"Degurechaff… She bears an eerie resemblance to you, does she not?"

- Delita Heiral to Ramza Beoulve, after Ramza's loss in the entrance exams to Gariland Academy.

Chapter 8: A Common Mistake

I awoke to the sounds of combat, and an annoying pain in my right side. I suspected that it was because Ramza was rather unused to stabbing people, preferring to perforate them with a spear or carve them in two with a sword, so he likely didn't understand the anatomy of what a 'stabbing' was made of.

If you were to stab someone successfully, they should, in theory, almost instantly start bleeding and lose vitality at a rapid rate. At the academy, I had come to discover the best places to stab a person were either directly through the lungs or the liver; such an injury would cause someone to almost immediately collapse, and in this ridiculous world of magic even those injuries were simple to heal. I had attempted to stab Ramza in the liver, but suspected I'd missed in the heat of combat. That was probably fortunate, as if I'd really nailed him, the idiot would have bled out before he could actually be healed.

But yes, people were fighting. I staggered out of my tent, peering blearily around the area, only to see that it was, yet again, the damn Corpse Brigade.

"Vinya!" I barked as I saw her rush by. She paused, turning to me, her brown eyes filled with concern. "What's the situation?"

"Corpse Brigade have surrounded our camp! After you and Ramza had a… spat, we dragged you two out of the… um…"

"The burning wreckage of the fort?"

"Yes, that! And we made a camp nearby! But there are too many of them, Tanya! I… I don't think we can take them all!"

I let out a curse, staggering to my feet. This Brigade was really going to regret making me move right now, I swore. Every part of my body was aching. The physical part of healing was easy enough; to repair flesh, you added mana to flesh, attuning the mana to the flesh in such a way that it revitalizes itself. But that takes a toll on the person being healed, naturally - this expedited process of 'natural healing' causes an aggravation to the soul that makes the body react as if it is weak, even when it's perfectly fine.

What an annoying side effect. Why would the creator - if it is Being X, as I suspect - place it into this alternate world in the first place? Magic does as magic is wont to do, with little care for the thought process and thinking of commoners like myself. If that cursed Being they call God here blesses you, you are naturally inclined to mana. The divine intervention of the heavens, as it were.

But if you are highly attuned to mana, mana naturally affects you more. It's a recursive loop - people who are good at magic are good at having magic cast on them. As someone who is excellent at magic, being healed often left me feeling lightheaded and dizzy, the overwhelming effects of pure curation causing my grip to be loosened on my mind. Did it view my natural state as something to be corrected? White magic was supposed to be 'curative', after all.

Magic was actually quite obnoxious, even if I found it so wondrous at the same time. If I had to put into simpler terms, magic would be a damn annoying subordinate who tries their best, but ultimately overreaches their capabilities. This frustrating subordinate known as magic is refusing to leave my head alone, its constant sparks sending jitters through my body when I needed it to remain firm.

"Where are we?" I asked, fumbling a bit as I grabbed a spare staff off the wall. The world swirled as I moved, and I shook my head to attempt to rid myself of the effect. Instead, it made it worse. "Situation report, Villipede."

"A few miles from Eagrose! They came out of nowhere Tanya, and descended on the camp! Caim and Finn took the south end, and I think Algus and Delita are covering the north, but the sides…" She bit her lip, looking frustrated. "If you and Ramza had been awake-"

"Understood," I said, my brow furrowing as I gnashed my teeth. "Well, I'm awake now. Take me to the west end."

It was a simple gap in abilities. While Ramza and I had worked hard, other people had slacked off. Even in our small unit, it was just something that ended up happening; the people who tried harder would crawl their way to the top, while those who coasted on talent would remain vaguely similar for the rest of their time at the academy. That thing called talent can take a person straight to the top, or they can remain a mediocre individual. This is one of the many benefits of meritocracy that cannot be ignored - every person does a job that they are suited for. Unlike here, where it is very simple to get a job you're unsuited for. I mean, look at me. Do you think I, a simple HR manager, am truly suited for this miserable mire of death and blood that surrounds the average soldier in a medieval world?

Don't be absurd. These surroundings are the last thing I want in my life. If there was a way out of this scenario that didn't involve shedding blood, I'd naturally take it. In a more civilized world, it would be easier to grab hold of. But I'm not the charismatic protagonist of a fantasy manga. I don't have the ability to use words to convince people that I'm right. As a cog in the proverbial machine of society, I can only accomplish and fulfill the tasks in front of me right now. My position is too low to be of any merit at all, the only people willing to listen to me are my subordinates and Ramza, but he's just a cadet as well.

In the future…

In the future-!

This won't ever happen again! With my comrades in arms entering higher society, and Dycedarg as my superior, I'll be living life on easy street! While economically Ivalice isn't doing too well, I can already tell that it'll swing upwards! By eliminating the Corpse Brigade, trade routes will once more be easier to navigate down, and thus stimulate the economy by promoting trade outside of our borders once more! Even though Ivalice is ostensibly 'one country', it's not as harsh of a requirement as it would be in a post-industrial world like the one I've come from. What makes a people 'countrymen'? Similar situations. Similar inputs and outcomes. Similar ideals formed from a community bond that washes over the entire nation.

All of these ideals are wonderful in a world that does not have to worry about survival. Ivalice is a society where the strong dominate the weak, and fight over resources that they might distribute to the weak. While economically sound, such a society is absolute trash. A garbage can for refuse to collect in as the bag slowly bulges until it collapses. But it sustains itself, as the entire economy is built on one concept - 'you and I will survive together'.

As long as the economy is survival reliant, there is no way for this society to fundamentally advance. Unless I somehow subverted the aristocracy all together, but without massive power backing me such a thing would be beyond impossible. It was best to just keep my eye on any changes in society until I had achieved a higher position.

My musings were interrupted as I could see the western end of our campsite alight in flames, the orange and red sparking high up in the night sky, a backlight against the ground. Before me, a bandaged man with blond hair was holding up a sword, leaning against his spear.

"Back!" he shouted, weakly swinging the blade towards the three men surrounding him. "If you dare to come any closer-"

"What are you going to do?" One of the men said with a sneer, taking a step forward. "Bleed on us?"

Ramza's face looked very dignified in spite of the way he could barely hold his arm up.

This was bad, wasn't it? Really, really bad. I could barely cast, Ramza couldn't stand, and this was a horrible matchup for Vinya. While I could rely on freaks like Ramza for melee with ease, it wasn't as if my squadron had nobody competent in melee; Remia was like a dragon with her fists, and Finn was in a class of his own with the spear. But Vinya…

Vinya was an assassin, to put it politely. A classical kunoichi. From stealth, a devil, from mid range, a demon, but she had minimal to absolutely no proficiency in honest melee combat whatsoever. She could use knives decently, but any kind of large weaponry was totally beyond her. Damn it. Damn it to hell.

"Vinya," I hissed as I watched the three men snicker, "How many can you take? I can't cast."

Vinya's eyes widened and she gripped my wrist. "You can't cast? Tanya, what-"

"I don't play well with healing. It's fine," I said with a pointed glare, and she took her hand off my wrist. "How many?"

"M-maybe two? If I hit one with a knife, I could stab the other in the side before anyone reacted."

That wasn't enough. If she did that, the third would cut her in two from behind. A subordinate dying on my watch would be the opposite of ideal; it'd be a direct impediment to my future, an absolute stain on my currently impeccable record for no reason. If she walked out first, I could save myself, but not Ramza or Vinya. I couldn't let Vinya handle this, and my mana was fluctuating so much I couldn't concentrate on it enough. All I'd be able to do is make something explode. I sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"Then we'll have to come up with something else. We can't leave anything to chance here, it's too dangerous."

What could I do? What could I do? I watched the scene with bated breath as one of them took a step forward, but then a cold voice spoke in a low, dark tone, both mocking and dangerous.

"Not this one," the man said as he stepped forward. His face was far too fair for the cruel expression on it, framed by brown hair with dark piercing eyes. He wore armor and a cloak, and his sword was pointed at Ramza's throat. "He's a bit far from home, isn't he?"

He looked closely at Ramza's face, before a bright smile emerged on his lips, and he let out a laugh.

"Hahaha! I can't believe it! To think, after all this planning, all this time spent preparing for this task, one of them would fall into my lap!" His grin was delighted, and he bowed mockingly to Ramza, the tip of his blade never wavering, while Ramza's arm slowly sagged. "Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess. We seek it thus, and take it to the sky. Ripples form on the water's surface."

He took a step closer, and Ramza's sword dropped to the ground.

"The wandering soul knows no rest. Ramza Beoulve, do you know who I am?"

"I have no space in my mind to think of deserters."

"Deserters? Is that what the nobility thinks of us now? And to think, once upon a time, we were praised to the heavens! I rode with your father for a time, you know. Gragoroth Levigne and Balbanes Beoulve. He told me that my talent would take me far after the war."

He smiled at Ramza, taking another step forward. The flames flickered, and I clenched my fists. Do I move now? Do I wait? Ramza seemed prepared for something, even as he leaned against that spear of his, both hands now clutched to it. He was panting, I could tell, but Gragoroth's eyes flickered in the firelight as he moved, still speaking.

"Of course, we often disappoint our heroes, do we not? What I desire, Ramza, is what I am owed. And if we will not be given it, then we will take it. Your brother would pay a high price for your return, wouldn't he?"

Ramza laughed, his back shaking slightly but his stance remained strong. His legs tensed with energy, even as he panted.

"My brother would pay no price to brigands. He values me little, I assure you."

"I doubt that very much, Ramza," Gragoroth said as he continued moving forward. Ramza's head started to lean back, and Gragoroth stopped again. Even from behind, I could tell the tip of the blade was at Ramza's neck. I had to move. Now. "Your brother has spread your name across all of Gallione. Ramza, the prodigy. Ramza, the second coming of Balbanes. Ramza, the brave. The noble. The just. But Gustav told me what you and yours did at Dorter, Ramza. If anything, I would call you a reaper. Tell me, now that your hands are coated in the blood of my brothers and comrades, would you have done the same thing, knowing you would one day be at the tip of my sword?"

Ramza laughed, and then his legs twisted, the spear butt jabbing into Gragoroth's stomach. The man grunted, staggering back as Ramza twirled the spear forward once more, pointing it at his throat. I smacked Vinya on the shoulder.

"Now!"

She rushed into the clearing as the three knights started to lumber forwards. Her knife threw cleanly across the way, slamming into one of their shoulders, and Vinya immediately jammed it in further as she flipped behind him, delivering an ax kick that smashed the other's head into the ground as she moved.

The odds were evened. Two on two, so let's break the tie. I stumbled forward with a smile, and Gragoroth's eyes locked onto me before narrowing. Vinya and the other knight struck at each other, her knives clashing with his sword, and my nerves heightened. Could she win? Did she have the talent to win? At a glance, it was impossible to tell; while she was faster, his sword could cut her in two. It was a classic duel, of speed and brawn. I just had to keep Gragoroth off her for now, and it'd all work out.

"You're crawling in the dirt, Ser Gragoroth. Does it not feel like your rightful place?" I said with a smile as he scrambled to his feet. "He's not such an easy opponent, more's the pity. I've learned it over many months."

"You as well? God must have smiled on my star when I was born," Gragoroth said as he looked at me, his smiling growing wider. "To find the both of you here… Gustav was not lying about your looks. You truly resemble a devil."

I was that memorable to Gustav, and he followed my orders to the letter! It was always nice to know that your enemies were predictable, as it allowed you to track what they would do without having to pay much attention. Gustav had run back to the leadership and delivered my threat, performing the duty I'd assigned him with aplomb.

"And yet here I see you before me, Levigne. Did my words not reach your ears?"

"My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains," he said with a smile and a slight bow. "I apologize, but the price of freedom, while steep, is a price I am willing to pay. It is my right, is it not?"

"Your right to what?" I said, frowning. "A slow death?"

"Nay, that quintessential right that all men are promised at birth. Freedom."

His smile grew wider as I frowned, crossing my arms and biting my lip. My eyes flicked back to Vinya, only to find her arms shaking as her enemy's blade hammered into them, over and over. Steel clashed, and I could see Vinya faltering. This was going to hell faster then I could have imagined.

"And what does it mean, this right to be free?" Ramza asked with narrowed eyes. "The right to steal? To murder?"

"My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment - to find the end of this journey," Gragoroth said with that same damned smile, so arrogant and condescending. Is this bastard looking down on me? "The cages that trap you are many, are they not, Beoulve? Your name. Your honor. Your faith. And what do you use them for, but to hammer us down?"

He clenched his free hand, holding it close to his heart as he pointed his blade at Ramza. His eyes were lit by fire, and the twisted hate in them filled me with a sense of disgust. To hate someone so thoroughly, simply for the crime of existence - maybe becoming a member of the Beoulve household was a mistake. Actually, please forget everything I said, Ramza! I don't want to join your family at all, I didn't consider the negatives! Are these sort of events common for you!?

"But what we, the Corpse Brigade desire is true freedom. The freedom to live where we wish. The freedom to work as we please. We'll remove that burden from your shoulders with ease, Beoulve. That is what this is, after all."

He turned his head, rolling his eyes as he watched Vinya and her opponent duel. The man leaned back, a vicious swipe of Vinya's dagger carving past where his head just was, and his sword clashed against it as he came up,his strength far too much for Vinya, who fell to a knee. My heart pounded in my throat as I watched my subordinate. Who takes jobs that they're not capable of completing!? You're not just risking your life, but mine! You can't just pretend to be good enough, you have to excel to fight!

"Alistar, cut her down, why don't you? Playing with your food that way…"

He smiled at us, a disgusting thing slowly crawling over his face as he squinted his eyes. Ramza's jaw clenched, and I tapped an elbow into his side to bring him back to reality. He blinked, turning to look at me. I stared into his eyes, and he nodded, slowly turning back.

"That's what nobles do."

The straw-haired man that Vinya was dueling with let out a grunt, before slamming his shoulder into her with a sudden burst of motion. She let out a gasp, and his sword swung over his head, straight at hers. My eyes widened, but he twisted it to the side, the flat of the blade slamming against her head knocking her unconscious.

"Beoulve," Gragoroth said with a bow, "I will be kidnapping you. To hold for ransom, until your precious lord brother agrees to treat with us."

"And why would I agree to your whims?" Ramza asked.

"Because if you don't, it would be simple to tell my men that the methods Alistar is using are… No longer quite so necessary."

"You bastard-!"

"Such a statement is truly amazing to hear from your lips, Beoulve," he said quietly, his eyes dark as he stared at Ramza. "I lost friends at Dorter. I lost friends at that fort you were just at as well. Does this not make me 'honorable', that I do not execute your men on the spot?"

"I'm sure," I said dryly with my arms folded across my chest, "That executing children is an excruciatingly difficult endeavor."

"Children, Beoulve?" He said, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "The moment you chose to take up arms, you ceased to be children in the eyes of God."

I didn't know anything about scripture, so I smiled at him in way of response. I was thinking. There was no solution to make sure nobody died besides going with him, was there? It was best if Ramza went, because he was the more valuable target in the first place. I was just an ordinary peasant girl with nothing to my name, nobody would come rushing after me. But even so, it's important to appear good in front of my superior, right?

"Don't take Ramza. Take me instead."

"You can't sacrifice yourself for me," Ramza said as he finally rolled himself off his spear, standing upright with shaking legs. "I will be kidnapped, and you will be safe."

Damn this insufferable moron. I'm just paying lip service, you know!? I don't actually want to be kidnapped, so let me handle this! I thought fast, but my lips started speaking before my brain could catch up. Was it the healing? It was definitely the healing, right?

"Absolutely not. As your… Your…"

"Are those perhaps… feelings, you're struggling with there, Degurechaff?"

I wanted to die. My mouth was simply incapable at the moment of keeping up with my brain, and the words that I had wanted to say were lost to the wind. Naturally, I had almost zero interest in being entangled to Ramza. While the ease of noble life was an extremely attractive offer, Ramza was in the absolute last place for nobles I want to marry. The expectations alone! And the politics! I'd tear my hair out in a week trying to navigate this idiot's general political incompetence. I was simply trying to avoid the inevitable demotion that would come with getting my superior kidnapped.

I tried to weave mana to bludgeon myself to unconsciousness, but it just moved weakly through my veins before fizzling right before it affected the physical world. Damn you, white magic! I take it all back, you're anything but the best!

"Beoulve, silence yourself. As your comrade, it is well within my rights to be kidnapped in your place."

"Is... is this what you call 'courting', Degurechaff? You're terrifying."

"Beoulve, I would sooner court death itself before approaching you for a relationship."

"So fast to reject the concept… Are you hiding something from me?"

Oy, oy, is the silver spoon sticking out of your ear now or something? Seriously, I understand that the constraints of aristocracy could easily drag one into a state of utter and pure bliss, but is now really the time for your brain to exit the station?

"Look around you for a moment and use that space between your ears, please."

"Alas, I cannot seem to free myself of the thought of being bound to you forever. It's... enthralling, yet horrifying. Do we break our bread in the morning over daggers, and sup in the eve on poisoned wine in your fantasies?"

"Oh, woe is me, it appears that the hostagetaking maneuvers of the Brigade will fail. Alas, I am forced to crush my beloved's idiot head with a mace in order to make him comprehend his surroundings."

As I moved to strangle Ramza, Gragoroth's face looked perplexed.

"Degurechaff? There's no need for pretense, Alma. We're well aware of who you are."

Alma?

"She's not my sister, Gragoroth."

Gragoroth looked at me, his eyebrow raised as he scratched his cheek.

"Have you never seen a portrait of your mother? This girl… She's the spitting image of her. Cold blue eyes, pale as a vampire, fairly… small in stature."

Oh no.

"She's always around you, is she not Ramza? That girl in your home… what a clever misdirection from the real location of Alma Beoulve."

Oh no.

"The Beoulves have a new prodigy, do they? What a clever misdirection, Alma - but we uncovered the truth."

That sleazy smile of his dragged over his face slowly, like a jacket being unzipped. Alistar moved away from Vinya's body, and I watched as he sheathed his sword once more, standing by Gragoroth's side.

"The Beoulves have a pair of prodigies; Balbanes' youngest. Ramza and Alma Beoulve. It's poetic, is it not? The blade and the sorcerer, together once more. It's as if they reincarnated after their deaths."

That's close enough to correct to almost annoy me.

"We look nothing alike," I pointed out to our grandiose captor.

"Are you quite sure?" Gragoroth said. "The resemblance is… uncanny."

I looked at Ramza. His thin almost elfen-like face, bright eyes, and golden hair stared back at me with a perplexed expression. I squinted, to see if his face would change in some way to resemble mine, before rolling my eyes.

A sense of pity washed through my heart for Gragoroth. Not only was he delusional, but he was also faceblind. While glasses existed in this world, psychology was lackluster at best. The psychology of madmen is a study that can only be uncovered in times of peace, where survival is no longer a necessity, but a byproduct of society as a construct. So I can only look at Gragoroth, and know that his condition assuredly had a name in the future, but as a former member of Japanese society, I can only call it chuunibyou syndrome.

"I see no such resemblance," I said, eyes narrowing as I looked at him. "And furthermore-"

"Now, now Alma," Ramza said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked at him, and his shaky grin did not endear me with great confidence. "Let us drop the charade, they've clearly figured it out."

Wait a minute Ramza, you're not seriously suggesting we both get kidnapped just so your sister remains safe, are you? That's really not an acceptable outcome! I was just paying lip service to proprietary, so that way you'd be assured I'd put in a little bit of effort to get you back! This isn't a solution, this is just throwing us both into the fire!

"No, hang on a second-"

"Oh sweet sister," Ramza said, giving me a hug around my neck. I kicked him in the shin, but he tightened his grip. "It is a shame our ruse has fallen through, but fear not!"

He looked me in the eye, and I glared death at him.

"Ramza," I hissed, "I don't want to be kidnapped."

"Well Tanya," he whispered back, "You're my best bet for escape after being kidnapped."

Damn it. He had me there.

"Only if you pay for it. I won't do it if you don't pay."

"Is there no sense of nobility in that black pit you call a heart? No soft spot for my sister?"

"Your sister glares at me everytime she sees me. I think she might dislike me."

"...Even so, the camp is aflame. We have no choice but to go along with their ploy."

Gragoroth yawned loudly.

"Alas, I grow tired of the waiting around. I am a generous man, fear not! You have ten seconds to make a decision."

Ten seconds? I still couldn't cast, Ramza was bleeding, and Vinya was unconscious. Being X, this must be your fault! How else could they have found us here?! I don't know how long we were unconscious, but it surely isn't that close to the fort in the first place! And Gragoroth's absurdity, that has to be your fault too, right!? Ramza's sister, how ridiculous. We don't even look at all similar. Ramza wasn't even the tallest member of our class, but he still towered over me by a good half a foot at least. Maybe nine inches? I didn't bother thinking too deeply about how tall I was, I'd seen shorter wizards then myself in a few of the history books.

"Very well," I whispered to Ramza, "Go with him, escape at the first opportunity, kill all of our captors. Simple enough."

"Perhaps it's possible to bargain you down to 'light maiming' of our captors?"

I glared at him. After our minor disagreement, I was proven absolutely right, and he still wants to argue over the level of casualties?

"No," he said with a sigh, eyes downcast. "You're right. Much easier if we slay them on our exit."

I smiled, turning towards Gragoroth, and bowing slightly.

"Ser Gragoroth," I said, looking at him as my smile grew wider and wider, "We release ourselves into your benevolent graces."

"Alistar, sound the horn," Gragoroth said with a laugh, beckoning us forward. Ramza staggered a bit, but walked solidly all the same. "Drop the weapons, you two. We'll be having none of that on the road."

Alistar rummaged around on his belt before unclipping a monster's horn - one I could not identify - and blew into it loudly, the sound roaring through the valley. It was a slowly rising note until it reached a fever pitch, and then the man removed his lips, placing the horn back onto his belt.

I mourned as I removed my weapons, placing my katanas and staff by Vinya. Ramza dropped his spear on the ground with a clatter, slowly removing his sword from his side as he stared at Gragoroth with stony eyes.

"Even if the morrow is barren of promises," Gragoroth said as he ushered us along, the echo of the horn ringing in my ears. "Nothing shall forestall my return. It is a blessing to you and yours that you agreed to come easily. Our mounts are near, let us make haste."

We moved with speed, and I stared back at the camp, watching the fires and seeing Gragoroth's men exit it. There was no blood on their weapons, but I worried for our men.

How were they going to function without us?

xxx

Delita's eyes were cold as he watched the men leaving. His leather jerkin was covered in sweat, and he could feel bruises forming on his ribs where one of the bandits had kicked him. He let out a groan of pain as he sat up, eyes still bleary as he reached around for his sword. Delita's hand closed around it, feeling the comforting grip that he'd trained so many hours with in his fingers once more.

Stabbing it into the ground, he stood with a groan. Looking to his left, he saw Remia gasping for breath, and he staggered over to her, using his sword as a makeshift cane.

"Get up Rem," Delita said. "Can't have anyone accuse us of sleeping on the job, can we?"

"Rather sleep," the girl said, squeezing her eyes shut, "Then think of what Tanya's going to do when she finds out we lost."

"Think about what hell our commanders will drag us through when our campsite isn't ablaze, won't you?"

The girl let out a groan in response, her eyes tearing up as she brought her hands to cover them.

"When she finds out I let her coffee burn…"

Delita empathized with Remia's pains, having once attempted to take some of Degurechaff's private stash, only to wake up two hours later with daggers pinning him to the wall. It was around that time that Delita had sworn off the substance entirely, for reasons that he claimed were unrelated.

"Coffee or not, nothing to do about it," Delita said, extending a hand. "Now get up. We have to keep moving."

Remia grabbed his hand, letting herself be hauled off the ground with a beleaguered sigh as she dusted herself off. The blonde looked at Delita with surprise, a smile slowly growing on her face.

"I never thought I'd see the day where you took charge, Del," she said, waggling a finger at him. "Did someone get a sense of duty instilled into them?"

Delita barked out a laugh in response, leaning against his sword. He looked at the burning tents around them, his eyes flickering in the fires.

"This world," he said as mud seeped into his boots, "It may be cruel. But it has an immeasurable kindness in it. So that others may live in peace, we must be cruel ourselves. To chase down those brigands and remove them from this place…"

Delita smiled brightly at Remia, as he pulled his sword out of the ground, flicking the dirt off of it.

"Would that not be the most righteous task we could ask for?"

whats up demons. Originally I only wanted Tanya kidnapped, then someone told me 'wouldn't it be funny if they both were kidnapped' and I had to sojourn to do some rewriting.

As always if u disagree with something I've written, just tell me why and I'll REWRITE SOME CONTENT OR WHATEVER. I am an open book, upon which there are pages of bad ideas to unfold.