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I couldn’t remember how I made it down that mountain, nor how much time has passed since then. But somehow, I found myself back in Caingorn in a small, crowded tavern.
I wasn’t paying much attention to what was happening around me, not even when the inn keeper placed a large tankard on the table in front if me.
“Give me the strongest drink you have”, I’d asked him immediately when I’d entered the tavern, and by the goods this tasted awful, but as long as it would get me drunk it would do.
“If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands!”
I flinched as these words echoed in my mind and m hand clenched around the tankard as I lifted it up to my lips once again. And coughed.
Horrible, that stuff.
Yet, I took another sip. But the voice in my head, that sounded oh so much like Geralt, repeatedly screaming what he’d said up on the mountain, just a few hours ago, just would not shut up.
Alongside Geralt’s voice, there was another, relentless whisper, telling me what I’ve been afraid of for all those years, over and over again.
“You’re too much, Julian.”
I shook my head. And emptied the tankard. And ordered another one.
Shut up. Shut the fuck up.
But what if it was true? What if Geralt was right? What if it all has really been my fault?
No.
But the doubts grew, along with the voices in my head whispering at me, fueling them like someone putting oil into a fire.
“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days it’s you shoveling it?”
I involuntarily shook my head, emptied the tankard, ordered another one.
It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t responsible for Geralt’s destiny.
“The child of surprise!”
I was the one who basically forced him to go to Pavetta’s betrothal. Because I fucked up in the past, and there simply wasn’t a better bodyguard than him. I’ve used him so I’d be safe, and got him into trouble. In danger even.
‘It was his choice to join you.’
Another whisper. Desperately trying to silence the other thoughts.
Vain.
“Because you would’ve annoyed him until he would’ve given in eventually. As you always do. You’re too much. People just want you to shut up.”
“The djinn.”
I was the one who accidentally had freed the djinn. Because my stupid little ego was hurt by words Geralt probably just said just so I’d shut up. Because again I’ve had been just too much in that exact moment. And I wouldn’t realize.
Fuck. It’s all your fault, Julian. Geralt is right. He’s better without you. You’re the one who, over and over again, caused problems and trouble. You’re too much. You’re not good enough. What made you think you’d be a worthy travel companion for a witcher, yet alone a friend to someone like Geralt. He doesn’t need you. You’re just a burden to him.
My hand brought up the tankard to my lips was now shaking, so heavily that the drink almost spilled. And with every sip my sight just got blurrier, my thoughts louder and more and more muddled. The booze didn’t shut the voices up. Instead, they became louder, repeating it all over again.
“You’re fault!”
“Annoying!”
“Useless!”
“Too much!”
Yet not enough …