University had a time honored tradition of requiring many electives.
Among these were included the most pointless of subjects: basket weaving, ethics, music theory… Cas knew them by heart.
It was Cas’s closely held belief, however, that the most pointless course she’d ever taken was Philosophy.
Because her first philosophy class proved every preconception Cas had about the subject: that it was, essentially, a waste of time invented to kill sanity and patience.
In her opinion all of philosophy was just religion without the tax exemptions. Ie. the most difficult answers to the most pointless questions ever devised.
What is knowledge?
Who cares?
Is there free will?
Who could make themselves care?
If there was a trolley heading towards five-
It all made Cas want to scream. You might as well ask how many angels could fit on the head of a pin!
This was exactly the sort of hair-splitting nonsense which had made Cas turn away from philosophy in the first place. And it was exactly the sort of nonsense which made Cas want to tear apart her required readings in Phil 101.
After all, when could any of it possibly ever matter in real life?
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That was all in the past, though, and life was funny in how it referenced itself.
After the Black Flag had made her death wish, the whole army complied, and all the scattered units – even the most distant ones – stirred and went on a united march that brought them all into the center of the field.
‘I have come to kill you, and everyone associated with your unit.’
It was a clever pronouncement.
The thought had vaguely occurred to Cas, as she marched with the spotted unit. By promising to kill only one unit, it gave the rest of the army reason to comply. But… then again, maybe that was just her trying to make too much sense of things. It seemed that Sable would have no trouble killing every single person in this army if she wanted. She hardly needed their cooperation.
At least, everyone here seemed to believe that to be the case.
Hell, Cas believed it.
She remembered how those monsters had just… died.
Maybe, Cas considered, this was all an act of mercy on the part of the Black Flag, maybe she had specific targets in mind? Maybe she just didn’t want to waste her time.
Whatever the reason, none of those questions seemed important to Cas at the moment.
Sitting on the grass with a knot in her stomach, it was a philosophical, hair-splitting question that occupied the entirety of her mind, as she clutched her hands together and tried to discern for herself: ‘exactly how long did you need to work with a unit, to be considered a ‘part of it’.
After all, it wouldn’t make sense for Cas to be on the kill list, not in any sane universe.
She had only shared a single sentence with the Sergeant before she ran off to do her own thing. She hadn’t been working with his unit. Technically, she wasn’t even working with the army.
She was just… working in the same physical location towards a common goal. Completely different.
There. That was proof enough. She wasn’t a part of that unit, and therefore Sable had no reason to kill her whatsoever. After all, the woman had promised to kill only people that were members of Sergeant Dalmatian’s unit, and Cas wasn’t a member, ergo she was off the hook! Syllogism complete.
But… then again, Sable’s exact words had been: ‘associated with the unit’, not members of it, so-
Cas broke the thought before it could finish.
She had been arguing in circles for hours, now, and even the most novel arguments were beginning to sound wearisome.
Lifting her neck, peering over the arms she’d hooked around her tented knees, Cas’s vision filled with the forest of standing bodies in front.
After Sable’s ultimatum, the army had been gathered, and they quickly segregated themselves.
Those in the Spotted Unit – ready for death – gathered in the center around Sergeant dalmatian, standing in a rough, horse-shoe formation as if awaiting a rousing speech.
The rest of the army gathered around, forming a rough ring around the spectacle.
Cas took a seat in the open grass between the two groups, unsure of where she should sit.
And Sable, wandering freely, approached the Spotted unit, sword in hand.
Cas had no expectations, but she was still surprised when it finally happened.
Surprise made no sense, when you had no expectations, but, still… Cas had imagined Sable would go around confirming identities, or asking people to line up, or calling people by name, but no…
Sable didn’t ask for names, or affiliations, or bribes. She just started killing.
It had been shocking at first. So shocking.
For all Cas had been through, she’d never seen a person die, and here a score had been slaughtered before ten minutes passed.
Perhaps it was because of the advance warning, but Cas didn’t feel any panic, or fear, or even revulsion. Rather, she felt… negative, if that was a term that could put it to words. It felt like the back of her mind was in shadow, and that it could only host dark thoughts.
Sable’s blade whipped through the air, barely visible. Joson’s throat split apart at the collar, letting out a strange, moaning sound as blood and air gurgled through the fresh slit.
He jerked his hands upward at the last second, as if attempting a block before he fell, quivering all over. He convulsed on the ground, hands choking his own neck to stifle the stream of blood.
His body was incredibly steady, otherwise, and he hardly made a sound – had his face been blocked, you could have confused him for a sleeping man.
In the movies, they’d always kick their legs and roll around. Maybe that had been the actor's choice to heighten the terror of it. Strange. None of the scary movies Cas had seen ever felt this terrible to watch -- the man shuddered his last and sighed and relaxed into a corpse -- not even close.
Maybe understatement was the key to horror. And understated was how all the unit soldiers were. They stood steadily by, even as the man next to them suffered his last breath.
‘Would I be as calm?’ Cas wondered.
Another sword swing, another death.
After all, these people knew they would be dying, while Cas still had doubts. She still had the faintest hopes because she wasn’t a member of the unit. Choosing to help the prince, at best, made her part of his army, or maybe an unaffiliated ally. Strangers could help one another, after all, couldn’t they?
The next person in line was a woman, she died instantly as her head unraveled like a zipper.
Maybe she could fake her death, Cas wondered. Let Human Figure die and transform back into a slime once everyone had gone? Sable preferred sword slashes for her executions. Cas was certain she could survive that.
Cas had wanted to run away many times during this whole process. The unit’s march had seemed like an excellent opportunity. Yet she stayed. Partially, this was because a successful escape seemed unlikely. That, and Cas – despite her most paranoid worries, was fairly certain of her safety. But there was a third reason, too, and she was sitting right next to Cas.
Cas nudged the woman.
Like her, Sara was uncertain, and therefore had a lot on her mind.
Both of them sat in the clear space between the two groups, with their backs to a parked wagon, and their heads full of thoughts. Alongside them was a third woman who wore dark armor and had long, dark hair that framed a youthful face.
Cas didn’t know her name, but she knew the woman by reputation. Like them, her status was uncertain, for she’d been transferred out of Dalmatian’s unit that morning, and that had put her in limbo alongside them. Poor girl.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The nameless girl sat near the front wheel of the wagon, far away from Cas and Sara, looking blankly off into the horizon.
Sara sat immediately beside Cas, hugging her legs and resting her forehead on her knees. She had an expression of forced calm. The occasional, loud death forced a twitch, and she repeatedly took deep, sighing breaths.
“Sara,” Cas whispered, waiting for a pause in the executions to do so.
“Yes?” Sara answered, squeezing her eyelids.
“When you got hired to work with this army, were you assigned to the Sergeants unit?”
“I wasn’t assigned to any unit,” Sara answered, sounding pained. “They decide that after you arrive.” She paused, taking another deep breath – as if preparing to repeat something she’d said to herself a thousand times already. “However, in times of emergency, you can be incorporated into the chain of command of the first unit you run into.”
Unclenching one fist, Sara extended her fingers one by one and began counting out the reasons:
“The prince’s death counted as an emergency; my contract technically started two days before the emergency started; and three – “ Sara raised her third and final finger “ – Sergeant Dalmatian’s unit was the first one I ran into, and I stayed with him for the duration of the battle to boot.”
Cas hurried to reply. “But, you technically –”
“I know, I know,” Sara lifted her head, knocking it back against the cart wheel with a metallic sound. “I technically wasn’t incorporated. The Sargent never explicitly said I had to start following orders. He even told me I was free to go the moment I arrived! Don’t you think I’ve been going over that for the past hour?”
Sara opened her eyes finally, sending a desperate look in Cas’s direction. “Who even knows how she’s picking who dies? Maybe this is all just one big practical joke, and she’s going to kill everyone here after she’s done with them!” Sara spoke a little too loudly, and the near side of the spectator’s circle became even more deathly quiet, if such a thing were possible.
Cas felt her face fall into a stolid neutrality. She’s never been good at relating to people like this.
Jen – her friend from back on Earth – had been. She’d always been able to look at someone going through a rough time and say, ‘It’s going to be ok. Everything happens for a reason.’ More importantly, she’d been able to believe those words as she said them.
Cas could never manage the same.
As a young and cynical person, Cas had told herself it was because she was too smart to believe in fairy tales. The harder life got, however, she couldn’t help feeling that maybe it was a deficiency in her wisdom.
Sara, for her part, didn’t look at her for long. She wasn’t the type to rely on others, it seemed.
Cas felt a spark of guilt peek through the dread that had dulled her senses.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was just… what right did she have to express sadness to someone who was going through so much worse. What was she supposed to say? ‘I’m sure you have it hard, but can you imagine how bad I feel looking at you?’
Because Cas did feel sick at the thought of Sara dying, she literally couldn’t imagine it. And the thought of it happening filled her with dread, more than the actual deaths she was watching right now.
Her callousness towards the unit soldiers brought another flare of guilt.
Cas recognized their humanity. In fact, if she’d met any one of them before Sara, she might have felt just the opposite, but she knew Sara. She’d drunk tea with her, and told her stories, and laughed at her reactions and traded jabs and went camping with Sara. She knew Sara had a bright personality. She knew Sara was a bit of a snob, and was embarrassed about being a mercenary, and she wanted to know why someone like her became an adventurer.
After all, Sara had promised to tell Cas that, hadn’t she?
A small laugh broke from Cas. She didn’t feel happy. She wasn't even sure what had inspired it.
“What’s so funny?” Sara asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Seeing the distraction was doing her some good, Cas decided on honesty, even if it was a bit crass. “It’s just… I remember yesterday; I asked you why you became an adventurer, and you said you’d tell me later.”
“Maybe later,” Sara corrected, putting a fine point on the matter.
Cas laughed again. “It’s just that… I didn’t believe you, when you told me that. I remember thinking that one of us would die before you ever revealed that secret,” and here Cas’s chuckles almost turned to an outright laugh. “I just,” she said in between her breaths, “I just never imagined that day would be today!”
Sara kept her voice quiet as she answered. “Well, I hope you don’t expect me to tell you now,” she said, sitting up a bit straighter and crossing her arms obstinately. “Secrets are a lady’s chambermaids. All she need do is make sure those secrets are beautiful.”
“Well, is your secret beautiful?” Cas inquired, “or is it the ugly type.”
“That’s enough out of you!” Sara immediately fell back to a practiced laugh, the kind meant to obscure her reaction. “I won’t tell, even if you make it your dying wish, Cas. That’s final.”
Sara turned away from her, looking at a random spot off in the distance. The universal sign for a finished conversation.
Cas didn’t try picking it back up. It didn’t look like they’d have time to talk about anything else. There were only ten people left alive in the main unit, and Sable now had to step carefully over the field of bodies strewn about her.
She lifted her sword with a bored hand. Rivulets of blood dribbled off the handle, splattering loudly into a wet patch of grass as she stood before the tenth man.
The sight was a striking one. Unlike the standard blue, the woman’s aura was black, and all encompassing, and it seemed to engulf the light of whatever person she took with her sword.
Cas had tried for hours now, to discern whether the woman would kill her, when the time came. And now that she was so close, Cas realized that she still had no idea.
Failing to find her answer in logic, Cas resorted to psychology.
She forced herself to look at the one place which might hold the answer. It was also the one place everyone avoided looking:
Sable’s face was filled with terrible beauty.
It filled her vision, and Cas was surprised when she didn’t immediately flinch from it.
Sable had lost that dread aura which averted all gazes. Instead, the feeling Sable inspired now was almost calming, like all the worries and cares which ever bothered you were suddenly lifted off your shoulders. It felt like a peaceful death…
The whole universe flipped, and suddenly Cas was staring at the grass.
What was that!
It felt… convincing. It felt like she’d been given the most enticing argument.
It was hard to put into words what the argument was, though. Cas wasn’t brainwashed. She was still able to think, and obviously she hadn’t been fully convinced by the argument Sable was making, but… she did find it hard not to see its point.
Life was hard, and full of strife, and even now, in the face of imminent death, Cas’s existence was filled with complications, and guilt, and self doubt. Death would lift all her mortal worries away.
Cas knew that from experience.
When she’d died the first time, she’d been conscious. It was like a near-death experience, but less half-assed, and it had felt… nice. It felt like that rush of joy when you cancelled some unpleasant plans, but it was a whole life full of plans getting cancelled.
Still, despite her personal experience, and Sable’s arguments, Cas had decided she didn’t want to die-
“Ghahhh!”
And apparently so had soldier number nine.
Deciding for the moment to treat Sable as a peeking hazard, Cas tried to discern something from the half-remembered glimpses she’d seen of the woman’s face.
In the brief time Cas had seen her, the woman had been able to express some emotion: sternness, satisfaction… and nothing else. No worry at facing an army by herself, no impatience at the hours it took to gather the units, no remorse as she cut down their fourth soldier. Three were left standing, including the Sergeant.
It got to the point where Cas wondered if the Black Flag even had a relatable psychology. Were any of the Trinkets human at all?
Even Prince Haowi. The prince had seemed friendly enough, but he’d been strange, too. Beyond his abnormal cheer, it was something about the way he spoke, though Cas couldn’t quite put a finger on exactly what…
As it turned out, Cas wouldn’t have the time to figure it out, because Sable was suddenly there.
Cas didn’t notice her approach, though her presence was felt heavily; a black aura seemed to weigh on every particle of hope in the air.
Her dark boots were pristine, not a speck of blood on them for all she smelled of the substance, and for the constant trickle of it that dripped down the tip of her blade.
Daring a bit, Cas looked up to find that the Sergeant was still standing. There was no reason for Sable to leave him alive unless she had other targets in mindd.
Feeling her impending death, Cas dared a bit more, and climbed her gaze up until Sable’s face entered into view.
And then Cas’s mind did backflips.
This was a perfectly natural reaction, seeing as an angel had appeared on the woman’s shoulders. Or, maybe, it wasn’t an angel. Cas wasn’t sure. It was the first word that came to mind. Wait, no. It was a little girl! Cas realized at last. Except, maybe it wasn’t that, either. Rather, it had the shape of a little girl. Cas wasn’t sure what it was, except to say that it was made out of shapes and hints of sights. It felt like a collage of everything Cas had lost sight of in her life.
But the longer Cas stared, the more details seemed to discern themselves, and soon enough Cas was very clearly able to see the girl.
She was a little thing, around ten years old, and she sat on Sable’s shoulders unnoticed. She was see-through, and had two translucent hands that reaching forward to cover the woman’s eyes. Somehow, despite the fact that Cas could see Sable’s eyes clear through the girl’s fingers, she felt hidden somehow.
That, of course, begged the question: why was Sable still staring at her?
Despite the bravery angel-girl inspired, Sable still cut an intimidating figure, smelling of blood and death as she stared ever so vigilantly at Cas.
Rather, more particularly, she was starting directly at the leather satchel on Cas’s belt.
Cas’s left hand reached into the satchel before she realized it, fingering idly at the gem which contained the prince’s brother. It was obvious Sable knew, and Cas felt uncomfortable with the expectation. She readied to pull it out.
A cold draped itself over her shoulders, stopping her, and Cas paused.
Looking up, angel-girl was staring down at her, and she was shaking her head ‘no’. A small scowl of disappointment lit up the girl’s features, and it stayed Cas’s hand long enough for her mind to gain a lead.
“Uhmmm…” feeling the woman’s accusation acutely now, Cas diverted her fingers from the amulet.
Pulling her hand out, Cas held up the battered and half-melted spearhead with a guilty expression. “It’s just my dagger,” Cas said, speaking honest words hurriedly to paper over her lies. “It’s not good for attacking so… I didn’t think you’d care. You can have it,” Cas threw it down at the woman’s feet.
The woman stood over each of them.
It had only lasted a second, Cas was certain, but it felt like hours to someone holding their breath.
Eventually, the woman stepped off without a word.
Sable didn’t head toward the Sergeant.
Rather, she made for the outside circle of spectators, weaving through the dense crowd and killing with accuracy, the five unit members who had attempted to hide among those not condemned.
These people were more desperate to live, and the struggles and deaths were as ugly as they were short.
Cas could only hear the horrors, as they concluded behind her.
The terror of the screams, of the sound, was accentuated by the lack of sights… it left a lot of room for her imagination to begin wondering about the details. And, questions stuck around in the mind.
But memories were for the future. At that moment, in that field, Cas only felt giddy with delight as she looked down at herself, and looked over at Sara, and felt the weight of death lift off their shoulders.
She was alive.
‘I'm alive,’ Cas thought.
And the angel girl, floating above her in a white gown that ignored the wind, only smiled a mischievous grin, putting a finger of secrecy up to her lips and winking, before she was suddenly gone again, as if she’d never been.