The lantern dangles in Viktor’s hand, its dim light barely illuminating the gravelly path a step or two ahead. He has no need for much light, he knows the way. Pebbles crunch under his soles as he strains one foot in front of the other, leaning heavily on his crutch. The chilled air weighs heavy with smells of cut grass and freshly unearthed dirt. Somewhere in the distance, seagulls screech. Their screams carry far in the quiet of the moonless night.
Viktor’s eyes are fixed on the ground he’s treading. His foothold is sure enough, he’s not worried about that. But he doesn’t dare look up to see it approaching. His lungs rattle and heave with every breath. They don’t fill with air as they used to. It had progressed. But he’s not permitting the cursed frailty to take this from him. Not today.
His thoughts are preoccupied in search for words. They find many, but none.
Viktor finally arrives, wheezing and aching. The cool night air chills the sweat drops running down his neck and temples. The dark unpolished granite in front of him doesn’t reflect the lantern’s light, but the golden engravings glimmer painfully bright.
Councilman Jayce Talis
The Man of Progress
A proud-looking profile is etched into the stone. It’s hardly visible in the dim light his lamp gives off. The image shares the cocky, lordly features they embued him with for those darned Progress Day posters. The overworked man that Viktor knows, the unshaved man with bags under his eyes, hunched over mountains of papers and labouring away on the other side of the table deep into the night hours, is nowhere to be seen.
Knew. The man he knew.
Viktor sets the lantern down on the ground.
“Hello there, old friend,” he groans, short of breath. “I’m sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the busy day I’ve had. Actually, you of all people might believe it.”
He slowly and achingly lowers himself onto the grass before the grave, gingerly placing his crutch next to him.
“To be perfectly honest,” Viktor sighs, “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here. I thought I should come and talk to you since I didn’t get a moment to do so properly yesterday. There were just too many people around all the blasted time.”
He shrugs. “And yet, the entire way here I couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted to talk to you about. But I came nevertheless. Isn’t that strange?” Viktor lifts his palms into the air.
He waits, even though he knows very well that no answer will come.
“Stranger things have happened, I suppose,” Viktor nods to himself.
He lifts the lantern, bringing it closer to the cold stone looming in front of him.
“They built you a nice one,” Viktor nods and lets out a long quiet whistle. “Really nice. The engraving is beautiful. They even gilded the hammer of House Talis.”
When the sight of the golden letterings begins to carve into his chest, Viktor looks away. “I must admit, I am a little jealous,” he adds. “I don’t think I will be remembered as you are.”
He shines his lamp on the heaps of flowers and forests of burnt candles surrounding them. “You were a very popular man, after all. Just look at all these. So many people came to say goodbye. Which, by the way, reminds me,” he reaches into his vest pocket, “I brought you a little something too.”
He places a candle between them.
“I’m sure you would have preferred some strong spirit, but I’m afraid they were quite adamant not to bring any foodstuff onto the cemetery. Due to the animals and some such.”
Viktor fishes out a lighter from his pocket. “So since I brought you flowers yesterday, I thought a candle would be appropriate today.”
He lights the candle and watches it burn, the flame dancing in the imperceptible breath of wind. The extinguished candles around it flicker enviously in the faint light it gives off.
“Just one of many,” Viktor notes. “And like the others, it’ll go out eventually.”
He looks up to Jayce’s image in the cold stone.
“But you weren’t just one of many, were you?”
Viktor waits for the answer that won’t come.
“No, you certainly weren’t.”
He hugs his knees.
“You should’ve seen your funeral yesterday. You would’ve hated it,” Viktor laughs. “Yes, you would’ve hated it. So many formalities. I could hear you rolling your eyes. Let me tell you, they wouldn’t stop giving speeches. One after the other, all of them had something so important to say. About how great and amazing you were, about how grateful they were for you, how you’re the pride of Piltover, how you’ll be sorely missed, how both you and us were robbed.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “Most of them had hardly spent ten minutes talking to you while you were alive. But that didn’t stop them from giving grand talks. It was the social event of the day, you know? Not to be missed by anyone of higher standing.”
Viktor smiles somberly. “You were always better at that, you know? I’m sure you know. All the speeches and politics and showmanship, that was your thing. Saying all the words that need to be said and that don’t mean what they mean. I never got the hang of it.”
He looks at his feet. His smile vanishes.
“So I hope you can forgive me for keeping my eulogy short. The appropriate words eluded me,” he sighs. “I could find none as weighty as they ought to be. There is something there,” he gestures at his chin, “something that is oddly tying my tongue to my jaw. Whatever word I try to enunciate, it’s as light as hot air and just as worthless. Just… hollow. Do you know what I mean? None of the words I thought of were right. At all.”
Viktor covers his eyes. “And even though I kept it short and to the point, I thought myself a liar and a charlatan while I spoke. Don’t get me wrong,” he adds hastily, “nothing I said was a lie – I will miss you. Your absence pains me greatly. You were a great man. An inspiration, a leader, a friend. And yet…”
Viktor hesitates.
“And yet, yesterday was but a hollow performance for an audience of mourners and socialites.”
He leans back to look at Jayce’s image again.
“As a matter of fact, I’m still not sure what to say. Or what to tell you. So I suppose apologising for it is a start, even though I still don’t know how to do better. So please, forgive me.”
He looks up into Jayce’s stony gaze until the silence gnaws at him. A bitter chuckle escapes him.
“This is all a bit ridiculous, isn’t it. I’m apologising to a stone as if it were you as if you could hear me. Did you know that I don’t even know whether you’re truly buried here? Did you know that? They didn’t even let me see your body. Imagine that. They called on your poor mother to identify you, that poor woman. But they wouldn’t let me see you. So I haven’t seen you with my own eyes. All I’ve seen is a casket, carried by six men and lowered into the ground,” he hisses.
“So is it really you who is lying buried here? Perhaps it was all a mistake, an error? Perhaps this is all just an elaborate joke? Will you leap from the shadows any moment now, yelling ‘Surprise, now let’s get back to work, we have much to do’?”
His wild gesturing extinguishes the candle between them. Viktor rubs his temple and tiredly lights it again.
“Forgive me, friend. That was the grief talking, I believe. It’s been a long, long day. And a very lonely day.”
He leans back again.
“You know, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to be the one giving speeches. I wasn’t supposed to be the one above ground. And you weren’t supposed to be the first one to go, I was.” He picks his crutch up and prods the gravestone. “I only have a few months left, couldn’t you have waited?”
The stone keeps silent.
“Or taken me with you. That would’ve been preferable to you going ahead.”
The stone keeps silent.
So Viktor raises his voice.
“Now I’m left here in a body that is finally falling apart and with way too much work on my hands. I was running out the clock before already, I’ll have you know, so what am I supposed to do now?”
He throws his crutch in the grass beside him, toppling over extinguished candles. “How am I supposed to finish all that on my own while I’m falling apart, Jayce? How am I supposed to die now, Jayce?”
The stone keeps silent.
Viktor clears his throat. “Yes. I don’t know either.”
He shrinks into himself.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Jayce”, he whispers. “You were in good health. You were beloved. You had plans and ambitions. You had an incredible future ahead of you. The things you would’ve done. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t.” His voice trembles.
The stone keeps silent.
“It’s not right,” he whimpers. “It’s not fair.”
The stone keeps silent.
“I’m sorry.” The first tear drops off his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
Tear after tear follows. They bring quiet sobs with them. They bring burning agony with them. They flow freely under the cover of the moonless dark. Clutching his own arms, his shoulders tremble in the suffocating silence of the night, disturbed only by quiet sounds of loss.
The stone keeps silent.
When Viktor’s shaking subsides, he wipes his eyes.
“You must think me laughable,” he smiles bitterly. “I was so preoccupied with my own woes that I forgot life was cruel to everyone.”
He grabs his crutch and laboriously lifts himself onto his feet. The strain leaves his lungs devoid of air.
“Perhaps ‘cruel’ is the wrong word here,” he muses, breathing heavily. “‘Heartless’ would be a more apt description. Yes, life is heartless,” he nods tiredly. “And so is time. It keeps marching inexorably. Perpetually turning like a well-oiled gear, crushing everything daring to approach its teeth. And so it goes on.”
Somewhere in the distance, seagulls screech, likely fighting over food. Viktor places a hand on the cold stone. “And so I go on, whether I like it or not.”
Viktor takes a moment to look at Jayce once more. He taps the stone twice.
“Be well, friend. And save a seat for me. I won’t be long.”
He picks up his lantern and slowly makes his way back.
The candle he leaves behind extinguishes shortly after he leaves, abandoning the grave of Councilman Jayce Thalis, Man of Progress, to the greedy veil of darkness.