After the alliance with the Dwarves and Elves shattered, Tarian spends his time sulking in the former meeting hall. As the days and weeks march on, only Keldon can disturb his solitude. Though those meetings continue growing briefer. Will Keldon be able to rouse his friend from his self-pity? Or will the Tarian continue to spiral out of control?
Tarian sat in solitary silence, taking in the emptiness of the meeting hall. The crack ran the entire length of the conference table, and the sneering crevasse mocked him. He gripped the hilt of his dagger with white knuckles. Tarian lifted the tip of the blade and rammed it into the pockmarked slab. He twisted the knife, enlarging the hole as he took a deep breath. As the seconds ticked away, he stabbed its point into the table several times.
Between strikes, the door swung inward. Keldon stepped inside, eyeing his friend’s assault on the ruined furniture before letting out a sigh. Tarian drove the blade into the wood again, and Keldon claimed an empty seat. He waited for his friend to stop, but the knife didn’t cease. He cleared his throat as he leaned toward his friend. “If everything were normal, I wouldn’t butt into your affairs.”
“Why are you starting the habit?” Tarian asked as he drove the dagger into the table.
Keldon lifted two fingers. “Two reasons. First, sitting here and wallowing over what’s happened for weeks isn’t healthy.”
“And the second?” Tarian asked, plunging the blade through the wood.
“You’re damaging the table.”
“It’s already cracked, Kel.” Tarian laid the dagger down. “This wooden slab isn’t going to be useful for any upcoming meeting with our allies.”
“You seem sure about that.”
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