Chapter 18: Chapter 18 – A Drink Between Brothers

Chapter 18 – A Drink Between Brothers

It was well past midnight when Lucid found himself alone at the tavern counter. The sun had long since vanished, and only the pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting soft shadows across the room. Alice was asleep again in the back room. She’d exhausted herself healing Andrew’s mother that midnight. Lucid had offered to carry her back, and she didn’t protest. She curled up beside the furnace and slipped into slumber like a leaf settling in water, after failing to go up the stairs and falling a sleep on the spot.

They had come back from the infirmary.

Lucid sat at the bar, unmoving.

Andrew, for once, wasn’t behind the counter polishing mugs or humming some off-key tune. He was seated beside Lucid, a rare bottle between them and two mismatched glasses resting on the counter. His usual boisterous grin had faded into something softer.

Quieter.

“You ever drink?” Andrew asked, swirling his glass with a gentle hand.

Lucid eyed the glass. “Not often.”

Andrew nodded. “Figures. You’re too... sharp. People like you don’t dull their edges unless they really want to.”

Lucid didn’t answer.

Andrew poured the drink—amber liquid that caught the sunlight like gold dust—and slid one glass toward him. Lucid stared at it. Then picked it up.

“I always told myself I wouldn’t open this unless something good happened,” Andrew muttered, lifting his own glass with a sad smile. “Funny, right? Waiting’ on a miracle to uncork an old bottle.”

Lucid took a small sip. It was stronger than he expected. He coughed.

Andrew snorted. “Heh. Still human.”

Lucid looked at him. “This... doesn’t feel like a celebration.”

Andrew’s smile dropped, the corners of his eyes twitching with the weight of something unspoken.

“No,” he admitted. “It’s not.”

Silence lingered between them, interrupted only by the soft breathing of the sleeping girl in the backroom.

“She saved her,” Andrew said, voice low. “Your girl. Alice.”

Lucid nodded once.

“She walked into that sickroom like it was nothing. Laid her hands on Ma and whispered something I couldn’t hear. And then... the fever just... broke.”

Lucid stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say. Gratitude was obvious. But it wasn’t his to give.

“She’s got a good heart,” Andrew added after a moment. “And you—you protect that heart.”

Lucid shifted in his seat. “I’m trying.”

Another long pause. Then Andrew leaned back with a deep sigh.

“You remind me of someone.”

Lucid glanced at him.

“My brother. Older than me. Took on the world like it owed him answers. Always trying to fix things that weren’t his fault. People loved him for it... but it broke him.”

Lucid didn’t speak, but something in his chest clenched.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“He fought when others gave up,” Andrew said. “And when he lost, he never told anyone. Just smiled. Moved on. Drank a little harder, Slept a little less and worked on his countless hours of projects.”

Lucid finally asked, “What happened to him?”

Andrew gave a small, hollow laugh.

“He died in what seemed like an ‘accident’ that was orchestrated by the nobles."

Lucid stared at him, stunned.

“I don’t want to get into the details but let’s just say he saved me from a carriage led by golems that went out of control that was supposed to hit me initially."

He drank again, slower this time.

“It was gruesome absolutely horrible but I saw them in the distance, I don’t know whom but I knew it had to be some nobles laughing”

Lucid looked down at his glass, untouched since his first sip.

Andrew tapped the bar. “You got the same eyes. Like you're carrying a storm. But you’re trying not to let anyone else get caught in it.”

Lucid finally spoke. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

Andrew didn’t interrupt.

“Back... where I came from, I ran from fights. I told myself I was waiting for the right moment. I called it survival. But sometimes... I think it was fear.”

Andrew nodded, listening.

“There was a girl—someone I thought I knew. She looked at me like I was filth. Like all the words I said about planning and waiting were just excuses. And maybe... maybe they were.”

Lucid let the words hang.

“I wasn’t a teammate to them I was dead weight. And when the moment came... they left me.”

Andrew whistled low. “Damn.”

Lucid shook his head. “i tell myself that i gave moved on and don't mind it. But it still burns, some nights im unable to sleep due to the anger and thirst for revenge. And now... I look at Alice, and I she strangely calms me down, but i keep thinking... what if I fail again? What if I hesitate?”

Andrew was quiet for a long time.

Then, he reached out and placed a calloused hand on Lucid’s shoulder.

“You won’t.”

Lucid looked at him.

“You won’t,” Andrew repeated. “Because you already learned the cost. You’ve felt it. That kind of pain doesn’t go away—but it changes you.”

Lucid turned away. “It’s still there.”

“It’s supposed to be,” Andrew said gently. “It’s the fire under your ribs. It keeps you from ever going back to who you were.”

Lucid finally drank again. This time, it didn’t burn as much.

“I’m not good at trusting people,” he said. “But... you’re different.”

Andrew grinned, but it was tired. “You know, for someone wearing a glass mask and holding a thousand secrets, you’re not that hard to read.”

Lucid smirked. “Is that so?”

Andrew shrugged. “You move like a soldier, but talk like a man who’s lost more than he can admit. I’ve seen your type before. But you’re still here. That’s what counts.”

They sat for a while, sipping in silence. The sun dipped lower, and the light grew redder, softer.

Andrew poured another glass and leaned on the counter.

“I’m not a fighter,” he said. “I run a tavern. I polish mugs and serve drinks. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned... it’s that even broken people can carry others—if they stop trying to carry everything alone.”

Lucid nodded slowly.

“Alice looks up to you,” Andrew continued. “Even when you don’t notice. She sees you as something strong. Not because you win fights. But because you keep getting up.”

Lucid looked toward the back room. Alice was still curled up, breathing softly.

“I don’t deserve her trust,” he whispered.

“No one ever does,” Andrew said. “That’s why it’s a gift rather than a reward.”

Lucid finally allowed himself a breath. A deep one.

Maybe for the first time in days.

By now, the night had fully settled, darkness enveloping the world outside. Lucid’s eyelids began to droop, and he seemed on the verge of dozing off. Andrew, noticing this, gave him a gentle nudge to keep him awake. Lucid stirred, blinking himself back to alertness, and stood up, ready to head upstairs.

Andrew stopped him.

“Hey.”

Lucid turned.

“Don’t try to solve everything at once,” Andrew said. “One puzzle at a time, remember?”

Lucid gave him a nod.

“And Lucid?” Andrew added, voice lower now.

“Yeah?”

“No need to pay anymore, my home is your home. I want to support you in any way I can.”

Lucid nodded again. Firmer this time. “Thanks.”

As he stepped into the upstairs hallway, he glanced back one last time. Andrew was behind the counter again, whistling as he wiped down a glass, finishin up what was left to do for the day, like nothing had changed.

But something had.

In Lucid’s heart.