“I know you don’t really get along with my brother, but if you see him out there…”
Garrett scribbled out the note in the back of a merchant’s cart, bouncing down the road towards Westfall. His lute case didn’t make the best writing desk, but it was a sturdy enough to make do if he was careful. The old man had agreed to take him as far as the Westbrook Garrison—the crates keeping him company in the back were intended for the kitchens there—but he would have to walk the rest of the way.
He was no match for the Legion. He knew it, Variken knew it—they’d had a few too many close calls on Draenor to think otherwise. Fighting, he could do. Combat against the Burning Legion? Not as much. There was more than one way to fight, of course. Information, supplies, organization, civil aid…
But he knew his brother well enough—knew who his-brother-the-warlock associated with well enough—to know that it was only a matter of time before Variken headed straight for the fires. Because that was where Tulia would be, and that was their deal: power and knowledge in exchange for aid against the Legion.
When Variken had gone to Draenor, Garrett had been right beside him. No way in hell he had been letting his brother run into that alone, warlock or no.
Then they had almost died. Several times. Which in itself wasn’t a huge surprise, but…
Garrett had heard about what happened on the Broken Shore. He was a bard. He knew his way around a pair of daggers, sure, but he was better with his lute or a deck of cards than he’d ever be with a weapon.
You might not remember me, but we met about a year ago in Moonglade…
The Legion was a little too out of his league, but he loved his brother and he’d be damned if he let Variken go in there without back-up that didn’t come in the form of a succubus with a grudge. Who he could trust to do the right thing—whether that meant bailing his brother out of the fire, or, well…
He knew his brother. But he knew Tulia, too. She was strong, and claimed to be against the Legion, but she was a demon.
Maybe Variken had one of the strongest wills Garrett had ever known, but Garrett knew how easy it was to make just one little slip too many and with all the Legion bearing down on them one little slip could be all it took to lose his brother for good.
As the cart ambled on down the road, Garrett wrote.
…so look after him for me, please. And do what I can’t.
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