Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 6: Things Go Well and Then They Don't

"So, Maribelle. I've told you some about my own family, but barring that you're a future duchess I don't really know much about yours. Care to shed some light on that?" I ask before taking another bite of the delicious steak Isadora has cooked for our dinner. Have I mentioned I don't want to leave this place?

Maribelle wipes her mouth daintily with the corner of her napkin. "I suppose you have been working quite hard the past couple of weeks, so perhaps I could share with you a little bit. Unlike you, I am an only child, the sole heir of the Themis dukedom. You see, my birth came with complications, and my mother passed shortly afterward."

"Oh my gods," (I've gotten better at saying 'gods' in the plural lately) "I'm really sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright. I've had my entire life to move past it, after all. But it was her passing away that I suppose shaped my destiny, because the more I learned about the wonderful woman she was, the more I wanted to follow in her footsteps."

"And I take it she was a troubadour too?"

She smiles a sad smile. "Yes. One of the best in Ylisse's armed forces, if the rumors are true. I had some figuratively large shoes to fill. I suppose I still do."

I give a reassuring smile. "Well, if it means anything coming from this disaster, I'd say you're doing an excellent job."

"Come now," she scolds, "I won't have you calling yourself that! It puts the quality of my teaching ability to shame."

I raise my hands defensively. "Hey, you're doing fine work, but you're not working with much is all I'm saying. The sculptor can't always choose the finest clay, right?"

"On the contrary, I would say you are coming along quite well. I don't want to risk inflating your ego too much, but I am prepared to say I am proud of the effort you've put forth so far." She sips her tea smugly.

I guess I have to admit she's not wrong. After my 'just pretend she's dying' breakthrough on the first day of training, it's actually been going pretty okay for the most part. With smaller cuts, I never have any issue anymore, and there haven't been as many stumbles with even the more sizable stuff. I've also started to build what I guess you could call magical muscle. See, using magic tires you out after a while, but if you were to ask a mage where the aches and pains are coming from, they wouldn't be able to actually point it out on their person. It's like a spiritual tax or something. Anyway, as incorporeal as it may be, it can still be worked like any other muscle and grow stronger and more resilient. It's a sure sign that I am making progress, and it feels great. That said, one thing still bothers me.

"Hey, one thing still bothers me," I interrupt Maribelle in the middle of stabbing her biceps (I've graduated to significant muscular injury healing) at our training session the next day. While I raise my staff to close the wound, I ask, "If we have a training security force here, why am I not just healing them? Why do you have to do this to yourself?" I focus for a moment, closing my eyes and letting the healing magic flow out. When I open my eyes again, the wound is sealed.

She rubs the newly healed arm experimentally and nods approvingly. "I can see why you would be confused. Lissa and I certainly were, years ago when we went through this same training." Oh holy shit, did Lissa have to mutilate herself like this? That's genuinely messed up. I can feel myself getting a little green around the gills. "The reasoning is sound, if brutal. Firstly, there are merits to learning how to tolerate pain and injury, even if only for a short time. Healers are not left alone on battlefields ever since the invention of healing staves, as you have already experienced. Given the chance, armies will target healers first to keep the enemy in dire straits. After all, five critically injured men with one skilled healer becomes five uninjured, ready fighters in a matter of moments. In a sense, a healer is the army's strongest weapon, able to take an already deadly warrior and increase his potential exponentially. There is perhaps no greater threat than an untouched healer."

"That's intense as fuck, dude," I say in spite of myself. What? It's true.

"Ahem. Well, yes, I suppose it is, though that vulgar word choice wouldn't have been how I would phrase it." I redden a little, but she continues. "So, having a healer that is ready to be the target of enemy abuse in nearly every engagement is essential. Additionally, there is another reason, and while this phenomenon is well-documented, its nature is yet unknown. In short, when a healer performs healing magic on a patient, the bonds between the pair grow stronger on a fundamental level. In training, healers pair off and work together, practicing on one another. It was in the midst of slashing each other's arms open and reclosing them that Lissa and I first came to truly be friends, after all."

"That's pretty morbid, actually. I always figured it would have been some sort of tea-related meeting or something," I admit.

She almost chuckles. "Not quite. I'm afraid Lissa is quite oblivious when it comes to tea, though you must never let her know I told you as much."

I raise a hand solemnly. "Scout's honor."

She doesn't get the reference (obviously), evidenced by the raised brow. "Anyway, that is the way healers have been trained for generations in Ylisse. It can be said without boasting that the continent's best healers hail from our fair land, so I would say you should be thankful to be learning the healing arts from a nation so well-versed on the subject."

"Right. Thanks, the country of Ylisse..?" I say slowly. "Anyway, so normally the whole mutilation thing would be going both ways?"

"Typically, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Lemme see that for a second." I take the dagger (mercifully wiped clean after its last use) from her hand and before I can think for too long about it, I roll up my own sleeve and slash deeply into my forearm.

It hurts. Like, a lot. No, I'm not gonna purple prose this; getting cut in the arm just really hurts, man. I can't say I recommend it.

"Well?" I ask the momentarily stunned Maribelle. "You gonna do me a solid and close this sucker up?" Realizing what I'm up to, she rolls her eyes.

She springs into action, swiping my staff from the ground and closing up the wound. I gotta say, back when I first speculated that getting wounds fixed probably hurts as well, I was totally right. It just feels wrong, like an itch so strong that it goes beyond irritation into a strange pain across all the damaged tissue. However, a second later, my arm feels totally normal. If it weren't for the blood, I wouldn't have been able to tell you I'd been injured. Healing magic is super trippy, man.

I rub at the skin where the wound was. It feels totally normal, if a bit gross from the remaining blood. "Well, what do you think?" I ask. "Are we spiritually closer or whatever?"

She scowls. "This is not an 'or whatever' sort of exercise! The training of Ylissean healers should be taken with the utmost seriousness."

I laugh a little. "Yeah, I gotcha. I'll keep working at it."

Her shoulders slump a little as she sighs. "You had better," she warns.

The best part about the arrangement I have with Maribelle, I decide for the thirtieth time at least, is that I can sleep as late in the morning as I want. I take my sweet time sitting up and stretching out my stiff shoulders, then slip into my usual grey shirt and black pants. I really should think about expanding my wardrobe sometime.

I've only been awake for a few minutes when there's a knock at the door. "A good time, dearie?" I hear from the other side.

"I'm decent this time, don't worry," I call back, grimacing inwardly at the memory of the time that such was not the case. She opens the door and the glorious smell of biscuits and bacon wafts in. As I accept the plate from her, I remark with near-reverence, "You know me so well, Isadora."

She smiles the unassailably sweet old lady smile of hers. "Well I should hope so, by now. How long has it been since you arrived, after all?"

I have to think about that for a moment. "Wow, I guess it's been like six weeks, hasn't it?"

"As of tomorrow, yes. It's day forty-one of your training. And if I may be so bold, I believe you have been improving at a most respectable pace."

"Wait… Have you been watching Maribelle and me while I've been training?"

Her smile shifts a little and she assumes a sly look. "Of course not, dearie. I have far too many duties that keep me busy, you see. But then again, I suppose I cannot deny taking the occasional peek to see how things are going. And of course, there's the mess that the pair of you make in the ballroom every day, what with all the blood and all." I'm a little embarrassed as it occurs to me that cleaning up all that violence must be downright disgusting, even if we do lay out a tarp every day to train on.

"Sorry about that, by the way," I say.

"Not at all, dearie. I've had much worse messes, back when Lady Maureen used to train healers by the dozen here," she replies.

"So you knew Maribelle's mom?"

"Of course. I have been working for the estate since I was a young girl, after all."

"What was she like?"

She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Well, she was certainly the spitting image of her daughter, except she usually didn't take the time to arrange her hair so carefully. Lady Maureen was, above all, a constantly busy woman. She took great interest in the lives of her servants and staff, and acted as a mediator for a great many conflicts between her subjects. While her husband the duke was and remains a frequently absent ruler, maintaining our relationships with the rest of the nation's provinces, Lady Maureen was almost always here, maintaining the estate with a firm but fair grip on the handle.

"I can say without exaggeration that there wasn't a single subject of the dukedom that did not love Lady Maureen. Even as she was with child, she never wavered in her caring for her subjects. Some suspect that it was her extreme effort even in the late stages of pregnancy that left her too weakened to survive the birth process. Tragically, when Lady Maribelle arrived, the latest class of healers had just graduated and been sent to various villages around the country, so there was no one to heal Lady Maureen. To my eternal shame, my efforts were not enough to save her." Her face turns downcast, which in my experience is a new look for her.

I'm not sure what to say for a moment. Finally, I manage, "Well, I'm sure that you did everything in your power to help. You always do."

She smiles again. "You're sweet to cheer me up like that. Thank you, Mister Randall."

"Don't mention it," I reply.

"Oh yes! I had almost forgotten to tell you. Captain Jackson has requested you in the training yard at your convenience," Isadora says, suddenly full of urgency again.

"Yeah? What about?"

"He mentioned something about you expressing a desire to, what was the phrase…'blow shit up'?" She smirks at the opportunity to swear while on duty.

Oh man. It's time. It's finally time. I'm so ready for this.

"I'm so ready for this," I tell Isadora as I just about fly out the door. Seconds later, I'm down the stairs and about to get to the back door when I bump into someone and cause both of us to fall on our asses.

"Oh, damn. Sorry Mindy," I apologize, scrambling to my feet to help her up as well.

Gritting her teeth in pain a little as she replies, Melinda says, "I still don't know why you insist on calling me that."

"For the same reason I insist that you call me Randy. Sign of familiarity."

"Which we have also established I will not be doing, Mister Randall."

I give an animated sigh. "I suppose you're more scared of your mother than you are of me then, huh?"

She can't help but smirk. "Something like that."

I start to make for the door. "Anyway, I can't talk right now, Jackson and I are gonna go blow shit up!"

She waves politely as I leave. "Have fun with that, I guess!"

Seconds later, I'm face to face with Captain Jackson. "Hey there boss. And by the way, was I right or was I right?" I ask as I notice him stroking the short beard I convinced him to start growing a few weeks ago.

He growls, "Alright, I guess you had a point. I'd say it looks pretty good by now."

I have to reach up pretty high to slug his shoulder good-naturedly. "You're damn right it does." It doesn't look like the punch did much to him. I'm not sure he noticed.

He turn around and grabs his bolt axe leaning up against a stone bench. "But I know what you're really here about. You ready to start learning how to handle this piece of work?"

I can feel my eyes light up. "I'm so pumped right now."

He holds it back for a moment. "Now I'm pretty convinced you don't have much training in the way of wielding axes, right?"

"Yeah…" I think bolt axes are like C-rank? Balls.

"Alrighty, we'll just have to take it slowly then. Now I want you to watch my swinging form carefully. The first thing to keep in mind is–"

"CAPTAAAAIN!"

We are interrupted by a panicked member of the security force rushing around the corner and toward us. Is that blood on him? "We're under attack! Plegian invaders!"

Jackson's demeanor changes instantly. "Well then, let's not keep them waiting." The pair of them charge off, and I realize I don't even have my staff on me. Shit, is it all the way up in my room?

I sprint into the mansion, but by the time I get inside there are already a few Plegians inside. Those weapons look like they've already spilled blood today. One of them spots me, and points me out. I now have three axe-hefting maniacs after me. It doesn't take long to decide I should turn and run.

Unsure where to head, I decide the safest place is probably wherever Jackson is, so I follow the path he and the security guard took. I round the corner and almost instantly trip over something. As I scramble to my feet, I realize to my horror that I have tripped over the guard's corpse, riddled with arrows and with a look of terror frozen on his face.

Shit, this is going downhill fast. I knew this day would come eventually, but I wasn't ready. Not for something like this. I round another corner and end up at the front of the mansion, just in time to see Jackson get overwhelmed by four men armed with swords. With an explosion of lightning, he throws them off of him, but I can tell he's been wounded heavily. He glances in my direction and notices me.

"What the hell are you doing? Get to safety!" he shouts. "Where is Lady Maribelle?"

I realize I have no idea where she would be at this time of day. "I don't know! I'm going to get my staff!"

"No! You find her and you get the hell out of here!" he commands, and is then interrupted by my pursuers from inside the mansion.

While he engages them, I sprint through the door behind him and slam it shut. The stairs are finally clear, so I make a break for my room. As I burst through the door, I find myself face to face with the sharp bottom end of a staff. Oh, it's Maribelle. She lowers the staff when she realizes it's me.

"There you are! What's going on out there?" she asks.

"Looks pretty grim. We're gonna get overrun before too long," I reply.

She's quiet for a moment. "Alright," she says slowly. "I'm going to parley with their leader and try to keep the barbarity to a minimum."

"Are you nucking futs?" I demand. "I dunno if you've seen these guys, but they don't seem like the parleying type!"

She shouts back suddenly, "There's nothing else to be done! We can't stop them!"

"I know that, but what we can do is get our asses outta Dodge! Jackson gave me an order to find you and get gone!" I protest.

"Jackson doesn't give orders around here; I do," she replies, and storms past me and out of the room. "If you want to run, be my guest." Well shit. I grab my staff and follow her down the hall and downstairs, where half a dozen soldiers have just entered by breaking down the front door. They part to make way for someone, and in walks Aversa wielding a pretty grim-looking blade. I don't really remember her having a sword, though. What's she holding in her other hand? I can't really...oh my god. I suppress the urge to vomit as I realize she's got a grip on Melinda's head, suspended by her hair. She throws it in front of her, eyeing Maribelle as she does so.

"Greetings, Lady Maribelle," she coos venomously. "Have you been enjoying our visit so far?"

Without emotion, Maribelle steps to the bottom of the stairs and replies, "I mean to parley with the leader of this invasion. Would that be you?"

Aversa flashes a toothy grin. "Why yes, I'm so glad you perceived that. And of course, you have your parley. Here are my terms." She gestures to the men on either side of her, who move forward and seize her arms and make quick work of binding her hands behind her back.

Suddenly, a blast from behind the group throws a few men off their feet and across the room. I realize with a start that Jackson must be making a rescue attempt.

However, when the dust clears, it's Isadora hefting the massive axe. Does that mean Jackson…? "HAVE AT YOU, UNHOLY WRETCH!" Isadora shrieks, levelling a blast straight at her daughter's murderer. Aversa casually flicks her sword down onto the blast, splitting it and diverting it from her with almost no effort. In a blur of movement, Aversa is suddenly upon the old maid, and she stabs her through the chest once, twice, and before the third strike hits, Isadora is already collapsing.

"Isadora!" Maribelle cries, but held in place by those men she isn't in a position to help. As Isadora breathes her last, a memory flashes through my head:

Know when to use your power. And use it.

Steeling my resolve, I give shout and make a mad dash for Aversa, thinking that's the fastest way to get myself good and dead. I actually get within a few feet, but then I feel hands grabbing me and pulling me away. No, what the hell are you doing with this detainment shit! Kill me already!

"You bunch of fuckers! Kill me, I dare you, I double dare you! You all ain't shit! Your mamas ain't–"

A sharp pain in the back of my head ushers in a very quick and very complete darkness.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. Been a while since we've had some good old-fashioned carnage, eh? As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!