Dearest old friend,

I hope this letter finds you well, however, sorry I am to disturb your life. You have made it very clear that you do not hunger for understanding like I nor desire the vengeance to which you are surely entitled. I have wished you the peace you seek over these past decades even as I seek to comprehend this world and the circumstances that brought me into it. As much as it pains me to interrupt whatever life you have made for yourself, I am afraid I must. I found the answers I was seeking yet I find myself with more questions. One thing is for certain, the knowledge I possess must not fall into the wrong hands, you know of whom I speak. My time is near now, I feel the reaper closing in and satan’s heavy desire to possess the secrets I guard. I task you with its protection now friend. I implore you to take up the torch for there is none else that could bear what I ask of you, the importance only you can truly grasp.

    Tobias stood at the bar with the innkeeper watching him and tried not to show his panic. He tossed the innkeeper a tip, of what amount he was uncertain, and casually ascended the stairs to the room he had called home for the past three years. He pulled out a small Bible that had seen better days and sat at the desk, using the dying light to see to decode the rest of the message. After a moment he squinted at the name of a French town he’d never heard of and the name Favro. "At least he doesn’t want me to go to England," Tobias thought out loud. He sat back with a sigh knowing he could not ignore the plea of his old friend Askr.

    The last time he’d seen Askr was in the summer of seventeen fifty-five, it had been twenty years since and Tobias was a shame to say he had wanted to keep it that way. Inquisitive, ingenious, sorrowful Askr. Being with Askr brought up too many painful memories, so he’d left his friend to deal with his own devils and seek peace as Askr put it. He’d hoped to have a normal life, find a girl, settle down, and finally, have those children he’d promised his mother before she passed. But between the nightmares that have him waking screaming bloody murder and the drink he used to help ease the nightmares, family life seemed like a distant dream. He found he was made perfectly for being a mercenary, bounty hunter, and even moonlighted as a barber for a while but found the work too gruesome. Currently, he resided in a coastal town in Ireland where he frequently played at being a pirate. With the rumblings of England going to war with the colonies, now was a good time as any to head to different shores. The next morning Tobias settled his tab at the inn and found passage on a ship headed to France in the afternoon.

     He spent the voyage trying not to think about twenty years ago but had little success. It didn’t help that the ship was waylaid in Dover for almost a week. A week Tobias spent being hounded by demons he thought he had given the slip. For years now all that was left were the nightmares, or sleepless nights if he could manage it, though he managed to drink himself into a dreamless state occasionally. Yet currently he found himself having visions midday of blood and death and the phantom pains in his right eye keeping him up at night. He was eating a meal that suddenly turned to grave dirt in his mouth and the bread and stew meat had become a pale hand with muscle and sinew dangling from the severed wrist. Even when the meal returned to normal, no amount of water could wash the grave dirt flavor out of his mouth. It was a taste he was uncomfortably familiar with.

    At night, when he managed to forgo sleeping, he would hear them. The Scholars manic yells at his "beast", "albatross", his "monster", a tirade of Bible scriptures and berating. In response, there would be deep sorrowful moans full of grief Tobias could only imagine at. Still, Tobias had endured his share of grief at the hands of the Scholar. The worst were the visions that included sensory memories making them seem more realistic and that much harder to shake.

    He’d feel cold and then the smell of death filled the room, the overpowering stench clogging his nostrils and forcing its way down his throat. He was transported back in time to a cold stone cell filled with corpses in different stages of decay. His vision was dim from starvation and he knew his life was slipping away and very soon he would be just another rotting body in this cell along with the others he had helped amass. The door opened and in walked the Scholar, the smarmy bastard was holding a plate of something smoking and smelling really good. He thought he’d been forgotten about , left here to starve to death and in truth it would have been better if he had. No instead here he was being handed a plate of roasted meat and roll of bread, and although he knew it was too good to be true he couldn’t stop himself from diving in without hesitation. When he was done he looked at the madman in front of him and asked, "What do you want? I didn’t see anything... I know how not to go telling tales, especially those that have no bearing in reality right? Just let me leave." The Scholar stood up and backed further out of the chains reach, "No I just want to know how the food was?" Tobias looked confused, he hadn’t really savored it just put it inside his now cramping stomach as fast as he could. "Good I suppose..." he left the words hanging, nervous about where this was headed. "Interesting, would you say it was chewy, stringy, gamey? Did it taste like chicken? It looks more like pork I think" Tobias’ confusion and alarm grew, "Did you poison me?" "Oh no, please tell me my cooking isn’t that bad is it?" The Scholar stood over Tobias with a pleased expression on his face and said, "I even went to the trouble of adding salt  which makes everything better right? So why not human?" Tobias’ horror was apparent as was his shock as the Scholar continued uninterrupted. "Oh don’t look so surprised, as you can see I have a surplus and can readily get you more if you truly enjoyed it." Victor left as Tobias was upchucking the meal he’d previously devoured with such fervency. After crying and vomiting he’d fallen unconscious. Tobias came back to himself gripping the railing of the ship, having blindly sought a place to inhale great gulps of air to remind himself that he was not in that cell.

    He was vaguely aware that the other passengers thought his bouts of panic were seasickness, and he didn’t tell them otherwise. What could he say, memories of the past and anticipation of the future were torturing him? No seasick would work fine. He wondered what he would find in France. Maybe Askr, safe and well feeling silly for being so dramatic as often Tobias had scolded him he could be? That was doubtful, more likely he would find that his comrade had met his fate and now he was on his way to do the same.