[Skell]
"Strike! Feint! Strike! Block! Feint! Blo…ck?" Amara's voice dropped off a cliff.
I lowered my staff. "Something wrong?"
The Knight tugged at a loc of hair. "…Why do you continue to aim at the dummies' pelvis? Straw's spilling from the bottom of the poor thing."
"Oh, that? Well, I've been thinking: I'm vulnerable to light magic; it's an undead's weakness. But what'd be a living man's weakness?"
The answer I expected never came. She just stared.
"Their stones!" I filled in the blank.
The eight day of training was like most others: full of solid progress, useful advice, and more than few staff spins that swung around to whack me in the face. What differed was the conversation.
Starting some days back, Amara and I found it possible to talk. I mean, we could always talk, but it'd end up feeling forced, or awkward, or tense.
Now we were talking about genitals.
Her stare narrowed into a squint. "So you're practicing… to strike foes in the nether region?"
"No need to sound judgy. Is it really so much better to blast one of us with burning, scathing, agonizing light magic?"
"Yes," she replied instantly. "At least those whose mental capacity starts and stops at 'murder.'"
They're really that bad, huh?
"Well, either way," I shrugged, "I gotta take advantages where they come. I mean, I can hit a man under the belt and drop him to the floor, and best of all, he does it back and I won't feel a thing! Heh, this must be how you guys feel."
"You 'guys'?" Amara crossed her arms. "You mean women?"
Turns out, I was misinformed. Very misinformed. Women do, in fact, feel an Abyss' worth of pain when hit between the legs, as Amara made distinctly clear. On the bright side, potential victims for my groin strike had suddenly doubled.
"Truly…" she shook her head, "perhaps you should consider doing research in your spare time. Anatomy isn't entirely unrelated to martial arts, after all."
"Research?" I repeated.
"Yes, research."
"Research…"
"Is there a reason you're copying me? You make the word sound uncanny."
"Not copying." I stroked my chin. "Thinking. You just gave me a bright idea, Amara."
—————————————————————————————————
Yep. This is it. The best district. Nothing else comes close.
I stared through the window of a culinary academy. Inside was a small class of aproned men and women, practicing a proper julienne cut before tossing the strips of carrot and onion into boiling pots.
That guy's terrible; those "thin" slices look like mozzarella sticks. I can do way better. Shade, I should be in there. Maybe I could even show the teacher a few tricks.
A woman at the back of the class turned around. She saw my face glued to the window and jumped, and I suddenly realized how I must've looked. Quickly I tore myself away, head down as I rushed back onto the street.
Urgh… that's what happens when you get sidetracked. Living the life you want is a privilege of the future. In the present, you've got work to do.
But getting sidetracked in the Ivy Corner was way too easy. So much was jam-packed in such a small district: colleges and relaxing parks and academies for specific pursuits like the culinary arts - along with lesser things like law and medicine and art and music. There was no hustle and bustle like the other districts - even the practicing minstrels were quiet. It was purely a place of learning. I liked that.
However, I wasn't there to enroll in college. Like I had the time for that. Instead I searched for someplace offering more… accessible information:
A library.
All it took was a little listening and my trusty map to find a one in the district's heart: The Nexus Of Wisdom And Knowledge Most Spectacular. An earsore of a name, but it was well-regarded, and there was a topic I couldn't stand to stay ignorant about. After some walking upon tireless legs, I stood at its ivy-draped door.
Vegetation ruled the building, entangled vines descending from roof to street on all four walls. Flowers lined the perimeter and aloe vera drew attention to every window.
Beautiful. But this wasn't the first time I'd seen it. Four days back - the same day Amara gave me the idea - I showed up. Just to get a "closed" sign thrust in my face. Training with the Knight lasted from sunrise to sunset - not much time after for extracurriculars.
This day was different. Amara had business down at the Citadel, meaning I had a free day. And while I may have spent all morning goofing off with Oliver, I had to at least be a little productive.
I pushed my way inside. Immediately I was greeted by crowded shelves stacked to the ceiling. Sliding ladders were all over the place, with people taller than me needing the highest rungs. Plants were on every surface a book, scroll, or record wasn't, and it was almost a game not to walk face-first into the hanging vines.
Dodging books, though, wasn't so easy.
A tall pile ran into me right as I entered an aisle of confined shelves. They all flew onto the carpeted floor. It took me an embarrassingly long time to notice they didn't carry themselves.
Center of the mess was a young librarian, her glasses round and her hat pointy. She'd fallen backwards from the collision and and her eyes were wide with clumsy shock. I'd have been annoyed - the crash was her fault - if I hadn't been so busy trying not to laugh at her expression.
I bit down a grin and leaned forward. "Are you all ri-"
"Watch where you're walkin', punk!" she pushed my hand aside. "I almost ran you down!"
"You… er, bu-"
"Buh-buh-buh!" she mocked me, getting to her feet and stabbing a finger in my face. "You gonna stutter all day or you goin' to say sorry?"
I kinda just stood there while my mind caught up. Sudden physical assaults I was getting used to. Verbal? Not so much.
"Minlyn!" A voice boomed from a direction I couldn't pinpoint. "Quiet in the library!"
The girl retracted the finger and held it close to her shivering chest. "Y-yes ma'am…"
"Sheesh, that's your boss?" I massaged the side of my head. "Hypocritical, don't you think?"
"Uh, yeah, but the hag pays like a gold mine."
"I heard that!" the voice called again. Minlyn turned redder than a tomato.
My eyes checked every angle. Seriously, where's that coming from?
"Uh, anyway," I watched the girl gather herself, "while you're here, can you answer a quick question?"
She raised a finger, then forced a whisper. "Wind Current."
Over Minlyn's shoulder came a bending channel of white wind, descending to the book-strewn floor with careful guidance. The wind blew through and picked up the fallen books one-by-one, building a collection that floated inside the current. Finally the current flew overhead and dissipated, dropping a uniform stack onto her open hands.
"Wow," I said. "That's pretty handy."
Minlyn shrugged behind the towering pile of books. "Meh. Some arts are necessary in a job as cutthroat as mine."
But… you're just a librarian?
"Enough yappin'," She turned aside to get a look at me. "Whaddaya want? I'm busy."
What I wanted? That couldn't be simpler.
An advantage.
See, the Templars knew more about me than I knew about myself. My weaknesses, strengths, regeneration. I was a subject to them - an object of study. Meanwhile, I knew squat about them. Their structure. Their role. How they operate. Over and over I'd be lost and confused about what others treated as basic facts, forced to play catch-up.
No more. Contact with their organization wouldn't end soon; I was gonna be a Templar, after all. And if I was to enter the fortress of my slayers, I couldn't go in blind. Big or small, any piece of information could work to my benefit. Or even be the difference between life and death.
I'm not like the rest of their prey; I've got a mind. And I'd be careless not to use it…
"Point me to your works about the Templar Order."
—————————————————————————————————-
Following Minlyn's hostile direction, I found myself passing several aisles and twice as many patrons until I hit the eastern wall. Though I wouldn't call it a wall - more like an impassible barrier of bookshelves.
Still, I continued. Though curiosity pulled my eyes to the hundreds of spines to my right.
A Traveler's Guide to Lumerit: Volume 3
An Abbreviated History of The Covenant of Division
Making "Magic" In The Kitchen: or How Arts Can Create Delicious Cuisine
Considering I passed the "horror" section, I had a sneaking suspicion those books were misplaced. Before I could decide if informing Minlyn was worth the hassle, the bookshelves stopped, presenting a door-shaped opening in the middle.
Above the entrance hung the one empty shelf they could spare. Secured inside was a plaque labelled The Templar Order.
The Order has their own section!? I poked my head inside. And its not small…
Necromancy might've been a subject scrubbed clean outside the Citadel, but I was sure information on the Templars wouldn't be so tight-lipped. Having their own tended-to corner in one of the most popular libraries in the capital, though…
I shook my head. No. This is exactly what you need. With so much to choose from, you can learn near-anything about the Order.
Delving inside, my eyes darted around - making selections. One way or another, I'd shine light on this organization.
—————————————————————————————————
I closed the latest book with a thump, leaning forward to place it atop the table's growing pile. An arm laid over my face and I sighed.
Think that's about it. Another word and my skull's gonna split…
Reclining in the sofa, my eyes struggled to focus on the blurry room. It doubled as the section for the Order, and something of a relaxing study - green windows casting over me soft shades of the same color. I'd walked back and forth between both sides several times, and now, I was just about ready to walk out the door.
Wait, no. I should sum everything up before I leave. No point cramming if everything ends up forgotten.
Though looking back, most literature wasn't about the inner-workings of the Templars. Instead they were of great accomplishments and distinguished figures in their history, of victorious conflicts and virtuous acts. They were made to sound like true heroes; men and women of legend. But legends didn't often make for accurate study.
Still, I learned a lot. Even I knew their main goal: suppressing Lumerit's undead "infestation". What I didn't know was how important that job was.
The Templars weren't just above the common people. They were above city guard. Affluent merchants. Barons. Counts. Even Marquis - the loftiest of nobles - bent the knee to them. They were king - second only to the King himself. The highest-ranked Templar and he were often spoken of in the same breath, and together, they were the twin heads of the nation: the monarch and his radiant right hand.
Speaking of ranks, I wasn't shocked to find they were obsessed with the concept. Their pecking order started with the Squires: a rookie position. Then there was Amara and Hyland - the Knights. Tamer assignments were handed to them, while more hazardous stuff was saved for the Paladins and Wardens.
Turns out, they're basically the same rank. Only difference was their specialization. Paladins preferred physical combat and power arts, while Wardens were the smart ones. They focused - literally - on mind arts and a more variable distance to combat.
Gervais and Merriline… and Valérie. Her armor makes a lot more sense now.
Next were the shot-callers, the decision-makers. Commandants were the subject of numerous accounts, described as triple-threats of martial might, magical prodigy, and tactical mastery. I imagined all the terrifying Templars I knew, then shuddered at the thought that they answered to these guys.
But the Templars weren't satisfied with just that. The Justices stood at the pinnacle of the Order. If Commandants were heroes, these guys were walking myths - the equivalent of an entire battalion within a single unstoppable body. Whole biographies were dedicated to the lives of each, and their endless list of exploits seemed impossible. Or exaggerated. I couldn't decide which was worse.
Above even the peak, however, was one final position: High Justice - supreme authority of the Templars. They didn't fight; that was beneath them. Instead the Order moved to their command and abided by their oaths. One word from them would herald the destruction of a thousand undead. Could arm an entire nation to war.
The book detailing them was the only one I couldn't finish.
For every page I flipped, the sense grew that if the wrong information reached the right person, living again wouldn't be a concern anymore. I'd be dead, truly dead, in an instant. And there would be nothing I could do about it.
N-no. No. That's not gonna happen. Urgh, what's left?
Miscellaneous tidbits flew to mind: the organization's approximate numbers, rules, events, even their unique choice of mount, among others. And… one last thing that caught my attention.
Details were vague; I'd imagine, because it was a full two-hundred years back, but around that time, the Templars were founded to protect the country. And not just because some King had a hankering for rules and shiny armor. Lumerit had an enemy: Silhonne.
But what was Silhonne? A monster? Couldn't be - it wasn't referred to like an individual. A place? The Nexus featured a rare map of the world, and a "Silhonne" wasn't on it. Ultimately it was a question I figured didn't need answering; much more importance was placed on the fact that some years later, Silhonne engaged Lumerit in unprovoked conflict. Lumerit- no, the Templars won. A total landslide victory.
Now, was that important? Not really. History was fine and all, but the future held my interest.
That said… something felt off. But I couldn't put my finger on it. Or, more likely, my mind was finally throwing a tantrum after digesting so many words.
I stood up and stretched, then shook the fuzz out of my head. The smile that came next almost surprised me.
It shouldn't have. Of course I'd feel accomplished. Templars were my bogeyman, juggernauts of ambiguous size and means. Not anymore. Sure, they were still huge, and powerful, but now they were known.
That made the big, bad Order an Abyss of a lot less terrifying.
—————————————————————————————————
"Come. On. Quit. Moving!" Another swing blew by Amara's chin.
"Predict where I will be," she advised mid-backstep. "Don't attack where I am."
"Predict this! Shadow Form!"
In one fluid motion I sank into the floor and circled Amara. When I rose from the shadows though, the Knight had already withdrawn far past my range.
Amara stopped, the moon in her eyes. "Remember: even useful arts lose effectiveness against those who've seen it before. Doubly so if your intentions are obvious."
She was right. Not that I felt like admitting my trump card wasn't perfect.
Relax. You can catch her. And be happy this isn't a sparring match.
Moments later, the chase was back on. I followed Amara to one of the room's corners. An opportunity stuck out to me, and I took it.
I'd been working on a move exclusively when Amara was on lunch break, or bathroom break, or any other recurring break needed by the living. And with nowhere to go, she was in prime position to eat it head on.
"Superb attack, Skell!" she'd praise me. "Simply excellent. At this rate, you'll overcome the Ordeals with hardly an illusory sweat. Oof. I still feel that hit in my spleen."
Not that I knew where the spleen was. I spent the other day studying Templars, not anatomy. Regardless, I felt the rush of incoming success as my staff struck the floor. Pushing off it and a leg, I leapt into the air, letting the other foot fire off an airborne kick.
I flew straight for the Knight. Then flew straight over her when she ducked. Then the wall behind her flew straight for me.
That was day eighteen. Nearly the midpoint of my training with Amara. Under her tutelage I was beginning to feel something approaching competence. At least until I writhed on the floor.
"Ouch - shade!" I held my poor knee close.
"Did you break something?" Amara walked over.
"Ugh. I wish I broke something. Would distract me from the humiliation."
"Come now, there's no need to feel embarrassed. You're taking to the staff quite well. I actually need to try a little to avoid you now."
"That doesn't feel like glowing praise…"
"It is." Amara leaned down, resting hands on her legs. "Keep in mind your goal isn't to defeat me. The Sacred Ordeals are what you must conquer. Challenging varied trials differs greatly from outperforming a single foe. On that note, that maneuver of yours was… uh, creative. Could be useful in battle. But only attempted when you know the attack will land. Otherwise an opponent might…"
She looked at me, and her eyes changed. "…Get up."
"What?" I asked. "I was listening, I promise."
"I know," she extended a hand. "But you look like you could use a break."
My surprise faded. I smiled a little and took her hand, and she pulled me off the ground. "Thanks."
Amara opened her mouth to respond, but the creak of the room's door cut her off. Through came Oliver.
Like lightning our hands separated before we were even sure of our visitor. But Oliver didn't notice the gesture. He wasn't looking at us, anyway. His eyes were stuck to the floor, fingers nervous.
While Amara and I trained, Oliver occupied himself with "expeditions" around Selem. The perfect distraction for him, we figured. He'd always come by with smiles and stories and useless knickknacks, but it wasn't hard to tell when one day was tougher than another. Ansel's death still weighed on him, and the meeting with his sister was a particularly rough patch.
And yet, the longer I watched him, the surer I was that his mind was elsewhere.
He reached us, and we greeted each other - ours' a lot more spirited than his.
"So…" he muttered, "how is the training going?"
"Oh," I grinned, "I was just handing Amara her butt on a silver platter - nothing new."
Her eyebrow leapt. "Seems to me your backside was the one being served…"
Oliver laughed, if weakly. "I'm glad you guys are getting along. I've been worried I'd come back to one of you in pieces. Probably Skell."
Hey!
"Not at all," Amara said. "But at any rate… I feel as if something troubles you. Are you unwell?"
He looked at us both, then at the floor. "…Yeah. But also no. Kind of, I - gosh, I'll just come out and say it!"
The Knight and I shared a moment's look.
Know what this is about? my eyes asked.
Not in the slightest. You? hers' replied.
Heck no! my eyes discarded the idea somewhere across the room.
"…For a while," Oliver grabbed our attention, "ever since we got to Selem, I've been thinking. About the two of you."
"Amara," he looked to her, "you're so strong and reliable, and you'll be a Paladin soon. A Paladin. You've worked so, so hard to get this far, and I know you'll go even farther. And you're a hero for helping Skell."
Then he turned to me. "Skell. There's so much against you, and I know it's tough, but you're doing all you can, and you have a goal. You know what you have to do. And you're going to make it happen. Your life, your memories, all of it."
His gaze dropped finally to his own hands. "Then there's me. I don't have any goals. I met up with you, Amara, but that was my only choice, really."
Amara's eyes softened. "There's no shame in not knowing your next step. You're still fifteen. I was thinking as well, about you living here in Selem - permanently. I reckon you're sick of sleeping at inns every night. I'll take out some rounds, buy you a nice home in the Amethyst Residencies, perhaps. Templar duties will keep me busy, but I'll be around more often than not. It could be like old times. Only a little further away."
Oliver smiled sadly. "That sounds nice. But… I'm tired of living in a bubble."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Our time crossing the country," he told me, "it was short. And… it was also the time of my life! I've never learned and seen so much, so fast. New people, new places, magic, Domains, shops, good haircuts - I could keep on 'till I'm blue in the face! And I never would've known about it all if I stayed in Sienna Village. I would've grown old and dumb without knowing how dumb I even was. "
"Wh-what about Selem?" Concern took ahold of Amara's voice. "It's a thousandfold the size of our village, and there's plenty to learn from our libraries."
"I know," he said. "But it's just one city. There's a world out there."
"I'm not understanding," Amara wrung her hands. "What is it you want t-to do?"
"I… don't know yet," Oliver closed his eyes. "But I do know one thing. I have to leave Selem. On my own."
"You what!?" Amara's normally even tone shot to the sky.
Mine probably would've done the same. Had the thought of this not already crossed my mind weeks ago.
After reaching his sister, I always figured we'd part ways. The info I needed would certainly lead me outside the city on some faraway journey, and of course, I was sure he'd stay with Amara.
I never expected our paths to switch.
Yet the secret of resurrection lied within the capital, behind Templar walls. When I learned that, I thought, maybe, we wouldn't have to separate. Oliver could stay with us while I trained, made it into the Order, and found what I needed. It'd almost be like… having a kid brother or cousin by my side, every step of the way. But now?
I just shrank quietly, while Amara ran at the mouth.
"Why!? It's been forever since we've seen one another and you want to depart so quickly? I know this training has limited our time together, but after it's over, it will be like a dream. Duty and family all in the same place - I'll not have to miss you ever again."
Oliver ran fingers through his hair. "It's been nice here, and I'm sorry. But this idea's been in my noggin for days, and the more I think on it, the more it feels right. If it helps, I'm heading back to Belza Hill first. Cynthine can watch over me. Maybe even help me understand what I want."
"Cynthine?" Amara asked. "That glamour mage you spoke of?"
"Why her?" Curiosity broke my silence. "She's smart, sure, but what makes you think she'll give the direction you need?"
Fire lit in the hunter's eyes. "Because I don't want to be a mime, or an escorter, or a market stall guy, or even a Templar. All of those have to hunker down somewhere. They've got rules and expectations. I don't want none of that. I just want to go wherever the wind blows; wherever things are most interesting."
"Amara," he said, "grandpa never much spoke about what his younger days, did he? But we knew enough. Those rounds, his funny ideas - the way he spoke so darn different than anybody in the village; he must've come from far away. Real far away. I reckon… he used to be some kind of traveler. No normal one, either."
"But the only one who knows for sure is Cynthine," I replied. "She knew Ansel for sixty years. That witch could tell you everything about him."
"Exactly!" Oliver smiled. "And whatever he was, whatever he did… maybe it's meant for me, too."
I looked to Amara. For the first since we met, she looked… feeble. Like a stiff breeze could carry her off at any moment. I could understand. Or maybe I couldn't.
"Amara, don't look so down," he reached for her hand. "Grandpa's gone, and I know it would be more comfortable to stay close by. But… I don't know if we should force things to be the way they used to. We've both grown a lot since we played tag in the village. I think we should find our own ways now. Even if they go different places."
Oliver kept going, even as his sister's lip quivered. "It ain't like I'll never visit. I'll be around; don't think I won't miss you just as much."
"It's not only that…" Amara's voice rung low. "The world is deadly. There's reasons why people stick to safe roads, and why our maps are not absolute. Threats beyond even my ability roam the outlying lands and northern provinces. To speak nothing of what lies beyond Lumerit's borders. If something were to happen…"
In truth, I had the same concern. We'd skirted by a number of close calls, and that was when I watched his back.
At the same time, his faith in me was always unwavering, no matter the odds. If he believed a weakling skeleton could do the impossible, why couldn't I believe in him?
"He'll be fine," I assured. "Oliver's capable. Quick. And he's picked up a lot these past few weeks. Amara, I think we should support his decision." I pointed at him. "Just be sure Cynthine sharpens that talent you've got. Could shape you into a fearsome wind mage someday."
The archer smiled a moment. "Thanks. And Amara, your worries, I get them. I know you don't want what happened before to happen again. But I've learned something in my travels up 'till now: even if it's dangerous, or scary, or different, you have to live the life you want. If not, you ain't really living. Skell taught me that."
The sentiment hit me like a ton of bricks. I-I did? Me?
"…Still" he finally said, "I don't want to go through with this, if it'll tear you apart."
Amara's unfocused eyes finally affixed themselves to Oliver. "…Tear me apart? No. I would be truly torn apart if the only barrier between my brother and what he holds dear, is me."
She smiled sadly, then let go of his hand and turned away. "I'm not your mother. I can't - won't - forbid you from going. As well, it appears I'm outnumbered - thanks to a certain skeleton. I have countless misgivings. But your birthday's coming up. The following will arrive before we know it, then the next. At a certain point, I have to accept that your decisions will differ from what I think is best."
"All I ask," she looked back, blinking back tears, "is that you stay in contact…"
Oliver's eyes welled, and he rushed to embrace Amara. "I will," his words were hushed by the fabric of her shirt.
Ugh, I smiled, I'm such a softie. Watching them shouldn't get to me, too. I'm not even a part of it.
"You really are grandfather's," Amara steadied herself. "Stubborn as a mule, and flighty as an eagle." She ruffled his hair and let go. "Not the worst traits to have."
Oliver laughed, perking up. "I was so worried you wouldn't be okay with it. Though, I'm not saying goodbye yet. Before I leave tomorrow, what if we celebrated. I've walked by so many places that'd be better with you guys. Like the theatre! Or the zoo we keep passing to get here. I heard they have living roses that make you relax when you smell them, and garbage oozes that… smell, when you smell them."
"We can check out a museum too," I added. "Only fair we see some dead creatures too."
Amara thought a moment. "I concur. We should cherish the time we have. On one condition… I pay! Oliver, you need to save every round for the road."
He's lugging around a small fortune, Amara…
"Hmm," he put a finger to his chin. "If you're paying, then I reckon we should go big at a gambling hall!"
His sister suspiciously considered the ceiling. "Genius idea, Oliver. Though I suggest - instead of betting my hard-earned rounds - we bet… your arm!"
Amara lunged just a blink too late - Oliver lurched his arm out of a price tag with a childlike giggle. Really, the both were like children, chasing each other around the exercise room without concern for the future, or the past. Just the moment, and the competitive laughter it brought.
I found the whole game pretty amusing to watch, until Amara made a beeline for me.
Right before she got me I turned into shadow, then resurfaced with shock.
"My brother would never ever gamble," she grinned. "Ever. It must've been you who put such crazy thoughts in his head!"
"What? No!" I threw up my arms, before noticing a creeping Oliver in the corner of my eye. "Truth be told, I think they were there… all along!" I spun to pursue the archer.
He almost crapped himself when I did, and shade, I almost got him. I was this close. But I wouldn't give up there. No way he'd give me the slip…
Deep inside, I couldn't believe it. My life was very literally on the line. Every minute counted, time better spent training for the trials ahead. Time I spent… playing tag.
And, for as stupid as it all was?
I didn't regret it one bit.