Patrick Secret 6
You walk up to an old man sitting on the ground. He is crying into his hands and does not seem to notice you, so you kneel beside him and place your hand on his shoulder. You wait, and he continues to weep.
“I couldn’t stop it,” he says. “I can’t stop anything. I saw how they would die, but I couldn’t save them. I can see it burn, but I can’t dowse it. Why? Why?” You continue to hold the man’s shoulder and wait. Finally, you decide to ask him.
“What can’t you stop?” He looks up. The man has long dark grey hair and a face lined with weather, age, and scars. He is a well-built and broad-shouldered man who looks beaten down by time. The man looks out onto the city and weeps more as he points. The city burns brightly, the fires spread over its entirety, and none able to survive to licking flames.
“I couldn’t save my city.”
You watch as the flames consume the towering and grand city with an impossible passivity. “Perhaps you aren’t meant to, Brother Eldjarn.” Brother Eldjarn becomes more frustrated and looks at you with a fire in his eyes.
“Then why? Why give me these visions!” You look down on him like a father does to his child.
“How we fight our fate is as important as how it happens.” Brother Eldjarn shakes his head and looks away, gazing down the Hall of Jarl Kjeld. The Jarl sits in his chair, watching the burning city with glee, weapons at his feet and cups of blood at his hands, an insignia of a horse on his chest and the aegishjalmr brand overshadowing his throne. A trail of coins leads out in all directions to closed doors.
“Join me, Brother.” The Jarl says, his voice deep and confident. Eldjarn stands and walks away from both the Jarl and you, walking up to the city.
“Brother, you cannot change this,” you say.
“Brother, you will die,” Jarl Kjeld says.
Brother Eldjarn looks back, silhouetted against the inferno. His face is set, his eyes grim, and his soul tormented. “Good.”