Reborn From the Cosmos

Everyone moves at once, congregating around the fallen seer. Unfortunately, without communicating.

I can imagine what it must look like from the knight's perspective. I don't know what kind of warnings Butterfly gave him, but my rampage is enough reason for the man to be on guard. He's supposed to protect her, a valuable, no. An irreplaceable asset. Seeing her collapse, I'd be surprised if any thoughts go through his mind before he's moving, drawing his sword. Maybe he intends to use it. Maybe he doesn't. It doesn't matter.

Alana sees a drawn sword, she draws hers. Simple as that. Whether she plans to use it or not doesn't matter. She makes herself a threat. The soldier in fancy armor is trained to put down threats.

He swings at her. She catches the blow, proving she can match the strength of a royal knight. She doesn't get the chance to prove more than that because I'm there. My fist slams into his chestplate, the metal bending inward as he's thrown backward.

Incredibly, he stays on his feet, the heels of his boots digging deep furrows in the dirt. His sword remains in his hand and he raises it, ready to strike. But this time, he thinks before moving.

Which is very good, because I don't think I could control myself if he attacks her again. The only thing that saved him before was my concern for the prone woman still bleeding from her nose.

"We didn't hurt her," I snap. "And you don't want to stop the best healer in the kingdom for tending to her, so relax."

Kierra ignored his attack, her focus centered on Butterfly. Her faintly glowing fingers touch her neck as she closes her eyes. I bristle as the knight turns toward her, but he remains still. He also doesn't lower his weapon, so the tension remains.

"She will live," the elf pronounces and a modicum of the tension bleeds away. "I have no idea what caused her injury, but I have healed the damage."

"Why isn't she waking up?" I ask without taking my eyes off the knight.

In response, the elf slaps her. Her guardian doesn't like that, his grip tightening on his sword. After the third slap, I'm about to tell Kierra to stop when the prone woman lets out a pained groan. She starts mumbling nonsense but one more slap seems to set her brain right, the woman sputtering before coherent words come out of her mouth.

"Bwa—wha? Emp—er, ah. Oh. I'm…" Her head slowly takes in her surroundings, brows furrowing. "Where…"

"We're in the camp," I say, fighting my intense curiosity. "Outside of Quest?"

"Quest. Ah." She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, visibly pulling herself together. "Right. Okay. I'm…okay."

"You mind telling your guard dog that?"

She looks up, eyes finding the knight with his sword still drawn, and the purest look of horror paints her face. "Put that fucking thing down!" she shouts. She tries to scramble to her feet, but her limbs don't seem to be cooperating. My lovely elf helps her, lifting the woman with the ease of a child scooping up a flailing kitten, keeping hold of her even after she's on her feet. "They didn't attack me."

I can smell the anger on the knight but he obediently puts his weapon away. I relax, accepting the de-escalation. Alana doesn't. The most she allows is dropping the point of her blade, muting its threat. I don't dare ask her to put it away. Not with the way her arms shake.

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I guess blocking the royal knight's blow wasn't as simple as it seemed.

I retake my seat and Butterfly is quick to follow, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. "Are you really okay?"

"Perfectly fine," she says quickly. I ignore the obvious strain in her voice.

"What happened?"

She laughs, the sound harsh and dry. "Have you ever heard a crowd cheer for a hero? I mean, really cheer for them. So loud they lose their voices and their ears ring for hours after."

"No." Harvest doesn't have an abundance of popular figures. And no figure like that would have visited my small and sleepy village.

"Well, that's what happened to me."

But…no one was cheering?

"Sorry, could you remind me what we were talking about?"

"I wanted to know what the king expects from me. Better we work it out now rather than it causes problems later."

"Ah, yes." She stuffs her bloody handkerchief in a discrete pocket. Useful design, that. "The king is thrilled that the guilds have been shattered but is very nervous about another independent party taking their place. The only thing that would put him at ease is you kneeling before the throne and swearing your eternal fealty. You should just forget about trying to make nice with the royal family. It's never going to happen."

"Is that a guess or…"

"I don't need my power to tell me that. Rulers do not have equals. They can't. All must be their subjects, or it calls into question their power. For royal families who know nothing but ruling, it threatens their very identities. You're too powerful and arrogant to ever be comfortable being under the power of someone weaker than you, even to pretend."

Arrogant? I suppose. Doesn't feel good hearing it.

"As for my group, they want the Authority."

I straighten up, desperately trying to control my reaction to her casually dropping such a powerful secret. "You know about that?"

She sighs. "Yes, Lou. The people charged with keeping peace amongst humanity know about the ancient armory of powerful artifacts. Who do you think convinced the guilds to store them rather than running around brandishing tools of incredible power?"

"How'd you manage that?"

She chuckles. "Not me, I'm not that old. My predecessors preyed on the usual weaknesses of the heart. First, paranoia. Made the guildmasters think that the crown was going to take what were at the time family heirlooms and legacies. Staged a robbery or two. That got the guilds to create the Traditionalists, those who hid the weapons until they were needed. After that, we preyed on their egos. Flattered the Traditionalists to the Abyss and back. Made them think not using continent-shaking power somehow made them better than their brothers and sisters. And of course they fell for it, the idiots. Once the worst of the monsters were handled, there was no need for overwhelming power, no stage for heroes to stand on. Guarding the Authority was the last duty left and the Traditionalists clung to it. Still do."

These people are terrible. Saints protect the kingdom. How much of our history is their machinations? "So, you're sticking close to me to get your hands on the treasure?"

"Hah! No, no. I like my hands where they are, thank you."

"You…are you messing with me?"

"Nope! I get you're the nervous sort but there's no need. Let me be clear. The only thing I want out of this is to leave Quest alive. I'd love to retire but…" She sighs so heavily that she stirs the corner of the tablecloth. Then she forces a smile to her face, the expression tight and strained. "You don't have to worry about me trying anything. I'd rather die. Seriously, just kill me if you don't believe me. Don't pass me over to your pet monsters."

"The succubi? I wouldn't do that."

"Of course you wouldn't," she says too quickly as she stands up. "You need to talk to the Temple, right? Let's get going."

"…you're coming?"

"Mmhmm. Better that way. Will avoid some bloodshed. Hey!" She catches the attention of her knight. "You're dismissed."

"We were ordered to accompany you everywhere," he says, clear refusal in his tone.

"You were told to follow my orders."

"The royal knights only follow the words of the crown."

Her eyes open. "That little bastard gave you orders behind my back, huh?" Shaking her head, she looks over her shoulder at us, eyes once again closed. "It's problematic if he comes with us. Can you do something about this?"

Before I can comment on the strangeness of her asking us to attack her guard, Alana steps forward, raising her sword. Her frown is stiff with determination as she glares at the knight.

"Allow me."