She woke up swiftly, without a sound, as decades of training had taught her to. Every sense strained for the stimulus which had woken her, then relaxed as they realized that it had simply been the first rays of dawn on the horizon. Shining sat up quietly, casting her eyes over the small site at the edge of of the refugee camp where she and the strange knight Margaret Nearl had pitched their tents, seeing the dull red coals of their small campfire still smoldering. They had set no watch, trusting their reputation with the refugees and the meagerness of their goods to protect them. Nearl still was asleep in her tent, one of her furry ears flicking in response to some dream.
Shining stood quietly, wrapping her hooded cloak around her. She lifted her sword gently from the ground beside her, and slipped quietly into the nearby woods. A crow cawed quietly at her from a branch as she passed, then took off, flying over her head. She didn't quite know why crows and ravens had such an affinity for her, but she didn't mind much. The bird flapped down the course of a small stream, and she followed it, eventually reaching a small clearing.
Gripping the hilt of her sword, she drew it forth from the long scabbard that protected the slender blade. It flared to life as she started to draw on her Arts, the faint light around her dying, focused in on the blade of her sword. She flowed into the first move of her practice routine. Her daily practice was a habit she was still unable to break. She didn't want to have to draw her sword to cause harm again, but the habit of practicing every day was so ingrained that it made her uncomfortable to even consider breaking it.
She exhaled softly, controlling her breathing easily despite the complexity and physical strain of the routine. Her sword cut trails of light through the air, shifting easily from a barrage of swift attacks, to a graceful web of parries and evasions, then beginning a dynamic combination of attacks and defenses, building swiftly, and then ending equally swiftly with a final cut, her sword seeming to almost drift through the air, her grace belying the strength and speed of her movements. Her final stroke severed a wrist-thick sapling cleanly on the diagonal, the top of the tree sagging out of the air to fall slowly onto the ground. She stepped back, breathing evenly, and picked up the sheath of her sword, sliding it home and returning its appearance to that of a healer's staff.
She looked over at the sapling she'd cut down, regretting the stroke now. Targeting something with the final blow of her routine was almost as habitual as the routine itself, but besides being evidence that she'd been here practicing sword work, it also seemed unnecessary and cruel, now. She frowned, then reached out with her Arts, the growing light leaching out of the air as she lifted the sapling back to its proper place, then began to knit the wooden fibers back together with her powers. Soon enough, she was finished, and looked around the clearing. Her eyes widened as she saw one of the trees.
She returned to her campsite, carrying a small bundle. Nearl was awake by now, looking around, apparently for her. "Where were you?" the Kuranta woman asked, as she worked on rebuilding the fire.
"I went into the woods to forage," she replied. She was reluctant to discuss her sword practice, fearing where the conversation might go. She was ashamed to lie to her new companion, but feared how Margaret would react to finding out that she had been a Redeemer, or what that had meant. To distract the other woman from her internal conflict, she unwrapped the bundle in her hand. "I found an apple tree just turning ripe." She set the cloth down next to their fire, two apples resting on it. "I thought we might want to bake them to go with our breakfast," she added, passing Nearl a handful of kindling.
"Thank you, Shining. That'll be a nice addition," the knight replied companionably. As the fire caught, she brought herself upright. "If you wouldn't mind watching the fire, I should train a bit before we eat. I won't have much time, once we get back to our work with the refugees." Shining nodded her assent. She added a few thicker branches to the fire, then sat back slightly, sipping some water from her canteen as she watched the knight practice with her mace and shield.
The sight was… entrancing, somehow. Nearl's fighting style was utterly different from that taught by the Redeemers, clearly leaning on her raw physicality combined with her mastery of her chosen weapons to overwhelm opponents outright. And yet, it lacked the sense of savagery that the Redeemers were taught to fight with. The goal of victory was clearly still there, still on the surface, but it was a more noble way of fighting than Shining had been taught, one which clearly viewed the opponent as an equal, rather than an obstacle to be removed as efficiently and viciously as possible.
She realized she was staring just before Nearl did, looking away just in time to avoid awkwardness. The magnetism she'd felt from the Kuranta knight earlier was still there, some connection that she'd never felt before. The other woman smiled at her, before going back to her exercises. By the time Nearl was done, Shining had the fire ready, a low, bright bed of coals. As the blonde woman filled a pot with water, she cored the apples with a small knife, packing the centers with dried fruit, and then wrapped them in metal foil, tucking them into the coals to bake. Nearl settled the pot into the center of the fire, sprinkling a pinch of salt into the water.
When the water was boiling, the knight added two packets of dried oats to the water to cook. Shining tried to speak up, but Nearl just smiled at her, cutting her off before she could start. "We're companions now, right? Why shouldn't I share my food with a companion of mine?" Shining flushed slightly, embarrassed at her misstep. A companion wasn't something she was used to.
Before her pause could become awkward, Margaret spoke up again. "I didn't say this last night, but your healing Arts are… amazing. I couldn't believe…" the Kuranta woman blushed lightly, "What I mean to say is, it was really impressive. Where did you learn that level of healing?"
"Um…" Shining blushed a bit too. "I didn't. I mean, I had never healed anyone before yesterday. Before… before that, I was trained to use my Arts for combat. But… I've stopped that." She cut herself off before she went too far in her explanation. "I don't want to harm anyone else."
"I can respect that," Nearl said quietly, stirring the oat porridge with a metal spoon. "I can't believe that you'd never healed before yesterday, though," she said more animatedly. "You must have a real gift for it. I can deal with wounds and pain, but you…" She gestured inarticulately. "You saved someone who was going to die in a few hours, someone who I wouldn't even have the first idea how to help."
Shining blushed again. She wasn't used to compliments like this. Instead of trying to respond, she opened the top of the foil covering the apples, poking at them with a fork to check them. Then she looked up. Nearl's attention had shifted, and Shining followed her gaze, seeing a pair of Sarkaz approaching their campfire. One of them was dressed in as fine a suit of clothes as one could expect to see in a village like the one by the refugee camp, and the other was in something approximating a military uniform, bearing one of the various captain's insignia used by mercenaries.
Both of them stood quickly, facing the approaching pair. "What is it?" Nearl asked, her tone respectful but unyielding.
"I am the mayor of this town, Ferin Balak," the well-dressed man introduced himself. "This is the captain of our town guard, Serez Amalitsa." The mercenary-outfitted woman bowed curtly. "I understand you have been doing some healing among the refugees here, and for that I thank you," the mayor continued. "However, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave as soon as you can."
"Why?" Nearl asked, her tone flat, her eyes narrowing.
"Well, first of all, it seems you have been involved in some altercations with the… camp guards… already." He seemed to have as much distaste for the thugs pretending to protect the camp as she did, but he continued. "Events like that make it harder for those of us in favor of helping the refugees to argue in favor of helping maintain the camp. And secondly, there is your… companion." He gestured towards Shining.
"I understand," Shining said quietly, cutting off an angry response from Nearl. "If you don't mind, I will remain here until the afternoon to continue assisting as many of the refugees as I can. I will leave then, and put some distance between myself and your town before nightfall."
"Thank you," the mayor said sadly. "I wish it could be different, but…" He turned to go, the guard captain following him. Nearl turned to Shining, surprise and anger plain on her face.
"What was that about?" The question was angrier for Shining than at her, which surprised her a bit.
"You remember that guard who said I was a Redeemer? Well, that once was true, and I deserted them not long ago. It is possible that they are still hunting me, and I understand the mayor wanting me well away from his town should they catch up to me. They are… unforgiving."
"I see." Nearl's tone was that of someone slowly overcoming their anger, but it was still there. "In that case," she said, obviously changing the subject, "we should eat." She picked up the porridge, dishing it out into the two metal bowls sitting by the fire, as Shining pulled the apples out, placing one in each bowl.
"I'm not sure that you do," Shining said quietly, sadly. "You are in danger too. Besides, just because I must leave does not mean that you couldn't stay here and continue to help them…"
"Don't be ridiculous." Nearl's tone was firm. "First of all, the mayor didn't want me to stick around either, because the thugs running the camp are probably going to keep coming after me. And second of all, if you are in danger, as a knight, I can hardly abandon a friend in need."
The blonde woman turned back to her porridge, eating it quickly. Shining paused for a moment. A friend…
When the sun reached its zenith, the two of them reluctantly turned their steps towards the edges of the camp, heading north. Margaret hadn't had any particular idea of where to go next, but Shining had known of a mining town a few days' travel in that direction, and they had decided to go there next, hoping to find other people in need of their help.
They set out cross-country. The roads in Kazdel were legendarily bad, after decades of civil war, and thickly populated by bandits. The going might be rougher through the wilderness, but it would likely be safer. While Margaret wasn't afraid of bandits, it also seemed unwise to court trouble they could avoid. Besides, their provisions were thin, and she was confident in her ability to live off the land. Shining also seemed confident that they could find food in the wilds, though the Sarkaz healer was evidently reluctant to discuss her past. It piqued her curiosity, but at least for now, she was content to let it lie. That said, she wasn't against an indirect approach to finding out, and so, as they walked, she began a conversation.
"You know," she said, turning her head to look at Shining, who was walking slightly behind her, "I was wondering. How much information from outside gets to Kazdel? I know one of the thugs at that camp had heard of me, and that was a bit surprising. I had no real idea how well news traveled in… well…" she searched for a delicate way to phrase it, but the white-haired woman saved her from the need.
"The chaos and suffering of a civil war?" Her tone was mild, not offended. "Well enough, at least in the parts where the war isn't going on at the moment. Messengers usually aren't bothered, unless they're clearly wearing one side or another's colors. The issue is really whether people bother to pay attention, or if they're too busy trying to stay unnoticed by Babel, Theresis' forces, or…" she clearly rethought what she was going to say, "the mercenary and bandit bands roaming the land. Not many people have the time to pay attention."
"Hmm. I guess that one must just have been a knight sports fan." Margaret shrugged, dismissing it. Again, Shining had come close to a revelation, before silencing herself on it. She would have to just press on. "I'm guessing you hadn't heard of me then," she said. "Would you like to hear my story?"
Shining nodded assent quietly, and Nearl launched into her story. She started by talking about her grandfather. "When I was a little girl, my grandfather used to tell me the most wonderful stories of the history of Kazmierz. Tales of the Pegasian Knights, how they stood up for justice, truth, and those weaker than themselves, how they defended our land from all threats, without and within." She chuckled, partly rueful, partly reminiscent. "I guess they stuck, because ever since I was a girl, I wanted to be just like those knights of legend. It's not a bad dream to have, as such things go," she said fondly.
"Anyways, I don't know how much you know about the knights of Kazmierz, but things have changed since the days of the Pegasian Knights. Then, it was about service to the greater good, protection of the innocent, and justice. Now…" a darker look passed across her face, "now, the knightclubs and the Major are the biggest spectator sporting event on Terra, and wealth, fame, and glory have replaced bravery, loyalty, and honor as the point of being a knight. Maybe I'm charmingly naïve, like they all said, but it disgusted me."
"Suffice it to say that I entered the Major with a point to prove. And I did it well," she said, pride banishing the darkness on her face momentarily. "Margaret Nearl, the Radiant Knight! Champion of the Kazmierz Major, without a sponsor, without a knightclub backing her, fighting for the ideals of knighthood! I thought I was really making a difference. Maybe I even was. But then…" She hesitated herself. The memory was still painful, filling her with rage and disgust at the system that had done it to her. "Then, I became Infected."
She looked at Shining, but the Sarkaz woman didn't react noticeably. Nearl wasn't surprised, but she was relieved that her companion wasn't afraid of her simply because of her illness. "Actually, that's putting it mildly. In my final match, the organizers rigged the arena with Originium crystals in the dust. My opponent wore a pretty hefty suit of armor at all times, and it wasn't until he took his helmet off and I saw that he had a breath mask on that I realized how I'd been played. When the fact of my infection became public, the Chambers of Commerce pushed for me to be exiled, and they got their damned way. I left rather than fight, to protect my family, and then…" She gestured at the landscape. "I figured if Kazmierz wouldn't let me live up to being a knight, I would find somewhere else to be what I wanted to be." She blushed a bit, realizing how grand a statement she had made.
"Anyways, that's the story of how I ended up in Kazdel," she finished, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. "I'd heard stories of how bad the civil war was, and I thought that if there was anywhere in the world that needed someone to defend the weak and bring justice to the malevolent, this would be the place."
"You don't know how much," Shining replied quietly.
"I'd noticed," Margaret said, changing the subject, "that the town back there wasn't a mobile city, or didn't seem that way. Not just the refugee camp, the town itself didn't seem to be able to move if a Catastrophe brewed up."
"You're right," the white-horned woman replied. "A mobile city was destroyed near here about ten years ago, during the fourth battle of Savaz River. The towns in the area are inhabited mostly by the survivors of that city. I suppose one day, someone will return and rebuild it… but for now, it's hard enough for most people to just survive."
Margaret was silent for a long time at that.
As the sun set, they stopped in a small copse of conifer trees near a stream. Shining started a fire as Nearl cleared a space for her tent, then paused. "It's likely to get cold tonight, isn't it?" she asked, looking at the clear sky and listening to the wind in the trees. "Should we put our tents together?" Both of them had Ursus military-style pup tents, designed for one person, but with provisions made to connect them together into larger assemblies for more soldiers to share in cold weather.
"That would probably be for the best," Shining assented, as the fire flared up under her hands. She unstrapped her tent from her travel bag, handing it to Margaret. She nodded, taking the tent and starting to connect it with hers. When the fire was burning well, the Sarkaz woman disappeared into the woods. She returned much later, carrying a handful of herbs, some of what appeared to be some kind of wild onion, and a few tubers of indeterminate origin.
They set to preparing dinner together, the tent at their back. Margaret boiled some water from the stream in a pot, adding a pinch of salt. Then she settled down on her knees next to Shining, taking one of the tubers and starting to cut it up. "Not quite like that," the white-haired woman said, taking the tuber from her hand. The Sarkaz's hand brushed hers, a pleasant sensation, and she set the tuber down, starting her cut lengthwise along it, rather than across like Nearl had started to. "These have a rather poisonous core. Best to cut around it, rather than have to remove it from each individual section." She demonstrated, slicing the tuber up efficiently, leaving a small amount surrounding the untouched core, which she discarded.
When the soup was done, it proved rather delicious. They ate quietly, then doused the fire carefully. By unspoken consent, both of them sat up for another couple hours, waiting as the night grew colder, listening and watching for any ill-intentioned visitor summoned by their fire. Eventually, satisfied that they were going to be left alone, they retired to the tent. But Nearl couldn't fall asleep yet. Her curiosity about her traveling companion was still unsatisfied, and wouldn't let her rest. She could tell by her breathing that Shining wasn't asleep yet, and she decided to approach the issue directly, rather than let it fester unspoken.
"Shining, that guard in town called you Lady Redeemer, as if that was your title. Later, you said that you were a member of the Redeemers. Who are they? And who are you?"
The darkness hid Shining's face, and she was glad of it. She had hoped to avoid the topic, but now, she couldn't. She could lie, but... she couldn't. Not only would Nearl probably know, but she wanted to tell the truth to the other woman. She had been offered truth and friendship, and her conscience rebelled against the idea of offering anything else in return.
She breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly. "If I answer that question, it can't be unanswered, you understand. You'll learn some things you may wish you never knew, both about Kazdel and myself." She held her breath for a moment.
"I understand," Nearl replied calmly. "I'd rather know, anyways. The truth may hurt, but its wounds heal."
"Very well." Shining let out the breath she was holding. "Then, the Redeemers. Few outside of Kazdel have ever heard of them, to be honest. But I'll begin at the beginning."
"Long ago, the Sarkaz lost something precious to us. Legend says that the old kings and queens of the Sarkaz had something, a spirit or a self, which was inherited by their successors, the sign of the true king. Under the ancient kings and queens, Kazdel was united and powerful. But that spirit, whatever it was, was lost. Some say that's why we are more susceptible than others to Oripathy, because that spirit lived in all of us. Others say that it is why the civil war here has lasted so long, because without that spirit, it is impossible to truly rule our people."
"The Redeemers came into being when that spirit was lost," she continued. "Originally, the task of the Redeemers was to search for the spirit of the ruler, to reinstill it in the people of Kazdel. And, of course, to protect and serve the Sarkaz until that task was done. However, as it seems knighthood did in Kazmierz, that once-noble purpose has declined in its nobility to today. Now, the Redeemers rule Kazdel, as much as anyone can be said to do so. They manipulate the course of the unending civil war as it suits them, and have utterly given up on finding the ruling spirit. They would rather rule in their own right… from the shadows, of course, as befits them."
"And now we come to me. The leader of the Redeemers is the Confessor, or Confessarius, to give him his title in the old tongue of Kazdel. And the current Confessarius… is my father." Shining stopped. She had to. She had to know how Nearl would react to that news. The other woman didn't react, though. Perhaps she thought she knew what it was like to have family as part of an organization that one didn't agree with. "I never knew my mother. The Confessarius… my father… told me she died shortly after I was born. He was never more specific than that. I don't remember anything about her, and the only memento I have of her is this sword." In the dark, she rested her hand on it, drawing strength to continue from the familiar feel of it. "And he was always busy when I was young, until I grew old enough that he could start training me. I was destined to be a Redeemer, destined to be the Confessarius myself when he grew too old to hold that position anymore, he always told me. Why would I doubt my father?"
"I was good at it, too. Skilled with my mother's blade, my own now. Skilled with my Arts, which were powerful even by the standards of my people. And utterly loyal to the Redeemers, the only life I'd ever known. That's where my story truly begins. For the same year as I became a full member of the Redeemers, the civil war entered its newest phase, as the twins Theresa and Theresis, the heirs of the throne, went to war with each other. I was given the title of Absolutor. The Confessor leads the Redeemors, but he has three officers directly below him: the Auditor, who is in charge of information-gathering both inside and outside of Kazdel; the Contritor, in charge of our indirect actions; and the Absolutor."
She paused, screwing up her courage. "Who is responsible for the action wing of the Redeemers. As Absolutius, my tasks were to direct and coordinate any actions taken by the Redeemers for our purposes. And, after all, the Redeemers hold in their charge the soul of Kazdel and its people. Anything and anyone who stands against their purpose is clearly, therefore, an enemy of all Sarkaz, and a vile one at that. And there is no means which is unsuitable to the redemption of Kazdel."
She waited for a moment, hoping Margaret would say something, either comfortingly understanding or even angry and rejecting. The last thing she wanted was to have to continue, to explain and expose what she had been. But Nearl stayed silent, and she reluctantly continued. "For over a decade, I was the Absolutor. The Absolutor and their subordinates are why the Sarkaz fear the Redeemers so much, and I was that reason, the nightmare that Sarkaz parents frighten their children into good behavior with. I quite literally do not know how many people died at my orders. I do know how many died at my hand, though."
Something was driving the words out of her, baring every ugly truth to the woman lying across the tent from her. "Four hundred and seventy-three. Men, women, and children, most of them guilty of nothing more than standing in our way, or being more useful as a dead example than a living person. And I truly thought that I was doing the right thing, serving Kazdel and her people… and Theresa. Because Theresa was… something special. There was something about her, some spirit, that made me think that the spirit of Kazdel might have finally returned. That clearing the way for her and Babel would truly be worth the price I was exacting from her people, someday." She steeled her courage one last time.
"And then, Theresa was murdered. In the middle of her people, in the middle of Babel's landship. And her body was stolen, given to her utter bastard of a brother, Theresis. And there is only one organization which could have done that, the one that I was the executioner for. I know that my father handed the true queen's body to the unworthiest Sarkaz walking the ground of Kazdel. I left. I had to. I'd finally realized that the cause I'd served for as long as I could remember was as dead as the queen I'd so self-righteously thought I was serving. For that matter, I realized that she would have been as disgusted by my methods as I am now, that some means cannot be justified by any end. I deserted quick and quiet in the night, and have been trying to find some way to pay back for some of the evil I've done, before I die."
She tried to say more, but her voice broke off. Sorrow and guilt choked her, and she felt tears running silently down her face. Somehow, though, Nearl knew. She heard a rustle of movement, and then felt a hand gently caress her cheek as the Kuranta woman slid closer, brushing away her tears. The simple kindness of the gesture was too much, and she finally broke down, sobbing into Nearl's chest as the knight held her softly.
Eventually, drained, she simply could not cry anymore. Margaret's hand stroked her long white hair gently, the knight's arms still holding her in a comforting embrace. "Shining…" The knight's voice held both sorrow and comfort, telling her that the knight truly did understand her pain.
"How can you do this?" Shining asked, in a broken tone. "Now you know who I am. I'm a murderess. Cruel, evil, a victimizer of the innocent… Isn't that everything a knight is supposed to stand against?"
"Shining," Nearl replied, "you didn't say you were a liar. You aren't that anymore. Perhaps you were once, but let me tell you who I know as Shining. I know a woman who I first saw saving the life of someone who truly didn't matter, a man without family, money, position… and yet, there you were, dragging him back to life from the very brink of death. I see someone whose strength I now know, who held herself back even when threatened with torture and death from striking out against the thugs threatening her. Who you were once is one thing, and I agree that you have a lot from which to redeem yourself. But who you are now? A woman who chose of her own will to leave a position of power to expiate those sins? A woman who didn't simply give up, or sink deeper into sin, when she realized what she had done?" Nearl's voice was… almost proud now. "As a knight, I can only admire someone with the strength of character to redeem herself. And if I can fight for the soul of my country, I can damn well help a friend fight for her own soul."
How odd, Shining thought. I didn't think I had any more tears to shed. But these tears were less painful than before. And the emotion that brought them was relief.
XXXX
The next morning, Margaret was not very well rested. Despite her comforting words, Shining's revelations of the night before had cost her much of the night's sleep. But it wasn't for the reasons Shining might have feared. Instead, the knight's silent wakefulness had been brought on by questions, not doubts. Questions such as how one would help someone else find redemption, or fight for the soul of another. Or even if she could do so, if her efforts wouldn't somehow harm the other woman's struggle. She had found some answers, and failed to find some others, but she knew one thing for certain. Something brought us together. Fate, destiny, fortune, some connection ties us to each other. I can't ignore that, and I can't not try to help her.
She wriggled quietly out of the low tent, stretched, and bent down, pulling out a fire striker and sparking a small nest of tinder into glowing embers, piling kindling loosely around it as she got their morning fire started. She looked behind her, and met the other woman's eyes, open when they'd been closed moments before.
"Good morning, Shining," she said, giving the other woman a welcoming smile. "How are you?"
"…Better, I think. I'm sorry if I troubled you, last night." The white-haired Sarkaz dipped her chin, breaking eye contact. "But I thought you deserved to know. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd rethought and decided to leave."
"I meant what I said, last night," Nearl said firmly. "To doubt a knight's word is a great insult," she added with a chuckle, taking any sting from the words.
Shining hummed in acknowledgement, pulling herself out from the tent and taking a cooking pot down to the stream, filling it carefully with water. "Thank you," she said quietly as she set the pot down next to the fire. Nearl watched her as she started to break open a pouch of some kind of porridge, then stopped, looking around. "Hmm," the white-horned woman said contemplatively, "I seem to have overslept. I suppose I still ought not to forego my practice."
Margaret raised an eyebrow. "I still exercise with my sword every morning," Shining explained. "Though I hope I never again need to draw it, it's such a habit at this point that I can't really stop."
"But… before eating?" Nearl had always made a point to have woken up fully, and to be energized for the day, when she did her own workouts.
"Well… now that you put it that way, there's no real reason to," Shining said. "I suppose the reason used to be in order to get your practice in when you were as unready as possible, so that you would never be unready. But I don't have to adhere to that anymore." She picked the porridge back up, opening it and dumping it into the pan decisively.
With the packet, plus another identical one from Shining's bag, in the water, the Sarkaz hung the pot over the fire that Margaret had built. The porridge turned out to actually be quite good, though Nearl couldn't quite identify the grain used. When she inquired, Shining turned out not to know either, so they both shrugged, and tucked in, cleaning their bowls quickly before efficiently packing up their camp and dousing the fire. Then, before they set off, Nearl picked up her weapons, turning to Shining.
"Care to practice together?"
Shining stood, carefully drawing her blade from its scabbard. "I will be careful," she promised Margaret.
"I will, too." The knight hefted her shield and mace, then gestured to Shining. "When you're ready."
The Sarkaz woman attacked in a blinding swirl of motion. Light flared around her blade, and the clearing darkened, concealing much of the movement of her body. Nearl barely got her shield around in time, the brilliant aura of her Arts flaring up, but somehow circumscribed and eaten away at by the other woman's Arts. Despite her good stance and using a shield, the first blow from the other woman rocked her backwards. She hadn't expected that level of strength from the slim Sarkaz woman. She swept her mace around for a counterblow and found nothing, no block, no parry, no hit… as if the woman had teleported. Instead, she had simply sidestepped, the light of her sword having been left behind by the blade and deceiving Nearl as to her location in the surrounding gloom. The blade flashed out from her left, snaked around her shield… and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. "Touch," Shining announced.
Nearl exhaled, shaken. Even in the Major, she'd never faced someone with that level of skill with both Arts and blade. But she couldn't resist a challenge, and she grinned fiercely. "No more holding back," she replied, setting her shield aside and taking up her weapon in a two-handed grasp. Her stance shifted from defense to offense, and she unleashed a strike. This time, Shining didn't have time to pull the same trick, and had to parry. It was her turn to be rocked backwards by the force of the blow, even with the deflection she managed, and Nearl was moving. A swift exchange of blows and counterblows followed, the shocks from the weapons colliding sending up swirls of dust that were caught in the light of the two combatants. At the end, Nearl's mace was poised a bare centimeter from Shining's ribs, the Sarkaz woman out of position to counter. Both of them grinned, and took their positions once more.
Out of seven exchanges, not counting the very first, Margaret only managed to win three. Shining was a stronger foe than any she'd encountered in the Kazmierz major, but that wasn't discouraging to the knight. If anything, it was a fantastic reason to train with her; Nearl's grandfather had always told her that there was more to be learned from fighting someone better than you than from fighting an equal. When the two of them lifted their packs onto their backs, turned their faces north, and headed onwards towards the mining village, Nearl did it with a distinctly lightened heart.
When the guard entered the room, the white-haired girl was sitting on her bed, attention raptly focused on the window. A small blue bird with a creamy chest was perched on the windowsill, singing a beautiful song. The guard paused, until the bird stopped singing and flew away. Truth be told, he hated this job. The subjects hadn't done anything to deserve what was happening to so many of them, and it turned his stomach. But it wasn't exactly the kind of job you could just quit. He would probably be stuck here until he died.
The girl looked up, seeing him, and sighed. "It was such a pretty song…" she said quietly, the first time he could remember her saying anything to him. At first, before her Oripathy had progressed, she'd been defiantly silent. Then, eventually, dully silent, as the effects of her condition eroded her memories and personality. Now, she had actually met his eye and said something to him.
"Yes, it was," he said quietly, reaching down and unlocking the cuffs attaching her to the bed. "But it's time for your testing again. Come with me." She rose quietly, following him obediently. He led her down the hall to an elevator, which they rode downwards into the facility. At a double door lower down, he ushered her into the testing chamber, locking the door behind her, then hurried up to the observation deck.
"Subject will begin using Arts to project an illusory defender." The lead researcher overseeing her case spoke into a microphone, his voice broadcast into the test chamber by a loudspeaker array. The young woman stood straight, extending her hand as a crossbow extended into the chamber, pointing straight through the designated summoning area at her.
Light flickered in the summoning ring, forming into a strange shape; a birdcage, with a small flock of blue birds inside. "Strange," commented the researcher. "I doubt it will stop a bolt, but let us see…" The guard flinched and looked away, unnoticed, as the researcher pressed the firing button for the crossbow. He heard the flat twang of the crossbow firing, and then a strangely muted thud and clatter. He looked, seeing the crossbow bolt sticking out of… apparently nothing, trapped in between the bars of the cage, one of the little birds inside perching on it.
"Most interesting. Subject has not managed to stop a bolt before." The guard hid his wince this time, remembering the scars on the woman's legs. "Further testing is necessitated." The crossbow fired several more times, all of the bolts catching in the cage, before her strength wavered and the cage disappeared. "Eight bolts stopped by a single projection. Most impressive. Let us test it against Arts, next." The researcher pressed the intercom button. "Subject will produce another, similar projection for testing against Arts."
Another birdcage flickered to life in the summoning circle, and a crossbow loaded with Arts bolts locked into place next to the other. The bolt fired… and the energies surrounding its head fizzled out as it flicked towards the cage, the Originium power cell dying out. "How interesting! The recommendation to change the subject's room seems to have been well taken, Corporal. This will merit further testing, to be sure, but for now, escort the subject back to her new room and see to her physical needs."
"Yes, sir." The guardsman braced to attention, then turned around, carefully guiding the fragile, powerful young woman back up to her room, where she sat on the bed, raptly watching the window to see if the bird would return.
