The Name of a Curse and a Lady's Resolve

Before Diane could elaborate any further, she had left the tent.

“Kyle?” Vivian asked, “What does she mean by that? Another curse?”

I wasn’t sure why she was asking since I still didn’t possess a way to speak with Vivian, but thankfully, I still had all my emoticon widgets to convey my general thoughts on the matter.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“What is this, a shrug? Is this supposed to mean you don’t know?” Vivian scoffed, “Alright, well, if Diane says it’s important, maybe figure it out.”

Fine, have a thumbs up.

(b^_^)b

I was a bit angry that Vivian had treated me so bluntly. I was just trying to engage her in conversation. I thought perhaps ever since our kiss, we were some kind of couple, a relationship, maybe even a husband-wife adjacent concept. But at the moment it seemed like she was more interested in Diane than simply sitting down with me and having a pleasant talk.

But I caught myself in this rancid stupor of mine, and tried to remind myself that it was only natural for Vivan to be concerned about her friend, as angry and betrayed as she might feel. And that instead of trying to simply pick up where we had left off after a brief romantic rendezvous, I should be instead supporting her and figuring out what to do next.

Okay, what to do next then? Diane had mentioned a curse, but I was left with the same confusion as last time. Nothing in my digital cavern stood out of place, there was no fine print or status effect explaining the origin of any curse. In fact, I didn’t even know what the curse was actually doing.

I didn’t feel tired or sick. Yes, perhaps I felt powerless at times, but that was the default state of my existence, was it not? Not to mention, with the power of my ability to manipulate spreadsheets, construct emoticon widgets, I had started to get a grasp on being able to communicate with Vivian in this, albeit inefficient, manner.

But a terrible thought occurred to me then as I reviewed yet another spreadsheet where I had listed every single conceivable object in my cavern that could be a curse. I realized, in that instance, that I had not included perhaps the most prominent feature in my room in my search, the feature that everything in my ethereal labyrinth had been built to support.

Were my spreadsheets themselves the curse?

No, of course not.

But it made too much sense to write off. The goddess had sent me here as punishment for my supposed obsession with spreadsheets. Why would she give them to me if the lesson wasn’t to give them up? Diane had mentioned that a prominent feature of a curse was its ability to ensnare you, and hadn’t the spreadsheets already done that to me in my past life?

But what was the solution?

Delete every spreadsheet I had ever made?

Setting aside everything else, that also meant deleting the widgets I made for Vivian, the long exhaustive research I had done on her behalf, volumes upon volumes of work. Were they not valuable? What had my research ever done to the goddess?

Did they deserve to die?

The spreadsheets.

Couldn’t the goddess see?

They were crying.

A war horn sounded outside the tent, followed by jumbled shouts and stomps. Vivian stepped outside and I set aside the matter of the curse for now. Soldiers had assembled near the tent, forming a large ring around Diane, who mounted a dark horse along with a band of robed men and women, presumably the members of her guild.

“This is the day everyone,” Diane yelled, “I’m not one for rousing speeches, so you aren’t getting one from me.”

“Instead, I’ll give you the facts,” said the Astral Viscountess, “As you may already know, my distinguished partner in crime from the academy, Vivian Greymoor is here. Once I’m on the field, I’ve asked her to manage the rest of the battle.”

“Fight well, my brothers and sisters,” Diane turned her horse about, “And may the empire tremble beneath our feet.”

The war horn sounded again and Diane’s horse sprinted off, the rest of her horse mounted vanguard hot on her heels. In the meantime, a number of commanding officers with silver badges and gold insignias embroidered on their shoulders approached Vivian. They pounded their chests with their fists and offered a set of deep bows.

“The Astral Viscountess told us you would be coming,” said one of the officers, “What are your battle plans, Lady Greymoor?”

“Knew I would be coming, huh?” Vivian murmured, “Forget it. What’s Diane’s angle of approach? What do we know about the imperial forces?”

“The forest clearing up ahead will obscure her position as she moves to the east,” pointed another, “The royal forces were bombarded all night. They must be waiting for a moment to break out.”

“Of course. They’ll do it once Lady Astral breaks the cover of the forest,” Vivian surmised, “Is there any sign of Artimael Pendragon?”

“No, my lady.”

“The prince would never sacrifice his precious knights in a suicidal charge,” Vivian murmured, "What's the angle?"

Suddenly, Vivian brushed past the officers and stared into the distance. She took in the wide swath of forest that covered the encampment, the smoldering rocks of Arcadia’s outer wall, and the treacherous hill where the rebels’ machines of war sat menacingly. She spent a long time observing those machines, their massive metal slow-to-turn wheels and bulky one directional barrels.

“Is that the prince’s game?” Vivian whispered to herself, “Always he intends to sacrifice a woman to the cause.”

“Is there something wrong, Lady Greymoor?” someone asked.

“How many more horses do we have?” Vivian demanded. When no one responded immediately, she screamed, “How many?!”

“Uh,” one of the officers stumbled, holding up his hands to count, “Enough for about a hundred riders.”

“Give me two horses and a sword,” Vivian commanded, “And summon any able bodied person who can ride. Now.”

“My lady, we’re under strict orders to have you manage the battle, not ride out into it,” one of the officers shook his head, “Lady Astral would–”

“If you care at all about her life, you will do as I say,” Vivian snapped, “This battle is lost now unless I can direct it from the field.”

“If you could just explain–”

“I’ll explain as you’re preparing my horses,” Vivian shouted, “Emily, ready yourself.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Kyle,” Vivian muttered, “I don’t know what Diane meant by the two of us being unstoppable, but being unstoppable sounds really good right about now.”

Another level up notification blinked on the bracelet as she spoke. But Vivian took no delight in it. Without taking a second look, and much to my chagrin, Vivian selected luck and closed the interface.

“Just wish me luck, Kyle,” Vivian sighed, “Just wish me luck.”

Was that all I was going to get? After all the time we had spent together? Was she going to ignore me unless I figured out the curse? And if the spreadsheets were the curse, was she expecting me to just give up everything I had worked on in her name?

No. I couldn’t do it.

“My Lady Greymoor,” Guin said, “What is happening? Why are you going out there?”

“Diane is riding into a trap,” Vivian replied, “The one who controls the hill controls the flow of the battle, but the first one to attempt a charge will have to face the rebels and their blasted war machines.”

“I’m sure the prince knows this,” Vivian continued, “And is likely waiting for both sides to weaken before he swoops in to claim his victory.”

“Diane’s forces aren’t enough to deal with the prince’s knights. They might not even be enough to survive the charge up the hill. It’s going to be a slaughter if we don’t do anything.”

“Lady Astral,” Guin gasped, “And you intend to ride out and help her?”

“I’m her distinguished partner in crime,” Vivian shrugged, “Someone has to bail her out when she gets into trouble.”

“Let me go with you,” Guin begged, “Diane saved my life. I would be ashamed to be left behind while you and Emily ride out to save her.”

“Lady Veridian,” Vivian smiled, “I can’t guess what Diane is thinking, but sending you into the heart of this mess of a war isn’t what she likely has in mind.”

“No,” Guin said, “You’re wrong.”

Guin Veridian’s expression changed, and it felt like her spirit, gripped by powerful feelings, had grown stronger and bolder. The determination on Guin’s face aroused in me a deep sense of shame. I knew in her face that Guin was ready to sacrifice everything for those she loved.

So what was wrong with me?

Guin held her hands against her chest and bowed her head, muttering inaudible incantations beneath her breath. A glow of golden light appeared and transformed the color of her hair. The rest of Guin’s body was enveloped by this luminescent glow and Vivian, the soldiers of the camp, and likely even the heavens watched on as Guin Veridian shined with a brightness matched only by the afternoon sun.

“Avalon…” Vivian said.

“Do not think of me as powerless, Lady Greymoor,” Guin said, “The place I belong right now is by Lady Astral’s side.”