RuggyRuggy

  “What? Is that it?!” Percival jumped on his chair, raising his voice and arms to be heard over the rowdy bargoers.

  Spoiler

  [colpse]Twenty-two cups of hardened mead sat empty on the table as Momo and I raised the twenty-third.

  My dwarven opponent couldn’t keep his eyes open. His thick beard tasted more alcohol than his lips. We swallowed our drinks and smmed the mugs down, becoming the victors.

  “Gods damn it!” A couple loud curses came from those betting against me, but cheers went up from my growing fanbase.

  “Is there anyone out there who can defeat the Sobriety Maidens?!” Percival pointed to a group of kobolds, but no one approached. “Beat one—just one—to win the ever-growing pile of dup as your prize! Come on! They’ll face all challengers!”

  Momo’s mirror danced on the table in celebration. It almost had a mind of its own.

  Just what had happened?

  It started with an innocent drinking contest. Percival and the foreman shot the shit. They led each other on, betting the other to keep going. The banter was amusing, and I joined in to loosen up. Momo was pying with her mirror. She used it as a coaster to fly her drinks to her hand. Bianco and Nero bowed out shortly before midnight. Cire was three sheets to the wind. Alcohol really, really, really affected her. She was hiccupping, not knowing whether to cry or ugh at the relief she felt.

  “Yeah…” Dineria had said as she pushed in her chair. “Cire-Bear’s a lightweight. Come on… That’s a good girl. Stand up. It’s time to go home."

  “Umm, I can help.” Itarr had leapt at the chance to assist. She had become…softer on herself as the night progressed. As they left, she told me she’d text me when they arrived.

  There were four left at that point, but the drinks kept flowing. Onlookers noticed how many mugs we had accumuted. One thing led to another until we found ourselves drinking against anyone who wanted to make a statement. The smoky atmosphere became our home for the next few hours. People started to bet on if Momo or I would pass out first.

  The hardened mead felt like liquid fmes going down my throat, but the aftertaste was sweet. It didn’t compare to my favorite—the Aviation. I wanted to switch to that, but the bar didn’t have enough to sustain a contest. Mead could be made with honey, water, and yeast, but the hardened variety necessitated drops of other alcohol to add a kick to the gut.

  It was all the same to me.

  Momo put on fshy little shows with her mirror in between rounds. She couldn't do much, though. People would sometimes toss dup. Momo would bounce the coins off it and snag them.

  The foreman wept for his wallet, but Percival’s exceptional charisma in arranging this contest meant our tab was covered, thus saving his coin purse.

  It was a fantastic night. Itarr texted me throughout and said how much fun she was having with Dineria and Cire. She didn’t tell our receptionist friend about our secret because Srassa needed to be there, but those three had a sleepover. Itarr asked Albert to tell Nimyra so she wouldn't worry.

  We knew Fisher had walked to the homestead to work. But it was time to leave. We separated from our boss. Momo, Percival, and I walked to the Crimson Grotto under the moon’s vivid glow.

  “So, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Eh? Go for it,” said the bodyguard.

  “It’s about a Wing Elf named Siora.”

  “And Tim, right? A koena?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?” asked Momo.

  Percival stretched, yawning like a sleepy dog. “It’s my job to stay in the loop, you know. They got demoted because some woman saw no problem jumping from the ramparts, so they embarked on an unsanctioned mission to the slums.”

  “Don’t remind me…” I groaned. “Can I meet with the duchess? They don’t need to be punished for my mistake. They were just worried about me.”

  “Servy…” Momo gently squeezed my hand.

  “Well, I can arrange that. It’ll be in the morning.”

  “Really? Thanks a ton, pretty boy.”

  Percival sighed. I knew it didn’t get to him. It was something he pyed for jokes—to ease the tension. I wouldn’t call him a css clown, but he felt like someone who would do something dumb for a smile. Especially if it was for someone or something he cared about.

  “Anyway,” said the bodyguard as he swapped topics. “How are you guys still alive?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you not realize how much booze you forced down your gullets? It’s insane, but you’re as sober as...I don’t know, some born-again man who swore off alcohol? You could’ve drowned a dozen fish.”

  “I thought I told you? I can hold my liquor better than anyone I know.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year... Did you two have fun? I know this isn’t easy. I do sympathize with your circumstances.”

  “Thanks. We did. It was nice. I... In Arcton... Before...you know,” Momo began. “We went to the bar with some people we met. We drank, ate, and pyed darts. Tonight reminded me of that.”

  “Was it a good memory?”

  “No…” Momo was honest. Sissy’s group was... They treated us as close friends only to stab us in the back. It was all a ploy by Sakdu…because I deprived him of what he wanted the most. “Tonight was a thousand times better. Those people in Arcton? They weren’t friends.” Momo fshed a little hostility, but she kept her emotions in check.

  “Not friends? Did you have a fight?”

  “Kind of. We went our separate ways. If they were in Arcton, they’re gone. It wasn’t an amicable parting.”

  “I see…” Percival pondered the statement. “I won’t bring it up again. Best to focus on the positive moments, yeah? On what we can grasp with our hands. The past is great for learning, but the future is where the moon shines.”

  “That might’ve been inspirational if it came from anyone else.”

  “Eh, I think this mind makes this face go from a 10 to a 20. My earth-shattering advice is too much for the common rabble.”

  “You calling me a peasant?”

  “As long as you’re calling me a pretty boy.” Percival shot the banter back, and we ughed. The topic switched to the orphanage until we reached home. He crashed on the couch while Momo and I returned to our room. Albert was there with a book, but we stopped by Merka’s room and found Nimyra. She sat on the bed and softly read a children's book about fish to a sleeping Olga.

  “She drifted off about ten minutes ago, but I couldn’t stop,” said the elf. She gently stood before rubbing her hands through the girl’s soft hair.

  Merka was messing with his staff. I didn’t know why, but seeing this reminded me of an inevitable uncomfortable conversation.

  Srassa wasn’t immortal.

  We were.

  She’d age.

  We wouldn’t.

  She’d die.

  We wouldn’t.

  I seriously didn’t know what I would do if she asked to become one…because we didn’t understand the mechanics. I wasn’t sure if giving her my blood would work or if there were other criteria to meet.

  “Anyway, I know it’s te. Albert told me you were returning, but I had to stay up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be, Momo. Be sure to get some good sleep, okay?”

  “We will. Good night.”

  “Good night, you two.”

  Servi, I tried to think of a way to expin my magic, but it really does come to me like second nature.

  “It’s okay. Don’t be upset about it.”

  I don’t expect to master it in a week or month.

  Merka nodded. Maybe he wanted to do more. He didn’t have to do much, really. I would never make him fight---- not when he had Olga with him. I couldn’t cim they would live a life empty of hardships, but I’d try my hardest.

  We returned to our room. Albert greeted us with a nod.

  Can you head to our soul world? Let’s dive into geomancy.

  There were two ways of entering the soul world. The first method was spiritual, I guess. The body remained in the real world while your essence, or soul entered what linked me to Itarr.

  The second was physical and exclusive to revenants and Merka. It was physically returning to the ring. Albert and Fisher had both options avaible. The butler chose the former.

  Momo and I weren’t far behind him.

  *****

  *****

  “Okay,” said Albert, standing in the field near the fountain. A few rge piles of dirt sat in front of us. Albert’s revenant warlord and other undead were roaming around, doing whatever. Nyxaris had set up a little workshop for Victor the Corpsemixer, who had started brewing any serums or toxins we may need. “Let’s work through this together by starting from the beginning. We may be overlooking something obvious, so tell me all you can about Suusa’s use of geomancy.”

  “I don’t think I can help much,” admitted Momo, who used her mirror like a one-handed pull-up bar. It couldn’t fly away, so using it as transport was out of the question. But it remained rigidly solid anywhere within five feet. She had also accidentally shattered it a few times. Repairing it, according to her, was literally a thought away. “I can try, but I gotta figure out the mirror.”

  “Nyxaris, you think you can help us with this? Know anything about [Elemental Manipution]?”

  “The bell shan’t toll for nothing except the natural conclusion all life will face, o’ creator. It does not sound for matters unreted to undeath,” replied the lich. Victor said something simir. They knew the other forbidden skills existed, but they didn’t have any knowledge. Rather, none that could help. I kinda figured that’d happen.

  “Well, it was worth a shot. Anyway, Suusa said something about not finishing his training,” I replied, crossing my arms. “He vocalized his spells’ names, but that was to mask [Voiceless Incantation]. His heart… Yeah, his heart was surrounded by rock. His veins were, too. Almost like a protective yer.”

  “He bled blood?” inquired the butler.

  “Yeah. It’s like Suusa was slowly repcing his organic features with rock, dirt, sand… Wait, you don’t think that’s the…solution, do you?”

  “Well, the theory is sound. Think about it like this. What if the earth is alive? Maniputors must have it flow through their bodies to craft a connection to that they manipute. Merka’s body was crafted by a geomancer, which fulfills the requirement. His innate understanding would make sense, yes?”

  “It does, but… Eating dirt?” Momo grimaced at the thought as she unched a barrage of non-elemental missiles from her mirror. Nyxaris and Victor were throwing empty vials for her to shoot down. “I ate dirt once," Momo admitted. "I was a kitten pying in Grampy's garden. It's not like I did it on purpose, but what can you do when you trip over a shovel? The taste was awful. Blek!"

  “What about a person who maniputes fmes. Would they have to eat fire to use their ability? How do you eat wind?” I shoved a handful of soil into my mouth. Momo’s eyes said she couldn’t believe I had just done that. "..." It wasn’t severe, but a small epiphany struck me. No, perhaps it was a faint…understanding?

  “Eh? Don’t tell me that worked?!”

  “It…did?” I struggled to form the words. “This doesn’t feel like… It’s hard to expin, but this... It just feels so dangerous. If Suusa completed his training, wouldn’t he become a golem himself?”

  “Hmm…” Albert shoved a rock in his mouth, eliciting a shocked cry from Momo. His eyes widened, and he felt the same uncomfortableness. “I don’t know how to categorize it,” he said. He grabbed another rock, but he let it go before pressing his palm to the ground. The blood crystal enchanted with a geomancer’s power gave him [Voiceless Incantation] as a byproduct.

  Upon focusing...

  He did it. The soil gradually formed a wobbly rectangle. It remained stoic after he stood, but its shape crumbled when he took a step.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  He formed a little box that almost instantly crumbled under its wonky design. He tried again but was unable to form anything. “I can’t describe it as anything other than feeling…that shouldn’t exist. Why does it feel dangerous? Unless…”

  “This isn’t what you’re supposed to do?” I inquired. “What if this is a quick and dirty method? Like... You can do it this way, but it comes with risks? Or maybe you’re supposed…” I thought hard, but something was missing.

  “The easy way or the hard way? Kinda like a choice?”

  “Perhaps. But why wouldn’t Suusa feel that way? Let’s say that this is a shortcut. Yes, it’s dangerous, but it gets results in the meantime. Why would you always risk yourself? If turning into the embodiment of your maniputed element is the end goal… Why? A pyromancer would turn into fmes. A geomancer would turn into rock. That cannot possibly be the desired outcome.”

  “Okay, so what if we flip it around? What about if we ponder it from the opposite spectrum? Or from another angle?” I used the new-found sensation to craft a dull dagger. It kept its shape for a second or two but fell apart when I swung it. I couldn’t recreate it. That feeling… The instinctual knowledge vanished without any traces of it ever being there.

  “You don’t mean to say that the end goal is to refrain from turning into your maniputed element, do you? That…makes sense, but how would one go about training? Perhaps the trial is refusing to become your element? Denying the temptation, I mean."

  “Suusa almost hinted he wouldn’t be complete until he was comprised of dirt. He wasn’t mentally sound, though. But he was powerful. A single stomp crested rge bounders. And I couldn’t get past his defenses. Your mirror did, though.” I pointed at Momo.

  “That had to be the Foxy Me. Wait, do you think she fought them?”

  “That seems likely,” I replied. “I had to use trickery. I couldn’t have won without unleashing all my undead at once,” I said, summarizing my fight. “[Acid Arrow] from your mirror was enough to pierce it. My acid rocket uncher had trouble doing that.”

  “Woah… Seems like you’re a tad stronger than I expected, huh?” Momo gently cradled her mirror. “I gotta figure out your secrets. Why can’t you talk to me?”

  “The allure of power can be a difficult mistress to ignore. Not all warriors would choose the long, difficult path when a shortcut can take you to your goal,” answered Albert, getting us back on topic. “I cannot know for sure, but the final trial or task may be to shed your mind of these temptations to either regain or retain an organic body. Suusa probably thought otherwise. He may not have gotten this far since he destroyed his religious covenant. He probably died believing that he had to become the essence of rock.”

  “Except the description said I had to ‘force the essence of elemental matter’ within myself."

  "That may be true. But does that refer to your body’s organs? Or perhaps it means your soul?”

  “Ah… Okay, I see what you mean. It can mean multiple things. Part of the trial is to deduce the correct definition?”

  “That is my thought process. Even still, I wonder if the hesitation we’re experiencing is what all elemental maniputors feel. Then again, perhaps it’s exclusive to us because we have the blood of a goddess flowing through our veins.”

  “Maybe a bit of both? Itarr was probably involved in some skill crafting. Maybe her hand graced [Elemental Manipution], so we’re feeling…something. Maybe it’s like a safeguard? Either way, I don’t think turning into a rock will hurt us. I feel it won’t help much, either.”

  “Indeed. Now, shall we get to it? The path towards any destination starts with a single step, and what better time to start?" Albert popped another rock in his mouth. He concentrated on the instinctual feeling flooding his body. “The first step is to replicate the urge without this crutch. That’s the biggest hurdle, I believe.”

  It was

  [Necromancy] worked like the other spells. You just shouted the name—or thought them, in my case—and some predetermined or predestined effect pyed out. But the path of a geomancer was different. It was all based on some internal urge that relied on your imagination to manipute the earth as you saw fit. That was easier said than done when you couldn’t grasp the ‘tingle’ without external support.

  Come on…

  I felt the abstract shock soar through my skin after downing my 100th handful of dirt. My mouth felt so gritty—luckily, Momo was sweet. She often left the soul world to fetch some water for us.

  But that shock…

  I just had to create that feeling… Focusing, I held my hand to the ground...vividly imagining a dagger five inches long. The picture in my mind was pin—cking in every way— and I formed a fist around the molded handle. Slowly, I raised my arm and saw my weapon.

  It looked like I envisioned, but it wasn’t enough…because the successes stopped once the influence left my body.

  Albert wasn’t having better luck. His creations were more exotic—choosing to craft a whip or ornate chair—but he, like me, couldn’t call upon that power without aid.

  But we continued. Albert wasn’t upset. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Suusa probably endured many years of training to get to his level. No one expected me to reach his prowess after a day or two. Not even a goddess’s influence bridged the gap in our experience.

  However, this was a start. We knew what to do—it was a matter of sticking with it until it…just made sense, I suppose.

  *****

  *****

  It was early morning after a night of nonstop, unsuccessful manipution training. Percival and I left after breakfast. I asked Momo if she wanted to go, but she declined. She wasn’t afraid of people like the duchess as she was… hesitant? Was that the right word? It was paradoxical because she did so well during our interrogation, but Momo bmed her false bravado on the adrenaline coursing through her.

  “I dunno if I can recreate that, but good luck!” she had said when we left, waving goodbye with Olga. Momo also wanted to spend more time with her before heading to the orphanage.

  I texted Itarr to catch her up to speed. She said Dineria convinced Cire to ‘work’ at her store, which meant taking another day off. So, they wouldn’t be with us today.

  But I’m not sad. We had so much fun st night. Cire and Dineria hugged me before they left.

  I’m gd you enjoyed it.

  Servi?

  Yeah?

  I’m happy…I’m here. I’m still sad…that had to happen. But Cire knew something was bothering me. She’s observant even while drunk. And Dineria helped. But I love living. I love eating and drinking. And feeling the hot water over my body. And looking at the moon and stars. I hate the guilt. It’s eating me. But that’s something I must overcome.

  It is. But you’re not alone.

  Yes. I know. I know that more than ever.

  “Your fingers are moving pretty quickly,” Percival said, looking over. “It still astounds me that something like that exists. Your god or goddess must be unique.”

  “I don’t know her name,” I replied, vanishing my phone. Percival was…odd. I’d consider him a friend, except there must be an ulterior motive. I knew he was assigned to be my probation officer for more than one reason. If we were right, he and Duchess Ashford were reted to Emperor Keywater...

  They knew my secret.

  I had mentioned Itarr out loud in the fight against Myrokos and Golden Reliquary.

  So, they probably knew what I wished to hide. Though did they know that I knew that?

  Perhaps. It was a game of cat and mouse—pretending to be aware of something you pretended to be ignorant of.

  I wasn’t meant for these kinds of games. But Percival's friendship… It felt different than Sissy’s. They were allies to betray us, but…

  My cynicism wasn’t ringing arm bells. I still had Percival at an arm’s length, though. But maybe I should’ve been more cynical. The betrayal-- if another one was coming--couldn’t hurt me if I proceeded believing he was a traitor.

  I once heard a saying that said to keep your friends close and enemies closer—at least, I thought I did.

  Is that why he’s trying so hard? Or is he pretending to try?

  We reached the duchess’s mansion and were escorted in, where we found her in her office. She wore a yellow gown and novelly penned a letter as she granted us access.

  Spoiler

  [colpse]“Thank you for seeing me so soon, Duchess Ashford,” I said.

  “Not at all. Recall what I said when we met. If I can do anything to help your stay here become easier… You merely need to ask. I understand your circumstances aren’t easy. But there’s very little I can do. However, detailed records of the orphanage’s accelerated construction have reached my ears. I’m impressed. But something else is bothering you. Pray tell, what is it?” she asked as she finished her letter. She sat it aside before looking into my eyes.

  I brought up Siora and Tim while the duchess pulled a pair of files from a drawer.

  “It’s my fault. Punish me for making--”

  “No. Any honor-bound soldier of Canary would have disregarded orders not important to the city’s safety to save a life. If I can be crass, Servi, my cousin was a fool in multiple ways. He has a sense of business, yet he cks interpersonal communication. When he looks at a man, he sees dup, not a person,” said the duchess, surprising me. “I shall reinstate their former ranks.” Her smile was soft. “Please don’t let this bother you.” She wrote two notes, sealed them, and asked Percival to deliver them, leaving us alone.

  “…”

  “Hmm?” The duchess seemed confused. “Is there more?”

  “No. I’m surprised you would speak of family like that in front of me. You’re a duchess, so… No—please forget—”

  The duchess covered her mouth and ughed. “I am a noble, but the Ashfords have not always been this way, Servi. I have not forgotten my roots. You’re a victim of my cousin's crookedness. Perhaps my thoughts of him can't be freed of distaste.” She swapped topics to Momo. The duchess knew about the mirror. “Was she not avaible this morning?”

  “She wanted to spend time with Olga. She’s not strong enough to leave Nimyra’s pce.”

  “Ah, the little girl? A finalized report hasn’t been submitted, but an initial search has not proved fruitful. I wish I had good news. Forgive me.”

  “No. You’re doing more than enough. Your position can’t be easy. I wouldn’t even know the first thing to do about running a city, let alone a duchy.”

  “It seems daunting—like climbing a mountain,” said the duchess. “But picture it as piecemeal, and it becomes more manageable. Some things require more attention than others, but it is not an unconquerable monster. But I must thank you and your allies.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to ask?” The duchess raised a confused eyebrow. “The orphanage? The Arcton Mountain Cataclysm has pushed our pns to the wayside. I feared the gathered material would go to waste or be repurposed for Arcton’s repair, but that hasn’t happened. I’m working with suppliers to accelerate the next shipment. Let’s say…” The duchess pyfully pced a slender finger on her lips. Suddenly, she smiled. “Yes, that’s it. Let’s say you’re helping far more than yourself by doing this.”

  “Far more…? Do you mean the city’s image? Are you trying to reconstruct it?”

  “Not so much as reconstruct as repair. But yes, that was the pn. Then I would turn to the slums, but the city does not presently have the resources to escort those that dwell there into society.”

  “That makes sense,” I admitted. “There’s a chance crime would run rampant. You need a gentle touch, yes? You cannot be too hasty lest you overlook an important step."

  "Indeed. We must be prepared. I have taken the steps into account. Furthermore…” The duchess narrowed her eyes, but I didn’t sense hostility as she retrieved a stack of documents. “Remember when I said I was in contact with suppliers? That was a half-truth. I am, but negotiations will only continue if your group stays until the homestead is complete. Favors will have to be pulled—favors I don’t wish to cash in unless I’m certain they’re worth it. I can have someone send for them if you’d like to discuss it now.”

  “No. That won’t be necessary,” I said, retrieving my phone. The duchess marveled at its design before mentioning the many rumors she’d heard about it.

  “Percival says you can communicate with your spirits.”

  “That’s right,” I replied, sending the text. A few seconds ter, I got the go-ahead from everyone. “They’re okay with it. They’ll sign the contracts.”

  I signed mine, absorbed the others, and a minute ter…

  “Here you go!” The documents appeared from nowhere. The duchess looked them over.

  “How astonishing…” she whispered. She looked like she wanted to ask another question but held off.

  We chatted until Percival returned with Siora and Tim.

  The Wing Elf became rigid upon seeing me. She trembled, although I had thought it was from relief...

  It was from anger.

  Fmes ignited her eyes as she stomped forward, her arm raised high before spping me across the cheek in front of everyone. The duchess released a shocked gasp. She shared a concerned look with her bodyguard, which simmered off when Siora tightly embraced me.

  Strength left her knees, bringing us to the ground. Profuse apologies constantly battered my ears...

  Making her so sad...

  How many weeks of heartache had I forced upon her?

  My actions had caused her a lot of issues. Her heart was kind. It was in the right pce, yet I…just ignored it and leapt from the ramparts. Sure, I met Lucy. You could liken that action to everything I had accomplished thus far as some weird offshoot of the butterfly effect.

  But goddamn... She had been heavily affected by it.

  “Please, take today and tomorrow off,” said the duchess.

  RuggyRuggy