. The sounds of the circus nearby can be heard, the laughter of children, the cacophony of various instruments being played. He’s stood there for some time looking at the relatively new tombstone that juts out of the freshly dug earth. His leather armour has been replaced with a black cotton shirt and his once cleanly shaven face now sports the start of an emerging beard, a failing attempt at a disguise as he wanders the streets of the city.
“Gods, I’ve been standing here ages trying to come up with the words. Ain’t I meant to have some big farewell lined up? You know, flowers or something? I’ll have a pint for you later if anything. Hopefully, that’ll do.” His words are casual, not the type for baring feelings or dragging out long goodbyes.
“Roah’s leading the guild now. Yeah, you remember that big hero that got us out of that cave? Turns out they weren’t all glowing halos and bullshit like we thought they were, ended up taking down Nine-Fingers and stuck her in charge. Bit of a surprise if you ask me, you know after they showed up and took care of Zarys and… well, you know what happened.” He looks away catching the glimpse of a small bird that flutters nearby. “I offered to meet up with them if they ever got to the city but I've not seen head nor hide of them since we got here. They’re probably off saving the world or something. A real shame as they owe us half the profit from selling that chest we had, though I’m not so sure it’s worth the gold now.” He swallows hard, trying to bury the guilt. Yeah, that pint’ll do nicely, maybe a bottle of whiskey to chase it down too…
He passes a quick gaze back over the stone, knowing the words he should be saying, the ones he’s been trying to avoid for too long. “You know Olly, I was a right prick that day. Should’ve just done the job, got in got out like always, kept my head down. But mate, it gets exhausting following the rules all the time. I wanted an out, a bit of peace, maybe a nice bird to rock home to. Instead, I fucked it up and got you killed.”
He kicks a stone up with his boot, watching as it bounces along the grass past the grave. “You were an alright lad, proper head on your shoulders, could’ve gone far with the right person behind you. Shame you didn’t have that though.” He takes one last look at the stone, staring at the dates and doing a quick calculation of the age stated. “Fuck," he sighs. "I’m sorry, alright. I should’ve done better by you.”
He rolls his neck, loosening up the tension that’s set in before relaxing his shoulders and turning away. “I’ll see you at the tavern later, mate. Have a good one.”