System Lost: My Own Best Friend

Miss Allison is so mortified that she retreats within, leaving me to handle things on my own. I have no idea why the others are so embarrassed by a perfectly normal bodily function. How would the men know to give us privacy if they weren't told the reason?

In any case, Captain Jira is quite accommodating, even allowing us to borrow her private quarters—the only ones on the entire ship—to change and wash any bloodied clothing. I don't relish having to suffer menstrual cramps in place of my hosts, but Jira is surprisingly welcome company.

Her room is quite sparsely decorated, with only a few large fish bones as trophies, some ship diagrams, and a hand-drawn portrait of a young girl who I assume must be a daughter or other family member.

"Must be nice not having fur down there, eh?" she comments, watching me dutifully clean Allison's precious undergarments. "Easy cleanup."

I roll my eyes. Jira is so direct that it borders on crass, but it reminds me of the sisters from back home.

"I suppose that's one advantage," I concede. "But this body's skin is so sensitive to sunlight it's a small miracle they don't burst into flames the second they step outside."

"'They'?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "'This body'?"

I sigh miserably. I've mostly been keeping to myself since we boarded the ship, but I suppose it was unavoidable that I'd have to introduce myself at some point.

"My name is E'ava'al'n," I tell her. "And unlike the others, I am not native to this body. It may be hard to believe, but I am actually—"

"Fa'aun?" she finishes for me. "I guessed as much from the name. That's an old name—rare even among the tribes."

"You're not surprised or doubtful?" I ask. "Even Lady Baanu and Sir Draga are skeptical of me. They're too polite to say so, but I know that they think I'm just another aspect of 'Maev.'"

Jira hums thoughtfully, then fetches her own washboard and sits across from me, doing her own laundry as we speak.

"When you've traveled as much as I have, you see things," she begins. "The [World Engine] makes anything possible. You don't live as long as I have by doubting what's before your eyes."

"Oh? How old are you, if I might ask? And what is it that you see?"

"It's impolite to ask a lady her age," Jira scolds me, before laughing. "But since I'm not a lady, I'll tell you anyway. I'll be turning eighty six during the next waxing twilight."

I stop my hands for a moment to look up at her in shock. "That old?!"

She gives me an arch look, and I hurry to correct myself.

"I-I just meant that you seem much younger!" I clarify. "You must have a powerful class."

"It's alright," she hedges. "Served me well enough through the years. I can't tell you what it is, of course, but it keeps me hale. As for what I see..."

Jira pauses to scrutinize me, and something about her gaze forces me to look away and focus on my washing. I have the inescapable feeling that I'm being judged on a deeper level than I anticipated. An appraisal skill perhaps?

"I think you're lost—all of you," she says, breaking the tense silence. "Drifting without purpose. But you especially."

"Of course," I sigh. "They're all from another world and I'm in the wrong body."

"Another world? Interesting."

Oh...was I not supposed to mention that? Well, I didn't reveal Magdalena as a chaos witch before, so I'll consider it even.

"That's not what I mean, though," Jira continues. "Allie, Vi, and Maggie—I haven't spoken to them much, but I can sense that they are on a journey. Seeking something—a way home, perhaps, or a sense of belonging. Comfort and familiarity. Common enough goals for travelers."

She speaks with the kind of certainty that makes me think that she's either very wise, informed by a skill, or completely making things up.

"And you think I'm different?"

"I know you are," she replies with a grin. "You said so yourself. You're not one of them, yes? You are on a different journey—just one that happens to share their path at the moment."

I suppose that's one way to look at it.

"Maev is here by accident," I tell her. "Some kind of coincidence caused by whatever dark ritual the ones who murdered me were enacting. I have to believe that I was placed here for a reason. I am, as I always have been, an agent of the Goddess' will. I just...don't know what that will is yet."

"An agent of the Goddess?" she scoffs. "What are you, a priestess?"

"Yes."

She blinks. "Ah. Well, that's not what I see—not the bit about being a priestess, if that's who you say you are, I believe you. But your journey isn't a divine quest—and trust me, I've seen my fair share of those too."

I frown, pushing a bit harder against the washboard as I reply. "And who are you, exactly, to tell me whether I follow the Goddess' will?"

Rather than get offended, the captain just laughs. "Nobody! Just an old traveler who's seen every other kind of traveler there is. And yours is the most common of all."

"And what is that?"

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"You're running away," she says simply. "From yourself, I think—but that part is always a bit harder to work out. I think you're using your past to shield you from your present."

I toss the washing into the tub with a huff, splashing us both with soapy water. "What do you know?! We've never even spoken before!"

"You're right," she concedes. "I don't know you. Feel free to discard what I'm saying as the rambling of a self-important old woman. That's what most young women do."

"I believe I will! The Goddess' light reveals all in time, and I do not need your 'advice' to find my true purpose!"

"Light also blinds," she counters. "If you lose yourself in the glory of Her radiance, you'll never see the shadows around you."

"Get out!" I shout, rising to my feet. "Leave me alone! If you insist on trying to make me stray from my path, then we have nothing to discuss!"

"It's my room," she chuckles.

I sit back down, blushing, and snatch the clothes out of the tub, wringing them out. "You're right. I apologize. I'll go."

Jira waves me off, standing up to hang her own clothes to dry. "I need to get back above deck anyway," she says. "Stay as long as you like. You can even use the bed—though I warn you, I'm a snuggler."

Somehow, the fact that she's not upset with me only makes me even more angry. She's got that air of quiet resignation. Worse than disappointment—like she never had any expectations in the first place. Like the senior sisters back home.

"I don't need special treatment," I insist. "Just treat us like any other member of your crew."

Jira pauses at the door and looks back at me with a sad smile.

"I already am."

* * *

You would think that being stuck in a confined space without much to do would be a perfect opportunity for Allie and Eva to work on their lessons, but one is too embarrassed by our period to show her face and the other is still fuming after her conversation with the captain.

I wasn't awake during that, but the memories are still there—just hazy. A bit like trying to remember a dream. I'm not interested in prying, so I don't put too much effort into it.

Without them, that only leaves me and Maggie. I can't exactly work on [Savior] proactively, and training Nipper in a crowded place is asking for trouble, so [Tamer] is off the table as well. I shouldn't need to explain why practicing new fire magic on the ship is a bad idea, but Maggie is Maggie.

So here I sit, quietly suffering this world's lack of modern painkillers while I complete whatever chores I'm assigned. It's not the worst. Mending sails is quite calming, and I'd rather be stuck doing laundry than be stuck surrounded by unwashed, fur-covered men. Fa'aun are actually quite fastidious with their hygiene, but it's astounding how quickly smells can build up in their fur.

Nevertheless, I am bored. I don't bounce off the walls, starving for stimulation like Allison might, but it's enough that I don't immediately withdraw when one of the sailors approaches me to chat.

"Miss Maev, right? You're from across the sea?" he asks.

The Fa'aun tradition of introducing each other in reverse isn't just for nobles, it turns out, but most people are a lot more casual about it.

"Yes," I answer, not really able to form a more coherent response. "You?"

"The name's Rafaam," he greets me with a duck-bow. "Sorry to hear about your, uh, condition. Terrible timing, aye?"

"Yes," I reply again.

He pauses for a moment, waiting for more, then coughs awkwardly when he realizes that was it.

"Not much of a talker, I take it? Am I bothering you?"

I shake my head. "No. Language hard."

"Oh! I understand," he says. "Though I could have sworn I overheard...no, nevermind. You can understand me just fine, though?"

"Yes," I answer slowly, wondering where he's going with this.

"Then would you care to join us for a game?" he offers, holding up what looks like a deck of cards.

The sailors play all sorts of games when they're off duty—usually dice or cards, though they've also got a few more physical games like arm wrestling and something that involves headbutting each other that I do not understand in the slightest.

There's one thing they all have in common, though.

"No money," I explain. "Sorry."

All of them involve gambling. The coins we got from Kiera's pack were confiscated a long time ago, and even if we still had them, I know better than to let myself get fleeced in a game I've never played before.

"Not a problem!" he replies smoothly. "We've all agreed to chip in to give you a little pot to get started! Think of it as a welcoming gift—and a consolation for your pain."

I wish he'd stop mentioning that. I'm not as embarrassed by it as Allie, but that doesn't mean I want everybody constantly talking about my period.

Still, I don't have anything better to do, and if it's not my own money I'm losing...maybe it'll be fun.

"Rules?" I ask.

Soon enough I'm ushered over to a crate that's been set up as a makeshift table between a pair of bunks, being taught how to play a card game they call "Fusion."

The card game itself is quite simple—each player has a hand of cards, and each turn they draw one card and discard another. The goal is to form "fusions" of cards, consisting of matching groups, with certain sets being higher value or "tier" than others.

It reminds me of rummy or maybe mahjong, but the big difference is the betting rules. They are very complicated, with a system of calls, raises, and various other edge cases that are more like poker.

"Don't worry too much about it," Rafaam assures me. "You'll pick it up after a hand or two."

I shrug and let him deal me in, taking a moment to look at the other players. I don't recognize any of them—not that I'd likely remember their names if I did—except for the one that Allison tried to veto before. He doesn't seem bothered, though, greeting me with a nod as I sit down to play.

The first few rounds go by quickly. The actual game is simple enough, and as Rafaam said I start to pick up on the strategy fairly soon. The betting, on the other hand, is much harder, and though I play conservatively I lose pretty much everything I put in.

By the fourth or fifth hand, two things become apparent. First is that nobody expects me to actually win anything. They were confident enough to give me some starting funds because they fully expect everything they gave me to get redistributed between them.

The second thing is that while they are trying to be subtle about it, I'm being targeted. It's not hard to see why—I'm a novice to the game, which makes me easy picking. Nobody wants to be the one picking on the new girl, but everybody wants to take the majority of the pot they gave me.

There's one other thing. An interesting quirk of the game that has less to do with the game itself, and more to do with the players.

"She's a bit slow, but at least she can follow the rules eh?"

"Don't be rude. Our language is foreign to her."

"Oh come on, she barely speaks more than one word at a time. I'm surprised ol' Rafa managed to swindle her into this."

Rafaam gives me a few sidelong glances, but I don't react to the other mens' insults. Not because they don't annoy me, but because they're the one thing that gives me a chance of actually winning something here.

If they want to think I'm stupid just because I don't speak their language, let them. I might not know this game, but it's not so different from the ones I played back home. There are a few predictable patterns in their betting, and most importantly, none of them ever take my hands seriously.

It's just a shame I don't have a class for this, because if I'm right, then I'd bet this is going to be worth a lot of levels.