Blessings, and Bodies

Picking over corpses was less upsetting but more tiring than Sebastian’s videogames and movies would have led him to believe.

Humans were, as it turned out, heavy, when not moving under their own power and tensing their muscles in various ways to center their balance or to cooperate with you carrying them. Heavy and slumped over and awkward to move.

“I have to wonder if maybe I’m still in shock. That’s a thing, right? When you go numb after something happened?” was the thought he came to after shifting a third bandit’s corpse to a line of them that was forming.

“The blood oughta be bothering me more than this, right?”

But despite that thought, the gruesome wounds on several of the bodies just brought to mind the sight of that first brigand collapsing in a scorched and shredded ruin, so much worse to see but…instant. It was like an inoculation, shaking him so hard that between that and the sheer insanity of his situation that gashes and stabwounds were just failing to hit like they should. Though the coating of ash most of them seemed to have, soaking up the blood and gunking over the injuries, while disgusting in its own right, helped with that. It obscured the gory wounds of most of them.

Behind him, Oktavia was doing something similar, picking over the ones in silver.

“Once you have completed that, I would appreciate your assistance with my family’s men.” She told him, ”We cannot stay to bury them. Placing them against the carriage and burning them shall have to suffice.”

“‘Course. I’m happy to-” He started, about to respond almost absently like he did for almost any request, like he was being asked to help lift an engine out of a car or cut down a tree, before he winced.

“I’ll help. I’m sorry for…sorry for your loss.” He said finally, and she nodded.

“I will likely need the aid of your magic and Blessing to light the pyre. My family is not known for their prowess in Fire magic, and given the damp nature of our environs, magic will be required to achieve a sustaining blaze.” She said.

He finished moving another body, this one another man almost as big as he had been, with similar bronzed plates to that leader he’d…well the first one he’d killed. His head was a horrible ruin, dead eyes looking up from either side of an arrow, but the leathers below the neck seemed intact, mostly…

He looked down at his clothes, bloody and cut in a few places, and then at the body once more.

“Ah…Aight… I can probably do that.” He said, “Should I ah…bring these ones over there too?” He asked her, tilting his head to look at her.

She stopped what she was doing, looking over her shoulder, what appeared to be a bracelet pulled from one of the men’s arms in her hand. Her eyes were…

“These men sought to dishonor my name, and killed my family’s men,” she began, “They assaulted a duchess of the House Von Hagelkrone.”

Her eyes practically burned. Piercing. Without so much as a quirk of her brow, only the faintest twitch of her lip, as if resisting the urge to sneer, the merest spark near the corners suggesting a tear.

“No, let them rot.” She said, tone cold and dull, and Sebastian swallowed, nodding.

“Alright then…gimme a moment then.” he told her, stripping the body of what he wanted and putting them all to the side.

“I guess she is the girl who threw a knife at my face after all. I was starting to wonder.” He thought to himself, giving a shiver, before moving over to help.

She stepped back, and indicated the first of the bodies, clasping her hands behind her back and standing tall as he moved over in response.

“So…ah….I’ve got a question.” He asked, as he hauled up the body, trying, and struggling, to do so with a little more dignity than he’d managed with the brigands.

“Rather not upset her any more than she is.” He thought

Despite how quickly she’d seemingly recovered, he didn’t want to risk anything.

“You may ask then.” She said simply, with an air, despite her flat tone, that seemed as if she thought herself magnanimous for permitting him.

“So…this might sound kinda crazy.” He began, puzzling out how to word what he wanted to ask carefully. He didn’t want to seem insane. If somebody came out and said “this whole world seems like its from a book or a videogame” to him on the street one day he’d think they were crazy himself, and Sebastian wasn’t interested in giving his one lifeline he had at the moment the same impression.

“But’cha see. Where I come from…well I’ve never seen or heard of a Blessing. And people using magic is…kinda rare.” he told her as he laid the corpse down, crossing the man’s arms over his gouged chest and crumpled armor, “So I don’t exactly know what all that is”

“Technically true. Only folks doing magic’re stage magicians or the kind of people who buy “healing crystals” back home.” was the thought in his head, and Oktavia looked at him for a moment.

“I had indeed surmised you were foreign. Very well.” She began, lifting one delicate hand as if to direct his attention. Straight spined, with her chest forward and heels resting together, Sebastian could tell she was used to lecturing.

“Magicis the practice of using orgone, the energy of the spirit, to manipulate and alter the world. This usually takes the form of creating and controlling an element.” She began, even as he hauled up another body, and moved it over, listening to her speak as he worked.

“Didn’t know Ash counted as an element.” Sebastian said to himself, looking at his hand and drawing upon what he’d felt before, a plume of smoking ash rising off of a finger tip, before falling to the ground slowly like black snow.

“It is an unusual talent.” She admitted, “in truth, the line between elements can be perishingly miniscule and possessing great overlap, often reflecting certain talents. My own inclination, as with all of the House Von Hagelkrone, is with Ice.” She explained, a slim frost etching over her finger tips for a moment, before melting away, the dripping water cleaning some of the muck from her nails.

“Orgone is generated by the soul. One’s capacity and rate of generation can vary from person to person, as can their natural talent for using it. One can train to improve these qualities, but the returns are often limited. As such, one’s capacity for magic is essentially fixed at birth, and most will focus on the aspects that come most easily to them. Crafting Orgone into crude spells, such as what you accomplished, is easiest with the element with which you are naturally inclined” She told him, her tone taking on a smooth cadence.

“So, you only make so much of it at a time, and can only hold a certain amount, so people try to get the most bang for their buck as they can?” Sebastian asked her, and she stopped for a moment, puzzling out his turn of phrase, before nodding as he continued to work.

“...Yes, that would be accurate. With that said, there is of course, the exception of Blessings.” She said, rallying to continue.

“Magic has rules and limitations. Blessings, granted by the heavens, passed down from parent to child, can often break those rules, or at least bend them. They grant far greater Orgone reserves and regeneration to those that have them. The great houses of the Empire thus are often those with powerful blessings. They can impact what element one can wield most easily, violate certain principles of magic, or allow precision or ability far in excess of what is normally reasonably possible to learn.”

He lumbered over to another body as she spoke, this one with a fancier helmet and a violet cape, though slighter form, a woman at a glance, with a broken spear through her chestplate, right over her heart. Bloody gray locks obscured violet eyes, dull in the fog of death

Oktavia faltered for a moment in her explanation, and her hand clenched. If fresh blood joined that which had dried already upon her long, delicate fingers, then Sebastian decided he’d pretend not to notice.

“...Finally, as the Temple of Rosaria teaches, ”A Blessing is a Shrine built by the Goddess” with all that entails.” She said, more slowly, before closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, “Those worthy shall find that the primal Arkonates, Lords of Nature, will dwell within should they be of noble character, gracing them with dominion over their element, as they shall their children and their children’s children, so long as they are true to the honor of their ancestors.”, She recited, quoting something he’d never read like anyone back home might have done scripture.

“So a big elemental god-thing can live in these and help you out then.” He simplified as he placed the woman down, the last of the bodies piled around the ruined carriage.

“An Arkonate is not a God.” She said swiftly, sharp and brooking no argument, and Sebastian raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay then, alright. Not a God.” He said, immediately ceding way, “Sorry, didn’t know. Not from around here.”

Oktavia took a steadying breath.

“No. Of course not. My…” She trailed for a moment, “It was an innocent mistake, not worthy of such a tone. Regardless, you would be wise not to make it again.” She told Sebastian, not quite apologizing, before turning away.

“Guess I’ll ask about that later then.” He thought as she went.

“We had best finish our preparations to leave.” Oktavia told him, moving to the bodies, lined up against the ruined carriage, and kneeling down. For a moment, she was silent, and Sebastian saw her hand twitch.

She looked down at them all, before rising again and turning to walk past him.

Small tracks ran just part of the way down her face, near the corners of her eyes, before a hand coated in frost brushed past them and they vanished, before there was a soft crackle as across her muddied and bloodied form, frost crept in before falling away, leaving her spotless, though still an outfit that had undoubtedly seen better days despite valiantly preserving her dignity.

“I will change. You will of course, stand watch until I am done, then you may do so as well and we will burn them and be on our way..” She told him, stalking past with a straight forward stride to the other side of the cart, elegant and certain.

Despite himself, as he turned away to face the road, he caught the sight of the small of her back through the torn jacket and blouse she wore, and the curled violet lace of a corset wrapped around her waist.

He screwed his eyes to the road, clenching his teeth and tried to not swallow his tongue, until she came to tap on his shoulder a few minutes later.

“Aa-h, yeah, sorry!” He stuttered out, turning to face her. Her top remained the same, if now undamaged, letting him see the fine white coat with its lavender trim, but tight breeches now clung to her legs, tucked into tall boots with shorter heels than what she’d worn and somehow not broken an ankle in before.

In short, she was the very picture of elegance. Even her hair, now free of both wet mud and blood, seemed in better condition, falling about her face in ringed curls.

“For what?” She asked plainly, a long, thin eyebrow arching, a line of silver over her violet gaze.

“Ah. not paying the best attention. I…I ain’t ever really had to keep watch before is all.” He told her, waving his hands, and she nodded.

“I had assumed. You seemed more like a laborer than a soldier.” She said simply, “Your axework was sloppy. If you were one of my guards, you would have been dismissed or told to eat and sleep at the drill-yard until you improved.”

“I…well…that sounds harsh.” came the thought as Sebastian winced at her assessment.

“R-right, oughta improve on that then! My apologies.” He told her, grabbing what he’d picked over and hurrying to change.

It took him a minute, all the straps and belts, but he got it all.

“Wearing a dead man’s clothes is…well it kinda makes me feel a little ill.” He thought to himself, as he looked himself over. Black baggy pants, twisted tight under bronze-edged plates over his shins and tucked into his boots, with similar plated on each forearm and on his chest. He’d only found the one shoulder pauldron that would fit, so he had to make do with just that, before throwing a gray cloak over his shoulder, tying various pouches full of bits he’d found on the bandits, coin and jerky and waterskins and such, to his belt.

He swung around the corner of the carriage, slinging the stolen axe over his unarmored shoulder as he went.

“Well…guess its just mine now.” He thought as Oktavia gave him a short look over from where she stood, next to a pair of packs, stuffed with whatever it was she had been gathering prior.

“Good. Now…” She said, looking at the cart, before gesturing to the carriage.

“If you would please?” She asked, not faltering in the slightest.

“Ah…right…so…how do I do this?” He asked her, and she closed her eyes, pressing a finger to the side of her jaw for a moment.

“...as you are a neophyte, precise magical formulae and refined techniques are…most likely beyond you.” She said after a moment, her eyes flicking to the mark on his left hand.

“Simply will yourself to generate as much of your element as possible. Imagine a sphere of it, perhaps, around the carriage. Dense and focused.” She told him, “Regardless, simply mass your Ashes around it to cause dry and ignite from radiant heat. While inefficient, it should suffice so long as there is enough of it.”

“Ah…alright.” Sebastian said, raising his hand, before stopping and looking to her again “Should I call out a name or something like last time?” He asked, and she pressed two fingers to her jaw this time.

“...No, that was something of an anomaly, as you seemingly created a crude spell of your own accord. Likely to do with your Blessing. Simple manipulation like this should not require a mnemonic.” She said slowly, and he nodded.

“Right…one pompeii funeral coming right up then.” He said, closing his eyes and focusing..

Ashes bloomed under his palm, thickening and grinding against themselves, suspended in air and smoldering as they flowed over the carriage in a gray-black dome. He tried to compress them, make them thicker, more intense, to stoke the heat.

“I can feel something…flowing? Is this Orgone then?” He thought to himself, “Has to be right?”

He pushed on that flow, trying to widen it. Lighting something on fire, he imagined, probably took a lot, especially since he had to dry it all out first.

The sensation of flowing widened…and there was a crack in the air, a pulse as it seemed to resist him pushing more ash into that space…so he tried to imagine squeezing the dome, kneading and pressing it from all directions as he screwed up his face in concentration…

A hiss in the air, and the crackling of fire, and when he opened his eyes…a black, solid dome of baked ashes, glossy in places, burned there.

“That…..was not what I intended.” Oktavia said, eyes widened slightly, “but…it will suffice as a tomb for them. Thank you again, Sebastian Blackwell.” She told him.

“Right…anyti-…well I mean” He stumbled over his words, and she waved him off.

“I understand. Let us be off.”

And with that, she handed him one of the satchels she’d prepared, and started walking, with him lumbering after her.

“Ah, right. How far off is this?” He asked her, trying to keep pace.

“On foot? A mere few days, should we take the most direct route. We should arrive at a border outpost and receive aid there.” She told him.

“Well alright then.” He said simply.

“‘Least we won’t be walking the whole way. Smooth sailing from there out, right Seb?” He thought to himself.