PART V - MISDIRECTED EMOTION

Callie took a deep breath and reached out to knock on the door. The three knocks were hesitant, though, the first of them not even meeting the solid wood, while the next two were barely loud enough for anyone to hear. The occupant heard them easily enough, though.

“Come!” the deep voice inside called.

Swallowing, Callie opened the door, and poked her head in. She tried to say something, but her throat seized up, emitting barely a squeak.

“Ahh. It’s you,” Arkan Pelidri said, a slight sense of disappointment seeming to be in his voice. He was seated at a table, two stacks of books in front of him, while another was sitting open on his lap. Some of the books were fairly thin, while others reached dictionary-sized thickness. “I told Xera there was no need for you to come by, but come in, all the same.” He made a single gesture of invitation.

Nervously, Callie sidled through the door, glancing back just once at Pixyl, who had walked with her in support. “G-Good evening,” Callie said … barely. Damn the Arkan was intimidating as hell. There was no specific reason for it, but between his rank, his age, his absolute mastery of his class, and even the deep voice, it all came together in just a single wall of utter presence in this enclosed space. Jesca had warned her about that, but Callie had underestimated how oppressive it felt.

Seeming to sense the effect he was having, Pelidri sighed and closed the book he was holding, tossing it lightly onto the table with a thump, and the slap of sound made Callie jump slightly. “Please, sit.” He smiled and gestured towards a chair, white teeth seeming to gleam against his dark skin. That didn’t really help lessen the intimidation a single iota. “No rank in here, Little One,” he added, increasing the intimidating smile. “We’ll just chat. May I get you a drink?”

Before Callie could answer no, the Arkan stood, retreating into a prep area with running water, before returning with a metal pitcher and a pair of metal cups. He set the latter down before filling both, then slid one towards Callie with one hand while setting the pitcher in the middle of the table. Rather than sitting, he stepped away again, this time returning with a plate of delicious-smelling jellycakes, almost assuredly made fresh by Pama or her people. Ignoring the dumbfounded face his guest was wearing, the Arkan gestured towards the cookies, taking one himself before sitting again.

Hesitantly, feeling as if she didn’t have a choice despite the tumbles her stomach was making, Callie took a cookie herself. After seeing the Arkan take a bite of his, she nervously nibbled on her own. Despite how delicious it was, and how moist and chewy it was, Callie had a hard time swallowing. She looked over her shoulder towards the closed door, wondering if it was too late to turn and run for it.

“Now, how may I help you, Little One?”

“Um …” Callie tried to begin. She’d practiced what she wanted to say with Pixyl on the way here, and now all of that practice was completely evaporating. Xera had told her to let it go, but for some reason she couldn’t, and now Callie was starting to think coming here was a mistake.

“You wish me to explain my behavior this morning?” the Arkan said, raising an eyebrow and posing a leading question.

Callie nodded, somehow finding a weak voice. “I wanted to apologize if I did or said something.”

“Your Commandant said as much, hence why I asked her to inform you none was needed. Yet, you still came.” Pelidri gave Callie a hard stare, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table as he took another bite of his cookie. Immediately, Callie felt like she needed to apologize a second time for even daring to come to apologize for the first time. She had been stupid for still coming after what Xera said.

“For doing so, you have my respect, Ranger Callie. Most would not, preferring to avoid how obviously uncomfortable you are right now. It shows strength and character on your part, Little One. I thank you for the sentiment, all the same.”

“O-Okay,” Callie whispered, completely surprised by that statement.

“Tell me, Little One, how old do you think I am?”

It was an odd, out of the blue question, and Callie struggled to come up with an answer, really having no sense of Elven age, except to know that Trainer Terrin was considered fairly old, and Legate Galin probably middle-aged. She had no numerical reference, really. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug.

“A wise answer when asked to guess someone’s age,” Pelidri said, laughing once, really just a single, strong chuff, his white smile appearing again. “Well, I’m really old, we should simply leave it at that. Suffice to say that I’ve been around a long, long time. Well into my sixth cycle, in fact.”

“Cycle?”

“You don’t know of life-cycles? Oh, that’s right, Xera said you have limited memory of before coming here, except for music, apparently. Elves live a long time, and for some, as well as other long-lived races, we tend to break our extended lives into a series of chapters, or ‘cycles’, generally around fifty years in length. Not everyone does this, but for those that follow this way, it means we reach a point where we often choose to take our lives in a new direction; to start over in a way. Many might take on a new vocation, seek to travel widely, or even start a new family. Something completely different, as it were. I am in my sixth cycle. Perhaps this will be my last, or maybe I have enough in me to have a seventh. Time will tell.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Callie frowned, still not quite following along, and not sure where he was going. It obviously showed on her face.

“When I was seventeen,” Pelidri continued, seeking to add more clarity, “I was Conscripted into the Cillisine army to fight in the northern Goblin Wars, which was fifty years before the Slaver Wars. There, I served several years as a soldier and eventually a sergeant, choosing to stay long past my required time, before eventually leaving the army to start a family. Once our children grew and were on their own, it was time for us both to have our next life-cycle.”

He sighed again. “I loved my first wife, and still did until she passed away naturally a few years ago, but we were both about fifty and decided to go our own ways to start our lives over again. She wanted to leave the city and try her hand at becoming a farmer, which was very much not the life for me. I returned to the army, which apparently was. Soon, my pattern repeated and I found a new love. I left the army, we had children, and then separated for our next cycles. I still love that one, too. Cycles are supposed to be about starting anew, but I seemed to have developed a pattern as my third cycle found me back in the army, soon with another love, and then leaving to have a family all over again. Five times I’ve done that, seven children in total through the decades, although I didn't have any for my last cycle, and I’m far too old to think about it for this one.”

Callie still wasn’t sure what all this had to do with anything. It was also a bit uncomfortable to be learning about the personal life of the Arkan, given who he was and how ominous his presence felt. It was almost as if she was learning secrets that she shouldn’t know.

Still, what the Arkan had shared was quite fascinating from a cultural perspective. The idea of being encouraged to remake one’s life again seemed somehow refreshing, as if a way to start over and correct your mistakes. Then she remembered what Jesca and Fynisse had said about Beastkin sometimes restarting their married lives after their childbearing days were done, and from how Tasi had explained it, the Fairy did something similar when they changed genders. It was as if there was an acknowledgement that, and encouragement for, people to grow and change and to start again. What had Morpheus said? ‘Is life nothing more than a series of experiences?’

“During my second cycle, we had two children,” Pelidri continued, holding up two fingers while his tone seemed to become a little nostalgic. "They were both girls, twins actually. Danaes and Rorei. Naturally, having two girls is trouble enough, but you can imagine the mischief of identical twins.” He grinned, but there seemed to be a tiny hint of wistfulness in the smile. “Danaes eventually grew to be a Scholar, and to this day lives in The Nexus doing spell research. Quite accomplished, actually. When Rorei came of age, she was a Ranger.”

Callie's face brightened up at the mention of the Arkan’s daughter also being a Ranger. Then she caught a hint of sadness in Pelidri’s eyes, and her smile evaporated. Something had happened, even if the Elf’s smile was trying to hide it.

“The Slaver Wars came,” Pelidri continued, rolling the metal cup of water between his hands. “Rorei wished to follow in my footsteps and joined the army as a volunteer. To give her the best chance of survival, our family sacrificed nearly everything to get her a Symbiote. We borrowed, begged, and certainly considered stealing. I literally moved mountains to eventually pay off our debts, taking a high-risk high-paying job in the mines. We got her a worm somehow, and she left for the war knowing all her skills.” His face became sad. “She didn’t come home.”

“Oh no!” Callie gasped.

“Her training wasn’t like here,” the Arkan continued as he gestured generally in the air to indicate the entirety of the camp. “There was no focused training for Advanced classes. Soldiers learned to march, learned minimal group tactics, and were quickly sent into battle. Even with Rorei’s advantage, it wasn’t enough, and she fell on the line. I then rejoined the army to do my part. Maybe it was to avenge her, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Callie whispered, not knowing what else to say.

”Your Master Trainer Thorn shared a theory, which I understand was initially proposed by you. This many low-tiered recruits with Symbiotes leads to the worms sharing their knowledge with each other, allowing recruits to receive many more melded and off-class skills and perks than is common. When General Xera told me, the very idea seemed preposterous. Our worms actually being intelligent? Who would believe something like that, after all? I’m beginning to think there might be something to this theory, though.”

Callie was about to add that Morpheus talked to her and that was where the theory originated, but then realized Pelidri hadn’t mentioned it, and may not know on purpose, so decided to keep her mouth shut about it. Unless he brought it up, she’d wait until she could talk to Thorn or Xera and get permission. He’d probably hear through the gossip mill anyways, even if not told directly. “It is an interesting idea,” she said instead. She still didn’t understand where he was going with all this, or why the Arkan got angry, though.

“Yesterday, I met a Bladedancer that could grow wings, and a Berserker that could summon a fiery tornado, and an amazing young Shaman Spearmaster that could conjure herself weapons made of light. And it’s not just those three. It seems everyone is learning things that are strange for their class or unique. Even Thorn and your Major received new melded and off-class powers with their recent new tiers.” He gestured to Callie with his chin. “Just as you have.”

Pelidri looked down again at the cup he was still rolling back and forth in his hands, and then set it on the table with a metallic clinking sound. “Seeing your melded skills, and that powerful perk you have, made me realize something. What if it had been my daughter here? What if she had been sent to such training with so many others possessing a Symbiote and received the kind of instruction you all have? She would have left stronger, that’s for sure. She was only Bronze when …” His voice trailed off, and he looked at Callie. The warm smile had faded, replaced by a weathered frown. “What if she had learned something unique from another that would have made a difference? What if …” Pelidri’s voice trailed off a second time, fading to a croaking whisper.

Callie said nothing. She looked across the table, seeing an Elf that was reminding her of her grandfather. The lifetime, multiple lifetimes really, of experiences, the weariness of time and old grief, and the memories of days long gone were weighing on his shoulders. She felt for Pelidri, and wished she knew what to say. Instead, she said nothing.

“It wasn’t you, Little One,” the Arkan finally sighed. “My anger was directed at fate, and the cruelty it often wields like the sharpest of swords. If only things had been different for Rorei, maybe …” He reached forward and down, taking Callie’s hand in his own. “If anyone should apologize, it should be this withered, old, Elf fool, Little One. I took a passing moment of grief and directed it towards you and others. You are indeed a fine, fine Ranger, and you will do Imoria proud. You will do Rorei proud.”

Maybe it was Callie’s own personality, or the memory of her grandfather, or maybe it was her growingly-instinctive Gnome side, or something else entirely, probably a combination of everything. Whatever it was, before she knew it, Callie rushed forward, throwing her arms around the Arkan’s neck. “I will. I promise.”