Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; You Are Being Melodramatic

The Head Priestess Cel rushed up to us upon returning to the temple the next day with a haste, which I interpreted as a bad sign.

“Lady Sistilla!” she said with a smile that could barely contain the exuberance pressing to break out. “I’ve got good news!” Yep, no good could follow.

“Oh? Really?” Sistilla, apparently, did not share in my sentiment as she perked up some after hearing the cheerful Cel’s words. Understandably, she had dragged a black cloud around all morning, though she hadn’t shared her decision, or even if she had made one.

“Yes! I got another vision from Lady Lilaquith. She actually visited my dreams! My normal dreams!” Was that the source of her cheerful mood? An unsolicited visit from a goddess? Well, I guess that was something, assuming she had not mistaken a normal dream for a divinely inspired one.

“You did? What did she say?” Anxiety replaced the gloom in her eyes, assuming the vision related to her. Considering she rushed over to inform us, that was a logical conclusion.

“She said that you don’t need to do the ‘bare all’ penance... and that she is not entirely sure how that tradition started...” Cel rubbed her chin while she flexed her lower eyelids. Wait! Did that mean it was a BS form of atonement? “Well, anyway, all you need to do is give up guild work.” She said, regaining her cheerful demeanor. “I’m not sure what guild she is referring to, but I assume you know what she is talking about?” A white monolith, devoid of color, stood in place of Sistilla. It looked like someone had just pulled her frozen corpse from the side of a glacier.

“A-Are you okay, Lady Sistilla?” Cel asked. A fair question, as she appeared to have looked back at Sodom and turned into a pillar of salt.

“I-I’m okay,” she said, voice a distant echo. Cel seemed unable to read the nuance and continued about with her sunny facade.

“Great! Now I think you will need to make some formal renunciation of your position. Not sure what that would entail...”

“Wait! I haven’t agreed to this!” The dam broke, and the color rushed back into Sistilla’s face, and with it a flood of heated emotions. “The Adventurers’ Guild is my life! How can she ask me to give that up?”

“Uh...” Cel’s smile froze in place, and she stood, dumbfounded. “Is it more important than lifting the curse?”

“Well, umm...” She bit her lip. I guess this was the million-vol question. On knee-jerk response, it seemed a fairer price than standing here naked on display, but then again, once it was done, that was it, no lingering provisions. If she gave up the Adventurers’ Guild, then she would be barred from it in perpetuity. However…

“Did the vision specifically say, ‘give up guild work?’” I asked.

“Yes, she was quite clear on that point.”

“So there would be no prohibition on doing the same kind of work freelance?” Seemed like an obvious loophole, or she could even start up a competing enterprise; I’m sure she had enough capital to do so.

“Well, I suppose that’s true, but it does seem to defy the spirit of the penance...” Her smile gave way to a semblance of a pout. Didn’t seem a fan of gaming the system.

“Well, there you go, Sistilla, you could have your cake and eat it too,” I said, feeling proud of myself for outsmarting a deity, but then remembered the mirror, and that she probably wouldn’t be having or eating her cake, regardless. The knife twisted, and I winced.

“It’s not that simple. The guild is the sole provider of adventurers in Olomar. Nobody would think of hiring an unguilded adventurer.” That made sense; you wouldn’t hire somebody who doesn’t have credentials. “Furthermore, it has proven impossible to start a competing enterprise as the guild is fiercely protective of its monopoly and already has practically all adventurers under its mantle. The only exceptions to this are the free companies on the Mystic Continent, but that is not exactly the same.”

“Well...” I lifted a finger to push the point, but realized there was no point. I wanted to hear more about this Mystic Continent, but I began feeling queasy. I grabbed my stomach, but masked it as turning away in frustration.

“Couldn’t you just join one of the free companies then?” Amillia asked, innocent enough.

“I can’t just move to the Mystic Continent,” she said, looking at her with a sad smile. “I wouldn’t be able to marry Prince Orland.”

“You are marrying Prince Orland!?” Cel’s eyes shot out of her head.

“Eheheh...” An embarrassed laugh escaped Sistilla’s lips. “Could you just pretend that you didn’t hear that? It’s not supposed to be public knowledge yet.”

“Right!” She saluted as if given vital instructions. “You can count on me!” It would be all over the city by nightfall, but perhaps that was unfair. I had seen no evidence that she was a gossip. Maybe I should be more charitable to people and stop assigning them negative traits.

Sistilla took a deep breath. “Okay, for Prince Orland, I will give up adventuring.” I suppressed a frown. I wasn’t keen on her acquiescing to the whims of a goddess. She lived for adventure, and to give that important part of herself up, especially as her last act? Well, it just didn’t sit right. I wanted to dissuade her, to encourage her to hold the line, but what right did I have? Only I knew what was coming. I wasn’t her friend.

When Sistilla set her mind to something, she acted without procrastination, and we found ourselves in the Leits chapter of the Adventurers’ Guild after a brisk march across the capital. Amillia pressed her nose to the glass of many shops we passed, especially any place that had a frilly dress in the window, but Sistilla’s mien would suffer no detour.

Amillia still showed signs of concern for her sister, casting an anxious glance her way from time to time, but more from Sistilla’s grim determination than her situation. While Amillia had great reservations about the initial proposal put forward by Cel, giving up adventuring didn’t appear to be a great sacrifice. So, one could forgive her wandering attention.

“Is that Sistilla de Uvald?” An older woman with curly brown hair called out from behind a long double-sided counter occupying the corner.

“Umm... Yes, that’s me.” Sistilla answered, looking far more nervous than I’d ever seen her. She tried to smile nonetheless.

The woman did the guild salute—a double punch to an open palm, raising them on the second. “It’s been a while, dear, but you look out of sorts. What brings you our way?” She wore a gentle smile. “Oh? And who are your companions? Surely not here to sign up? Hehe.” She had a soft, amiable laugh. “Oh my! Is that a yutsuukitsuu? I cannot remember the last time I saw one of them.”

Sistilla returned the solute. “This is my younger sister, Amillia,” she gestured. “And this is Olavir. He is...”

“He is my friend!” Amillia demonstrated this by pulling me into a childish embrace. I pressed my lips together hard.

We approached the counter, and Sistilla leaned in close, causing the clerk to falter. “I need to put in my resignation,” she said with reluctance, eliciting a wide-eyed reaction from the clerk.

“You want to put in your resignation!?” she shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the building, not an insubstantial crowd. In fact, this place seemed to be a hangout for adventurers, many with food and drink, many more in the rowdy state you might expect from such an occupation. However, the outburst from the clerk must have been a rare occurrence, because a hush fell over the room.

“Could you keep your voice down!?” Sistilla said in an urgent whisper. “I...” She looked around with a remorseful smile. “I want to do this quietly.”

“What is this? Sistilla!” A buff guy in a leather jerkin sauntered up. “When did you get into town?” He had a gregarious smile, and by all appearances, knew Sistilla.

“Oh... hey, Onry.” She averted her gaze. “I just got here, won’t be staying long...” Murmurs drifted as people perked up upon hearing her name. It seemed she had some notoriety, albeit not being recognized on sight.

“Is that so?” He rubbed his chin. “Well, surely you could spare a drink with some old adventuring buddies? Pits, I would say the entire hall would be honored to have you drink with us! Haha.” His deep laugh radiated charisma. I had to shield my eyes. Sistilla tried to hide her grimace.

“Sistilla, do you know all these people?” Amillia asked.

“Well, some of them...”

“But we all know her!” The jolly giant bellowed. “She is something of a celebrity among us adventurers!” An outpouring of cheers rose from the crowd, and Sistilla tried to pull away as best she could.

“Waaa...” Amillia’s face lit up. “I’m Amillia! Sistilla’s sister!”

“Are you, little lady?” He shone his magnanimous gaze down upon her. “You are more than welcome to join us. In fact, I wouldn’t hear otherwise. Hahaha.”

“Uh... Sorry, Onry, we can’t,” Sistilla said, pained.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Lady Sistilla is putting in her resignation,” the clerk chimed in.

“What!? You are putting in your resignation!?” The booming voice carried throughout the entire hall and, I imagined, several blocks over. Everyone shared in his incredulity. Shouts of “no” and “you can’t” poured from the peanut gallery. “Don’t tell me you are capitulating to your father’s demands?”

“Not my father’s demand...” she muttered. This caught Onry off guard as he reeled in confusion.

“Not your father’s? Then who’s?”

“Can you just let this go? This is already hard enough.” She gritted her teeth as something of an uproar brewed from the long table lining the hall.

“No. No, I cannot just let it go. You are the jewel of the Alocast sect of the Adventurers’ Guild, and on track to achieve the rank of Expert someday, maybe even Master.”

“Surely you overstate...”

“I do not. How many of us owe our lives to having you on our team? Your quick thinking and skill with the bow have pulled many doomed assignments from the jaws of defeat. I myself owe my life to you.” Damn... I had no idea. Maybe things would be okay, though it would be better for me if they weren’t, but that wouldn’t be my fault.

“Damnit, Onry! Just stop! I don’t have a choice!” Sistilla shouted, causing Onry to pull back and a cacophony of shouts from the guildhall. They all sounded of protest to her decision, but she was going through with this and wouldn’t be deterred. But then, the door slammed open.

“But you do have a choice!” There, silhouetted in the door frame with sunlight forming the backdrop, a blackened figure stood. “And you are making the wrong one!” The dramatic entrance captured everyone’s attention, and a hushed silence filled the room. The black silhouette strode forward with a swagger that marked him as somebody of importance, almost like you might expect of a military general. Once out of the blinding sunlight, a man emerged with cropped black hair and the most flamboyant handlebar mustache I’ve ever seen this side of Nietzsche, and that’s saying nothing of his white regal suit, complete with all the tassels and gold trim that I couldn’t even begin to know the proper name for.

“O-Or, Orla...” Sistilla stammered.

“Prince Orland!” Orny bowed his head, as did many of the backdrop adventurers, but not all.

Did he say, “Prince Orland?” As in Sistilla’s fiancée? This mega-fap?? I could do chin-ups on the stache! Was she about to give up her life’s passion for this? One had to call her judgment into question, as we have already established that his princely status wasn’t a selling point.

“Orland... What are you...” Orland marched straight up to Sistilla, oblivious to all the eyes upon him, and took both her hands and held them close.

“I’ve been searching for you ever since I heard you were in the city,” he said with a flourish of voice, ostentatious, even for a prince. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“Well, I...”

“I’ve been tracking you all over the city. First to that inn—which is much too homely for one such as you—then to the temple of Lilaquith, and finally here. My escort had been run ragged!” Looking over revealed a retinue of guards in half plate standing near the entrance.

“I’m...”

“And then I find you about to do something so very foolish!” He released one of her hands to throw up a disbelieving hand. “Why would you ever consider such a thing?”

“You don’t understand!” Sistilla pulled away. “I’m... cursed.” Gasps from the audience.

“Cursed? What nonsense is this?” He splayed his hand out to the side.

“It’s not nonsense! Lilaquith has cursed me so that I cannot perform household tasks,” she said, looking ashamed.

“What?”

“It’s true,” I said. “You should try her cooking. It’s... to die for.” Cue drum riff. The scowl Sistilla shot me could have rent a soul. “Sorry...” I shrank back. “Just thought this melodrama could use some levity,” I muttered, but I don’t think they heard me.

“Cel, the head priestess, says that Lilaquith told her in a vision that she would lift the curse if I gave up the Adventurers’ Guild.”

“I’ve never heard of someone being cursed before... Are you—”

“Do you not believe me??” Hurt filled her eyes, but Orland met her gaze.

“Of course I believe you!” He took her by the shoulders. “But the guild is everything to you!”

“Not everything...” she said, cupping his cheek.

A fresh wave of nausea hit me. I did not buy a ticket for this show. In some ways, it was impressive how tuned out they were from the surrounding crowd. Amillia was so pumped she vibrated with excitement, pushing the limits of her self-restraint. Thinking about it, Tissa too would probably be enamored with this scene, being a fan of trashy romance novels and all.

“Well, you are MY everything!” he proclaimed without a shred of embarrassment. “Your loss is my loss. Would you trade one curse for another?”

Tears welled up. “But this curse will affect us both.”

“And so will giving up adventuring. You will lose that passionate exuberance, that zest of life that only truly comes out when taking on an adventure. Of this I am certain!”

Well, he was smooth. I’ll give him that.

“But what about my domestic responsibilities?”

He raised one side of his mustache. “You will be a princess. There are servants to handle such responsibilities.”

Thank you! Someone finally said it. She struggled to split the atom; meanwhile, we already had perpetual energy!

“But the children will despise me...” she said, resting her forehead on his chest.

The full weight of the second-hand embarrassment set in and threatened to crush me, though they seemed oblivious to it. Amillia, meanwhile, looked ready to burst.

“It will be alright,” he said, pulling her in closer.

“But what if it affects my ability to even… conceive?” she said, pulling her head away to look him in the face, giving him pause, but only for a moment.

“We can cross that bridge when and if it comes. But for now, I can’t bear to see the woman I love lose this essential part of herself. The woman who is an adventurer!” he exclaimed as her tears brimmed over.

“Orland!” she said, embracing him; he reciprocated.

Cue Vomit. For that moment, my true name was no longer Indigo, but Red, as I’m sure my hue shifted to this lower register of light. Not everyone felt the same as I did, as noted by the thunderous applause from the spectators.

“Should I take that to mean you won’t be resigning?” the clerk asked.

Sistilla nodded, at which point Onry clapped them both on the back, and Amillia ran over to them, jumping up and down, no longer needing to keep herself in check. Only then did Sistilla realize they had just put on a live performance and turned as red as a baboon’s ass. Orland remained unfazed, however.

Despite my distaste for such PDAs, I suppose I should have been happy for them. Perhaps I might have been, as everyone rushed in to congratulate Orland and the increasingly distressed Sistilla. Maybe I would even have joined in the revelry. But I couldn’t. Because… I knew.

“Well... I guess the secret is out,” Sistilla said as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

If only it were... If only it were.