Memories of a journey 5

It is like Hunger.
 
Not starvation. To starve is to crave something that is necessary to being alive. Starvation is all consuming. One can be hungry but not starving. To hunger for something specific. A passive emotion, but nonetheless present. It is a want, not a need.
 
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I sit by the small table where Noct and I had been taking our meals during the few days as we prepare for the long journey to Qesir. Arranged into neat piles in front of me is what remains of our money.
 
99 copper, one short of a silver… not very helpful aside from giving exact change. Giving exact change is good, makes the transaction go faster. Short transaction saves time.
 
75 silver… the bulk of our funds. Silver gets handed off the most, primary currency of the dominion. Had more Silver this morning, but I handed 15 Silver off to Noct to run some errands and have pocket money.
 
No gold. I had possessed a fair amount, but we took only what I could carry. The Gold I did take went fast. Weapons and Armor aren’t cheap. Neither is travel.
 
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This feeling, so like hunger. It can be specific, yet it need not be sated right away. You will not starve. It knows this. It is a patient feeling when it needs to be.
 
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The helmet stares at me from across the table, the chainmail veil laying around it. It is blank and dull, eyes of black glass that see nothing, deep scratches across its surface. It is a static, emotionless face… yet one could almost pretend it was judgmental in this moment. The hard metal didn’t have emotion… yet Noct always seemed so good at picking up on my emotions when i wore it, as if he could see the expression on my face behind the unmoving metal.
 
I stare back at it, leaning forward to pick up a pile of coins, only to let them fall back to the table, clinking together as they landed back in a stack. I repeat the gesture, staring at the helmet since it is my only company right now. The only handle the clink of metal coins falling again and again.
 
“You know… The Dominion does a lot to make sure people don’t go poor… doesn’t mean they make the cost of living cheap” I talk at my ‘companion’, uncaring about their lack of response. “Everything is taxed in some form or function. I suppose it all feeds back into the system. Dominion does actually seem to put those tax dollars to work… but its no surprise not everyone is pleased”
 
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This crawling feeling, it lingers in the back of your mind. Gently clawing at your thoughts, whining for attention. It reminds you of what you want and that you do not have it. It whispers in your ear how to feed it, gives hope that the voice can be silenced. You know better now.
 
Its easy to ignore most of the time.
 
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“But I suppose that’s why guardsmen still have a job” i leave the stack alone for now, picking up a single copper and turning it over in my hand. “Its a good job. Honest work. Make sure the people who don’t like the rules and the taxes are kept in check. Take care of the people who do follow the rules. Dominion is hard on organized crime anyway. Being a Guardsman is usually pretty easy.”
 
The Helmet says nothing even as I turn an accusatory eye to it.
 
“Wander around town. Keep the peace. Help an old lady cross the street. Simple, easy, boring… safe” Venom creeps into my voice. I’m not sure why, I'm talking to myself. It's not like I'm talking to any real person. “The Dominion does most of the work. Rules, Laws, regulations and god forbid, audits. Pretty hard for anything more complicated than a petty thief to get in a guard’s way… in theory anyway”
 
I look at the coin in my hand again, cleaning a smudge of dirt off it with the thumb of my leather glove. Its quite the shiny little copper piece. I can almost see my reflection in it.
 
I hate looking at this coin.
 
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Again, so much like hunger, it seems so easy to quiet this emotion. Just feed it, just a little. Enough to make it quiet.
 
That is, I suppose, the difference between being hungry and starving. When you are starving, you fill a need, and then you are no longer starving. Starvation is easy to fix. Hunger is not. Hunger doesn't have to go away, it isn’t so easily sated.
 
So you feed it… then you feed it again. This feeling it begins to get louder. It demands more, and it feels so good to feed it. To have all that is brings with it. The more you feed it, the easier it becomes to feed as well.
 
Quite the slippery slope, i would imagine.
 
Hard to see from an outsider’s perspective until it is far too late.
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“But its easy to get complacent. Living ins a decent sized city, you don’t expect much… so it's pretty easy to get taken by surprise… easier when you are being sentimental” I grimace at the coin in my hand. My free hand rises up to my face, gently touching the skin as memories wash over me.
 
“But what is a good guardsman to do? What is a good man willing to give up for others. Is being a good guardsman being ready and willing to put your life on the line for someone else… Even when those people have-” my face feels hot, not from old pain, not from the sun coming through the window. I put the coil down and put my face into the rough leather of my gloves, hoping that they are absorbent.
 
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That feeling builds and grows, leaving people to do terrible things to feed it. They become blind to the consequences of their actions. Blind to the knives at their back. Blind to the people they hurt.
 
That feeling, its own kind of hunger, a parasite that eats you from the inside out…
Its only a matter of time until all that is built by that hunger crumbles out from under you.
 
Then someone else has to clean up the mess. To judge if you are worthy to be saved.
 
Sometimes salvation comes too late.
Not everyone can be saved.
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The creak of the door comes shortly after I manage to find my composure again.
 
Judging by the light humming, Noct is back and in a good mood.
 
I save face by not turning to face him. Instead I busy myself with sweeping the coins off the table and into my coin purse. Noct is too good at reading my face, whether i’m wearing a helmet or not. Its easier to lie if i’m not looking at them.
 
“Where you able to find everything?” I ask, i’m good at keeping emotion out of my voice.
 
“Plenty of food and most everything on the list. Sadly Dreammaker, I was too late to pick up any crossbow bolts” i could hear Noct going through what they had bought and packing it away into our travel bags.
 
“It happens, we can shop around before we leave tomorrow, hopefully they’ll be restocked. Did you have any change?” i set the small bag of coin on the table, reaching for the helmet and pretending to clean it.
 
Noct goes quiet for a moment before answering.
 
“...There were a few silver left… on my way back, there was a woman and sh-” Noct stops their explanation as I stand, grabbing the bag of coins. I quietly tie it back to my belt, looking down at Noct with a smile.
 
“Noct, you don’t have to explain every act of charity you make. You did a good thing” I pat them on the shoulder and kneel as I help pack for tomorrow’s journey. This seems to ease the slight worry on Noct’s face.
 
“Besides, we have enough to get us to Qesir” I lie as easily as I breathe.