The Manhunt/Chapter 16

It was almost freedom to put the villa behind him.

The three were in a carriage car of a train, whooshing at many miles per hour through France. The scenery had been simple yet beautiful. Grassy fields atop with trees. The occasional aqueduct. A lake– a large body of water...

Bastion’s thoughts travelled to the sea. Cold and salty. Not much different from him. But he was no longer Ambassador Fanfarinet. There was no reason to think of the sea, and think death afterwards.

Yet–

The association was so hard to break.

He moved his eyes up from the lake, and tried to focus on the countryside. How beautiful and calming, it seemed. Away from the city, away from people. Most importantly, away from destiny.

In his contemplation, Bastion couldn’t hope but notice the others were silent. Gabriel was tucked up in a copy of Candide, ignoring the world around him for the words of Voltaire. And Airmid… Airy was staring down at their hands, propped up on the table, eyes blank.

“You’re been quiet,” Bastion said.

“I’ve been contemplating,” replied the physician. Their voice lacked their usual energy. “You know that I’ve been– well, that I’ve been poorly. I think you deserve to know why."

From their bag, they pulled out the letter and the journal.

“They’re fakes. Both of them. Godfather Death planted them to test my curiosity, no doubt.”

“Are you sure you want to discuss this in front of–?” Bastion gestured to Gabriel.

Airmid shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Outside, the train passed over a bridge. In Bastion’s side version, he noted how tall the bridge was, how far one would fall if it inadvertently broke. His mind flickered to fatal heights in general, and realised he didn’t really care anymore.

Propping the edge of his face on his hand, he waited for the physician to continue.

“I’m happy for you, I really am. You got what you want, and you’re got the freedom that comes along with it. But I’ve been personally sent on a wild mother goose chase,” Airmid sighed. “I don’t know how my Godfather found out about our little trip, but he did. Likely, he was tipped off by Grimm or another source. Whateverafter, that doesn’t matter, because he purposely planted information to trick me.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “Your Godfather knew we were on this little adventure. He got to Germany before us, and tricked you into thinking you were actually successful?” That’s cruel, Bastion thought.

“Precisely,” Airmid said. “You know, I was in the mist of thinking I was great. Thinking I was the one physician who actually might break the cycle and restore people’s memories of the past physicians. I was so daft, and careless, and wrong."

“Personally, I think you did quite well. Befriending a witch and getting that invisibility cloak was fairly ingenious."

“My own grimm damn Godfather doubts me,” hissed Airmid. “How in Ever After is that quite well?”

“You did your best.”

“My best should be leading to success! Anything less is– dear grimm, anything less is worthless.”

No, that’s a lie, Bastion wanted to say, but what good would it have been to say it? Words seemed useless right now, as if the two were throwing them around like nothing.

He made a mental note to give something to Airmid Valerian in his last will and testament, realised he had thrown his five-year plan away, and slumped his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Airmid continued. “Look, I work hard, right? I’m determined to make people understand my status is achieved through my own work, not some miracle herb. I write articles, I’m published, peer-viewed. I’ve invented new methods, I’ve given ReadTalks. You know all that! I constantly tell you what I do!"

“You deserve all those accolades. Really. You wouldn’t have them if you didn’t deserve them."

“I feel like I’m just trying to justify myself and it’s getting nowhere,” the physician buried their face in their hands. “Thank y–you, Bastion Fanfarinet. You’re… you’re a mildly decent human being to vent to. It’s like… throwing rocks at a brick wall, and the brick wall throwing bricks back.”

“That makes no sense, Airmid.”

“Exactly. It’s a metaphor. Um, I think it’s supposed to be representative of how this world works,” they lifted their face from their hands, donning a small smile. “Like, how the seasons never seem to be predictable at school.”

“Or how long this school year is taking. It feels like five."

The smile broke into a laugh. “Yes, indeed! Why– why are we so worked up in finding sense and tying together threads when literally nothing around us makes sense?"

“Maybe we just want our own place in this world. A tiny island in the sea of fairytales."

“Still, no one understands how important knowing my predecessors’ paths are to me,” Airmid said. “And what you just said, the whole island thing, that’s why I want to know. Remember what I said? Looking further into the past–“

“– and you can look further into your future,” Bastion nodded. “Yes."

“And I’m definitely not angry at Godfather, it’s just– I’m so confused. Why? Why would he do this? To all his apprentices and physicians? It seems like such a wasted effort, surely there’s some ulterior motive."

“You might never know. And that’s okay. You did say that uncertainty was something worth embracing."

“Yeah. I’m not sure if I can handle that possibility, though. Airmid Valerian. Yet another physician, once more forgotten to history.”

Bastion placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I won’t let them forget you. Promise.”

He patted the shoulder awkwardly. Airmid patted him awkwardly back.

In that moment, the world did not seem like a clear mess. The horizon of their respective lives would be blurry, constantly sought for but never reached. That which was further would be obscured by the curvature of life.

Was there comfort in uncertainty?

No, but there was truth, and that was enough.

When they had gotten off at the station, Bastion Fanfarinet had instructed Gabriel to go get them some food. Practise for the diplomat part of his destiny, he had said.

In reality, it was just so that the man could temporarily get lost.

“Alright. Airmid. I’ve been thinking on the train."

“Hmm?”

“So,” he said, trying to work out how to articulate these thoughts. “The letter. You’ve been quiet and reticent because of it. Essentially, the letter has silenced you."

Airmid wasn’t quite sure exactly how to respond.

“And that, in itself, is a self-fulfilling prophecy, correct?"

“It’s ironic, that’s what it is. I searched for information to discover more about my legacy and therefore myself,” they frowned. “All I’ve done is lost myself."

“Precisely. Hence, you have to try your author-damn hardest to find yourself again.”

"And what hexactly do you mean by that?"

“The world is going to tell you whatever you do – whatever you say – is worthless,” he said. “Your job is to prove them wrong. So rant. And ramble. Because those whom the world remembers are those who made a scene. If you say silent, or say what’s hexpected, all you’ll do is fade away from the world's collective memory."

“That’s– that’s inspiring,” the physician looked a little awe-struck. “Thank you, Bastion. I’ll take note of that."

“I did promise you something,” he said, nearly choking up. “I won’t let the world forget you."

Had he given the same promise two weeks ago, it would have been a hard promise to keep for someone who had no plan to live long.

“You’re crying,” said the physician, eyes wet. “Bastion, you’re–“

“I’m not crying,” said Bastion, crying, but only a little. “You’re– D'Aulnoy damn it, Airmid Valerian, I’m crying."

“You’re going to make me cry."

“You’re already crying.”

“We’re a mess. We are a grimmdamn mess of a fairytale,” Airmid Valerian shook their head. “In Grimm’s name, Bastion Fanfarinet–“ They couldn’t finish their sentence, sniffled a little, and wiped their tears on the back of their wrist.

On impulse, he hugged them.

Not an awkward bro-hug, done in a split second with a harsh pat on the back. Not a pity hug. This was a proper platonic hug. A “I’m here for you; you’re great as heck” hug.

It was rare and warm and comforting.

They hugged him back.

“Look. You’re free to ramble. You should ramble,” he said. “There would be nothing less tragic if the world had lost the energy of Airmid Valerian."

He patted the physician awkwardly on the back. They patted him awkwardly back.

“Um,” said Gabriel, who had returned with food. “Am I interrupting a moment?”

Instead of replying to Gabriel, Bastion broke away from the hug and hugged Gabriel instead. Airmid gave Gabriel an additional awkward punch on the shoulder, then decided that a punch was not enough, and joined the hug.

“I suppose I am part of the moment now."

Gabriel sighed, and accepted the hugs.