Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-38

Talia isn’t the only one dedicated to her role. Kierra is just as dedicated, though I’m still trying to figure out what that role exactly is. I know I’m the conqueror, which I take as the primary provider for the clan and the one that determines its direction. Talia is the flower meant to support the house, bringing comfort to the returning conquerors. Alana is a flower that is in the process of growing thorns. I don’t see her trying to stand in the lead, but she wants to stand beside me at the front and is training hard to do so.

According to the labels I understand, it’d be easy to assume she’s a conqueror. Except, she doesn’t want to lead. She is specifically standing right behind me, pushing me forward. That has to be a role of its own. I’m sure of it, because Morgene hasn’t said anything. If she was meant to be a conqueror, her mother wouldn’t let her hear the end of it. As she hasn’t spoken a word of complaint, whatever Kierra has positioned herself as, it’s important enough to satisfy the prideful blood of the Atainna.

Whatever her role is, it is the duty of the clan to defend its flowers and Kierra takes it very seriously. After receiving permission to go rooting around in the sisters’ head, Talia immediately goes off to find a defender. Not five minutes later, she returns with Kierra, the elf wiping her hands of saints know what. Seems the moment Talia asked for a defender, she dropped whatever she was doing to answer the call.

With her condition fulfilled, Talia doesn’t waste any time and immediately heads for our makeshift prison, whose population is growing at an alarming rate. I’m sure Kierra can protect Talia from whatever a pampered daughter and a less-than-mediocre hunter, no matter how mad, can throw at her. Nevertheless, I follow them. Rather than worry, I’m driven by curiosity.

It’s a bit insensitive, as apparently I’m the cause of their distress, but madness is rare. Real madness that is. People will call a noble who abuses his power mad, as if they can’t attribute cruelty to something as common as selfishness. But someone whose reality is so distorted that those of us with good sense can’t make heads or tails of it? They don’t tend to survive long. Either their lack of good sense gets them in a bad situation or their own families deal with the ‘liability’.

There are also so few of them in the first place. Commoners don’t have the luxury of going insane. Nobles? If they’re powerful enough, they either have the resources to give the troubled mind the care it needs or the odd behavior is taken as ‘eccentric’ rather than lunacy. Finding a free lunatic is so improbable, it wouldn’t be wrong to call it miraculous, if one was inclined to be blasphemous.

I’m understandably curious so I tag along. At a distance, of course. Aside from it being plain mean to appear before the girls when I’ve been warned I could hurt them with my mere presence, I wouldn't want to interfere with Talia’s efforts. I wait at the end of the hall as they knock on the door of the room the sisters’ share. That’s where their courtesy ends. Kierra pushes into the room without waiting for an answer, which results in chaos.

I get my first look, so to speak, of true insanity and it’s a marvel. There is no trace of the sharp-tongued woman that cursed me as I invaded her home. She’s been replaced by a wailing beast. The noise that echoes through the hall is a mix between a scream and a screech but there is an odd melodic quality to it. Like a singer whose voice has been completely destroyed, screaming her anger at the heavens until she’s cursed with fur and fangs to match the beastly sound.

“Calm down, little one,” I hear Kierra say. I’m guessing the madwoman attacked her. If there was violence, it ended quickly but the lady lunatic isn’t done. She continues to screech despite being helpless in Kierra’s arms, her heart pounding with the ferocity of a rushing river. I can hear her quick, shallow breaths and the way she whimpers between screeches. They turn into hisses as Kierra whispers soothing noises to her, no different than the tone someone might use to coax an aggressive stray.

“Please do not interfere,” Talia says, presumably to the other sister. “We are here to help.”

“...please. My sister has suffered enough. Can’t you leave us be? We’ve been good prisoners.”

Kierra chuckles. “That is not much of an accomplishment, when you did not have a choice.”

“You may not want us here, but Villarey does not have the luxury to refuse anyone willing to over aid. Look at her. Is she well?”

“...no,” the other sister admits reluctantly.

“And we are the only ones willing to help.”

“Are you? Or is this another ploy? Have we not been mocked enough?”

“There are no ploys.” Knowing her, I know Talia’s indifferent tone doesn’t have an underlying meaning, but to a stranger, it can easily be interpreted as cold. “You were put in a box and forgotten. There was no agenda and it wasn’t meant as a punishment. You are simply so weak that your own thoughts were enough to break you.”

Oof.

My flower, quiet as she may be, has never struck me as gentle. Something the poor sisters are learning firsthand.

“I won’t force you. I don’t have to. Do you know of a proficient mental caster that has any interest in healing minds? Does your father? No one else will help you and you cannot continue to care for your sister. Can you imagine doing so beyond these walls, without us to cage her? What would you do if we were to release the two of you right now?”

“Y-you can’t!” Leena says hastily and sympathy flickers to life in my chest. Saints, how bad off is the older sister if being someone’s prisoner is the best option? “I mean…”

“I know what you mean. You are at our mercy, completely. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t need to deceive you. If there’s nothing you can do, why not trust me?”

“To spare myself the pain of betrayal?”

“Life spares no one,” Kierra says with a joviality that doesn’t match the grim proclamation. One that resonates with me so deeply, suddenly, listening in on their conversation is unsettling. I push off the wall I’m leaning against, moving deeper into the house while actively ignoring the rest that I can still hear.

Life spares no one. The good, the bad, and the unspeakable. The saints blessed and the saints damned. No one escapes trials. No one escapes grief. No one escapes unreasonable and random misfortune.

Something my newest guest should understand well. From what I understand, she’s the closest Graywatch gets to nobility, the daughter of a powerful and well-respected family. She should be living a grand life. Instead, there’s some deep-sea monstrosity that is trying to eat her from the inside. It’s the kind of monumentally crazy chance that no one ever sees coming and can’t be planned for.

I wonder, am I also an unavoidable misfortune? Will I unknowingly break this pirate too?

The thought is enough to make me hesitate before I knock on her cell masquerading as a room…but only for a moment. Life spares no one after all.

“Yeah!” she shouts, sounding far more relaxed than the sisters. A good sign. I open the door and freeze with my hand on the knob.

In the middle of the room, the very awake pirate is standing with her hands cautiously hovering over what looks like saints damned pincers on her shoulders, her neck twisted as much as humanly possible as she tries to catch a glimpse of her back. She smiles as she sees me, the expression a little too wide.

“Ah, good! Yer room’s are scum, lady boss. What’s a woman ‘ave to do fer a mirror, yeah?”

“...what are you doing?”

“Hah? What’s it look like ah’m doing?”

“Trying to admire yourself? Or break your own neck.”

“You an idiot or something?”

“Are you? It’s not smart to insult the one with control over your fate.”

“Yeah? The real bastards of the sea don’t give a flying shit ‘bout how nice ya are. They’ll gut ya either way so why bother kissing their nasty asses?”

“You think I'm the same as the thieving and murdering trash of the coast?”

“Hey, my whole family is made up of thieving murderers. Ain’t no good or bad people, lady boss. Just the ship they sail. Ya sail a strong ship, manned by a strong crew.”

“And?”

“Strong is strong. Captains are all the same.”

As much as I hate being compared to the human slop that leads the pirates of Graywatch…she has a point. Nobles are nobles. They may smile when you flatter them but it won’t stop them from raising taxes.

“You’re still an idiot. And what are you doing?”

“Seeing if the whale maggots in my guts did anything else to me when they got excited.” For the first time, her carefree expression flickers. I think I see worry before it's covered by a scowl. “Ma’s magic put ‘em to sleep but ya woke ‘em up somehow.” She eyeballs me with clear suspicion.

“So? What are ya? Cause yer not a human.”