PART III - RELUCTANT ADMISSIONS

Eventually, slow footsteps could be heard, one pair of them sounding rather crutchlike. “How are you feeling?” Reynard asked after clearing his throat.

Jesca removed the cloth, squinting for a moment at the light, and looked to see both Reynard and Thorn standing in the alcove entrance. She shuffled herself into a sitting position, thankful that the headache had subsided. “I’m feeling better, sir,” she said quietly. She still felt like she was in trouble for something. “At least my brain hasn't melted.”

“May I sit?” Reynard asked, gesturing to a chair. He may have been on his crutches more of late, but it was still awkward for him and wasn’t comfortable. He took a seat after Jesca nodded.

“How was your dinner with Scryer Yulayla?” Jesca asked.

“You sound like Callie. She interrogated him about the same thing,” Thorn said with a light laugh. Then he added, “Once I learned of it from her, I helped.”

“Never you mind about that. Either of you!” Reynard scolded. He got settled, leaning the crutches against the bed, and then focused on Jesca. “So, apparently you exhausted your mana. That seems a little surprising, from you. What happened?” the Foxkin asked, tilting his head.

“I don’t really know. We were all up on the field watching the fight and then …” Jesca’s words were interrupted by another set of footsteps slowly approaching, these seeming very ominous. A second later, the dark-skinned form of Arkan Pelidri came into view, taking up a position behind Thorn. His pure-white hair stood out against the backdrop of the subdued lighting, almost seeming to glow. Jesca’s mouth went tight and she was barely able to squeak out a sound. The Elf was absolutely intimidating. Maybe it was his rank or his age or his tier, or something else, but he was just … there.

“Don’t mind him,” Thorn said, “he’s just observing.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Thorn shook his head and laughed lightly. “No, you’re not in trouble. Again, what do you remember?”

“Just being up there, all of us cheering for you, and then I woke up here with a headache.”

“Mana exhaustion headaches are the worst,” Pelidri said, his deep voice somehow echoey in the space. “I've had more than my share of them in my life.”

“Arkan, please,” Thorn said in a whisper, quickly glancing back to look at the Elf.

“Apologies, Colonel.”

“I had an interesting conversation with Koda,” Thorn said, refocusing back to Jesca. “He told me that there seemed to be something that happened. Everyone was cheering, but many people were …” he paused to look for a word, “many people felt connected to each other. There was some kind of magic in the air for a brief time.”

“Do you know anything about that?” Reynard asked.

She’d been told she wasn’t in trouble, but Jesca certainly felt like she was in trouble for something, and had no idea what. People were connected? What did that mean? And why were they asking her?

“Jesca,” Thorn continued, “Koda noticed something else interesting. He said that it was the Beastkin in the crowd that felt this way, and only the Beastkin.

“I’ve since talked to Thucax and Shul’an. They said the same thing,” Reynard added.

“I could feel … something,” Thorn said. “It was as if my senses were becoming finer, almost feral in a way, emboldened by a power I’ve not felt before.” He gestured back to the Arkan. “He, on the other paw, didn’t feel anything.”

Slowly, Jesca’s brain started putting pieces together. No! It couldn’t be! She … she didn’t cast that, did she? She’d been completely avoiding that skill; avoiding even thinking about it, ever since she got it. She’d been avoiding it so hard that she hadn’t even made time to talk to Callie about what to do. “Oh no! No no no no no!” Jesca gasped quietly, her eyes going as wide as saucers and a sense of panic starting.

“Jesca,” Thorn said, his voice quiet and firm as he spoke, yet somehow still strangely comforting, “officers learn a skill called Command Aura; Reynard knows it, too. It helps us inspire our troops, get them all coordinated or empower them. We can even use it to momentarily stun a target, should the need arise. We don’t use it much here, but Xera used it the day you all arrived when they welcomed you, to inspire everyone’s morale and help ease your fears. Do you remember that? What I felt on the field was somewhat similar to those effects, although much stronger and more primal. Effects, I might add, that seemed to have only affected the Beastkin.”

“Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” Reynard asked, his voice as quiet as Thorn’s, but a little more firm.

Jesca swallowed, and looked down at her paw, claws flexing partially out. “Beastmaster’s Inspiration,” she barely whispered. Everyone here had enhanced hearing of some kind. She didn’t need to say it any louder.

“You cast a spell, didn’t you?”

Jesca just stared at the blanket over her feet and shrugged, saying nothing for several long seconds. “I honestly don’t know. Not intentionally, but possibly.” But she did know, or at least was nearly certain. She’d apparently used that skill she wanted nothing to do with, the one that truly committed her to the path of being alone; of being the only one of her kind. Why her? Why not … hell, why not Callie? She’d be able to handle anything.

“Jesca, tell us about this skill,” Reynard asked. His voice was quiet, maybe now even slightly paternal. There was no anger, just … concern, and maybe curiosity? “You’re not in trouble,” he said again, “I promise.”

Nodding, Jesca queried the creature in her head, asking it to tell her everything that Beastmaster’s Inspiration could do. She took a shaky breath. She was scared, really scared, but she cleared her throat and tried to sit straighter, before telling the three about the skill. It was a long description, and by the end her voice was cracking. She felt like a deceitful, utter disappointment for not telling them before, and she couldn’t look them in the eyes, simply staring at her feet in guilt.

“You know,” Arkan Pelidri began quietly, his deep voice filling the alcove all the same, “that indeed sounds quite similar to a Command Aura skill, save the Beastkin focus and that increasing power element the more people it affects. With that many Beastkin in the stands, it was no wonder you took me down.” He wore a very impressed look on his face aimed not just at Thorn, but at Jesca as well.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Thorn asked, ignoring the Elf. “That’s a good skill to have. A very good skill, in fact.”

It took a few seconds, but Jesca finally blurted, “Because I don’t want it! I don’t want … I don’t want the responsibility.”

Thorn was about to ask her the logical next question, but she continued before he could.

“I’ve heard you, sir. Overheard you both, I mean. You’ve said I’m important to the Beastkin, as a people that is. Others are saying it, too, when they think I’m not listening.” Jesca’s lip was quivering now, and she wiped the back of a paw across each of her eyes. “A few have even called me the reincarnation of the Mimarnae.”

Both Thorn and Reynard sucked in their breath, both becoming straighter; Thorn standing and Reynard in his seat.

“What’s that?” Pelidri asked quietly.

“An old word among the Beastkin,” Thorn said, looking back at the Elf briefly. “Very old. It roughly means ‘Oracle of Light’”

“I’ve heard the translation as ‘Oracle General’” Reynard added.

“It’s said that the Mimarnae was a great spiritual and military leader in our ancient history,” Thorn continued, “at the time of The Escape. It’s the name used for the Beastmaster that supposedly led our people to freedom, or at least it's a well-spun story of such a person.”

“Even Vanis has said I’m important!” Jesca said weakly, her voice getting slightly panicked now. She looked imploring from Reynard to Thorn. “The first-born son of King Feldwin the Second, the Prince who should have been the next king, has said I am important! Me! I’m nobody, but I heard him telling that Imperial Guard captain I’m important.” Her voice got quiet and she sniffled. “I hear everything now; what they are all saying. I hear it all, I just pretend I don’t.”

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“King Feldwin’s son? The Prince?” The Arkan asked. “Is he here?”

“One of the Warlock recruits,’ Thorn replied, growing irritated by Pelidri’s interruptions, before softening and adding,”Likely another officer.”

Pelidri nodded, taking that in as a discussion for later, before getting a perplexed look on his face. “What is wrong with being this ‘Oracle General’?”

“Don’t you understand? I just don’t want it! I don’t want to be important!” Jesca blurted out, a little pleading anger in her voice, completely ignoring the difference in rank. “I’m not that person! You heard what that skill said. ‘Leadership and charisma’? Those are two things I don’t have! I’m a nobody girl from a nowhere village who’s not even supposed to be here, and everyone is thinking I’m some great … chosen one or … something.” Her voice trailed off as she realized she’d raised her voice to almost a panic. She looked up at Reynard, and then the two officers and deflated. “I’m sorry for yelling,” she mumbled, focusing towards Pelidri in apology, “but it shouldn’t be me. It should be anyone else but me.”

Reynard leaned back, glancing up at Thorn. A lot of what Jesca had just said they’d already deduced. After Thorn interviewed the recruits, determining that whatever happened only happened to the Beastkin, coupled with the fact that Jesca was the one that collapsed with mana exhaustion, it was logical she had done something. Pelidri and Xera were the ones that initially suggested it was something akin to Command Aura. From there it was an easy leap to the conclusion their resident Beastmaster had another skill; something she hadn’t shared with them, and everything then fell into place.

At first, Thorn was a little angry that Jesca hadn’t said anything, but after informing Reynard about what had happened and further discussion, it was Xera that suggested, in their excitement for the new class, Thorn and Reynard may have lost sight of the impact their enthusiasm could be having on Jesca. They certainly did need to confront her, but knowing Jesca, and Cheetahkin in general, they decided to do it quietly and without pressure. As fellow Beastkin, not as her superiors, if at all possible.

“You’ve seemed so happy about your new class,” Thorn finally said. “And you’ve been doing so well in your training. You’ve reached Silver with your Ranger class and Bronze with the other.”

“I’m sorry,” Jesca said, talking around another sniffle. “I don’t mind being a Beastmaster sometimes. I mean, I’m afraid of it, but Artemis and Iris mean so much to me, and I’m sure more Companions will come in time. The skills and perks are amazing, too. But then I overhear what other people say and it reminds me that … that I’m the only one and you are all expecting greatness from me. I’m not great. I’m just … nobody. I could never be what they want me to be, or what you want me to be.“ Her voice trailed off, before she finally said, "So I smile and fake it and try not to disappoint everyone, because I just don’t know what else to do.”

Neither of the officers nor Reynard were sure what to say. On one paw, they could immediately empathize with the girl. She was certainly unique. As far as they knew, she was the only one to have two classes, and the only Beastmaster in anyone’s memory. That was a lot of pressure if you thought about it, especially with Thorn and Reynard constantly going on about the possibilities for the new class, and even worse if people were setting other kinds of prophetic expectations on her. On the other hand, this was a war training camp. They really didn’t have the luxury of holding the paws of people in order to help them get through an existential crisis. There was an enemy to defeat, and Beastmaster or not, a small fortune had been invested in Jesca to make sure that happened.

As if sensing what they were thinking, Jesca looked up. “I know I have a responsibility,” she said quietly. “You gave me a Symbiote, something I could never have imagined happening in a million years, and I know I need to be the best Ranger I can be; the best Beastmaster I can be.” She pointed to her head. “I know that.” Then, she thumped her clenched paw loudly to her chest a couple times, creating a hollow sound and looking almost pleadingly at Thorn. “But in here, even if I don’t show it, I’m scared, sir. No, I’m terrified! Not to fight, or even to die if that should happen. I’m scared I can’t live up to what everyone is now expecting of me, and because of that, they could die. I’m not any kind of a leader, sir, and I really don’t want to be.”

“You know,” Pelidri said, his deep voice resonating in the space again, “the best of leaders come from those that never wished to be one.”

Thorn turned to glare at the Arkan. “That’s not helping,” he said angrily, rank be damned. Against his better instincts, he had allowed Pelidri to accompany them, on the promise he would observe only. So far, he’d done anything but. It wasn’t that he was wrong, though. Many of the best leaders in history were indeed those that were thrust into the role by circumstance. No, the real problem was that the Arkan didn’t understand the subtle nuances and psychology of Beastkin culture, at least not in the way that mattered to this issue. This needed to be handled carefully or it could make things worse.

Beastkin, as a whole, were a very social people. Part of this was their animal cores instinctively seeking safety in numbers, while another was their shared history over the last five hundred years. As a result, especially for the younger ones still in their breeding prime, there was an intense pressure to fit in and focus on their social duties of raising families. It was far less pronounced in the cities, where Beastkin mingled freely with other races. But Jesca was from a remote Cheetahkin village populated nearly entirely by Cheetahkin. Thorn and Reynard both knew that all her life had been a constant pressure to be part of her pride, and not be odd or unique. The fact that she didn’t want to breed or even take a mate was enough for her to be out of place, but at least not unheard of these days. But being thrust into this strange class of legend, with some already holding her up as the return of the Mimarnae, would be tough for any young Beastkin, especially a Cheetahkin female her age.

“So what do you want to do?” Reynard asked, the question quietly directed to Jesca.

The Beastmaster shrugged. “I would have told you about the skill eventually. I just wasn’t ready, and I wanted to talk to Callie about it first. I just haven’t had a chance to do that privately, since I’ve been avoiding it and she’s also been spending her free time with Pixyl.” Jesca rolled her eyes, her face smirking just slightly. Mockingly, she added, “Actually, she would have just called it ‘cool’ and told me to tell you.”

“Probably,” both Thorn and Reynard echoed together.

“I want to get to Gold with my Ranger class, because at least I understand that,” Jesca said, trying to be confident, but obviously struggling. “I’ve set that challenge for myself, because I want to go back home, and being good at what I know is the best way to make sure that happens. I haven’t really given any more thought beyond that. Becoming a Beastmaster has just made it all confusing.”

“Well, you’ll reach it, I’m sure,” Reynard said. “You’re the most-driven of all of you, and your work shows it. If not for that Elemental mission, Callie wouldn’t have made it until next week.”

“She’s the one with ‘leadership and charisma’,” Jesca said, forcing a laugh. “She would have been a better Beastmaster than me.”

“Now there’s an absolutely terrifying thought,” Reynard said, his eyes going wide as he rolled them. “I can’t even begin to imagine what would happen to us if she’d become a Beastmaster. Can you imagine her as the Mimarnae?”

“I know!” Jesca laughed again. Then she looked at Thorn. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you both. I was just … afraid. I still am.”

Thorn cleared his throat and stood straighter. “I understand, I really do, but I’m going to ask you to not do that again. It’s not an order, simply a request. We were trying to be helpful, even if we came on a bit strong. For that, I do apologize.”

Jesca nodded in understanding.

Thorn continued, “But, that said, it is my intention to keep you here for the four-week extended session, to focus that time on your new class in the hope of getting it to Silver before you leave.” He gestured to Reynard. “He’s been tasked with developing the training to do that while he’s convalescing, and getting your Beastmaster class to Silver is another way to help get you back home.”

“Uh, okay,” was all Jesca could respond with. She was actually surprised that they wanted to keep her longer. The extended session, from what Xera had said at the dinner in the beginning, was for people to learn leadership things, which, again, she wanted no part of.

“In the meantime,” Thorn resumed, rubbing the top of his head, “you have a few weeks of term remaining after Midsummer is over. Actually, a little bit more than expected, as we’ll be keeping everyone a couple extra days due to losing time to the holiday. Go ahead and use that remaining time to focus on your Ranger class. It will be hard work, but we’ll make sure you get to Gold. Don’t worry about your Beastmaster side for now, unless you want to spend some of your own time on it. I suppose there are some things you might be able to mix in with the Ranger studies, too. Would that work for you?”

Jesca nodded. She was just a recruit. It wasn’t like she could really say no, after all.

“I may want to get together,” Reynard said, “to discuss ideas for your extended-term training against the things my research is finding, so do give some thought as to what you might find valuable to study.”

“Okay.”

Thorn gestured with his head. “Tasi has been over here scowling at me for several minutes to get us to leave, so we will do that. One last request, however. Do not share that you are staying on with anyone, including Callie. All those chosen will be informed at the right time.”

Jesca nodded a third time, and then saw Tasi peeking around the corner, a somewhat irritated look directed toward Thorn and the other two. Reynard rose and started to crutch-walk out of the alcove, Pelidri standing aside to let both him and Thorn pass.

“Recruit,” the Arkan asked, “what did you mean when you said you shouldn’t even be here?” He didn’t miss much.

Jesca could feel herself flush with a bit of guilt, but she couldn’t lie to them, not any more. “My mother picked the black stone, not me. I switched it for mine and then claimed I had drawn it.” Then, feeling a need to explain, she added, “I have six younger siblings, the youngest is seven, and they couldn’t be allowed to lose their mother. None of them actually need me, though.”

Pelidri nodded, an odd smile appearing on his face. “I’ve been in and out of the Cillisine army several times in my life, taking breaks to raise family or other reasons before coming back. The first time, my father was conscripted into our brief little skirmish with the Goblins in northeast Cillisant, about fifty years before the Slaver Wars. Two days before he was to leave, I snuck away from home. Pelidri is my father’s name, and that’s the name that was on the army’s list, so they asked no questions when I told them it was mine. I eventually came to find out he spent nearly a month trying to convince the army that they took the wrong person. My real name is Kalilgrin, but I’ve gone by Pelidri ever since. You did a good thing.” He put his hand to his chest and bowed deeply, Cillisine style. “Few know that secret, young Beastmaster, and I am honored to share it with you.”

Jesca and the Arkan locked eyes for a long moment, and she saw that he truly understood why she had done that. She finally managed to respond with a simple, “Thank you.”