When Heroes Die

"When making new friends, always make sure to put your best foot forward. That way, the dawning look of surprise on their face is all the more satisfying when you slide in the knife."

– Dread Emperor Traitorous

The days passed by as our journey continued. It didn't take much suggesting on my part to convince him that it wasn't safe for both of us to sleep after the fight. In the evenings, we took turns keeping watch.

Conversation had become stiff since that night. Olivier still made the effort to help me learn the language, but it seemed almost perfunctory now. Where what had once been for a short time an easy camaraderie, there was now an open wound.

I didn't particularly blame him.

It was easier to like someone when you only knew they killed people in abstract, than to like them when you saw it up close. I was tempted to try to bridge the divide, but I wasn't sure a monster like me deserved to have friends.

Still, having him avert his gaze when I looked his way or tense up when I moved stung more than I cared to admit.

It had been nice to talk to someone without the baggage of who I was.

I had tried learning more about powers here instead. It frustrated me. Every time I raised the topic, he deflected to something else. That, or he told me to wait until we reached Beaumarais. I guessed there was some sort of cultural taboo around the subject.

We had just yesterday passed into the shadows of the mountains. We were passing through a valley. Despite what little I knew about nature as a city girl, the terrain here struck me as odd. The ground looked as if in the past there had been much more moisture present, almost as if It had been dried out. Half the trees we passed looked to be dead, and there was a great deal of detritus half buried in the soil.

Another half hour passed.

The landscape changed again. We found ourselves entering a sleepy valley with tall grass. The gentle babbling of water hinted towards the presence of a river, although it couldn't be seen from where we were.

"We are almost home." He told me.

The sun had set an hour past but considering the proximity, Olivier had insisted we push on. The tooting of owls, croaking of frogs and general cries of other wildlife did much to distract me from my concerns.

Twinkling in the distance, the lights from torches could finally be seen.

"Beaumarais," Olivier said simply.

He didn't need to tell me any more. Despite the awkwardness that existed between us, I still smiled broadly.

Now, to figure out what to do with my life from here.

The smile faded. I had just been going along with Olivier up until now. I had been reacting, not thinking forward, and I didn't know what to do. It was a new frustration. Somehow, when I was planning for the end of the world, I didn't anticipate what would come after.

"What do we do now?" I asked, bouncing my legs nervously. Irritated at myself, I stilled them.

"First, we talk to Alisanne," he told me stiffly.

"The Magistrate, right?" I inquired, butchering her title in the process.

He made a sound of acknowledgement. After stopping the wagon under a roof seeming to have been set out for it and unharnessing the mules, he set off. I trailed behind. He walked with purpose towards one of the better looking buildings in the town. Then, he suddenly came to a halt. We were about thirty feet away at the time.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't reply.

Out of the residence strolled a teen with similar features to Olivier. Broad shoulders, a short trimmed beard and a knife at his hip. He stood a finger or two taller than my guide and looked a year or two younger as well, but the resemblance was there. Likely a brother then. Also, likely the source of that family dispute.

"You should resolve your differences with him," I murmured quietly.

Not responding, he approached. I decided to stick with, matching my pace to his. Soon we were in talking distance.

"Olivier," the younger brother spoke, smiling, "back so soon this year?"

"Out so late, Roland?" Olivier spoke in response.

Feeling lost and not really sure what to do, I kept quiet.

"There's no call for that face, brother," Roland said. "I was only having dinner with a dear friend. We share great hopes for the future of Beaumarais."

What face? I frowned. Both of them were smiling, although the smiles looked forced. It frustrated me. Both of their voices were so frosty that it sounded like they were trading barbs. Deciding I had had enough of whatever this was, I spoke up.

"Can you two fight over this later?"

Both of them froze in surprise, then turned to face me.

"Another one, brother?" Roland asked.

"This is Taylor, brother. And yes, Taylor also has the gift." He said the latter part sourly, as if it gave him offence.

Roland smiled at me affably, then spoke. I didn't understand what he said.

Olivier, amused, made my circumstances known. "She's from very far away, brother, and is still learning the language."

Roland's smile soured at that. "Well, you will have a lot to learn then," he informed me.

"Learn about what?" I asked, puzzled. It seemed that the two of them had decided something for me, without asking my input.

"The gift, of course," Roland replied. His tone could have curdled milk.

Some local equivalent to the Protectorate, then?

It seemed strange to me, how powers were openly discussed like this as if identities didn't matter. I knew though that I was the one displaced.

Olivier frowned then. "This is my fault. She didn't know she even had the gift until near the end of our journey, and I haven't really talked about it with her. I left the teaching to you."

"What did she do, start a fire?" Roland asked, bemused.

"She rotted a man's face off, which is why we are visiting Alisanne." Olivier replied bluntly.

"The man was trying to kill me," I added somewhat defensively.

Roland looked between me and Olivier then, his face queasy.

"I think her home is something like Praes, they even have big towers." Olivier muttered to Roland under his breath.

What's that supposed to mean?

"And you want me to take her in?" Roland replied, his face having paled.

"There was nothing wrong with my home," I interjected, somewhat affronted.

Both of them ignored me.

"I found her in a-" Olivier let out a stream of words which I had heard before, but still didn't have the context to properly parse. Roland's gaze softened in understanding.

Conversation continued, the initial awkwardness having faded away. Soon, Roland parted, heading elsewhere. The two of us continued towards our destination. As I approached the building, I felt an odd sense of foreboding. It was the same sense of foreboding I had felt when we had approached the seamstress over a week ago.

Flanking the entrance were two men wearing simple uniforms. Servants, I suspected. The idea upset me, but right now I didn't have the power to do anything about it.

The servants took one look at Olivier, then opened the door.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

They took one look at Olivier. He indicated I was with him, and then they gave their assent. The eerie feeling faded away, and I walked through the door. We were led through the building by the servants quickly, not giving me the time to examine the place much. Soon, we arrived in what seemed to be a parlour.

We were greeted there by a woman in austere white robes, seated at a table and sipping wine from a glass. She looked up as we entered. Absently, she flicked a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes, her features softening as she looked on Olivier. Then, she turned her attention to me, the grey of her irises sliding over my way. Her expression hardened. She dismissed me from her gaze.

So this must be the girl Olivier and Roland are fighting over.

"Olivier," she plastered a smile on her face. "Back early this year? And it seems someone else has-."

I couldn't follow the rest of her speech.

My companion seemed startled for a moment. On the back foot, as if he didn't expect what she said. Then, the conversation took off. They talked rapidly, back and forth. I was able to understand a word or two between everything else, but not even enough to pick up on context. Both of them seemed to be upset.

Ten minutes later, and the argument started to die down.

"I apologize, Taylor. It seems I have given-," Alisanne spoke a word, I figured it to be offence, based on the rest of what was said.

"No offence was taken," I replied, puzzled.

"Then we can move on to why you are here," she said.

What proceeded was a long, drawn out retelling of my arrival. Olivier started by explaining the circumstances he had found me in. Much of it was still lost to me. Then, an explanation of the journey that followed. When Olivier started talking about the attack on our camp during the night, an argument almost started up again. Apparently, Alisanne thought him a fool for travelling alone.

I couldn't fault her for that.

Arrangements would be made to send people to investigate my point of arrival, and a message would be sent to a place called Apenun. Provisionally, the two of us were in the clear.

I couldn't follow the full discussion, which frustrated me.

Not long after that, and the two of us were ushered out.

"Why is she in charge?" I asked Olivier quietly as we left. It was something that had bothered me upon meeting her. She was young, someone our age. Apparently, however, she was the authority within this town.

"Her mother rules Apenun," he replied, as if that explained everything.

In a sense, it did. I hadn't really been thinking about what it meant to be living in a society like this. I had just been drifting along. It hadn't occurred to me to ask about the system of governance. Was I in a monarchy, a republic, a commune, or some form of direct democracy? Considering Olivier seemed to take it as a given that leadership was inherited, I was leaning towards some sort of feudal system.

That didn't bode well for me.

The people in charge had been bad enough when they didn't believe it was their divine right to rule. I didn't want to see how bad things could get with that added on.

I needed to stop drifting and start thinking forward. Right now, I was alone in a new world. If I didn't start taking action, the world would keep acting on me. Unfortunately, I didn't know enough about where I was to make well-informed choices. I suspected I had a way to fix that, though.

"Where are we heading next?"

He gestured towards a rocky footpath heading up into the mountains.

"Up there is a tower. You will be offered two meals a day and a place to stay, as well as some pay. You will also be taught to use the gift. In return, you will be expected to offer your gift in service to our shop and the local House of Light."

It sounded almost like the Wards program. Whilst the idea of going back to school, or a version of it, didn't really appeal to me, I could deal. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. I did have some questions, though.

"The House of Light?" I asked, puzzled.

He looked at me as if I had grown a second head.

"Where people go to-" he said a bunch of words I didn't quite understand. After a bit of back and forth, I realized he meant the church.

Organized religion, great.

And it appeared that here, at least, they were the ones in charge.

"Do you not have the House of Light where you come from?" The idea seemed to leave him scandalized.

The closest thing I had ever seen to a god had gone on a genocidal rampage. In humanities hour of need, no angels had descended from heaven in order to offer us salvation. The Simurgh with an air gun didn't really count. I wasn't about to provide lip service or otherwise to imaginary beings that hadn't even deigned to show up. Telling people that probably wouldn't be the smartest idea, though.

So I changed the topic of conversation back to that of the tower.

"What will I be expected to do at the tower?"

He shrugged. "Different people have different talents. It will depend on what you are good at. You will need to be taught first, before we could say for sure. Ideally, you will help produce more of the same wares."

This was starting to sound less and less like powers as I understood them. People couldn't be taught how to use powers. Innovating with a power was possible, but the basic functionality was always the same.

Keep moving forward.

Regardless of any doubts I might have, I didn't see a better way to progress. I would need to learn about the world I was in, before I did something that would land me in trouble that I couldn't escape.

If I didn't learn the rules, it was bound to happen eventually.

"And will I be expected to fight at all?" I tapped my thigh nervously as I posed the question. Involving myself with the local law enforcement, without knowing if I approved of them, wasn't a good idea.

"You won't be expected to fight unless the town is attacked," he explained. I got the sense from his tone that he meant if the town was engaged in war. That was an acceptable outcome, if discouraging. The idea that wars were frequent enough that they needed a specific exemption didn't exactly appeal to me.

"Is there anything else I need to worry about?"

He paced back and forth, thinking before answering. "The people around here don't like those with the gift. Don't give them a reason for that."

Ah, local stereotypes.

"What do they have against us?"

"If I start a fight, whoever I am fighting with can fight back. If you start a fight, they just lose." He tapped the knife at his belt to illustrate.

Power dynamics, of course.

We walked towards the tower. The sky was clear and the light of the stars above lit our path forward. Following treacherous footpaths, we passed through tall grass littered with red flowers as we left Alisanne's home.

Arriving, The structure was the tallest building I had seen since I first woke up in this world. Shaped like a cylinder, it stood just over four storeys tall. The top looked to be incomplete. There were tents outside. I was told they were vagrants.

Once again, I asked to be invited inside. The sense of foreboding I felt at the threshold disappeared.

After being let in, I was introduced to the other occupants. An older widower by the name of Maurice and his daughter Segoline were the first. They were the most pleasant. The next, Maxime Redflame, I took an immediate disliking to. Seated at a corner table on the bottom floor, he looked to be nursing a tankard of beer. He was a man who looked to be in his mid-forties. His face, red and puffed due to an overconsumption of alcohol, was liberally decorated in scars.

"Hey girlie, come on over here will you," he shouted enthusiastically and raised his tankard as I came into view. I ignored him, and he proceeded to make an obscene gesture as a result.

Everyone, I noticed, was looking at the man with visible distaste.

My opinions on the place were rapidly being revised downwards. Less of an equivalent to the Wards program or a school and more of a shared study group, if it could even be called that. I suppressed the urge to frown.

Then the last two members of the tower showed up. Ludovic was the exact opposite of Maxime. A young man, but short and willowy. A strong breeze would blow him over. He was timid and seemed to hide in the shadow of Morgaine, the last member of the group. As they arrived, he kept his eyes on the ground.

Morgaine, a woman who looked to be about twenty to twenty-five, was fair skinned and was dressed in a way that spoke to her being well off. She took one look at my missing arm and a flash of emotion seemed to cross her face, anger, I thought.

That's odd.

"Another child who has been-" She went on a rant then, shouting at Olivier. She spoke too fast for me to follow properly. I caught a word or two on the side though and from context, I put together the picture that she thought my parents had abused me.

Wait, what?

"My parents did none of this to me, I was a soldier." I interjected. At least, that is what I think I said. I wasn't entirely happy about using the word soldier. I didn't know the word for hero, though. Even if I did, it wouldn't carry the right cultural context.

At that, Maxime wheezed. "All that anger for nothing, isn't that funny, Morgaine?"

Everyone turned to glare at him. He was unmoved.

"So, what can you do, girl? All these people over here want to do is run a shop. Throwing balls of fire around doesn't count, anyone can do that."

Suddenly, the centre of attention shifted to me again. Uncomfortable, I began to respond.

"I didn't know I could do anything until we had almost arrived here. The two of us were attacked. I rotted the attacker's face off," I explained.

Maxime whistled, the others looked queasy.

"This is a place to craft, not to fight," Olivier stated, sounding concerned.

"If these people aren't willing to teach you how to use your gift properly, then you can always come to me," Maxime said, winking at me. I shuddered.

"That wasn't why I came here," I assured Olivier.

What went unsaid though was that I wasn't against learning how to defend myself. I doubted that powers could be taught. It went against everything I knew about them. I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to learn if it was offered, though. As obnoxious as Maxime came across, I was willing to tolerate spending some time with him if it meant being able to fight. I just needed to be sure he was always in sight of one of the others as well. And sober.

Olivier gave an abridged explanation of my circumstances to Morgaine, then left soon after. I was shown to a room where I could stay and told that my education would start on the next day. I was also shown a place where I could properly wash. After so long on the road, my hair was a tangled mess. I wasn't sure if I would be able to fix it, but I would do my best.

It wasn't what I expected to be doing after the end of the world, but at least it was a start.