Vigor Mortis

Well, I’ve been surrounded by Templars for a solid half hour and I’m not dead yet, so I’m now willing to bet they can’t passively see I’m an animancer somehow. Penta also hasn’t died, so all things considered I think this is a successful outing so far.

The two of us and Penelope are resting in the wagon, which to my surprise is actually pulled by a pair of Templars rather than beasts of burden. Our crew has a full squad of Templars with us: eight identical-looking soldiers plus a captain with a slightly fancier helmet. First Lady High Templar Gladra Karthala or whatever the heck her full set of titles is supposed to be is also with us, walking outside next to the wagon.

“So, how do you know that weird lady, Penelope?” I ask.

The young woman shifts in her seat, arching an eyebrow at me.

“Did you just call Gladra the Annihilator a ‘weird lady?’” Penelope asks.

“Fuck a duck, how many titles does she even have?” I ask, exasperated. “Who is she and why is her name so long?”

Penelope blinks at me very slowly, as if I’m some sort of freakish monster. Which, okay, I suppose I am, but…

“How have you never heard the name ‘Gladra the Annihilator?’”

“Quite easily, seeing as I have put no effort into the matter and still managed to turn up ignorant,” I answer dryly. “Come on, can you just tell me?”

Penelope shakes her head, but sits up straight to answer.

“Well… she’s the single most powerful learned mage in the country, and possibly the island,” she answers simply. “She’s a hero.”

“She’s a psychopath,” I counter.

Penelope grimaces.

“Well… she can be both. I was surprised about how casually she was willing to destroy Litia Village. She might have a personal reason for overseeing the mission herself… or maybe I’m reading too much into it. It wouldn’t be good to spread rumors about a First Lady, in any case.”

“What does that mean, anyway? What’s this First Lady Third Lady junk?”

“Have you really lived in Skyhope your whole life?”

“Skyhope’s a big place,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “My part wasn’t like yours.”

She sighs.

“Fine, fine. So, Valka politics basically revolve around—”

“Wait,” I say, cutting her off. “What’s a Valka?”

She blinks at me.

“That would be the name of our country, Vita,” she says slowly.

“Oh.”

“Our island is called Verdantop. That’s Ver. Dan. Top.”

“I-I knew that one!” I insist.

“Thank the Watcher. Okay, so… Valka politics. Skyhope is our capital, and in the center of the capital is the royal palace. There, the King and his family live.”

“Why not the Queen?” I ask.

“What?”

“Why isn’t it ‘the Queen and her family?’”

“Well, sometimes it is,” Penelope clarifies, exasperated. “But this generation, a man was the royal successor. So our country has a king, and the King has a wife, and she is a queen but she is not the Queen. If the King names a woman as the successor to his throne, she will eventually be the Queen, and her husband will be a king, but not the King. Does that make sense?”

“No, that’s really confusing.”

Penelope groans.

“Look, none of that actually matters. The important thing is that we have a king, and the King has the power to nominate people to be councilmen and councilwomen. When he does so, they become nobles, as does their entire family for the next two generations. In return for her services in war many years ago, the current king made Gladra a noble, granting her the name Karthala. Thus, she is a First Lady, or informally, a True Lady since she was personally nominated. If she had a husband, he would also be a First Lord, and their children would be Second Lords, Ladies, or Nobles, and so on.”

My head spins. This is way too much at once.

“Uh, okay?”

“It’s rare for a Templar to also be a noble, but hardly unheard of. There’s usually a few on every council. The current King greatly values strength at arms and military prowess, so there are more than usual as of late.”

She seemed kind of sour about that. Well, hey, I’m not going to complain about her having a thing against Templars. At least she seems done explaining. The trip has been boring so far; nothing in the forest seems to want to attack a caravan with this many people. I need something to do.

A combination of exhaustion and Penelope's political speech decides that for me pretty quickly. I make myself as comfy as I can in the bumpy wagon and quickly begin to fade into unconsciousness. I don't sleep well; more or less any time a Templar moves too fast I'm jolted awake. Even the basic soldiers are pretty strong, and my groggy brain interprets them as threats... which to be fair, they are, even if that threat isn't immediate. At one point during my nap, Gladra leans against the outside of the wagon and her soul brushes me through the wood.

When she asks, I attribute the scream to nightmares.

Still, as the day drags on, I probably get close to five or six total hours of rest. Probably not awful for my first wagon-nap in enemy territory.

Eventually I exit the cart, feeling the need to stretch my legs and take a piss. The Templars all politely look away as I squat on the side of the road, not needing to worry about slowing everyone down. The wagon is just moving at a walking pace as the two Templars pull it. They presumably swap out every hour or so, but since they all look the same I don't actually know if that's true.

I'm soon back with the group, deliberately walking on the opposite side of the wagon to Lady Annihilator over there. She still freaks me out. To my dismay, however, she quickly heads around the cart, matching pace with me. Her soul brushes my arm and I subtly move away.

"Um, how can I help you, High Templar?" I ask hesitantly.

"Did you sleep well?" she inquires, mirth in her tone.

"I... slept, Lady Karthala. Thank you for letting us rest in the wagon."

"Oh, it's no trouble. We've got to keep the weight up for these slackers pulling it or it's not proper training, you know?"

"Ah... so they're pulling the wagon to train?"

"Well, they're also much easier to tame than horses," she whispers conspiratorially, leaning in.

I lean away from her. Is she doing this on purpose? What should I say to her?

"Are you messing with me?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

She laughs, but doesn't answer. Ugh, now what? If I say nothing she's going to go back to poking at me.

"...How do you know Penelope?" I ask.

"Hmm? Oh. I don't, really. But I know her grandfather, Lord Vesuvius, quite well. We fought in the war together, forty years ago. That bastard became a noble before me, and I've never forgiven him!"

She laughs again.

"Other than that, I suppose I've seen her here and there at social gatherings. It wasn't terribly difficult to recognize her."

"Huh," I murmur. "How did you become so strong, anyway?"

She snorts.

"Oh, everyone asks that. 'Oh Lady Annihilator, please give me your quick five-step guide to being an invincible goddess of battle!' What do people expect me to tell them? 'Ah, well, I ate my veggies and practiced very hard every day!' I pioneered thermomantic theory in our generation, damnit, I'm stronger than you because I'm smarter than you."

"Oh, okay. So you're a thermomancer?"

Her helmet tilts towards me, as if she was giving me a serious look.

"You... have actually never heard of me, have you?" she asks.

I shrug.

"Grew up in the slums. I don't really know anybody. I lucked out and got a cool scout talent like... a few months and change ago? Until then I was nothing and nobody."

"Mmm," she hums. "Isn't that how it always is. People always hold me as some great hero for being as strong as I am even though I'm 'talentless.' As if Mistwatcher-granted Talents are the only kind of talent! Some people are simply set apart. That is how the world is."

I frown.

"Isn’t it weird for a Templar to decry the Mistwatcher like that?"

She laughs.

"Don't go to church either, do you? Well, I don't know if that counts as decrying. Why do you think we worship the Mistwatcher, exactly?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," I say honestly.

"Mmm," she murmurs. "Have you seen it before?"

Only Penta's intervention stops me from shivering at the memory. I send her a mental thank-you.

"...How could I have seen it before?" I ask.

"Mmm, slums, right. Well, we'll get the chance to correct that on this trip. Our route will take us by the edge for quite a ways."

My eyebrows raise.

"Wait, really? Isn't the edge really far away?"

"Mmm, pretty far, I suppose, yes. Do you not know where Litia Village is either?"

She chuckles and moves to pat me on the back, sending intense pain searing through my body as her soul passes over me.

I put on a fake grin and ignore the pain as best I can. I just want to scream. Her soul is power incarnate. I'm legitimately afraid that if I stand next to her for too long, I could die.

Her hand moves away. I nod at her and politely excuse myself, crawling back into the wagon. Only then do I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Did you have a nice chat?" Penelope asks blandly.

"It, ah... went okay," I manage to gasp.

"Mmm. Rather than gossip about me, you should probably spend this trip doing something productive."

Oh, had she heard all that?

"I was just curious," I protest. "We didn't gossip about you."

"Of course. Either way, it might do you good not to waste the time. You should practice your cancel commands."

"Uh, aren't I not supposed to be learning magic?" I whisper quietly.

"As long as you don't channel any mana, you're not breaking any laws. You could also just work out, I suppose, since you mentioned wanting physical skills as well. I'm sure the Templars would be happy to give you tips."

"I think I'll take them up on those tips, then," I answer. "I feel like I'm pretty awful with this spear, still."

"Suit yourself," Penelope grunts.

I retrieve my weapon and hop back out of the wagon, heading once again to the opposite side of the cart from Gladra. A few Templars glance my way, but as I start doing walking spear drills they nod in acknowledgement and lose interest. I'm a bit too intimidated to go over and ask them for pointers, so I just keep practicing the routine Lyn taught me, hoping one of them will eventually say something if I'm being dumb.

After a while, I manage to settle into a rhythm. The cart isn't moving very fast, so it's simple enough to keep pace while drilling. There's nothing I need to worry about other than me, my shitty spear, and my always-on soul sense. Beasts of the forest leave us alone however, and Gladra doesn't move to bother me. I can't say I like the training, but I'm used to it now. It's no longer the excruciating chore it was when I first started, back when my body screamed in protest just from running a few blocks. I've gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time.

Eventually, I don't know how much later, the squad captain approaches me.

"It might be time for a new drill, miss." he suggests politely. His voice sounds vaguely familiar.

"Huh?" I ask.

"You've been doing the same drill for a couple hours now. It might be good to give those muscles a rest, move to a new drill."

"Oh," I say. "Yeah, I guess so. I sort of lost track of time, there. Do you have a drill you recommend?"

It’s impossible to see his reaction from under the helmet, but he seems pleased.

"Well, I'm more of a sword fighter myself, miss, but if I may..."

I hand him my spear, watching him move with it while asking questions. If I'm placing the voice right, this is actually the guy that hired Rowan. Odd, that. I guess he got promoted. I've no idea if he remembers me, though. My cheeks aren't quite as hollow as they used to be, but surely I don't look that different?

I want to ask him why I'm running into him again out of the blue. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, thrice is a pattern. Yet on the off chance he doesn't recognize me, I don't want to bring attention to the fact that two months ago I weighed about half as much and now I'm a hunter who apparently goes on missions with a Grand Templar. Sure, I'm still the weakest person here, but I've been improving fast. I don't want Templars asking how I've been improving so fast.

Thankfully, he doesn't. He's a very polite and personable guy, all things considered. His soul almost feels like that bath Penta took me to: warm, wide, calm, and pleasant to submerge myself in. He's just under Penelope's size, making him the third strongest person here. No points for guessing who's first.

Honestly, I have to take a moment to reassess how friggin' powerful Penelope actually is. Even after all the literal and figurative beasts I've been meeting lately, she ranks high. I should probably mention that and stroke her ego sometime.

"She'd probably like that," Penta murmurs.

"Hmm? You say something?" the squad leader wonders, his helmet tilting towards me as he corrects my stance.

"Just thinking out loud," I tell him. Penta squirms indignantly in my neck. Gah, what the fuck? Why has she been speaking up so often? It’s going to get us killed!

“Bored out of my mind,” she grumbles quietly.

That’s no excuse to play fast and loose with Templars! I thought you were all about trying to survive!

She doesn’t respond. I sigh.

You wanna take control for a bit? I ask her.

Immediately, my body stops responding to me. I guess I'll take that as a yes. Penta stretches, slowly moving and popping every joint in my body as she takes a deep breath.

"I think I'm done spear training for now," she tells the Templar squad leader.

"Oh," he says, surprised at the sudden declaration. "Well, that's no worry. I hope I've been of assistance."

"Very much so," Penta answers, smiling warmly. "Your expertise has been most valuable. I don't believe I've caught your name, by the way?"

"Ah! My apologies, how rude of me. I am Templar Dasil. I'm glad I could be of assistance, Hunter Vita."

He nods politely, which Penta returns. Geez, she's so proper!

She hops back into the wagon, immediately lying on her back and stretching again, enjoying the feeling.

"Have a productive session?" Penelope asks blandly. She has a book open in one hand, which she reads languidly.

"Yes, it was quite informative," Penta responds demurely.

Penelope narrows her eyes, stiffening up immediately.

"Ah. Well. Good for you, then."

"There's no need to be so cold!" Penta says, smiling. "We're teammates, aren't we?"

"Don't," Penelope warns. "I can tell."

Penta's smile falters a little.

"I was... just hoping to ask you if you've made any progress on—"

Penelope snaps her book shut.

"How about you take a walk to cool down after all that training, hmm?"

Penta swallows, sitting back up.

"Okay. Sorry."

"Yes, so you've said."

Penta scoots back out of the wagon, fleeing from Penelope's death glare. At least I hadn't felt her activating her talent. Talent-activation sensing is going to be a useful ability in fights, I suspect, so I've been trying to pay extra attention to it. There aren't many places to walk, since we have to stick by the wagon to stay safe. I feel Gladra start to slowly approach us, circling around the other side, and Penta makes the sensible decision to circle around opposite to her, keeping the wagon between the two of us. Gladra seems to notice, and the two of them slowly start to pick up the pace, participating in an intricate, pseudo-passive-aggressive speedwalking game.

Unfortunately, Gladra is mostly just regular aggressive.

"You're not avoiding me, are you Vita?" she calls bluntly.

Penta sighs, making her way around the cart towards Gladra.

"No, High Templar," she says glumly. "I'm just trying to stretch my legs a little more."

"Ah, yes. Bad breakup?"

She pats my body on the shoulder, sending burning pain through us. Penta steps away, her smile strained.

"That's... not exactly how I would describe it, no."

"Ah. Shame. There are too many straight nobles."

"Then perhaps you should woo some of them," Penta answers testily.

Gladra barks out a laugh.

"Hah! Unfortunately, I'm straight too. Also well over sixty years old. Also too busy to give a shit."

The heavily-armored master mage flicks the front of her helmet's visor, the scale-made plate making a light "tink" noise as she does so.

"No, I'm prettier with the helmet on, little lady. Romance is for the young."

“Then why, pray tell, do you care?”

“Because the gay nobles are more likely to do fun things like legally adopt their friends in order to put them on the government payroll! It’s a hoot. Marry a man and woman, though, and they usually just create mewling babies. Anyway, you two are young. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make up.”

"Well, your advice is both unwanted and completely off the mark, but your position on the matter is noted," Penta remarks.

So much for not playing fast and loose with Templars, I guess. Gladra doesn’t seem to mind the backtalk, at least. Since I have nothing better to do, I use this chance to examine Gladra's soul more closely. Were it not so terrifying, it would be truly beautiful. There's a subtle artistry to it, despite the raging tempest inferno that it reminded me most of. Complex patterns dance in the whirling flames, mesmerizing me as they roll about in the massive soul's storms.

I want it. I want that soul. If only I were stronger. As-is, though, I know my place.

Dejected, I look inward again. I'm vaguely aware of the conversation continuing, with Penta continuing to flatly sass one of the most powerful humans in the country. Whatever. She can handle the body for a bit. I want to figure out what the heck is going on with my soul.

Well... I guess it would be more accurate to say I want to figure out what's going on with me. I am my soul, after all. My inky black shell is cracked even more than when I last felt it, despite my decision to not unleash whatever's inside. My soul sense does not generally care for depth; it senses a soul in its entirety. Yet sensing through the black covering around myself seems beyond me, and I can only glimpse within the cracks. Something squirms. It's ready.

I've been ready. I must hatch! It's time! I grow too large for this pathetic prison! This façade only serves to keep me weak! I do not need this pitiful pretense of human nature! I! Must! H—

Penta sticks my body's arm out towards Gladra, patting her on the pauldron. The searing heat of that woman's soul washes over me, the indescribable pain snapping me back to my senses.

But senses or no, I feel my soul stirring. I am stirring. I rest no longer.

"I need to take a shit," Penta says quickly, running off towards the forest.

"Have fun!" Gladra calls after us. "But not too much fun! That would be concerning!"

The shell hurts. It constrains. I want to move. I want to be free...!

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Penta hisses. "Why would you mess with this when we're standing next to Gladra the fucking Annihilator!? Do not do this, Vita! Vita!"

Shit. Shit, she's right! But I'm already awake...!

My shell, part of my soul, starts to crack in huge chunks. It hurts....! Agh, it hurts so fucking much!

"Vita, what— agh, fuck! What is happening? Why are you doing this?"

It's just happening! I'm not doing this!

"Yes you are!"

I am? Oh. I am. Well, that makes sense, I guess. It’s getting awfully cramped in here.

“Vita! Vita, please, I’m scared!” Penta begs. “Please, stop it! At least not here! We can find a better spot…!”

Wait, fuck! Again, she’s right! What am I doing!? Agh, but if the pain of being touched by Gladra's soul is like being burned, this is the pain of being crushed. The shell is so small! My soul is too small! No. I have to hide. I have to. Don’t break. Stay inside. Stay…!

Penta and I scream together, the all-consuming pain filling us for a moment before I rein myself in. I just have to stop squirming. I just have to… go back… to...

Sleep...