Year 10, Day 115 / Ethics

*THUD*

Le Blanc looked up from her desk as a large book was dropped onto it, then briefly glanced at the title. 'Sorcery'. It was the book Garret had pilfered from Siegfried's Landing, all those years ago.

"I appreciate the thought, Mr. Fax, but I am not a sorcerer."

Before she could return to her notes, Garret half smiled and tapped the cover.

"I need you to date this."

Knowing that request meant he suspected something, a suddenly interested Morgan took a moment to weave her spell, then sent a blue dart into the book. 100.

"A hundred years old… That's hardly remarkable, Mr. Fax."

"No it isn't, but…"

Garret flipped the book open and, on the inner page with the authors and publishing notes, he pointed to the edition.

"Seventh edition… And of what is import is this, Mr. Fax?"

"Our books only go to the third."

Morgan's eyes narrowed as she heard that, and her glance shifted between Garret and the book, multiple times. A minute later, she snapped her fingers, summoning one of the mechanical maids.

"Seven, recite to me all records on this series of books."

The maid, who's metal dress bore the inscribed number, bowed, then began to list off facts with mechanical precision.

"Sorcery. First Edition. First published by the Maguson Publishing house in Yatria, one hundred and fifty years ago. It contains the most basic fundamentals of sorcerous arts, and is commonly used for teaching elementary sorcerers."

She paused, and Garret could have sworn he heard a gear turn within her, before she continued her report.

"Second Edition. Published by the same house, one hundred and thirty years ago. Its contents and purpose remain largely the same. Minor alterations have been made to the footnotes and certain passages, reflecting modernized views on the fundamentals."

"Third Edition. Published by the same house, one hundred and ten years ago. As with the second edition, it contains minor alterations, though an additional chapter has been added to bridge the gap between fundamental and beginner studies of sorcery."

The maid blinked, then resumed her recitation.

"Fourth Edition. Published by the same house, ninety years ago, its distribution is not widespread. Its added contents are largely redundant, covering the same grounds as the next, most commonly used textbook, 'Will to Power: A Beginner's Guide to Sorcery'. As such, few libraries stock the final edition. Its authors disappeared shortly after its publication, and it is unlikely that this book series will be continued in the foreseeable future."

Seeing the discrepancy, Morgan picked up Garret's book and showed it to the maid.

"And what do you think of this?"

The metal woman bent forward and stared intently at the book for several minutes, her mechanical pupils darting about, expanding and contracting, before she answered.

"Insufficient data for a meaningful answer. This appears to be a later edition in the series, but its index is far beyond what the human realms possess. Perhaps it is an elaborate forgery? Or authored by a monster?"

"Maybe… Thank you, Seven, you're dismissed."

When the maid left, though, le Blanc shook her head.

"As much as I'd like to blame a traitor magician and lay the issue to rest, it doesn't make sense. Who would take the time to forge an introductory textbook? And then there's the problem of the date… no doubt this book is a copy of a copy. The original manuscript, if it exists, is likely at least a decade older, meaning it was published sometime around our 'third' edition…"

"There's still a chance the spell is wrong."

Le Blanc nodded at Garret's suggestion.

"True, we still have not proven its accuracy… or inaccuracy… "

Then she furrowed her brow and summoned the maid again.

"Seven, please bring us a copy of the third and fourth editions of this textbook."

Once the maid bowed and left again, she began clearing space on her desk.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Fax. We'll compare the texts and see if the writing styles and authorships match."

For the rest of that day and into the night, the two worked together, comparing passages (made difficult by the contents being rearranged in each edition), notes, and writing styles.

"They use the same metaphor here and here…"

"This example is similar to the one found in seventh, only the numbers are different."

"These footnotes in fourth were copied verbatim into seventh… but it's a younger book. How is that possible?"

Indeed, by the end of this, they had more questions than answers. The books were attributed to the same authors, and the writing styles matched… but the publishing houses were different, and some notes from the fourth edition had been iterated upon in the seventh, despite it supposedly being ten years younger. As the night grew long, eventually le Blanc called for their cessation.

"I think that's all the progress we'll make for today…"

"Yeah…"

Leaning back, Garret glanced out the window, noting that the sun had long-since set.

"Geeze, it's late… Will the teleportation mages still allow human transport at this hour?"

"No, but pay it no mind Mr. Fax, you're permitted to stay the night."

After she got up from the desk they were working at and shelved the textbooks she'd referenced, le Blanc motioned with her head towards the door, summoning him along with her.

"Come, there should still be chefs awake. Dinner is long overdue."

With only a skeleton crew on duty for the nightshift, their meal was less extravagant than usual, but still excellent. When glasses of wine were served, though, a rare sight unfolded before them. Morgan sighed, took a long sip, and actually seemed to relax a little. Sinking into her padded chair, she stared into her drink for a time.

"I don't suppose your traitor magician said anything we could use as a hint…?"

"Sadly not."

"Shame… Would have given at least some semblance of worth to his loathsome existence."

Despite Garret having referred to him by name multiple times, le Blanc always referred to Aleksy as 'the traitor', 'the lecher', or some other such derogatory title. Hearing her disparage the man again, Garret's mouth twisted into a half grin.

"I was the one thrown into his mushroom pile and had to fight Aleksy in person… how is it you somehow have less tolerance for him than I?"

Hearing this, Morgan cast a side eyed glance at him, smiling slightly as well, as she reversed the question.

"You tell me, Mr. Fax. You were thrown into his mushroom pile and fought the traitor in person. How is it you have less hatred for him than I?"

Garret just shrugged.

"I guess I just understand him a bit better."

Setting her glass down, Morgan leaned against the table, resting her chin upon her interlaced hands as she focused her attention on Garret.

"Oh? Then by all means, Mr. Fax, help me to understand. What could possibly have given him your sympathy?"

"If you insist."

"I do."

To the best of his memory, Garret recounted the 'play' he was shown while lost in Matango hallucinogens. Of course, he omitted the bits about his 'dates' or that black-haired woman. After he finished retelling the story, Aleksy's circumstances, and the general themes, he sat back, observing Morgan's unchanged expression.

"It's not sympathy. But I understand. He was trying to solve the birth defect problem in the only way he knew. Hell, the man himself was a hunchback before demonic energy did its thing. I'm not sure I can condemn him entirely."

"I can."

A cold and confident rebuke caused Garret to arch an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Free will is sacrosanct. Everyone may have felt better for a time, but now they are, or, were, stuck rutting like animals in heat for decades. That's not a life. And that's not something the citizens were given a choice about."

Garret nodded at this.

"Given the teachings of The Order, I doubt any of them would have accepted if he'd asked."

"And for good reason! Getting infected by a fungus that seizes control of your mind, destroys everything that makes you 'you', and roots you to the spot, should not be seen as a good thing!"

An uncharacteristic burst of passion from Morgan punctuated her argument, which Garret largely agreed with… but there was a nuance to it. He couldn't quite bring his opinion in line, entirely.

"For you or I, yes… but I'm not sure the people who received those birth defects would agree. If your whole life is suffering, I think anyone would be tempted if offered a way out. Even if it was something as awful as a fungus."

"The desire to sin is a temptation everyone gets, you and I included. We've resisted the lure of an easy life for this long, I have no sympathy for the weak who give in. Doubly so when they hurt those around them, and we have a literal Goddess commanding us to hold strong."

"That's true…"

Though he agreed in broad strokes, Garret wasn't quite convinced with the last bit… there was a reason The Order's interrogations of criminals, spies, and traitors were notoriously unpleasant. Everyone broke eventually. And though Morgan brought up the point about mamono destroying everything you were, he'd witnessed monsters that retained memories, or at least some of their personality from their time as a human. Monsters like Ilona… or Annika… Did it really consume you entirely? Or just change a fraction?

"Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for them."

Seeing him deep in thought, Morgan interrupted him with that, rather cold, statement.

"I'm not, I just… think there's a bit more complexity than zealotry considers."

The noble's statements were made with absolute confidence and conviction… but that was also born of a life of privilege. She'd never been hungry, she'd never toiled for meagre wages, and someone as beautiful as her had surely never suffered from painful, debilitating malformities. He wondered if her tone would be different if she had… Free will might mean precious little to people who were trapped in a life they couldn't escape.

"Take care with that line of thinking, Mr. Fax. Humanizing the inhuman is not a wise decision."

When her comments started to point towards him, Garret decided it was time to end the discussion. The last thing he wanted was to lose standing in the eyes of one of his benefactors.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm probably thinking too hard about things."

With that, the conversation flicked back to more lighthearted topics, as the two of them ate, drank, and unwound for the evening. Despite this, Garret's thoughts kept dwelling on their, admittedly brief, debate. Especially the last bit… If their Goddess truly was omnipotent, why couldn't she have helped them?

Day 116

The next morning, before he left, Lady le Blanc called Garret to her study. When he arrived, he was expecting another task, or something to work on back in Fort Estlev. Instead, he found le Blanc lounging in a cushioned chair, away from her desk, sipping a cup of tea. The magician motioned for him to sit, and summoned the metallic maid to bring him his own cup of tea. Once he was settled, she dismissed the automata with a strange command.

"Seven, lock the door, then sweep the perimeter. Ensure no one is nearby, then assist the cooks in the kitchen."

With a clunky bow, the servant stepped out of the room, and sealed the doors as per her instructions. Now locked in with le Blanc, Garret scrambled to predict what she could want. In the corner of his mind, he reached for his magic, ready to cast a spell at a moment's notice, should she have something underhanded planned. Seeing his reaction, Morgan let out a musical laugh.

"Worry not, Mr. Fax, if I wanted to harm you, I'd have done it long ago."

"Then why?"

Smiling, le Blanc took another sip from her tea.

"I'll tell you once Seven finishes her rounds, but for now, I have a secondary matter to discuss. Your finances. Are you finding your stipend sufficient?"

Garret nodded, slowly. Her 'stipend' had been more than he'd made as a captain.

"Yes, it's more than sufficient."

Pleased, le Blanc nodded.

"Good. And your school?"

"Also well funded, my Lady. Tilia's support has been much appreciated."

Indeed, after he'd been inducted as le Blanc's research assistant, Tilia's funding had mysteriously increased…

"I'm glad to hear that. I know you would rather be working with your pupils, but I hope the extra monetary support will lighten the burden."

"It does. Thank you, my Lady."

Le Blanc just gave a short nod to that, and stared off into the distance. A few minutes later, she perked up as she heard the sound of metallic feet stopping outside the study. From the other side of the locked door, they heard 'Seven' give her report.

"The perimeter is secure, my Lady. With no one nearby, I will proceed to the kitchen."

"Thank you, Seven.", le Blanc replied, then waited patiently until the mechanical woman had left. Once she was confident they were alone, she set her cup down, pulled herself out of the chair, and strode over to the fireplace.

"Mr. Fax, if you would join me?"

Garret quickly finished the last of his tea, then took his place beside her. Once he had, Morgan pointed to an unremarkable looking brick.

"Third up from the mantel, second from the edge. Can you remember that?"

He could.

"Why don't you try casting a spell on it."

After quizzically glancing at her, Garret cast a weak spray of sparks onto it. In response, the brick's colour flashed to blue for a moment, before fading to its original grey.

"Good. It'll recognize the signature of your magic, now. Why don't you cast again?"

When he repeated the spell, this time, the stone glowed white and the rocks surrounding it warped. Rather than just falling inwards or outwards like a common hidden chamber, here, the stone flowed like water, pulling away from the central point, and revealing a small cubby stashed with scrolls and notes.

"Impressive."

"Thank you. It's the only enchantment of its kind in the world. Now that you've been attuned to it, we are the only two who know about and are able to open it."

Then she reached inside and plucked one of the scrolls from its holder. When she opened it to Garret, he saw it was full of notes about their current investigation, formulae for the dating spell, and all the strange discrepancies they'd uncovered so far.

"Worried about something?"

"Not worried, just cautious. This is a strange mystery, and chasing secrets often leads to making enemies along the way. I'll instruct the guards to give you access to this room whenever you wish. This way, if something happens to either of us, the other can continue their work from the notes."

"I see…"

"This is just a precaution, but you would do well to look out for yourself. You would not believe the amount of espionage and assassinations that went on, last time Yatria made a breakthrough on arcane formulae. Every nation wanted it for themselves, even if we are, ostensibly, allied."

After le Blanc had resealed her hidden compartment, she escorted Garret to the teleportation wizards herself, stopping just as they reached the door.

"With luck, you should make it back in time for dinner."

"Hopefully. Is there anything else, my Lady?"

"No, Mr. Fax, you are dismissed."

With that he bowed, and turned to leave. Just before he reached for the handles, though, le Blanc addressed him once more.

"And Garret?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Thank you for your help."

"No problem, Morgan."

Just like that, it seemed they were on a first-name basis.

When Garret arrived in Fort Estlev, before settling in for the night, he took reports from his school's mage-sergeants, checked over their remarks, and ensured the school had been running according to plan in his absence. Once the necessary bureaucratic work had been accomplished and a meal acquired, though, he was left to ponder his research… and their discussion afterwards.

The meanings of the discrepancies they'd discovered remained opaque, no matter how long he pondered them, but he grew increasingly dissatisfied with his brief debate with Lad- with Morgan. Even if free will was the most important thing in the world, was The Order's approach really the best?

Killing monsters that attacked them could be justified, but the civilian families brought more unwelcome questions. Was killing them really making the world a better place? Butchering men, women and children, just for a slight decrease in the environment's demonic energy?

No doubt another night of fitful sleep awaited him, as these thoughts refused to disappear. Tomorrow, Garret decided, he needed to get out and see some good being done… these questions would cause anyone to doubt their cause, but he knew The Order did positive things too. Seeing them in action would help steady him. Hopefully.

Day 117

"Please sir, spare a coin for an old woman?"

Garret tossed a gold piece to the beggar as he walked to the temple. Indeed, though a relatively rare site in the smaller towns like Fort Estlev, a few almost always congregated around the community's local place of worship. As with any settlement, here, they had their own share of poor.

Garret kept an eye on this as he walked through the streets. Some of the beggars were undoubtably lazy, unmotivated vagrants, looking to take advantage of generosity, but Garret spotted many that, obviously, were not.

A man with a stump leg. Another with a missing arm. A scarred woman with a look in her eye that indicated she'd seen the same or worse things Garret had. Unlike him, she'd not come out physically or mentally unscathed.

In one corner, Garret spotted a young child begging for coin, likely having lost their parents. Why they weren't in one of The Order's orphanages, Garret wasn't sure, but a kid like that begging didn't seem right, regardless of circumstance.

At least the better off citizens did not scorn them. Though he doubted they received as much as a working civilian, coins being tossed into their mugs, occasionally in larger quantities, suggested they would have enough to avoid starving and likely afford a room at one of the half-way or poor houses.

Charity. One of the virtues their Goddess preached. That was one good thing, but… there had to be more. Leaving the church for now, Garret wandered through the streets until he came to the market. There, he saw the merchants in their stalls, hawking their wares.

A man found himself a half-piece short when buying potatoes, but the stand's tender waved it away with a look that said 'make it up to me next time'. A woman stepped out of a bakery, carrying a basket of bread. Though Garret knew the rolls there were sold in denominations of ten, a quick count revealed that an eleventh had somehow snuck it's way into her order.

He smiled as he watched the goings on. Rather than merely profiting from the community, the merchants were a part of it, helping to build their city through minor instances of generosity, or just fair trade in general. In return, they were rewarded by little in the way of thievery.

The sense of community, the common purpose of building a village together, and the virtues of honesty… Garret tried to focus on these things as he moved on.

At the edge of the town, he spotted the lumberjacks and woodsmen heading off to ply their trade. In the evenings they'd return, hot and sweaty, but in good spirits. Cracking jokes, they'd pull hand sleighs of wood to the local sawmill for processing, before heading off to the tavern for a well-deserved drink.

Industriousness. In The Order, the people worked hard, but said perseverance and reliability were virtues of their own. There was pride to be had in an honest day's work. They weren't soft like the mamono, lounging away their days in luxury and hedonism. Their lives had meaning, earned through toil and discipline. As Garret turned and headed back the way he came, a niggling thought worked its way into his mind.

Why was hard work a virtue? Had they not made felling trees easier by forging better axes and saws? Had their handcarts and sleighs not saved them numerous trips? Ironically, through the hard work of blacksmiths and craftsmen, they were making lives easier. Was their progress causing them to, somehow, spiral away from what was good?

Garret quickly rejected that notion, knowing its conclusion would lead to him idealizing some sort of primitive society, incapable of greatness. He was overthinking it. Even with their advancements, there was plenty of work to be done. Hard work still felt good to do, at least at the end of the day, when you stood over the fruits of your labour. All their advancements had been to help people do that, to make things safer, less monotonous, and less likely to fatigue or injure.

… Then again, incubi probably felt 'good', and were much healthier than your average human, who still got sick and lacked their ability of rapid recovery…

Garret took a different way back as he circled the edge of the settlement, and by chance, this brought him to the square where their criminals were put to justice. Currently, two were serving their time in the pillories, the wood and ground around them splattered with thrown, rotten vegetables. As Garret walked by, he glanced at the signs bearing their crimes. 'Heresy' and 'Slander'.

Words. The men had been subject to abuse for days on end because of… words. Glancing over to the gallows, Garret mused that, at least, they'd been spared a worse fate. Though it was usually reserved for capital crimes, he knew that sometimes, a particularly zealous magister could pursue it as a sentence for heresy.

Justice for all, but be careful what you say about our Goddess: it could get you killed. As he moved on, Garret wondered just how close his own, private doubts would land him to the noose. The harsh punishment for verbal crimes was something he'd always taken a slight issue with. If their Goddess was omnipotent, surely she could handle someone cursing her.

Back in the market, Garret started to feel a bit peckish, and ducked into the baker's shop to purchase a bread roll. Here, he witnessed a leech on the community's prosperity – a travelling aristocrat, who entered the shop across from him.

When Garret reemerged, he heard arguing and, listening in, gathered that the man was pulling rank, using his noble privilege to get cheaper or free goods via intimidation. There was nothing he could do as a commoner, though, and he shuffled away. He doubted he could have helped, even if he'd still been a Captain.

When a church-bell rang, a scurry of the town's poorest began, heading towards it. Intrigued, Garret followed them, and found a soup-line wrapping around behind the building. He'd never paid attention to it before, but here, the priests served simple but filling food to the needy for every midday or evening meal.

"Mr. Fax, are you here for a meal as well? Please, don't be shy, but you'll need to take a place in the line."

Apparently not just for the needy. A priest had recognized him, standing there, and extended that invitation. He replied by shaking his head, but as Garret scanned the line, he noticed a handful of other commoners amongst the unfortunate. They, while clearly not rich, likely could have afforded to feed themselves, but despite this, they were not turned away.

The priests gave food without judgment or discrimination to anyone who asked… provided they were human. When a ragged-looking harpy swooped down and tried to beg for a meal as well, she was driven off by shouts and curses. Charity for all, regardless of circumstance, but not for monsters.

That treatment of their temporary allies ate at him, and Garret shuffled away. What would the harm have been, giving the woman a meal? Poor girl looked like she'd been through hell, likely from a storm or a particularly long delivery route. What good did denying her this do?

When he returned to his house, Garret flopped down on the bed and lay there, deep in thought. Far from what he'd hoped, his walk had given him an unflinching gaze at both the positives and negatives of The Order. The charity, the diligence, the community,… the corruption, the harsh punishments, and the dogmatism…

Combine those things with the fact he was constantly getting walked over by Tilia's Exalt, and having to play politics to keep his school afloat, he found himself agreeing more and more with the recounted statements of a certain monster. The Order had problems. Big ones.

… But he couldn't just burn it all down. Grasping at the good he'd seen, Garret attacked his doubts. There were problems, yes, but also beauty and happiness to be found. Purpose and grandeur! There were things needed to change, but he was only one man. He couldn't let the impossible drag him down. Grasping at the advice of his late partner, he steadied himself. Maybe he could focus on the good instead.

Glancing out the window, Garret spotted a familiar harpy returning from a delivery. Thinking back to the treatment of the other messenger bird, and Loria's own decrepit lodgings, Garret pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't change The Order's nobles or its justice system, but he could do something about this. Even if fraternization with monsters was forbidden, maybe he could make an exception. Just this once.

"Coming!~"

A rap at the shoddy door triggered a musical voice from within Loria's shack. When the cheerful harpy, her mood untarnished by the squalor of her surroundings, opened up, she beamed with a smile as she saw who'd arrived.

"Ah, good evening, Garret! What can I do for you?"

He nodded to the bulky, wrapped package stuffed under his arm.

"Parcel delivery."

Loria's mood dampened when she heard that and her gaze fell to the floor.

"But we're… going to be locked down soon. Breeding season starts in a few days, they might not let me back in."

Garret glanced at the crossbowmen and archers manning the towers around the harpy ghetto. Indeed, they'd have no trouble shooting down any bird trying to get in or out. Hardening his expression, he thrust the package at her, which she reflexively caught.

"Make it work. You'll figure out a way."

Before she could stammer a reply, he spun on his heel and strode away. As he stepped through the gates, he called up to one of the guards.

"When's the lockdown happening?"

'On Monday!' was the response shouted down. Three days… That was just after the Green Sun Festival – a coincidence either exceptionally kind, or exceptionally cruel. The harpies would be able to see the festivities before they were locked away, but no doubt would be barred from any sort of participation. A shame, but Garret was in a similar boat. The logistics of his school necessitated he use that time to get some paperwork in order. He'd likely be unable to partake either.

After being browbeaten, Loria dejectedly closed the door and glanced at the meal she'd been cooking. Would she have time to finish it and eat? Probably not… depending on who the parcel was addressed to, she'd likely need every minute she could get, to try and return on time. Sighing, she turned it over to see how far she'd have to go.

DELIVER TO:
Harpy Loria
House 3
Harpy Ghetto
Fort Estlev
Naton

… It was addressed to her? Turning it over a few times, perplexed, the bird tried to find other address tags or indications of a mistake. When none were found, she scratched her head, then cautiously picked at the shipment's oversized knot with a toe talon.

Cloth.

As the package sprang apart, it took a minute for Loria to recognize what she was looking at. The thick canvas came in two pieces, and after a moment of confusion, she realized what she'd just been gifted – a mattress and pillow to fill with her pile of straw bedding. Gasping with delight, she quickly scurried over to her current 'bed' and began to stuff the mattress.

The smell of burning stew jolted her out of her single-minded focus, and from there on, Loria had to periodically pause to stir the pot, but once she was done, she took a step back to admire her handiwork. The mattress was a bit too big for the amount of filling she had, but by folding part of it under, she made it work.

Crawling onto it, she sighed with satisfaction as she made herself comfortable. It would take a while to work the debris out of her top sheet, but for now, at least, she experienced something she hadn't had in ages – a place to rest without scratchy straw poking her from every angle.

Garret… As she thought back to the man who'd gifted it to her, the feelings she'd felt ever since he saved her resurfaced once more. He acted stern and callous, like the rest of the officers, but his deeds told a different story. He was different. He was kind. He cared for her.

Unlike the rest of the cruel, cold members of The Order, he'd risked himself to save her life, and now he'd brought her a gift – a practical gift, but given her situation, that was the best type he could have gotten. Chocolates or wine would last a night, but this bedding would last for years.

Burying her face in it, she sniffed. Was that his scent she smelled? Or that of the shopkeep or logistics officer – whoever he got the mattress from? It didn't matter. She pretended it was his, and her heart fluttered. Garret… Her hormones running wild as breeding season crept up on her, Loria barely gave a second thought to the time he'd nearly killed her, or the insults he'd levied at her before.

He'd saved her and, now, had given her gifts. That was all she needed to determine his character, and she loved him for it. He was so wonderful. So perfect. He had to keep up appearances for The Order, but she knew that stern Garret wasn't the real Garret. In another life, they might have been good friends. Or something more. If only she could tell him how she felt.

When she eventually moved to finishing her cooking and eating her meal, Loria thought over what opportunities she'd have for this. Soon, she'd be locked away several weeks. If she wanted to tell him, she had to act fast, but when would be the 'right' time? Thinking back to what she'd seen during her last flight, she recalled the decorations, half-erected, around town. Her goal set, she smiled to herself as she picked away at her food. A festival. That would be the perfect time.

Day 120

The Green Sun Festival, most important of the spring-time holidays, was a celebration of their goddess' guidance. Though it was crammed into the week between the Night of Frost's Bane (which marked the beginning of the planting season, when frozen nights would no longer threaten the crops), and the Osterna Feasts (one of The Order's many religious holidays), the celebrations for it were, by far, the largest.

The name came from the belief that, if the Chief God was pleased with the path your life was taking, at sunset, you'd see a flash of green light. This was just a myth, though. While a charming little tradition, Garret, like most of the townsfolk, didn't place much stock in it. He'd never seen said flash himself, nor would he this year, as he sat within his office, scrawling reports and formal requests.

A knock at the door jolted Garret out of his work, breaking his focus. Who could that be?

"Enter!"

When a certain ranger let himself in, accompanied by a delicious smelling aroma and his usual teasing, Garret couldn't help but smile.

"You know, most people would use the festival as an excuse to get out of work, not do more of it.~"

"Well deadlines don't care about holidays. And my school's been generating a lot of paperwork of late…"

Pulling a chair back and making a show of kicking his legs up on Garret's desk, Rick tossed a cloth-wrapped lump onto the wood in front of him.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I stopped by. Someone's gotta take care of our poor, overworked magician."

Unwrapping the lump revealed one of the sources of the smell – warm bread, stuffed with cheese and pork – a traditional festival food, and one Garret enjoyed immensely. Taking a break from his work to tear a bite out of it, Garret happily munched away. Rick soon produced his own piece and joined him.

"Thanks, Rick. Made my day."

His friend flashed a thumbs up and, when he finished chewing, swallowed and replied.

"No problem. Work aside, how you been?"

With that, between bites of their impromptu snack, their conversation shifted to meaningless pleasantries and casual conversation. As usual with Rick, though, there was always a purpose for him showing up, seemingly out of nowhere. After they'd exhausted the usual exchange of words about recent events, Rick dropped his feet back to the floor and spoke in a more serious tone.

"Heard you've been getting pretty close to a harpy."

That elicited a sigh from Garret. Nearly three months later, his demotion still stung. Then he took a much stonier expression and a swig from a mug of water, trying to appear disinterested.

"Yes. Think I should kill her?"

His bluff, and a massive bluff it was, took the ranger by surprise and rewarded Garret with a seldom-seen, shocked looking Rick.

"What? No! I mean… Do you think you should?"

Garret shrugged and repeated the story he'd recounted to the court.

"I saved her life when a mob tried to kill her, but that's just because she's the only reliable harpy I've found. Having her around makes communication easier, but…"

He glanced out the window, towards the guard commander's headquarters.

"Commander Hale has been side-eyeing me ever since I pulled that little stunt. The priests aren't particularly happy either. If even my friends are starting to suspect me, I'll put an end to the issue right now and prove my loyalty is not some dying flame, about to go out. She's not worth the trouble."

A valkyrie that could sense his mood would have seen straight through his lie, but Rick was 'only' a particularly perceptive Ranger. He furrowed his brow and remarked how out-of-character Garret was acting, but didn't press further.

"Do what you think is best, I guess… I know you'll do what's right. Was just going to offer a word of warning."

"Shoot."

"Well, just be careful, that's all. Be it as friends or acquaintances, you know there's only two ways a relationship with a mamono can go. She'll either attack you and force your hand, or we'll win this war and have to kill her anyways. There's no happy ending there."

Garret nodded. He already knew that too well… but thinking back to how Loria was living, he still couldn't help but feel sorry for her. One day she might have to die, but until then, he could make things a little more comfortable. There was no harm in that, right?

"Yeah, it's a foregone conclusion. But the war's end is at least a year off. And I don't think she'll attack me. She knows what would happen if she did, I've threatened her with it before."

Rick just smiled sadly.

"She might not have a choice, you know? Monsters are instinctively driven to humans. The best trained dogs succumb to their prey drives, even the most disciplined priest has moments of weakness. Magnify those by a factor of ten, and you've got your average mamono."

"What are you getting at?"

Rick shook off his somber expression and forced a smile.

"You don't seem to care for her, so I'm sure these are wasted words… but if you ever find yourself getting attached, you might want to make some distance. Getting too close to them will only bring misery in the end."

"Duly noted… Is that all?"

The man continued his smile and nodded, his voice much more cheerful, now that the serious stuff was over.

"That's all. I'm going to head back out, you want to come with? Please tell me you'll take at least a bit of time to enjoy the festival?"

Garret glanced back down at his paperwork. Maybe if he finished early, but he needed to get it done.

"Maybe. Thanks for the offer, Rick, but I need to finish these reports."

"Alright, suit yourself. See you around."

And with that, the man got up and left Garret to the wonders of bureaucracy.

With most of the festivities on the other side of the town, there was, thankfully, precious little to distract Garret from his work. Forms, letters, and requisition papers all faded into a blur as he picked away at his tasks, slowly but surely completing them. By the time the sun hung low in the sky, he found himself with a stack of nicely ordered papers, ready to be handed to their respective recipients, and finally, finally, some free time.

Garret got up, stretched, then glanced out the window. He had just enough daylight to visit a few of the ceremonies… and get another portion of that devilishly good festival bread. Heading for the exit, he found himself suddenly preempted by a knock at the door. Now who could that be? The answer turned out to be Loria.

"Ah. Good evening, Loria. Do you have a delivery for me?"

"Yes, uh… well, no, but… it's uh…"

The young harpy fumbled with her words, shuffled her feet, and could barely look him in the eye.

"It's a gift. As thanks for, uh… everything you've done for me."

She reached out her wings and, grasped between their tips, presented Garret with a wrapped package. When he took it and began to unravel the cloth, he froze. Chocolate. The pieces started to click into place, putting Garret ill at ease.

The significance of this day, the type of gift it was, the embarrassment and fumbling words… Garret had overheard his fair share of awkward love confessions as a teacher, and hell, had given one himself back when he… back when he confessed to Annika. Rick's words about keeping a distance echoed in his mind. He had to stop this here.

"I see… well there's no need, I haven't done anything special."

Though he tried to push it away, Loria persisted.

"I-I'd like you to have it anyways."

Again he refused to take it, and shook his head.

"I can't accept this. You might not know this, Loria, but amongst humans, there's certain implications about giving gifts during a-"

"I do."

"I see… Then you know that gifts on this day, especially chocolate, are traditionally given as part of a confe-"

"Y-Yes… Garret, I-"

This time it was his turn to cut her off. As she tried to confess her love, Garret stopped her with a harsh rebuke and dark expression.

"Loria. Think very carefully about if you should say what I think you're going to say. I'm a member of The Order. You're a Monster. You know what the rules are."

"But I-"

She wasn't getting the message. Hardening his heart, Garret put more force into his words.

"I had a partner, you know! We were in love! Do you know what happened to her?"

Loria could only mumble a guess.

"A mamono killed her…"

"No. I killed her. A monster turned her into one of them, and I had to fight her myself… Do you have any idea how much I hate your kind because of that? What they made me do? SHE LOOKED JUST LIKE YOU! I SEE FLASHES OF HER WHENEVER YOU VISIT ME! DO YOU THINK THERE COULD BE ANY FUTURE HERE?!"

Loria froze as she listened to the tirade, scarcely believing what she was hearing. She knew he worked alone while most of The Order had partners, but hadn't put much thought into the reason why. When she heard the man she loved proclaim his hatred for monsters, for harpies, and for her, a tear welled up in her eye.

Having her love rejected in such a cruel manner crushed her, but with the hormones of breeding season flowing, she couldn't bring herself to blame him. Poor Garret… He was hurting inside. His previous anger and violence all started to make sense.

Memories of how he'd risked punishment to save her, of his gift, and how he'd treated her with more dignity than her other 'clients' stood in stark contrast to his words. As she cried, the demon energy within her pulled Loria's thoughts in a new direction, and she felt her emotions shift.

He was saying this to protect himself. He didn't want to be hurt again, so he was lashing out. He'd been through so much, the scars of his past were holding him back. If only she could help him... The tears still came, but they weren't for her. Now, Loria cried for him.

Garret watched as Loria slumped, sobbing softly, and sighed. He took no pleasure in this,… really, he didn't. Hurting someone never felt good, even if they were, ostensibly, enemies. "Sorry…", he whispered, then turned his back on the pitiful display. A ruffle of feathers and sudden warmth interrupted this as Loria abruptly hugged him.

Garret, Garret, Garret… He'd done so much for her, Loria wished she could do something to help him. Wait, why wish? Deep down, she knew how she could help him. She could take him. She could show him. If they were together, she could give him happiness and-NO!

Her mind, torn between the flood of love and desire, and the tiny remnant of restraint that remained, rebelled. This was what a mamono was good at, but here, it was exactly the wrong thing to do! With what he'd been through, her advances would just hurt him more! Burying her face into his back, she heard him growl 'Loria…', but clung to him tighter.

She loved him so much! He'd helped her so much! She felt his pain and wanted, no, needed to do something, anything to help him. If he was with her, she knew he'd feel better, but getting to that point would require her hurting him even more... How could she bear to hurt the man she loved, after all he'd done for her, even if it was for the best? To help him, she'd have to do nothing... She'd have to let him go.

Until he was ready, she had to leave him on his own… to hurt… to suffer… How could she bear to see that!? As he stiffened, Loria wrestled with herself and the paradox she found before her. She wanted him. She loved him more than anything, but she wanted her beloved to be happy. And that meant she had to let him go. … But how could she bear to let him go?

Garret stiffened in the harpy's embrace. The beautiful, friendly, helpful woman, who'd been beaten and reviled, only to find a tiny semblance of support in him. He gritted his teeth and prepared to work his magic. … So that's how it was… Rick was right, as usual.

Before he could move, Loria suddenly released him. Then, she launched herself into the air to… leave? Half prepare to kill her, Garret just stood there, perplexed. For a moment, he thought she might swoop down to attack him, but no. She just flew as fast as she could, back towards the harpy ghetto. As she went, Garret watched, recalling her persistence and Rick's words. She might not have had a choice…

Glancing to the battlements where watchmen manned the walls, he pondered how they didn't have much of a choice either. Not when the alternative to fighting was losing your humanity. His mood darkened, Garret took a deep breath, then stepped back indoors and reached for his coat. Maybe a visit to the festival would get his mind off things a bit.

Loria flew with all her strength, trying to get as far from Garret as possible. The overwhelming feelings she felt for him threatened to drown her, she had to get away! This desire, bordering on madness, was only held back by the depth of her devotion to him, and her abhorration of the idea of causing him harm… but even that wouldn't last forever.

When she returned to her hut, she locked the door and curled into a ball in the corner – not even atop her bed, for even that reminded her of him. When the soldiers came that night to seal them in, the moment others had been dreading, she found herself thankful for. Now she could finally… give in…

After hours of resistance, Loria finally cracked and joined the other harpies of the ghetto in throwing herself against the door and walls, begging the soldiers to let her out. No matter what she said or did, though, the guards ignored her pleas, and the walls, despite their condition, held fast. For the next few weeks, she'd be isolated, alone except for when a tray of food was passed through the door's mail slot. In the back of her mind, though, she was grateful for this. At least it meant she wouldn't hurt Garret.

Colourful stalls, the boisterous laughter of drunken adults, and the smell of delicious food wafting through the air all marked the plaza holding the Green Sun Festival's celebrations. Though it was getting late, and most had shut down for the evening, some small contests still entertained the children, ranging from darts to be thrown at mamono caricatures, to card or ball games.

"Well lookey here... I bet you're strong enough to body slam a lamia!"

One of the men staffing a tent that was, apparently, hosting feats of strength for the adults, called out to Garret. When he glanced that way, he spotted a variety of sand-filled sacks, all decorated vaguely in likeness of the mentioned mamono.

The occasional man (or particularly strong woman) would step up from time to time, and try their hand at wrestling with the bags until they were up, off the ground, then flung back into the dirt. Shaking his head, Garret stepped away, noticing just how many of their games involved 'hurting', hitting, or 'killing' monster effigies.

Ignoring the showmen, Garret continued on. He was more interested in securing himself some sweets from one of the local baking tents, and a mug of mulled, festival wine. As he wandered the streets, though, focused on his food, he was increasingly jostled by crowds as more and more people flocked to the edge of the city.

Glancing up at the sky after being pushed aside by a particularly thick cluster of festival-goers, he realized the reason for the sudden busyness. The sun was beginning to set, and parents and children alike were heading to the westward road, hoping to catch a glimpse of that fabled, emerald light.

With nothing better to do, Garret let himself be carried along with the flow until he too, found himself outside the gates. There, one of the local officials had positioned himself atop a makeshift stage of crates, and was in the process of giving the annual speech about the origin of the holiday.

"- But when she received the word, Saint Lucia fell to her knees! 'Goddess, My Goddess!', she cried, 'How will I know if I'm on the right path?'. And with a voice like howling winds, our savior said 'Look to the sun, in the last of day's light. If you have done what is pleasing in my eyes, I will surely grant you a sign. By verdant glow, I shall show you my favour.'"

The man recited more scripture, and a priest joined him to give a sermon about the significance of the date. Evidently, if you didn't see a her sign, that didn't necessarily mean the Goddess was displeased with you, it was something she saved for specific people. Saints, priests, holy men and women of great renown. Though she loved everyone, explicit guidance was reserved for a chosen few with great responsibilities. … So if you were a very good boy or girl and obeyed your goddess, she might pick you!

Garret snickered at the last bit, clearly added to encourage the kids, and drum up their enthusiasm for watching an ordinary sunset. When the priest finished, he heard the murmurs of a few children speaking to their parents, no doubt fondly remembering the sanitized stories taught to them in church.

"I hope the Goddess choses me, Mommy."

"Daddy, do you think I could become a saint?"

Knowing the full stories of what some of those saints went through – violent, horrible stories that often ended with their death (hence their ascension to sainthood as notable martyrs), Garret prayed their wishes wouldn't come true. Fortunately, that seemed to be the case. As the sunset, beautiful though it was, came and went, he heard disappointed sighs coming from previously excited children.

"I guess she doesn't like me…"

"Nonsense, my dear! Maybe next year!"

Some of the less supportive parents took the opportunity to point out that the Goddess might not like their children's laziness when it came to household chores, but most said it might happen once they got older.

"Your life has only just begun! You've got years before you'll even be on a 'path', let alone one the Goddess approves of!"

Hearing that comment got Garret thinking. What was his path? One of a soldier, butchering men, women, and children… even if he claimed it was to protect others. And even if that was 'moral', he'd helped a monster out of mercy or pity, which was something The Order explicitly preached against. Then there were his doubts about the crusades. Though he stayed with them, a certain valkyrie had not been pleased with his faltering, and he doubted his Goddess would be either…

Sighing, Garret trudged home as he reflected on the idea that he was likely not getting into heaven. Seemingly in spite of this, though, when he reached a plaza with a clear view of the sky, the light of the fading day flickered. Glancing back in the direction of the sun, Garret saw a momentary spark of colour that did more to perplex than comfort him.

Green.

Author's Notes:

Ok, this chapter was a bit shoeboxy. If ever do a rewrite, I might try to split the philosophy in half, with le Blanc's conversation happening in an earlier chapter. Then again, having it all contained like this makes it nice and organized, but it also feels like I'm beating people over the head with the message. Agh. Lots to think about.

Ok, so what was the purpose of this? Well, I mainly wanted to bring attention to something that rarely gets commented on in pro-order circles. If the monsters are portrayed as villains, usually they're all single-minded rapists with no characterization deeper than that. I, myself, am guilty of this in some chapters, but in this one, I wanted to bring up how condemning them is not quite as simple as 'They should just not be rapists'.

Remember, demonic energy does the whole brainwashing thing. That cuts both ways, and the more 'in control' monsters like centaurs or harpies are a good way to demonstrate this. They can hold off their desires until breeding season hits, but then, they become just as horny as other monsters. I tried to, sort of, bring attention to the shift in mindset that brings, with things like Loria glossing over the times Garret was a dick to her, in favour of a perfect, idealized image (constructed by the DE), or her only being able to resist attacking him because part of her desires worked against themselves.

There are themes of freewill, power, and control running through this story, all in service of the greater message I'm trying to craft (which should be obvious by the end), and this is another facet of that. Lots of people condemn monsters for what they do, but they really don't have a choice in the matter either. Some of them have more control, some of them have less, but none of them are completely free – there's an external force guiding their actions.

… Which sounds very similar to something a certain character brought up nearly 20 chapters ago. Hmm~

Ugh, as much as I like all these side-stories, depth expansions, or back-references, I think I've written way too many of them. I could probably cut a few of these threads out entirely, and still have the story maintain most of it's impact. We're well over 200k words at this point, which is absurd in length. In terms of brevity, this story is bloated and runs way too long. I'll need to keep an eye on this in the future, and try to lock down my plot to a fundamental core, if I ever write another story. Had I done that here, I'd probably be finished by now. Oh well, it's my first (proper) kick at the can, I knew I wasn't going to get everything right – that's one of the reasons I wrote this, after all: to improve.

Alright, thanks again to everyone who's stuck around. I'm already deep in drafting the outline for the next chapter, so I'll call it here and get back to work.

Until next time, Sayonara!