[PK] The Murder of a Palmer

[camocat9 1022]

The faces that surrounded Garret Palmer Junior at the family gathering were familiar ones, and perhaps that’s what made it all the more frightening. His attempts to bring together the Palmer family together once more were futile at best, and completely useless at worst. His siblings rebuked every effort at his attempts to recentralize the family, and others, such as Merith, argued against his every word. The table was full of both the Palmer Family and the Morgaine Family alike-- some chatted amongst themselves, while others argued amongst themselves.

 

The roasted chicken, potatoes, and carrots that sat upon the table were nearly untouched by all there, and Garret simply picked at his food once more, “This whole damned family is goin’ to fall ‘part…” He muttered lowly, more to himself than anyone else around him. Garret took a long draft from the cup that had been set before him, shaking his head as he looked around at the family he was supposed to be in control of.

 

Garret took another small bite of the food that had been set before him, before sighing and setting his utensils down once more, electing to keep listening to the bickering that occurred around him. It was after this moment that Garret’s memories seemed to fade-- his thoughts became disjointed.

 

He saw himself stumbling towards his bedroom, complaining of how tired he had been, the family blankly watching him go. He promised that he would be back downstairs after a quick nap. Garret blinked, and suddenly he was laying in his bed, eyelids heavy. Another blink, and there were multiple figures entering his room. He blinked.

 

He opened his eyes and he was within the very manor had fallen asleep in-- sitting in the very same position on the bed fifty years earlier. He was nothing but a bright-eyed child, his wavy black hair falling across his face messily. There were paintings on his wall-- paintings of figures so magnificent, so revered through the world. His mind wandered, dreaming of one day where his portrait, too, would be hanging in the rooms of children, looked up to by all.

 

He blinked again. The image shifted. His father and mother stood by him, looking down at him with smiles upon their faces. Garret Palmer Senior was speaking, though the words were muffled as if his head was underwater. His siblings stood around him-- Aerielle, Merith, and Miray, who were all talking excitedly to one another and their parents.

 

Garret’s eyes fluttered shut once more and the image shifted, the walls of Ves now surrounding him. Cameron Halmar stood nearby, a small smile on his features as he held a wooden practice sword, offering it out to Garret, who took it nervously. Garret looked up to the aging Kaedrin Army officer slowly, who nodded in approval and helped shift his hands to the proper position on the hilt of the mock blade.

 

Another flash of light. Garret saw himself traveling through the lands of Arcas, a worn travel pack slung over his shoulder, the now adult man looking at a torn map with his initials inscribed in the bottom right corner. He traced a dry quill along some of the more frequently traveled roads, plotting the next course in his travels. He saw Beatrix, and the many trips he took to Kaedrin to see her.

 

He blinked again. Garret was standing at the imposing front gate of Al-Faiz, Fahad Al-Nabeel peering out through between the bars. Each time he blinked, the city of Al-Faiz grew more familiar-- Elena, Saeed, Antar, Damon, Esmae, Hamzah, Abdullah, Ameen. Their faces flashed before him in a blinding torrent, the times he knew them for at the forefront of his memory.

 

There was another flash. Garret was speaking with a girl named Lelani. They talked amongst themselves, sitting next to eachother. Lelani had a small journal in her hands, and was pointing out letters to Garret. They sat beneath the stars within the walls of Al-Faiz. They kissed. Then, just as suddenly as she had arrived, Lelani vanished.

 

He blinked again. Catherine lay on the ground, a wound in her throat as those from within the city of Al-Faiz rushed out to help her, the bandits who had done it to her retreating into the night. Garret sat next to Catherine as she healed, and finally accepted the girl into his family as Catherine Palmer.

 

There was yet another flash. Garret was speaking to Sky Mesina in the middle of Helena, just out in front of the tavern. Garret looked middle aged at this point, and the two seemed to be conversing happily on the bench where they sat. Each time he blinked, a different scene played through his mind-- Garret and Sky’s wedding being the foremost.

 

Another flash. Sky held a young, brown-haired child in their arms-- Astrid. The pair smiled down at the child. Scenes of Astrid’s growth played through his head, from the multitude of fights she had gotten in within Sutica, to the calm nights she spent around home.

 

Then, the visions became darker-- visions of the Inferi. Visions of battles and scars. The older Garret grew, the more rage-filled he seemed to become, lashing out at those around him to take out his anger. The older he became, the less he became like the compassionate man he once was. The city of Al-Faiz burned, and the encampment of Al-Hadirah beckoned.  He blinked and saw Elijah through the mist that had covered him, the young, innocent boy happily trotting throughout the paths of Al-Hadirah.

 

The last scene he saw was an Inferi cannonball traveling towards his feet. He tried to jump away, but was only partially successful, the cannonball sending debris scraping across his face, then, his vision went black.

 

Garret woke up in the present moment, a dagger buried in his chest, the figure wielding it too blurry to see. He tried to scream, yet no sound came out. Even when he did manage a hoarse cry, the sounds of the Palmer Family gathering below drowned it out. He struggled, and struggled, but his vision went dark. The last thing he ever saw was the blurred form of a figure turning away from him, dagger in hand as they exited the room.

 

 

Garret Palmer Junior – 1732 to 13^th of the Amber Cold, 1787

 

 

[tadabug2000 3614]

Spoiler

This being only if it’d be known outside the family that he had died.

Princess Esmae Bint Saqr Al-Nabeel frowned as the news reached her, head bowing and silks of her hijab flowing forward to partially cover her face. “He was a good man.” She commented, voice quiet, solemn and fingers looking together in front of her. “Salat al-janazah.” She uttered in prayer.