Don’t Take Life So Seriously; You Might Get Caught

It took some doing, but I had escaped all the fanfare. I had no idea that Sistilla was so well loved, that not only her family but nearly every member of the house staff had made a pilgrimage to give praise to the savior. A parade of well-wishers cycled through the medical ward, ensuring I never had a moment to myself. I couldn’t even find time to remove my blood and dirt soiled clothes and dress properly, and even considered dropping trow in front of everyone—at least they had laundered a fresh set of clothes for me. Eventually, the nurse was able to shoo them away, allowing me to escape with the stern order to take it easy for a while and report back in once a day for a check-up.

Now, like a ninja in a clown suit, I skirted by the maids and manservants busy at work and found myself in the library. The smell of parchment and old books permeating the large chamber always gave it a numinous air. Even though sunlight poured in through two multistory-arched windows, providing ample light to read by, it still maintained that cloistered ambiance. Here in my sanctuary, I would find peace. That being said, I had a specific reason for coming here.

“It was cloudy...” I muttered to myself as I checked the spines of books on the third row on the right-hand side of the fifth aisle. “Morouge’s Coastal Travels by Morouge; Morouge’s Guide to Rala’dallian Mega Fauna by Morouge; Morouge’s Mountain Travels... by Morouge.”

This Morouge guy certainly liked the sound of his own name. It peeved me to have to read through all these, but he wrote prolifically about the natural world, and I didn’t want to overlook the information I sought just because I had skipped over some self-obsessed dandy’s works.

Finishing up the last of the Morouge cannon, I let out a sigh. Nothing. The next three books were by a man obsessed with insects. I pounded my head against the shelves; never had I so longed for the Dewey Decimal System. Maybe I should try the philosophy section?

Don’t get me wrong, there was some organization to the book. Each section had a theme, a broad theme, and went by author, not subject. So if the author was known for his documentation of land formation, you would find all his works in the section relating to the natural world, even if it included a book on Polgovian monastic yodeling. For whatever reason, the library of Reastera insisted on keeping all the author’s works in one place, much to my frustration.

I pulled my head back, looking at the book I had just smacked it against, ‘Sacred Places’ by Ulfandrious. Hmm... That had potential. I pulled the leather-bound volume, figuring it better than testing the thickness of my skull, and made my way over to a heavy wooden table rubbed smooth with use, setting the book down with a thud.

“Whew.” Never a light book, but I guess that’s what quality construction gets you. I took a seat in the accompanying chair and paged through to the back. I’m not sure why I always held out hope that there would be an index—never found one—but I would always check, and always find myself disappointed. Still, this author included a table of contents. +1 to you, Ulfandrious.

1. Bellfrost Mountains.................... 4

2. Crete............................................. 26

3. Pento Bluffs.................................. 78

4. South Albric Slopes...................... 91

5. Ulgkork Pit.................................... 112

6. The Oasis...................................... 140

7. Tower of Eternal Radiance......... 169

8. Everglow Forest.................………. 188

...

Interesting, I didn’t think I had heard of any of these places. Maybe these were just the writer’s fancy and held no place in the common zeitgeist. Still, I’d heard of Crete’s Crater; maybe it was related?

Having no other direction, I flipped to page 26 and gave it a read. The author had quite a bit to say; it seemed this place had achieved official recognition as a highly sacred location, complete with a zealous order of self-righteous priests that made sure nobody got too close to the sacred obelisk at the center of the island without paying the proper contribution. I guess that wouldn’t be such a big deal if this stone structure didn’t purportedly have miraculous healing properties. Furthermore, this miraculous gift required no upkeep, so these “holy men” didn’t actually do anything other than collect an admission fee.

I scuffed, looking up with disgust. Just another example of people pretending to be better than they were, acting like they performed a sacred duty. If they charged just because they could, that would be honest at least. But no, they had to pretend they performed a great service for the world.

I rested my elbow on the desk, propping up my head as I looked down at the open pages and found the left-hand side seemed close to flipping of its own accord, as books are wont to do when opened to either the beginning or end of a volume. Sometimes, in a previous life, I would stare at such a page and think that if I focused hard enough, I could will the page to turn. That rekindled another question that had been on my mind.

I focus on the page, really focused... The page flipped. Startled, I lifted my head. It worked? No, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. That page could have turned on its own; I needed something definitive. What could I use... I looked around for something appropriate, just an inkwell and pen.

I pursed my lips; there had to be something. But wait. Didn’t I have... I patted around in my pockets. Yes! There it was! One of my well-wishers had insisted on giving me a People’s penny; I never got the chance to spend money. At any rate, it would be perfect for this exercise.

I set the coin down, basket side up for no particular reason—fun fact, People’s pennies don’t have a head on them, but a woven basket instead—then sat down and took some deep breaths. My palms began sweating, and my heart beat slammed into my chest; hope can be a powerful emotion. With my preparations complete, I focused my attention on the penny and pushed.

Nothing happened. Well, that confirmed the collar still worked, but my speed and strength that night could not have been completely physical. I pushed harder... The sunlight coruscated off its reddish hue and held fast. I pushed even harder! It could have been just my imagination, but I could have sworn that a head peeked out of the basket and winked at me; otherwise, the coin held steadfast to the standard physical laws.

Hope is a powerful thing, and so, despite my clear lack of success, I went all in with one final push, giving it everything I had, as if Sisyphus pushing that boulder the last few feet to the top of the hill. However, unlike Boulder Boy, having not incurred the gods’ wrath, I was rewarded. The coin broke the static friction of the table and began crawling across the desk. So ecstatic about the success, I kept the coin moving until it ultimately fell off the desk.

“So you can use it.”

I flinched so hard that the chair went flying backwards, and I propelled myself across the table in a tumble, knocking over the inkwell—covering myself in the process—and falling alongside my People’s penny, coughing up my heart.

“That seems like an overreaction,” said a young woman with cerulean blue locks walking into view.

Lucial? What was she doing here? Wasn’t she avoiding me? But more importantly, had she seen anything? What had she said? In my panic, I had only caught the first couple of words.

“Oh... Lucial. You scared me,” I said, playing dumb.

“I don’t think I’m nearly as frightening as all that,” she said, gesturing to the mess I made.

Damn, my clothes were ruined! Ink had splotched every article of clothing I had, as well as the table and floor, where on the former a puddle had formed and was dripping down onto the latter. Of my own person, my shirt and waistcoat had suffered the greatest casualty, and unfortunately, my face as well, which would surely persist for some time. In my distress from this mishap, I completely forgot about the larger issue and tried to find some means of preventing further ink staining.

“Stand still,” ordered Lucial, with uncharacteristic authority.

Extending a sharpened fingernail, she proceeded to draw an intricate sigil, replete with swirls and sleek curves in a nearly hypnotic pattern. It would be considered a work of art back on Earth. Even more impressive, she drew the whole thing in the span of a minute. She finished by closing a small circle in the center.

A ripping sensation issued from my face, and clothes for that matter, but it passed in an instant. I barely had time to put my hand to my cheek as black ink pulled from my skin and shot to the center of the sigil, pulling there in a perfect sphere. Lucial’s hand floated down to the ink bottle that had fallen from the table, pulled by the force of the fleeing ink, and held it underneath the collected pool. Drawing another short line in the sigil, the ink spilled neatly into the bottle just as the sigil faded.

I blinked in astonishment, but then thought to check my person. Clean, not a trace to indicate that even a fume of ink had ever wafted by these garments, and that went for every other surface as well. I was so impressed that I had to inquire.

“What was that?”

“Just an ink summon,” she said, then blushed. “Well, not a basic one; using it in this manner involves intricacies...”

She shook off her abashment. “That’s not important. You used telekinesis!”

“What?” I said, looking off. “I was just sliding the coin across the table...”

Technically, not a lie. Can’t say why I held so fast to that stricture, not that I ever enjoyed lying, and even basic deception proved to be a maladroit endeavor, as evident from my clear awkwardness in this conversation.

“Sliding it with telekinesis,” she said, seeing through my misdirection.

“Hehe,” I gave an anxious laugh. “You know I can’t use telekinesis.”

I tugged on the collar. She rested her hands on her hips, not looking impressed.

“And that’s why it’s all the more concerning.”

Not good. Would she report this to Conroy? Just as he was considering removing the collar? In that light, maybe it wouldn’t matter, but then again, maybe he would find it alarming and want to keep my abilities in check. At any rate, no good could come from word getting out.

“Could you... maybe keep this between you and me?” I said, still lying sprawled out on the floor.

“How long have you been hiding this?”

“I only just found out right now.”

“Right now? What about during the attack?” she asked, continuing her scrutinizing gaze.

“I acted on instinct; I’m not entirely sure what happened. After I awoke, I suspected it might be fox ma—err, telekinesis, and only just got around to testing that hypothesis.”

She took a couple of steps, closing the distance between us, and crouched down with her knees tucked close to her chest, giving me a hard look. “Are you a spy? Sent by my father? Or maybe... Lord Fraldario?”

“A spy!?” I said, taken aback. “I was taken as a slave from the Two Trees!”

I wouldn’t have revealed that piece of information about myself if not for the sudden indignity of the accusation, and I immediately regretted letting the secret of my origin out. However, now that it was, I felt like I needed to clarify.

I stood up, but maintained a hunched posture. “It’s in a mystical forest south of Atol.”

She looked up, pondering for a moment, until a lightbulb went off. “Oh! You mean the Everglow Forest.”

“Is that what humans call it?” I said, crossing my arms, still avoiding eye contact. “I never saw it written on a map.”

“Well, you probably won’t see it on older maps, but it is definitely marked on newer ones...” she trailed off with an encroaching visage of discomfort.

Curious, I turned to face her. “Why is that?”

“Mmm...” she started, biting her lip. “It seems I was mistaken about you, Olavir. Sorry, I’ve had bad experiences with your kind before, manipulating and stealing secrets…”

The sudden and unexpected change of topic put me a little off balance, but it must have been weighing on her if she felt the sudden need to apologize.

“But you shouldn’t have tried to manipulate my mind!” she shouted, and not in a library voice; luckily, we had the library to ourselves. “That I do not forgive you for!”

“Manipulate your mind?” I said, furrowing my brow. “We can’t manipulate minds; we can only send telepathic messages. I had just learned that I could still do that and wanted to know if non-yutsuukitsuu could sense it.”

Her face pulled in. “Why wouldn’t you already know that?”

It was my turn to feel an affront to my honor. “I don’t know, maybe because none of my other abilities worked, and you humans are so dense that I have to scream for even the chance of somebody picking up on my telepathy.”

“What about other yutsuukitsuu?”

“I haven’t seen another yutsuukitsuu since I nearly... since they put this collar on me,” I said, not wanting to share anything more intimate than that. “The only reason I discovered it still works is because the hougen are receptive.”

“Oh, I see...” she said, face hanging low. “Perhaps I jumped to conclusions... Can you really not manipulate minds?”

“I can’t, nor have I ever heard of anyone who could. If we were capable of that, you would think we would rule the world. I wouldn’t be here at least.”

With a sobering of her condemnations, she walked over and picked up the fallen People’s penny and turned it over in her fingers. “Why were you hiding the fact that you could use telepathy?”

“Because they might find it threatening. Maybe they can find a more effective collar. Conroy was considering removing it in light of my recent actions; he might change his mind if he found out about this...” I rattled off my concerns in a confused jumble.

“Why would being able to use telekinesis with a collar make him less likely to remove it?”

A good question. “Well, because maybe he would consider me a threat.”

She tilted her head. “After the other night, I would think that if he was going to, he would already consider you a threat.”

A cloud passed across the window, causing a transient shadow across the scene. Lucial turned, slippers tapping the hardwood floor, and walked towards me with not a hostile bearing, but a demanding one.

“What are you really hiding?” she continued, pushing her face close, forcing me to take a step back. “You are always acting so sneaky and evasive. You think others haven’t noticed, but I have.”

I winced back even further, but she followed like a wolf on fresh meat. For a moment, I worried that she might have some kind of esoteric sigilry that allowed her to look through my eyes and see the thoughts fluttering across my brain.

She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t perhaps be… plotting to flee, would you?”

I must have paled several shades. “W-Wha... NO! I just...”

Going by her hardening eyes, she didn’t buy it. It seemed like the jig was up, so I recomposed myself and gave her a hard look back.

“Is it wrong to want your freedom?”

To my surprise, her face broke into a soft smile as she leaned away.

“Why are you smiling?” I said, uncertain.

“I’m just relieved,” she said, bouncing on her heels. “I was worried you were up to something nefarious, but you have just been plotting to escape this whole time.”

“Aren’t you worried that now I will see YOU as a threat?” I said with a hard edge.

She stopped bouncing but continued to smile. “No, I have no intention of interfering. In fact...”

She cupped her chin, taking a moment to ponder her next words. “I have a proposal that will set your mind at ease.”

“Blackmail, is it?”

Her smile turned dubious, but she continued, “Do you really take me for such a villain? No...”

She leaned in close and said in a softer tone, “I would be willing to help you escape. But in exchange, I would ask that you help me escape as well.”

My tail went rigid. “H-Help you escape?”

“Yes.”

“Escape… from what?” I said, confused. “Are you a prisoner?”

“Hehe, not in the conventional sense, but...” she laughed, but then became serious. “Do you remember that night on the balcony?”

Of course I did. One doesn’t forget suicide attempts, unless you works for a hotline or something. I nodded.

“My father is a very... overbearing man. I do love him, but he asserts his authority over every aspect of my life. On that night, I tried to join the Adventurers’ Guild, but was prevented from doing so by that authority. My frustration hit a crescendo and...” she said, pausing, a sniffle entering her voice. “Thank you for stopping me; I wasn’t in my right mind, but I have been thinking about what you said...”

“Oh?”

What had I said?

“It seems selfish, but recent developments have convinced me,” she declared with a conviction. “However, I don’t think Father would suffer running away well.”

Ah, that’s what she was referring to, but wait... “Why would it matter how your father would suffer it? Just tell him to go pound sand!”

“Pound sand?” She looked at me sideways. “Anyway, you don’t know how insistent Father can be. No, I seek to do one better.”

“One better?”

“That’s right. I will fake my own death.”

A lone eyebrow crawled its way up my forehead. She caught sight of my incredulous expression and demurred, seeming to realize just how absurd an idea it was.

“Maybe it is far-fetched...” she muttered. “But with your help, I think we could pull it off, hence my proposal!”

“Mmm... I don’t know. Even if I could help you, how could you help me?”

I wasn’t actually opposed to her proposition, but it is in my nature to argue. “Once I get this collar off, I will be long gone.”

Her face darkened, but only for a moment. “Well, do you know how to survive in human society? As a yutsuukitsuu, you may also find it hard to fit in.”

“I don’t know about that. People tend to find me amusing, and I am familiar with the ways of humans. Even if I don’t fit in, I’m used to feeling out of place,” I said, the latter statement referring not only to my current situation.

“Even still, you will be a runaway slave. That same amusement will only make sure you are noticed and easily trackable. Also, there is no guarantee Lord Conroy will remove the collar.”

“Hmm, a fair point, but I don’t see how you can help me with any of that.”

“Perhaps you have forgotten, but I am a renowned scribe, recognized by the Ethereal Quill,” she boasted, gesturing to herself with her thumb, in perhaps the only display of pride I’d seen from her.

I had no idea what this Ethereal Quill was, but her genius with sigilry could not be denied, as demonstrated earlier, and I had a deep interest in learning.

“And, if you can’t get that collar off, I can help you understand it better, and why you can still use your yutsuukitsuu evocations to some degree,” she added.

“Evocations?”

“It’s what we scholars use to refer to expressions of mana.”

“I see...” I said, feeling now oversold on the idea, but tried not to let it show. “Well, I would be willing to hear out—”

“There you are!” came a familiar, nasally voice. “Just what do you think you are doing here!?”

Linglang came marching across the floor, seeming to cause the whole room to rattle with every footfall, and grabbed me by the wrist. “You should have come to the lab the moment you awoke! Was it not enough to spend two whole days off gallivanting? And then an additional two days asleep!?’”

Those “additional” two days had particularly irked him, as if I could have just awakened on command. He dragged me from the room, only allowing me to give Lucial a chagrined grimace.

“Perhaps you have forgotten, but the party is next week, and there are still numerous tasks to complete! If you are going to feel the need for additional sleep, you'd best pull your cot into the lab, as there will be no leaving until everything is finished!” He said as he pulled me through the door, letting it slam shut behind us.