System Lost: My Own Best Friend

I lie awake at night, staring up at the tent of a dead woman, lying in her bedding, wearing her clothes, and inhabiting the body of the ones who murdered her. Kiera Gaa Baanu—a priestess like me, and a noble—not like me at all. She was the kind of person I looked up to in my previous life—tried to model myself after. Then I was forced to watch through these very eyes as Violet plunged a dagger into her neck.

The image plagues me even as I try to roll onto my side and drive it from my mind. The others are all sleeping. Usually the body follows, and me with it, but where I once would find myself trapped between sleep and wakefulness I am instead just alone within a body that isn't mine, unable to sleep.

I heave a sigh and throw off the covers. Nipper stirs briefly from the movement, but quickly settles back down. It's hard to tell whether it's awake or not, but it doesn't follow as I leave the tent to get some fresh air.

This close to the river, the air isn't quite as dry, especially at night, and the oppressive heat of the desert sun is replaced by a surprising chill. I draw the cloak tighter around my shoulders and approach the center of our camp, surprised to find that I am not alone.

Draga sits by a low fire, tending the embers to prevent it from going out entirely. Our camp is at the edge of the bosk, with most of the supplies already loaded into the strange magical vehicle so that we can depart early in the morning. I'm a little nervous about traveling by some weird contraption, but the rangers seem confident and even Allison seemed to recognize it somehow.

The ranger leader gives me a nod of acknowledgement as I take a seat by the fire, and I duck my head in response.

"Good evening, Sir Draga. My apologies if I am disturbing you."

"Not at all, Miss Evelyn," he replies. "Can't sleep?"

I blink. "How did you—? Oh right, the language..."

Rather than laugh or mock me, he just nods. "Mhm. Everything alright?"

"Far from it," I huff. "I'm not sure whether anything will ever be alright again."

"Hmm, I can see how that might keep you up at night. Is there anything I can do for you, Miss?"

I shake my head and sigh. "No, I don't think so, but I appreciate the offer. You needn't stand on ceremony—we're both clanless."

"True enough," he chuckles. "I think it's the way you talk. It makes me feel like I'm talking to an elder. Brings out old habits."

"My apologies for being old," I grumble. "You and Lady Baanu treat me like an old lady, while Allison and the others act like I'm a child." I scuff the dirt irritably. "Just because I can't answer some stupid trivia."

Draga doesn't respond for a moment, poking at the glowing coals with a stick. It's incredibly jarring that I can feel him doing that through the class that I share with the other occupants of this body. The fire is like an extension of my own senses—and in many ways feels more like me than the actual physical form I'm stuck in.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Draga breaks it with a question.

"Why are you so opposed to learning from them?"

"I'm not! I took the [Student] class, and I'm doing the lessons aren't I?" I protest.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I can't understand them like Talla does, but I could tell that Miss Allie was getting frustrated. Were the lessons difficult?"

I wrap the cloak around myself and frown. "They were stupid. All about trying to turn letters into numbers or something like that. Figuring out some arbitrary hidden number from obscure instructions."

Draga gives me a strange look, and I have no choice but to repeat Allison's silly puzzle verbatim. Perhaps I am slow to understand sometimes, but there is nothing wrong with my memory.

"Fifty," he says simply. "If the river is twice as long as it is wide, and it's twenty five paces wide, then it's fifty paces. That's not much of a river, though. More like a pond."

"Even you?!" I gasp, feeling weirdly betrayed. "I know that now, but I still don't understand how I was supposed to figure it out."

"Even me?"

I blush and duck apologetically. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to imply..."

Draga smiles and shakes his head. "No, it's fine. I understand. I probably wouldn't be able to answer it either if they hadn't taught us in the army. As a scout, I needed to be able to count enemy troops quickly. I always think about numbers like that now."

"How do you mean?" I ask, cocking my head curiously.

"It's all just counting," he explains. "Twenty five—that's the number of soldiers the enemy units are split into. Two—the number of units. It makes as pathetic an army as it does a river, but if I do it that way, it's easier for me to think about."

"But how did you know it adds up to fifty?"

"Eh, I'm no teacher," he hedges. "I'll let Miss Allie teach you the calculations. Talla says she's smart, and Talla is a literal genius."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I nod slowly. "Well, she is a noble lady after all."

Draga bursts into a fit of hearty laughter so loud that I'm worried he's going to wake the lady in question, but Lady Baanu's bedroll doesn't so much as twitch at the sound. After a moment he calms down, and I find myself blushing again, though I'm not sure what for.

"What's so funny?" I grumble.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, patting me on the back. "I forgot that you're not actually as old as you sound. Being noble has nothing to do with it."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "Of course it does. They are the best of us—the chosen clans of the empress, herself chosen by the Goddess."

"Uh huh," he agrees blithely. "And some of them are as dumb as a rock. Blood and acid, I had to travel with one to get here. It was downright embarrassing seeing Kiera try to bullshit her way through conversations with her cousin."

"Sir Draga, it's impolite to speak ill of the dead," I scold him.

"You're right." He winces. "Goddess forgive me."

I smile and stand to place a hand between his horns, bowing my head in prayer. "The light of Her mercy shines upon you."

Draga stares blankly for a moment before chuckling nervously. "I forgot that you're a priestess."

"Not anymore," I sigh. "Now I'm just a [Student]. And a poor one, apparently."

"Your class doesn't define you," Draga states, as if reciting a quote. "It's up to you to define your class. You didn't need a class to give me that blessing just now, did you?"

I sit back down and shrug. "No, I suppose I didn't. But it's just words."

"Words have meaning," he insists. "You wouldn't have said them if they didn't."

"It's just a habit!" I argue, feeling my face heat up again. Blood and acid, why do I keep getting so flustered?

"The habit of a priestess," he counters. "You gave me the Goddess' blessing, and it brought me comfort. Is that not the work of a priestess, regardless of class?"

"I suppose..."

"Then it seems to me like you're still a priestess," Draga concludes with a nod, returning his attention to the dying embers.

I watch him for a moment, face lit by the soft warm glow of the fire. He'd be a fairly normal looking man, if not for all the scars. Russet brown fur, the well-defined muscles and broad shoulders of a working man, and smoothly curving horns—well, horn. One of them is broken.

"What happened to your horn?" I ask, despite myself.

It's a rude thing to draw attention to. A disfigurement that probably ended what little prospects a clanless man might have had at marriage. Rather than be offended by my question, however, he just shrugs.

"I don't know."

I blink. "You don't know?"

How? That's a life-changing injury! One doesn't just forget something like that!

"I know when it happened," he clarifies. "And I can only guess that I must have been hit on the head—hard enough that the horn almost certainly saved my life—but I couldn't tell you what exactly caused it."

"Why not?"

"Because it was war," he says simply. "I was a soldier. I went in, I fought until my breath failed me, then I fought some more. I killed, I survived, and when it was over I was missing a horn. I didn't have time to worry about it before I marched onto the next battlefield."

"Oh..." I mutter, curling up self-consciously. I feel bad for asking now, but it makes me wonder. "Are you still a soldier, then?"

Draga gives me a long look. "Maybe," he admits. "It never quite leaves you. But the Goddess grants us two class slots, doesn't she? I'm a ranger now, and while I'll always carry some of that history with me, what I ultimately become is up to me."

I'm sharply reminded of the fact that Draga is likely to lose his commission over Kiera's death.

"Even if they strip you of your rank?"

"If I didn't stop being a soldier after leaving the army, I don't see why I should stop being a ranger after losing my commission," he replies quietly. "Just like you don't have to stop being a priestess because you lost the class."

We sit together, the night silent but for the symphony of chirping bugs and the soft crackling of the embers. I might never get another chance to say this without the others eavesdropping. It might not be what's best for me, but I must do what I can to set things right.

"You shouldn't lie in your report," I tell him. "If you think that Lady Kiera was wrong, then say so, but don't lie to protect her killers. That's wrong."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You are one of the people benefiting from that protection," he points out.

"I'm well aware, but that only strengthens my conviction," I respond. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself for them—for...us." The word feels venomous on my tongue. "We don't deserve it, and you deserve better."

Draga smiles and pats me on the shoulder. "That's very kind of you to say, Miss Evelyn. Unfortunately, I don't think there's anything you or anybody else can do to save my career. I made my decision because I don't want to drag you or Lady Talla down with me."

"That hardly seems fair," I complain. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Such is life," he sighs. "The Goddess is ever merciful, but people rarely follow that example. Don't worry about me, Evelyn—I've been through worse. Try to get some sleep—we've got a long journey ahead of us."

"You're still up too," I point out.

"Someone has to be," he chuckles. "We may not be in a convergence point, but wild animals can still be dangerous. It's fine—I'm used to it and I've got skills that help."

I want to argue more, but my eyelids are getting heavy despite myself. "Very well. Goddess' light shine upon you, Sir Draga."

"You as well," he replies. "Goodnight, Miss Evelyn."

"Goodnight."

I return to the tent and remove the spectacles from my face, inspecting them curiously for a moment—just what are these things made of, anyway—before setting them aside and lying back down for the night.

"I think you did the right thing," Allison murmurs quietly in my mind.

"Were you listening the entire time?" I sigh miserably.

"No, and I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she replies. "But thanks for looking out for Draga. You're right—he deserves better."

"Don't patronize me, Miss Allison," I grumble.

"I won't, I promise," she says earnestly. "You've more than earned that, and I'm sorry if I was condescending."

"Fine, apology accepted, now let me sleep."

I roll over and curl up under the annoyingly comfortable bedding, but my attempt to rest is met by one last interruption.

[Level up!]

Student is now level 2.

+1 Will.