[Amara]
"Echo Fist!" I incanted.
I delivered a haymaker into the empty air ahead. Naturally, it struck nothing.
Same couldn't be said for the transparent energies rippling around my gauntlet. Those sprung off my knuckles and roared down the midnight street with an arrow's acceleration.
Inches separated the two Squires. Echo Fist soared between them. I spread open my fist. Energy exploded outward. Then?
They separated by the width of the entire street.
The two rose quickly. I did pull my punch, so to speak. But even if I hadn't, whatever ran through their heads - and their stares - would've surely distracted them from the pain.
A ghost, the black-haired Squire must've thought. He certainly eyed me like one. He then went on to say something both irrelevant and irritating. I dismissed it. After all, names were the least of our concerns.
"Let's dispense with the formalities," I raised a metal palm, "and return to my query: what precisely is happening here?"
The purple-haired Squire was, understandably, too busy taking his tenth double-take at me to speak. But the other, unfamiliar Squire - two strands of hair falling past dark eyes to even darker stubble - grew a glint in his gaze.
"Knight Amara, is it?" he asked. "Hear this: that man beside you - eyes shifty and fingers wandering - is a dark mage! The Order's very first."
He searched my face, finding nothing. "Don't believe me? You must've seen the sickening art reeking from his hand just moments ago - even from afar."
"Necrotic dark magic," I replied. "I saw it."
He smirked cautiously. "Y-you did?"
"As well," I continued, "I certainly spotted drawn steel before any arts were cast."
Shock flashed over the man's face, quickly stifled. "P-perhaps, in the heat of the moment, my memory eluded me. However," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial quiet, "he's still a dark mage. Don't be so hasty to stand at his side. I'm sure the thought of what evils his kind could inflict on our Order has already crossed your mind…"
I remained silent. Skell's posture straightened. He too saw little point in interrupting.
"You see what I'm getting at, don't you? More than the Order, this man could bring ruin to us all. Even you. Controversy. Disorder. Death. Imagine the damage he'd wreak on your career. I've heard several Templars speak highly of your potential. With that in mind, shouldn't any pothole be avoided at all costs?"
"And what do you suggest?" I crossed my arms. "I leave you two alone, allow your duel to continue unimpeded?"
"I suggested nothing of the sort," the man upturned his chin. "I simply supplied context. All that remains is for you to decide how to use it."
My gaze shifted. I pored over his words.
For some Templars, those words would be all they needed to look the other way. It could be said that coming across me, then, was quite the stroke of bad luck.
"This past week," I approached the man as slowly as the sweat blooming at his brow, "my feet marked the western countryside. My fists marked bloodthirsty mummies in a dust-choked crypt. Kobolds set upon me as I returned from my assignment, sneaking away with my rations. I tracked and slew them. After their slimy stomach acids dissolved my next four dinners. I've finally returned to Selem. Hungry. Thirsty. Exhausted."
My fists tightened. "Mind, this is no call for pity. This is a warning. I am in no mood to suffer such traitorous, filthy words. Doubly so, when such words point at Skell."
The Squire's eyes shot open. "Sk-Skell? You know him?"
I nodded. "Quite well. He is a friend. One I refuse to see harmed."
Nowhere else in Lumerit would you find two men, in the same outfit, wearing such starkly different faces. Skell's smirk bordered on paradisal delight. While the other man's scornful, perplexed frown could've been wrenched from the most hellish depths of the Abyss. That frown only dug deeper as I continued.
"But there's more to this than friendship. Merely implying the intent to harm another Templar is grave enough. Coaxing me into letting it happen calls for even severer punishment. Especially for a reason as flimsy as Skell's use of dark magics."
"…Nevertheless," I released a breath, "today is your initiation, a day of celebration. Further, I've recently found myself too hasty in my summation of others, based on bad first impressions. As such, I won't report this lone incident. Let it ever become a repeat offense, however, and I will step in, and our superiors will be made aware. Commandant Bi'Yuhl in particular would be highly interested to learn of someone so hungry to harm his fellow Templar."
Silence filled the seconds after I finished, broken only by the fierce grinding of the Squire's teeth. His eyes climbed to Skell, who stood just beyond my view. Then, as if having seen some obscene gesture, grew bulging veins at his forehead. I nearly thought they'd burst and paint him red.
Instead they receded with a sharp inhale. "Have it your way," he grunted beneath lowered, blade-sharp eyebrows. "Our business appears to be on hold for the foreseeable future, Skell. Count yourself very, very lucky."
Lasering into Skell was one last, wicked glare. Then the Squire spun on a heel and stormed off for the Citadel.
Or at least, that's what I thought I saw from the corner of my eye. Already my attention returned to the second Squire - similarly disregarding his peer for more immediate matters.
"A-Amara," Skell approached me, observing my bloodstained plate as I did his pristine white garb. "I… can't believe you're finally back. So much happened while you were gone."
Those clothes… He truly did it…
Skell flew into a series of unclear motions. "There were tournament brambles, and undead bugs, and I had three eyeballs, and…" a resigned sigh rolled out of him. "Urgh, how do you even tell a story like this? I- Amara? What's with that face? You look like you're gonna explod-"
I did explode. The detonation blew my arms around Skell, and blasted him off the ground, and ignited my face into one great grin. "Skell, you did it! Sun above, you've become a Templar! Like me! How does it feel!?"
"…Chafing…" he groaned.
I opened my eyes. Skell was as narrow in the center as an hourglass. Horrified hands dropped him back onto the street.
Skell pressed on his back; his spine wheezed. "Whew - any longer and I'd have been wheelchair-bound for… well, a few minutes at most. Forgot how strong you are."
Blood flushed my cheeks hot. "A-apologies… I don't know what came over me."
…Curse you, grandfather, and your penchant for hugs.
"Don't apologize; if anything, I should be the affectionate one. Without your help, Amara, I would've never made the cut."
"My training alone didn't earn you that garb. Success surely hinged on your talents, magical and otherwise. That, and liberal use of your… 'guile'."
His palms shot up. "Guilty as charged."
I shook my head, smiling. "Precisely the same as I left you, I see. In any case, there's clearly much to discuss. Not least of which that other Squire."
"Right…" Skell's expression reversed. "Him."
I walked past my friend, tugging on a lock of hair. "Baffling. We expected a harsh reception, knowing your status as a dark mage. But that? A move that malicious seemed beyond any of our Order's members."
Turning around, I found Skell's eyes to be elsewhere. "You'd be surprised. Though as for that prick, there's something you should know."
"Which is? You speak as if-"
I fell to a knee. Sharp pain suddenly pecked at my ankle; the result of ten thousand steps layered onto a bad fall during my assignment.
I looked up to see Skell by my side. "Shade - you're hurt. Come on, we've loafed here long enough - let's head back to the Citadel."
The Squire moved to support my weight. I shook my head.
"I can make the trip. As long as there's a chair to sink in at the end of it."
"Then why don't we head to your room? I noticed a door with your nameplate pretty close to mine. Unless you wanna stop at an inn?"
"No more inns," I laughed. "Trekking across Selem to meet up ought to remain a thing of the past."
"Good point. I'd like to rest in my own bed for once. Even if it'll be one long night 'til the archives open up."
I turned tense. That Squire. Skell's victory. My assignment. That volley of concerns veiled the largest of them all; the true reason Skell challenged every Ordeal to enter the Order:
So that he might cheat death.
All his unlife led to this moment, where he could finally scour our archives for the secret of resurrection. That sudden reality made me hesitate. But I spoke regardless.
"Skell… our archives aren't like the libraries of the wider city. There is no closing time. They remain open for perusal at all hours."
A different type of tension froze Skell's bones. "Even… midnight? Then… that means I can head there now! Abyss, the anticipation was killing me, but if a short walk's all that's separating me from resurrecti- wait." He scratched his temple. "Shade. I don't know how to get there. The Citadel's no small park, and I haven't been given the orientation yet."
"…I can lead you there."
"R-really!? You'd do that?" Skell's grin flashed wide. "They've gotta have somewhere to sit, too - we can just head straight there!"
He threw a glove and a bare hand onto my shoulders. "Amara, I gotta tell you a secret: you're the best! I'm glad you're back in Selem."
Then, with the vigor of a living man, Skell strolled ahead, eyes piercing the Citadel's enormous, faraway walls.
"I'm glad to be back, as well…" I followed behind, a steady unease budding in my chest.
—————————————————————————————–———–
"That was him!?" I questioned as we cut through the Argent District's uniform streets, the rising steeples of the King's Castle Lux looming a few minutes behind us.
"Yup," Skell nodded. "Hyland Peredur in the scaly flesh. Trust me, I was just as shocked to see him right back in the same club he got booted out of."
"I looked him in the eyes and was none the wiser. If I'd known…"
He spat on the Templar name and returned to the Order just to do it twice. He tried to slay Skell. He tried to kill my brother… I should've driven fingers into his middle and ripped out his innards like rope. I should've sundered him to bone and blood-drenched gristle.
No… No. I remembered to breathe. Perhaps if I was there in Belza Hill to intervene, but it isn't my place to entertain vengeance against another Templar. Not when he's already received due punishment.
Not when I've made my oath.
Skell pat me on the back, knocking the satisfyingly bloody images out of my mind's eye. "Don't fret. With you around to scare him off, he won't try anything funny. And soon… I might actually elude him for good…"
"But let's change the subject to something less thorny," he tacked on quickly. "You."
"Me?"
"Yeah, 'you'. Turns out you're some bigshot Templar - the next Lucival of all people. Had a feeling you were a cut above your run-of-the-mill Knight, but I never knew you were some rising star."
"Lucival?" I faced away. "Folk tend to exaggerate."
"Not Hyland. Trust me when I say he doesn't hand out praise lightly. And I mean, 'The Blood Engine?' You've even got a big bad moniker!"
I winced at that name. Thankfully Skell couldn't see it.
"You don't gotta play coy, Amara. If you're a big deal, you can tell me."
"It's not coyness," I turned back. "I'd simply prefer if you hadn't the wrong idea about me. Lucival is our youngest Judge. Ever. Him and I don't belong in the same conversation."
"He's the youngest… in history? How many accolades does the man have?"
"More than every strand of white hair on my head."
"Wow. With that in mind, maybe you do reek, Amara."
"What!? I hardly 'reek'!" Heat flared inside me. "If you must know, some - rightfully - claim I rival Paladins in physical aptitude, like that Gervais you once spoke of. Despite my lower rank."
"There's that fire," Skell chuckled. "But thinking back, Oliver did say you were on the verge of becoming a Paladin. And you've only been in the Order for… what? Three years?"
I nodded, noticing the Citadel walls rising in the distance. "Knights typically reach Paladin or Warden rank in seven."
"Shade, really?" He stared at me in awe. "Jokes aside, that's an amazing pace. Maybe you don't see yourself as Lucival's sequel, but you could be a Judge too, someday."
"That's a kind thing to say," I smiled. "I couldn't disagree more."
"What? Why?"
"Simple."
Simple.
"Because I don't have the ambition to become one."
Because I cannot command even the weakest of light arts.
Both were true, of course. But only one fact was shameful enough to carve a scar on my face.
"Fair enough," Skell said. "I can't imagine being so important either. So known. Won't even get started on the responsibilities."
"Funny. None of those ring to me as problems."
"Then what's stopping you from chasing the position?"
I exhaled, as if lulling myself into a dream. "…I've always wanted to lead my own unit, Skell. Like a strike force. Like a scalpel. Deployed across Lumerit to excise Outbreaks and evil undead so that the land and people may recover. Then, setting out to mend the next body. But that's where my passion ends. Overseeing sweeping change across the country is so much bigger than overseeing a team. Such things feel beyond a woman from a backwater village. And that's perfectly fine."
"I'm content to be the Order's blade," I slammed a gauntlet to the insignia on my chest. "Carried by its ideals and justice to cleave those who would dare harrow the innocent."
"You know…" Skell gazed off into a passing street lamp's flickering flame. "Sometimes, I forget. That you've really dedicated your life to making Lumerit better, battle by battle. That's big enough, I feel. Bigger than one man trying to bring back his own skin, isn't it?"
"…Skell?
The Squire shook his head. "Sorry. Not trying to be a downer. The opposite, really. There's so much I wanna do once I live again. For myself… and the people who helped me get where I am. You'd like to be the best Templar you can, right?" He flexed. "The strongest? The fastest? Well, I don't know exactly how things'll pan out in the near future… but you'd benefit from a training partner, wouldn't you? Part-time, of course. I'm no battle-freak like you."
Is he offering to…?
"Just, remember I won't regenerate when I'm alive!" he gulped - sonically, if not actually. "So don't leave me wheelchair-bound for life. Still. You helped me obtain my dream. Only right I return the favor."
Sun above. I wanted so badly to smile back. Training Skell had bettered me in ways I hardly expected. Moreover, ever since that unspeakable event two years ago, companionship was in a drought. That offer would've struck my heart true.
If a wall of guilt hadn't blocked it.
"Let us hurry to the archives." I couldn't meet his eyes. Instead I continued forth, passing Skell. "There's a section - Magics and Arts. We'll check there first; that shall be our best bet."
Just… please do not let his answers be where I suspect… or, would that be for the best? Abyss take me - how could things have become so complicated…
"Sounds like a solid plan," Skell followed me up the path leading to the Citadel's hexagonal walls… after hesitating a moment. I began to sweat. Until he shivered. "Gee. I've never been so jittery before… well, at least for something that didn't threaten my life."
He must be too excited to notice my behavior. But for how long?
I wanted to turn and say something reassuring - partially to ease my guilt. But a very similar sentiment to Skell's clouded my mind as well. The only difference? My life was potentially on the chopping block.
Or rather, everything it could ever amount to.
—————————————————————————————–———–
"Knight Amara Maud and Squire Skell…" I glanced over to him.
"Valzo," Skell finished.
"Noted," scribbled the aged adjutant, accompanied by a steaming cup of aromatic tea on her red-wood counter. She looked up from her records above angled orange-brimmed glasses, scrutinizing me. "Certainly you are aware, Knight, but does the Squire understand these premises and its rules? He has only just entered the Order…"
"I briefed Skell on our way here," I answered. "He's wholly aware of the particulars."
"Mm," she shot Skell a doubtful glance. "Let's hope your sterling reputation involves skill with supervision and not combat alone."
Skell rested an arm on the wooden table, quite close to her tea. "I don't need supervision. I know how to act in a library."
"Do you, now?" the adjutant prodded dryly. "Children can behave in a library; these are the Templar archives, repositories for centuries of coveted knowledge the layman would kill to behold a single page of. You waltzed in like an overeager buffoon, more prepared to fumble around with priceless tomes than treat this hub respectfully."
The lobbies' relaxed mood sharpened in an instant. As did Skell's expression. Countless scathing responses ran over his fearless face. I nearly intervened. He spoke first.
"…Sorry, if I gave the wrong impression." He laughed, completely unbothered. "I'll treat every book here like it was made of solid gold. I mean it."
Her wrinkled mouth shifted. "Yes, well… do make well sure of it. Off with you two, now," she absently waved us into the wider archives, returning her attention to a bundle of records.
The woman's tongue-wetted finger hadn't even begun sorting through them before Skell was across the lobby. I quickened to catch up. As we left the humble corner, the full extent of the multi-story archive extended above us. There, our destination awaited.
Side-by-side, we ascended a nearby spiral staircase - one placed in each of the interior's corners - while gazing down at the first floor. Few books populated it. Cushioned seating and invitingly warm lighting held that duty.
Far more inviting than that adjutant.
"She shouldn't have given you a difficult time," I spoke after a long silence. "These archives are her entire life, we should remember that, but that hardly excuses such rudeness. I should have said something."
Skell turned to me, several seconds after I finished. "…What are you talking about?"
I paused. "The adjutant? Whom we just spoke to?"
"Oh. Oh. Her. What'd she say again?"
My face fell down the stairs.
"Er - kidding!" he added dubiously. "This just feels so surreal that I can't help but crack jokes."
"Jokes." Certainly.
Then I actually heard him. "Surreal?"
"Of course! Two months back, your pops told me I could live again, but a part of me always doubted him. Really, how could someone like me enter a place that keeps secrets like that? How could I become a Templar?"
We continued past the second floor, a wholly rectangular level barring a hexagonal hole in its center that rose into the higher floors. A skylight beamed down each level. Before, sunshine lent the archives a natural radiance. At midnight, the Citadel's beacon took over the shift to cast an enchanted glow.
Skell's eyes rubbed over rows of softly-illuminated bookcases. "But I'm here. I trained. Hard. I killed undead. I passed the tests. I beat my peers. I overcame it all, even when the odds seemed insurmountable. And now, I can finally live."
"…Perhaps you shouldn't get your hopes up too much."
Skell's gaze shot to me.
Damn it all…
"What I mean is, you seem completely certain that the secret of resurrection is here. But… what if it's not?"
"It has to be, Amara," he hardly let me finish. "You said yourself that if it could be found anywhere in Selem, it'd be in the Citadel - in the Templar archives. If not here, then shade, it might not even exist. And that can't be the truth."
Silence suffocated us as we reached the third level. Our destination was higher. We pressed on.
Eventually, I reopened the conversation. "I did say that. And I do think the secret's being here is more likely than not. Still. I simply wish for you to… temper expectations. Your situation is a complex one. For all we know, this information might take any form, It may not be as simple as an art you can learn or a locale you can visit. Or it may be…"
"Be what?" His words were a dagger.
I looked away. "Nevermind…"
Thankfully our circling steps ended soon. Our heads peeked over the fourth level's floor, and Skell's face immediately lit up. "This is the place, right? That placard by the desk said so."
Tidy aisles of packed bookcases spread before us, bathed not just by beaconlight but also by numerous tiny, orb shaped lanterns hovering above. These archival alleys crisscrossed the floor - barring the railing-blocked pit in the floor's center.
"I cannot say where exactly you'd best begin your search," I admitted, breathing in the fresh scent of crisp pages. "Surely the adjutants have an easily understandable system, but I'm not a common enough visitor to know it. Although, I suppose I could aid in the sear-"
"No - we agreed you'd sit down. You're tough. But you're not undead. You gotta rest your human bones after a week-long assignment. I'll take it from here."
Skell proceeded into the labyrinth of knowledge. Though before the shelves folded in to obscure him, he turned to regard me. "Just be ready for the good news."
—————————————————————————————–———–
A snore flung my eyes open. I scanned the area vigilantly; sleeping in the archives was highly irresponsible - Templar or otherwise. Then I realized I did it.
I resumed my search. This time in a nervous attempt to know if anyone heard me.
From my all-too-comfortable chair - lodged snugly in an isolated corner - I saw little besides towering bookcases teeming with entire series' recording the myriad uses of bio arts in the surprisingly competitive field of gardening.
Relief blew from my lips. Perfect. No one is around. But… if there is no around… then perhaps a short nap wouldn't be cause for concern? Especially if Skell spends another several hours thumbing through these tomes. Strictly speaking, rest is vital for a Templar. So if you think about it, a nap here would actually benefit everyone. Not only me.
A groggy smile rolled across my cheeks; heavy eyelids drifted shut. Yes… napping for justice…
Blissful paradise arrived between my ears. One that, mere painful seconds later, became a paradise lost.
"This… this isn't making any sense…" a frustrated voice pierced the archive's quiet.
I awoke, leaning forward in my chair.
"Shade," it continued. "It just repeats and repeats and repeats - everywhere I look."
With great effort, I rose from my chair, moping back at the groove I left.
Farewell, sleep. I hardly knew ye.
It didn't take long to locate the voice. "Skell?" I asked. "Is everything okay?"
"Amara? There you are."
Sitting in the middle of two long aisles, the undead was surrounded by over twenty open books. He adjusted his position on the floor, pulling one of the lantern-orbs close to shine on his frown."And, since you asked, I'm actually feeling a powerful urge to rip my hair out."
He closed his eyes after noticing my concerned face. "…What I mean is, I can't find what I'm looking for."
I neared Skell, examining the books around him. All seemed to relate to necromancy and death: overviews, dark arts, rituals, everything from miracle medicines to resuscitation, anything even remotely correlating to the deceased and their supposed revival.
"You've found nothing? Nothing at all in any of these pages?"
"That's not what I'm saying…" Skell listlessly tossed a book onto another, quieting his voice. "I learned lots of useful information. But none of it'll bring me back. I've read accounts from veteran Templars and interrogated necromancers; apparently no one's ever discovered a way to 'complete the process' so to speak. Undeath's got a hard limit; even human-ish types like vampires can't reverse their condition. Only a second death can free them…"
"But I didn't give up there," Skell shook away the frustration whiting his knuckles. "If there's no way to use undeath as a bridge between life and death, then there's gotta be another, completely unrelated way to resurrect someone. A way that'd hopefully apply to both the dead and the undead. Believe it or not, I found several books that discussed the topic. All written by Templars."
I wanted to congratulate him. Skell's hollow expression told me matters were not so straightforward.
"These books," Skell continued, "some I even rummaged through the lower floors to find - approach a method to revive the dead. Absolutely. No cost. No strings. You simply take a dead body and give it the same personality and flesh it once had - even if all you're working with is a bundle of bones."
If they are to be believed…
Skell stood up, scowling at the books at his feet. "But that's all the shading things do: approach. They never enter the details, never say what this method is or where you can find it, they just dance around what I'm dying to know. No." He slouched. "All they do is reference some… grimoire - the same grimoire - that does hold the information."
A pit fell in my stomach. "You cannot find this book? Have you… tried asking the adjutant below?"
"That's my next plan. Only plan, now," he rose to his feet.
That entire time, an inquisitiveness struck me. For a number of things, of course, but one question conquered them all. I doubted the answer would mean anything to me, but I asked regardless.
"This book you mention, the one so many others reference… what is its title?
Skell's gaze rose, deathly-cold and blade-sharp. "The Umbral Rune."