Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; You Might Jump

What a day. My shoulders resisted as I tried to roll out the tension, making my way up a flight of stairs. I couldn't believe the runaround this spy was giving me. It had started off innocent enough, at least as innocent as trying to kill someone could be. A trip wire here, a precariously placed halberd-wielding suit of armor there, a pit trap or two. Then they got desperate, and before I knew it, they were deploying several traps a day, with varying degrees of efficacy. I guess Sistilla might have slipped on those greased-up stairs and slid into that rack of surplus weapons to lethal effect; I had my doubts.

Thwarting all those assassination attempts might not have been so bad if not for Linglang's constant demands. He even dipped into Amillia's time, cutting off her complaints like he had a court order. A shame, really, if not for Conroy's crazy demands, I would have really enjoyed the work. It was, after all, engineering, but with magic—every nerd's wet dream. But when you couldn't even relieve yourself without taking a notepad for calculations, the fulfillment just wasn’t there.

I continued dragging myself down the hall to my favorite balcony. Yes, I had a favorite. You would too, if you lived in a chateau. A brilliant twilight with stars in crisp view poured through the vaulted windows lining the spacious halls. The rustling of the trees presaged a refreshing breeze that would carry an ever-so-slight chill, alleviating a day’s hard work.

Why this balcony? Several reasons. First, it spanned at least 20 meters, plenty of space for reflective pacing. Second, the sun set on this side, so if you arrived at twilight, you would be treated to a pleasant parting glow as it dipped beyond the orchards. And of course, this area was vacant in the evening, which suited me just fine.

However, as I neared the balcony, I noticed that the door was open. Well damn... So much for vacant. Normally, in such a situation, I would go elsewhere; I had no interest in sharing my nighttime stargazing; that would just be awkward. And indeed, I intended to. However, curiosity killed the cat, and I wanted to know who would violate the sanctity of MY balcony. Yes, I did consider it my balcony. You would too, if you had a general loathing of people. I would store away the knowledge of the trespasser so I could hold them in silent contempt until I grew bored of the internal fulmination or they decided to renew the offense. Okay, maybe I was just in a bad mood.

Who could be the balcony squatter? As much as it displeased me, I took some measure of pleasure from trying to name the culprit beforehand. Most of the staff had gone home, though some number lodged in the chateau. I didn’t think they would have the gumption to roam around freely, though I couldn’t say if it was a violation; I did get the impression that Mimka wouldn't have approved, regardless. That would leave just the lordly occupants of the manor... and Brogan. He did seem the type to lurk about. Damn, I sure hope I don't run into him. Maybe I should just turn around now.

Well, if it were Brogan, I had the feeling he would already be aware of me. And it's not like I was doing anything wrong. Still would like to avoid the guy. I reached the door and timidly peered around the corner, my field of vision sweeping from the right to left. I didn't see anyone, nothing but clear starlight. Maybe someone had just left the door open... But wait, on the far left side. Darkness cloaked them, so I couldn't get a good view. Going by their profile, it appeared to be a woman. However, it was evident that she stood on the wrong side of the railing, hair lightly rolling in the breeze.

I had not expected to find an attempted suicide in progress while I had silently cursed out the intruder. Clearly, they were having a worse day than I was. I approached, making sure my shoes made a soft but audible sound—guess they were good for something. I wanted to alert her of my presence without startling her for obvious reasons.

I got to within five meters and was certain she could hear me, but she made no acknowledgement. She just continued to stare off. At this distance, I could see who stood hanging off the balcony railing: Lucial. She wasn't wearing her usual dress, but something I would expect to find on Sistilla.

"Ahem," I gave a polite cough to get her attention. Was this the proper protocol for dealing with an attempted suicide? I had no idea. This elicited a slow, almost reluctant, turn of the head. However, she scowled when she saw me. How rude…

"I'm just looking at the scenery..." She said, returning her gaze.

"Of course. I personally tie a length of rope to the railing for that extra lean to enhance the viewing experience." Though inappropriate, I couldn't let such an obvious lie go unmolested.

"Grr..." She frowned again with a growl.

"Sorry..." I moved up to the railing and looked off into the distance. I had no idea what to say in such a situation that wasn't trite, though perhaps that was called for. Perhaps not.

"Why are you here?" She said after several moments, her resilience to awkward silence clearly inferior to mine.

"Why are you?" I said, thinking it an astute way of addressing the real issue, but quickly realized it just made me sound like a condescending ass. "Sigh... I like to come up here to unwind after Linglang has run me ragged. He would keep me working through the night if I didn't protest, though he still raises a fuss about turning in early." I returned to looking out to the horizon.

"So that's why you are here?" She sounded doubtful for some reason.

"Yeah..." I turned and gave her a perplexed look. Did she think I had some nefarious motive for loitering around a balcony?

"So you aren't here to keep an eye on me?" I blinked several times.

"If I am, I've done a terrible job, considering the situation." Her head dropped.

"I suppose that's a sound argument." Well, this was going nowhere; I just needed to shoot my shot and hope for the best.

"Lucial, maybe we should stop pretending that neither of us knows what is going on." Her lips tightened. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but is this really what you want?" The last vestiges of sunlight had departed, and a starry night sky came to life—low light pollution is a wondrous thing. After a moment, she looked up with tears in her eyes.

"It's not about what I want," she said with an edge of anger in her voice. "It's never been about what I want." I wanted to ask her to go on, but felt I should probably just hold space at that moment. She continued, "It's always what father wants. 'You can't do this. You can't do that. You will marry Vaas de Uvald,'" she gave an unflattering, overbearing impression of her father. "I don't care that you don't want to marry him, and that he is clearly a homosexual with no interest in you. You are my daughter, and you will obey!" Damn... Daddy issues. And if what she said at the end was true, he was a downright douchebag.

"He sounds like a real rectal plug." I didn't know how to say douchebag in Caster, or if there even was such a thing. She did a double-take. It seemed she was unfamiliar with the idiom.

"Rectal..." She paused, and a flush came over her cheeks even in the darkness. "What does that mean?"

"It's just an insult." I leaned over the railing. Judging from her expression, she didn't look at all mollified. "But perhaps you prefer a less crass criticism?"

"No, a simple pejorative is more than good enough." It seemed she had softened a bit. I know I had been playing it cool, but I would have been rather distressed if she actually jumped. I mean, who else could teach me sigilary? Linglang?

"You know, from this height, there is no guarantee you would die." Lucial had not expected to hear that, as evidenced by her jarred head swivel. "It hasn't rained, so the ground is probably fairly solid, even still..." I had once seen a kid jump from the third story. Well, I hadn’t actually seen him jump, but afterwards. "I would say depending on how you land, the result could range from instant death to..." That kid had actually survived the fall. I don't remember why, but I felt that he was in immense agony as he lay on the ground like a crime scene outline. A shame, as he later died in the hospital, his last moments spent in self-inflicted suffering. "Life-long injury."

She grimaced. It seemed the idea of jumping had lost much of its appeal. I continued, "I'm assuming there was a recent development with your father?" She nodded gravely, still looking down, but now with apprehension. I waited for her to elaborate, but nothing was forthcoming.

"Well, it is none of my business, but is it all right if I ask you something?"

She turned. "What?"

"Is this really the best option you have?" She furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, is the sw—" I almost said “sweet,” but that didn't seem appropriate given the argument I was making. "Is the escape of death the best way to handle your overbearing father?"

"I can't oppose him..."

"Why not?"

"Well..." She wasn't convinced, but she still had to formulate an argument. "He is my father, and a king to boot. To oppose him would mean disinheritance."

"Is disinheritance worse than death?" She thought about that, but soon responded.

"I don't think he would even allow me to be disinherited. It would look bad on him. My father is all about saving face." A sadness had returned to her eyes.

"What length would he go to? If you refuse to cooperate?" Her sadness twisted into a smile, and she gave a weak nod to the ground below. I see… death before dishonor.

"Would he really?" I found it hard to believe that a father would go so far as to off his daughter to maintain his image.

"Well, maybe not... But I feel like he would." I needed to think about that. A soft wind blew, and I found it refreshing despite the morbid topic. Eventually, I had to give my honest thoughts.

"Run away."

"What..." Her voice trailed off.

"Run away. If you feel you would rather die than suffer at your father's hand, then it makes perfect sense."

"But... how does that..." She fumbled her words, but eventually settled on, "I don't know..."

"The way I see it, if you actually decide to go through with... this, then running away can't be any worse, can it?" I'd stepped away from the railing as my pedagogic side started to energize. Although usually reserved for technical matters, it did emerge to dabble in philosophy as well. Lucial frowned at the question, like a student who didn't know the answer.

"The way I see it, if you want to get out from under your father's thumb, then just leave. Worst-case scenario, you die. Or you end up in a situation that actually is worse, but then you can still..." I didn't want to say it, but I could tell she understood what I meant. "Best case scenario, you live happily ever after. Though it might be better to shoot for content."

"Mmmm... I don't know. What you say makes sense, but still, father would..." She trailed off.

"Your father would... What?" When she was not forthcoming with an answer, I offered a guess. "Be upset?" I saw the muscle in her mouth tighten. My ears twitch. That was it, wasn't it? "Well, perhaps upsetting your father is worse than death," I said in her place, not believing it myself, though now that I had said it, it seemed insensitive.

I ventured an approach, causing her to shift away, but she otherwise didn't protest. "But if you are worried about upsetting your father, I would think killing yourself would have the same effect." Her grip on the rail strained as she looked off. "It can't—"

"Will you just shut up and leave already?" She said reproachfully. I stumbled back. "You need not worry, I'm not going to kill myself... not tonight at least." My ears drooped from being put out so suddenly, but she sounded sincere.

"Okay..." I left, unable to keep my tail from dragging. Last time I went out on a limb for somebody.

Lucial continued to stand outside the railing but no longer had any intention of jumping; Olavir had dissuaded her from that. He must have some kind of ulterior motive; perhaps her father had secretly employed him to keep an eye on her. If so, this incident would certainly find its way to him.

Still, she couldn't just shuck off his arguments. The one about her surviving the fall and living out the rest of her days as an invalid made her shudder. Although her father could certainly procure the services of a Saint healer, it would still be miserable while such assistance was procured. But the rest made sense too, and he was right. The main reason for her hesitation in accepting his suggestion, at least in theory, was that she didn't want to upset her father, as much as she hated herself for feeling that way. It seemed ridiculous, but she actually had thought dying was a better option, and she still did... deep down.

If only she could have the best of both options, the living of Olavir's suggestion, and the not suffering father's disapproval of ending it all—oddly, killing herself didn't count. In short, could she have her cake and eat it too? Perhaps she could.