The Weight of Legacy

There was nothing inherently dangerous about the area where battered rock met sea. Reassuring as that should have been, it was irritating in a certain sense—it left Kristoffer with no excuse to avoid it beyond his own dislike for the place.

He had hoped—perhaps too often—that a member of the staff would one day run into the manor, warning them of some newfound terror lurking among the mangroves.

That day never came.

It was, truly, a silliness of his. Even approaching the sandy path had shivers running up his spine, an incomprehensible feeling almost freezing him still. He got the distinct impression that something dreadful had happened here, nonsensical as that was.

Kristoffer shuddered. Each step took more effort than the last, as if the mere act of walking there grew more arduous the closer he got to his destination. The most irritating part of it was that he rationally understood there was no defined reason for it.

It was a sourceless feeling, completely unfounded in reality.

The short walk off the path to where Bernadette had told him the hut would be felt like it took hours.

With a sigh, Kristoffer shook his head, rubbing his hands against one another—thick gloves might have helped him bear the cold, but they did nothing against the reasonless chill that clung to him.

“Greetings,” he spoke in no particular direction, slowly approaching the hut. It was small enough that he wondered just how enough furniture to accommodate even a single person could fit in there.

Then again, Kristoffer knew he’d grown up somewhat spoiled. The manor was too large for even a family of their size to fully utilize, after all.

He heard a vocalization from somewhere nearby, perhaps a hmm. A figure taller than himself stepped out from the mangal, far too overdressed. “Greetings.”

Bernie— Bernadette just loves to hire the weirdest people, doesn’t she?

He tried to ignore how he’d slipped and called his stepmother by the nickname his niece had given her. It was amusing, but he thought he might die of embarrassment if he ever mistakenly repeated that aloud, as even imagining it was bad enough to rival how humiliated he’d felt when he’d gotten caught trying to worship some seafarer deity during his childhood.

It had been a phase.

“I hope I’m not imposing on you, but I wanted to ask something.”

“I’m unbothered. What did you want to ask?”

Straight to the point, I see. “To my understanding, my stepmother asked you to canvass the area?”

“Yes. Oh, is that why you are here? I was wondering when someone would come ask for a report, seeing as the lady of the house appeared preoccupied.”

“Well, yes,” Kristoffer blinked—he might as well pretend he had not just come here to ask a relatively stupid question. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Did anything turn up?”

The man looked to the sides as if uncomfortable. Kristoffer figured it made sense—the kind of people willing to take up this sort of job weren’t usually social butterflies. “With regards to Beryl Rīsanin? No, nothing turned up. I assume you know the odds of there being anything around these parts were low, correct?”

Kristoffer nodded.

Again, the man seemed to hesitate. “For no particular reason, are you squeamish about bones?”

“Pardon?”

“Allow me to rephrase this: are you or are you not prone to queasiness at the sight of bones?”

In any Devil’s name, what kind of question is that? Granted, he could think of reasons for why the man would ask—perhaps some dead animal had popped up. That might require reporting, yet be unrelated to Beryl.

“No,” Kristoffer replied after a moment. The more he thought of it, it wasn’t the question itself that had stunned him so much as how wildly unrelated it felt to the conversation he’d just been trying to have. “I do not cook often, but I have wandered through the kitchens enough to have seen bones in spades.”

“…Such experience does not necessarily transfer well, but I suppose it is close enough,” the man seemed to relax ever so slightly. He turned around. “I must show you this, then. Understand, a search like this is usually performed to find belongings, or—at worst—an obit. As such—”

Kristoffer simply nodded along as they walked—he had no idea how these things worked, so even if the man were to be talking out of his ass, he’d be none the wiser. He’d mostly been meaning to get the man’s opinion on whether there was anything out here that could even remotely justify Kristoffer’s dislike of the place, but it seemed he was now stuck listening to whatever the man wished to report.

“—imagine my surprise when I find three full humanoid skeletons.”

Kristoffer stumbled. He tried his best to stare off into the distance, anything to avoid staring wide-eyed at the man, but he stopped himself—catching sight of the sea above would be naught but an ill omen, leaving him with no choice but to keep looking forward.

One of his shoes caught in a long root, though the nearest mangrove was thankfully sturdy enough to support his weight as he gripped a branch to regain his balance.

The man had stopped his stride as well, looking back at Kristoffer with a neutral expression. He made no move to assist the teenager.

Kristoffer huffed as he got back to walking. Rude. Still, he was too out of sorts to call the man out. Besides, he knew he had bigger concerns to address—like how this man claimed to have found human bones when humans did not leave bones behind upon death.

“So, say. Three skeletons,” Kristoffer repeated. “How can that… how can that be? Humans disappear when we die, leave only our obits behind.”

“That y— we do,” the man agreed. “You’ll notice, however, I just told you these were humanoid bones, no?”

Spinning on his heels further ahead, the man walked down to a deeper section of the mangal, the water almost up to his knees.

Kristoffer didn’t get any closer, instead lingering a few steps behind. He chose the firmest root he could find to step up and get a closer look without having to touch the waters—it might have been harmless, inert water, but this close to the sea, he simply wasn’t comfortable letting it anywhere near his skin.

The man reached down, pointing to some type of rock in the water. With a touch, he lifted it, as if it clung to him. Two dark pits greeted Kristoffer, followed by another one further down—almost in the shape of an arrowhead. The white noise of dread that always lurked inside him whenever he so much as approached the mangal intensified just before he caught sight of the teeth, and he took a step back involuntarily, almost tripping.

“You know what, I take that back,” Kristoffer said quickly—he’d half a mind to simply run back to the path. “You, whatever your name is, sorry for saying that earlier. I was wrong—I definitely do not want to see that. I believe I shall be heading back out.”

“Oh,” the man’s expression fell—it had been a bit too bright to begin with, as if he were glad to have found something, even if it had been this. “I am the one who should apologize then. But would I be wrong to presume you’d at least be willing to confirm that these were found here? It’s easier to explain when there’s a witness, in case there are questions. Humanoid remains are rare enough as to seem improbable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kristoffer had increased the distance between himself and the apparent skeleton. Between himself and the man, even. He was a bit too nonchalant about the entire thing for Kristoffer’s liking, even if this was presumably his job. “I saw that just fine.”

“There are three of them,” the man looked down. “Shall I show—”

“No, no, no—I absolutely take your word for it, I trust you absolutely at this. If you say there are three skeletons in there, there are three skeletons in there.”

The man appeared unsatisfied still, but he nodded. He crouched, dipping his hands into the waters with abandon, and pulled. Had the top of that skull not been above the water, Kristoffer might not have noticed how it disappeared.

He glared at the man, who kept dipping his hands into the water. “Why do you need a witness if you’re just going to take them?”

“I shall bury them,” the man spoke softly. “With the matter of proving they were there solved, there’s no reason to just leave them there—who knows for how long they’ve been here.”

Gritting his teeth, Kristoffer kept his eyes on a random mangrove while the man worked. That hadn't really felt like an answer. Overall, Kristoffer lacked the knowledge, the expertise, or both, to understand exactly what this was about. For all Kristoffer did not wish to be here any longer, however, he realized he wasn’t sure he could pull off fleeing without tripping on a root, but he found the forester's swift change in mood a bit bizarre.

Briefly, he wondered if this could be it—the reason why he felt this way, had always felt this way towards the mangal.

People did not leave bones behind when they died. That was a fact. Anatomical models were one thing, of the sort they’d learn about during their studies to better understand their own bodies, but on the matter of actual skeletons? That wasn’t something that should exist outside of fiction.

Animals were left behind to rot, to have their bones picked clean by the cycle of life—but the system spared humans from that fate. They became obits, and were either brought back or would fade away in time.

Anything else would be undignified, disgraceful.

“How?”

It took Kristoffer a moment to realize he’d even asked.

The man who’d combed through the mangal did not look up. “Something I thought was superstition. It was literally on the job listing, you know. And I dismissed it. Back in—”

Kristoffer had no idea what he was talking about.

“Oh. Where are my manners? Call me Veit. You did ask earlier,” the man himself stood too quickly and walked back, reaching out to shake Kristoffer’s hand. The leather manchettes he wore looked worn enough that they might crumble to dust from the movement. “Back when I found the summons sent out by the lady of the house, I assumed it to be… village tales, at most. I see now, how wrong I was. My condolences.” A beat. “Or congratulations.”

Kristoffer might have found himself annoyed, had Veit not looked as uncertain as to how to proceed as he was—almost as if Veit had no idea whether the family would be pleased or distraught to learn of this fact.

“What do you mean?”

Veit shrugged. “I know not where you stand on the presence of fell beings—but that’s what those had to be. How or why they died is beyond me. At best, I would guess they've been here for at least a decade. But these being fell things would be the only explanation for this. Your country’s one of the few that offers a bounty for the death of their kind under certain circumstances if they were a threat to human life. Some lords would be glad to hear of them being so close to their land.”

“Should we be glad?”

“That is not something I could give you an objective answer for,” Veit hesitated. “Only an opinion.”

“Which would be?”

“If they indeed inhabit the area, and the bones are not remnants from decades past, you either have to live with the knowledge that beings who could bend your mind to their will are this close to you, or choose to preemptively end them if you can. It is widely believed that while their kind are naturally talented with the types of mental and social Skills that would help them pretend otherwise, they are not actually capable of thinking and feeling in the same way people do. That it’s naught but imitation. But I am not comfortable with the idea of simply snuffing out the life of something that nonetheless acts like it can think and feel. Not without an incredibly good reason.”

Kristoffer mulled it over. In truth, this really wasn’t his problem—he was not yet twenty, still young and spared from the responsibilities of adulthood. This sounded like it would be his father’s problem, or perhaps even Bernadette’s. “You intend to tell the lady of the house?”

“Indeed, as I assume you will not be the one delivering the news to her given your discomfort?”

Nodding, Kristoffer let out a sigh. “Do you think these… things are actually around?”

Kristoffer himself was not well versed on the matter of humanoid creatures—it was one of the subjects his governess would refuse to speak of, on his father’s orders.

The idea of such beings having ever been this close to the manor did not surprise Kristoffer so much as the suggestion that they might still be around. The Champion Saint had wiped them out, or so it was claimed, so what used was bringing such fear into the children’s lives?

“I don’t believe it likely,” Veit said after a long moment. “I have all but lived in this mangal since my arrival here—I would like to think I could tell if they were around.”

The title of two-digit forester was not particularly impressive to Kristoffer, but as always, he guessed it might have something to do with the specifics of the job. Strange as he was, the man did not appear delusional, so if he could say that with that much confidence, Kristoffer would believe it.

He liked to trust as his first reaction, and only doubt if given reason to.

“What are they like? Can they be identified?”

“Fell beings,” Veit took on a contemplative look. “I fear my experience with them is limited. I do not make a habit of crossing paths with creatures that could theoretically best me. But given your location, I would guess these to have been of a seablooded variant. You would know if they bled water when cut.”

Veit raised a hand, as if he’d been about to do something, then thought better of it. “A moment.”

The forester vanished as he slid behind a mangrove that was in no way large enough to fully hide him. Kristoffer heard a crack, close and distant all at once. Veit reemerged a moment later, looking pensive. “They were seablooded, yes.”

“Meaning?” Kristoffer would not deny his curiosity, but something told him he probably did not want to know the details of however the man had verified that theory. If it was related to this place, then perhaps he might learn of any clues to justify how he'd always felt about it.

“Magical beings differentiate with far more ease than people do. People can come from different places, they may have considerably different appearances, but at their core, they are all human,” Veit said. “What you know of as the seablooded are descendants of fell beings who, long ago, reproduced with sybils of the sea.”

Kristoffer decided to not interject, that no, he did not know of these descendants of sybils as seablooded, because he had never heard of them—or of sybils, for that matter—before.

It clearly still showed in his face, however, as Veit continued. “Sybils are… Something unseen. I know some of them are kept within seafarer temples, but I only ever saw one once. They are people hollowed out by the sea, no longer truly alive. Supposedly, they can see through time thanks to the waves, but their minds are gone. I personally find them dreadful, both to look at and to imagine what such a fate might be like for the person in question. At some point, fell beings had children with sybils—with all the implications that carries—and from them, come the variant typically found in Grēdôcava. The seablooded, for they spill its waters when they bleed. I would argue sybils could also be called that, given what the sea does to them, but that’s neither here nor there.”

That sounds like a great lecture for someone who cares. Kristoffer knew he had asked, sure—but he’d gotten bored quite quickly after the explanation passed its second sentence. For all Veit appeared quite dedicated to the impromptu lecture, nothing he had said so far answered what Kristoffer truly wanted to know. Before he could think better of it, he forced himself to ask outright. “If there were ever seablooded around, is that why this forest feels so weird?”

Veit shrugged again. “It is eerie, certainly. But to the best of my knowledge, there are no lingering energies around.”

Kristoffer nodded. There went the possible explanation. Kristoffer wasn't superstitious enough to think the mere presence of bones could have been behind it, disturbing as it was. It would have had to be something preternatural, for nothing else would make sense. He’d half a mind to dismiss it once again as his own foolishness—yet the moment he stepped back into the path, a weight lifted off him. The forester did not appear to notice anything, simply continuing his walk.

“I will speak with the lady of the house,” Veit said. “Do you need me to escort you to wherever you’re going as well?”

I am not a kid, Kristoffer was almost offended by the question, shaking his head. When had he started shivering, anyway? “I’m headed off to town, to Beuzaheim. I need to ensure my sister and her tag-along have not started any riots.”

At that, Veit let out a laugh. “You know, there was a woman, at your sister’s birthday. Luitgarde is her name, I believe. Luitgarde Maryem. You would think that man a wave-touched fiend with how she’s acted ever since.”

It took Kristoffer a second to put two and two together. “Who, Abelard? My sister has a thing for the man, that’s why he’s stuck around. I had all but forgotten he came here on official business.”

“The official business of looking into your oldest sister’s whereabouts,” Veit added neutrally. “I have not crossed paths with either of them in their lonesome again, so it might perhaps be wise for you to warn them about her. She seems to think the man is some sort of spy hired by her brother-in-law, and expressed a desire to tail him.”

Again, Kristoffer failed to see how that was his problem, but he nodded, if only to get the man to drop the matter. “I see. I’ll let Thekla know.”

After a moment, they walked their separate ways. As he’d all but talked himself into this corner, Kristoffer found he probably would indeed go meet his sister in Beuzaheim. Returning to the manor would be quite awkward if he encountered the forester there after claiming he wasn’t headed that way himself.

As the last echoes of irrational fear left him, Kristoffer gave the now-distant mangal one last glance and went right back to pretending all unease simply stemmed from his own needless paranoia.

The forester probably had the right idea.

It was probably nothing.