Idle chatter rattled off in a blank space in Ma’at’s addled brain. She was being dragged from what felt like a very, very long sleep. The mixture of anemia, mild starvation and dehydration was a powerful toxin indeed. It had left her unable to do anything but rest, a happening that would have been a great shock to her if she were capable of emoting at all. Unfortunately, she was not. Sleep still kept her locked onto the couch she laid upon, unmoving except the occasional twitch of the nose and such.
The first thing she heard was a familiar, light voice. An angel?
“Ma’at~ Time to wake up…! That healer isn’t going to pay himself~”
No. Not an angel. Taxes. Much like an ornery cat, Ma’at tumbled over in her sleep and crawled into the nook of the couch cushions.
“Don’t be like that! You were lucky, though. The bullet went straight through your thigh. I couldn’t believe it at first. Apparently, healing magic only works if there are no foreign objects blocking bloodflow.”
Ma’at finally came to her senses, her morning voice muffled by the cushions and blankets covering her. “Is that… Sato?”
“Of course! Who’d you think I was?”
“No one, really. You just sounded like…”
Sato pinched her chin like some philosophical scholar, then opened her mouth as she came to a conclusion faster than Ma’at could finish speaking. “Oh! Did you think I was your mother? Hmhm. Well, I’ve heard that before. You see, there were many days when I was bedridden and sick, and my own dear mother would read to me and pray for my-”
Ma’at flipped over and ripped the coverings off of herself, fresh air invading her lungs and bright light entering her eyes. She was in a dimly lit office, much like the Writer’s, yet this one was much more spacious and tidy. It was a far cry from the almost suffocating, mazelike office her client resided in. Two small desks were near where they both chatted in comfort, and a larger desk toward the back of the room sat near a large chalkboard. Symbols and plans were scrawled across it, but Ma’at was too fatigued and sleepy to make any of it out. “No. You just sounded like someone I knew. That’s all.”
“Hmm… Camelia, was it? That’s the name you kept saying in your sleep.”
Ma’at sighed. An urge to let anger overcome her and threaten Sato rose up within her, but again, exhaustion would not allow it to happen. “Don’t say that name. And don’t listen to me while I sleep.” Staring into Sato’s calm eyes reminded her that something much more important was on her mind. “Ah! Asophi… What happened while I was out? Why did you help me? Who are you anyway?”
“Calm down, calm down. I was getting to that. Don’t worry, everything is taken care of. I should probably start with the fact that you’ve been asleep for three days.”
“Three days!? How is that… Ow.” Her whole body ached. Beside her was a small table lined with an array of medicine. It seemed the healing magic wasn’t quite enough to bring her back to normal.
“We had the healer that was keeping that man Luthe stable work on you afterward. Without him, you probably would have died.”
The fact that she had to rely on an enemy for help didn’t sit well. Even worse was the realization that she’d failed her client and allowed Cloak to run off without one iota of his whereabouts.
Sato sensed Ma’at’s displeasure with the recent events. “Don’t worry. I told you, everything was taken care of. I was hired by that old writer friend of yours to save you and drag you back here. But as you can tell, I’m not exactly knowledgeable when it comes to stitching people back together again. So, we were both quite lucky that night.” She smiled.
“The Writer hired you? Where is he now?”
“Right here, Ma’at.” A familiar face walked in at that moment. It was Syggrafeas, Writer Extraordinaire. “Now, before you say anything, you succeeded! Keep that money of yours. I believe it is still with that black horse you rode in on. He’s waiting patiently outside.”
Flabbergasted, she shook her head. “Succeeded? No, I failed you. The magical device you gave me led me there, but I didn’t find the leader of the Gunblades. Just some strange man with a rifle. But… maybe if we tracked him down, he’d lead us to-”
The Writer, in his neat and dour brown suit, smirked and swatted the air with his hand in a dismissive gesture. “No, no. I don’t care about all that, Ma’at my dear. The Gunblades can run along and infect some other city for all I care. All I wanted was to drive them out of Reville, and you succeeded! I tried my hand at making another Arcane Construct, failed, tried again, failed, tried again and tested it. I walked around the entire city and do you know what I discovered!?”
Ma’at’s confused eyes darted from the Writer to Sato then back to the Writer again in silence.
“They aren’t even a blip on the map anymore! No more Gunblades in Reville. So pat yourself on the back, dear girl. You did it. Job’s done.”
“Is it really that simple?”
The elegantly eccentric client plopped down on the couch opposite of Ma’at, resting his chin on his wrists. “It really is. I tipped off the Inkorpt about the warehouse and all, too. They should’ve already cleared it out and cleaned it up by now. Must’ve been a tough gig, though. Don’t envy them.”
Sato took a seat next to Ma’at in turn, perhaps feeling awkward being the only one standing. “There’s more.”
“More?”
“More! Remember when I told you that you should take a break? Among friends?” The Writer adjusted his zooming eyeglass.
Ma’at sighed and pinched in-between her temple and her nose. “Yes… what about it?”
“Well… I came up with something incredible! Amazing, even. A plot that would put the most devilish, thieving villains out of the job! A design so meticulously brilliant that any scholar in a city-wide radius would flee at the sight of it.”
“Get on with it already.” A fear rose up in her chest. Not a primal fear, no, but a fear of what her old colleague was scheming. Whatever it was, it had his one eye twinkling with delight. It was that starry shine in his lone pupil that told her he was planning something that she would not be enthused about.
He leaned back and raised his arms as if to embrace the building they occupied. “I spoke with Vroque’s chief executive the day before you arrived. Me and him made a certain deal: he would absorb my office, and in exchange, he would hire me as one of his directors! What does this mean, you ask? He’s also agreed to hire you, Ma’at my dear! You can be a bonafide mercenary now, but not limited to shady killings and executions. We can travel the world, set sail, adventure, discover things any normal person couldn’t even dream of! What do you think!?”
“No,” she replied coldly. Not a hint of curiosity or adventurous spirit could be found in her apathetic tone. “Not interested.” She leaned forward and raised her leg, inspecting her bullet wound. It was wrapped in silk bandages. Though it was sore, it seemed to be nearly healed.
“No…? Ah, I should mention that Sato will join you as one of our colleagues.”
Sato nodded, looking at Ma’at with a curious expression. Her violet eyes were darker than they were the night they met. Perhaps they were the kind that changed with their owner’s emotions. Was it a sign that she had hoped Ma’at would join her?
Ma’at scoffed at the idea and rubbed at her bandages in contemplation.
Sato glanced at the Writer with another one of her meaningful looks.
“Ah, right. I should also mention that another will join you. Though, I don’t believe she’s here quite yet. Her name is Tien, a good friend of Sato’s. I think you two would get along nicely-”
Ma’at’s bestial, fierce hazel eyes tore into him. This time, however, it was not a friendly warning. Anger sparked to life within her heart and pumped through her veins. “Stop. Just… stop. I don’t need ‘adventure’. I don’t need friends. I’m not your daughter, Sygg. You and I are too old for things like this. I don’t have time to run in circles and waste time. I…” She stared into the Writer’s half-heartbroken visage for a time, then left the room without another word.
“Ma’at, hold on…!” The Writer tried to stop her, but she had already left.
“I’ll bring her back,” Sato said. She placed a hand on the Writer’s shoulder and ran after the Swordstress. She grabbed her coat and ran down the stairs. Two floors down. She yanked the door open and stepped out into the streets of Reville, darting her head left and right.
Deimos was gone from the curb, and he could not be seen amongst the busy crowd chatting and walking along.
Ma’at rode toward the central district with a heavy heart. In a way, it felt as if she’d been abandoned. The one person she could rely on had gone behind her back and sold off her one haven. Her one place of comfort, where she could feel at home. Though she would lie and curse the Writer for his messiness and that stifling, oblique office, she harbored a certain love for it as well. Now, it was as good as gone. And their partnership was moot.
A good while passed in the early morning. Sato ran along the avenues, searching and searching. She came across many crowds, many races, but not once did she spot a dark-skinned woman riding atop a black horse. She was about to give up… but something suddenly popped in her mind. A thought, a leading thought that carried her steps and urged her forward one more time. One more place, she thought. One more, then I’ll give up on her.
The early morning became the afternoon. The hazy sunlight began to clear with the skies. Another beautiful day, just as it was when the Sirithisian mercenary had arrived. Even if she’d lost the Writer to Vroque’s grasp, Reville was just as wondrous a city as always. Full of sonder, full of life.
“You think you can just walk out on our boss to stuff your face?”
Ma’at looked up, a cupcake in each of her hands and her mouth stuffed with pastry mulch.
Sato looked down at her with a certain judgemental ire, her bangs wistfully brushing at her face with the autumnal wind. All at once, though, the ire vanished completely. As if consumed by her gluttony made manifest, the Maiden of the Rain joined her so-called colleague at the small table. “I was thinking the exact same thing!” she cried, her voice muffled by foodstuffs.
“You… like this stuff?” Ma’at stared at her with fascination.
“Love it!”
Hesitating, she continued to eat and eat. They each spent an embarrassingly large amount of money on sweets, so much so that when they were done they could barely lift their heads.
An inordinate amount of time passed. Digestion left them weary and tired, and already noon was upon them and fleeting.
“Whew~ It’s been so long since I’ve done that! Tien always tells me I’ll get fat and ruin my diet.”
“She must not understand the woes of a pastry-lover. What kinds of things does she like to eat?”
Sato paused to think. “Um… fish? She likes to buy some bizarre looking things. Most of them don’t even look edible! I keep telling her to buy food that looks appetizing, but all she says is: ‘Look, Sato. The tastiest delicacies appear disgusting at first glance. The grosser they look, the greater they taste.’ But she’s wrong. She’s been wrong so many times I’ve lost count. We once ate a gargofin caught at Winter’s End, and it might have been the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”
To the rain woman’s surprise, Ma’at chuckled, a sunlit smile appearing on her face. Noticing Sato’s glare, she hid it just as quickly as it had shown through. The events that led to them even being at the cafe crept into their minds after they had buried it underneath a mountain of cake.
“...Have you thought about it? Joining Vroque, I mean.”
Ma’at stared into her empty plate. Muddled responses flew around in her brain, but she was too exhausted to cut the conversation short again. “Of course I have. But freelance work is all I’ve got. It’s not as though I have anything against you. It’s just… for so long, I’ve been alone. It’s too much of a change. Besides, I can’t go too far from Reville.”
Sato poked her half-eaten cake with a fork, her eyes trained on Ma’at’s downtrodden form. “Why not? What’s so important that you can’t leave every now and then?”
“I couldn’t watch you suffer anymore. How do you do it, from where you are? How do you watch from behind those eyelids of yours? Please, find something new. Search. Seek. Explore and learn this world before your time is cut short.”
The voice from the dream repeated in her head, echoing off into the distance.
“It’s not that, exactly…”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Sato narrowed her gaze. She crept forward across the table, her forearms weighing it down, and stared directly into Ma’at’s face. “Are you waiting for someone? Is it that Camelia person?”
“Waiting? No. Just hoping… Hoping that she comes this way.”
Sato shook her head, her ponytail dancing behind her neck. She pursed her lips. “Don’t you see? This is the perfect opportunity, then! Once we start getting contracts farther out, there’s a higher chance you’ll find her there. Who knows when she’ll ever come this way, if she ever does? Besides, don’t you want to see the world? Meet all kinds of people, see all kinds of things?” She looked around them. A clerk at the counter typed busily on a typewriter before turning her back to make a customer some coffee. “This… is all that’s here. I love Reville. But sitting here and waiting forever for something to happen won’t do anything. If you want to see her again… if you want to talk to her, then you only have one option in my eyes. Go and find her.”
“Find people. People who care. Care for them and help them. Then, eventually, you’ll find me.”
Was that voice… really Camelia?
Sato smiled lightly as she realized she was getting through to her. “And the Writer will still be… kinda like our client at Vroque. I mean, he’ll be our boss, so it’s similar.”
“It’s terrifying,” Ma’at replied with a smirk.
“Heheh. Yes, a bit. But isn’t that what makes things fun?” Sato dipped a spoon into her tea, swirling it around and around. “Ma’at… what do you want to do? With your life, I mean. What’s your dream?”
“My… dream?” In all her years, she couldn’t remember a single time when someone asked her such a question. She was taken aback, perplexed. “I’ve never had one.”
“Nonsense. Everyone has a dream. Anything you strive for can be your dream. Why do you do merc work?”
“It’s the only thing I’m good at. And it pays well.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Sato said, losing herself in her spiraling drink. She looked back up at Ma’at. “What’s the real reason? For me… I want to open a bakery. I’ll hire the most adorable girls I can find, and everyone from the four corners of Vastyliad will come to try my food!”
The Swordstress looked at Sato like she’d just thrown up onto the table.
“See? Dreams are dumb. But it doesn’t mean they’re not meaningful. What’s yours, huh?”
Ma’at stared into the blue sky. Into the wispy pale clouds. At the gliding birds, free and flying across it, their feathers frail and light. Then she turned and looked into the cafe’s kitchen. Into the fiery abyss of their cookware. The raging warmth of the oven and pastries inside. Warmth. A fiery warmth and an old memory. “To see Camelia again. I want to sit beside her at a campfire, just one more time.” She shut her eyes tight, as if she could feel the dancing flames against her bare skin. As if she could feel the weight of Camelia’s head resting on her shoulder.
Sato grinned eagerly. “Then it’s settled!” Without a second thought, she sprung up from her chair, yanked Ma’at up, and dragged her out of the cafe.
“What? What’s settled?”
“You’re gonna join us, of course. After all, we’re already friends!”
“Already…? Wait…!”
Sato threw Ma’at onto Deimos’s back, jumped onto his front, grabbed the reins, and rode off back to the office. Back to Vroque Company and Firm.
“...So, this is a new development?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. The Advent brought… Oh!” The Writer, interrupted by the reappearance of the two women, stopped himself mid-sentence. “You’re back!” He stood in front of the huge chalkboard at the end of the room, a white stick of chalk pinched in his fingers. “I started early. I thought it would have taken you longer-”
“I just went to the nearest cafe,” Sato said, chuckling through the sentence. “This lady can really eat.”
“I didn’t ask you to-” Ma’at began, but the sudden appearance of a new face and voice made herself known. Standing from her sitting position and turning around to face Ma’at and Sato, a straight-haired brunette woman of a shorter stature stared daggers contemptuously at one of them. Her eyes were sky blue, and she wore a red dress shirt, black pants, and a brown overcoat. Beside her chair was a black attache case which Ma’at assumed to be her’s.
“Sato… what did I say about you going to the cafe?”
The tall, raincoat-wearing woman scratched the back of her neck anxiously. Her voice trembled. “Uhm… that it’s not healthy…? But I didn’t go there to eat! I went there to bring Ma’at back. See? Brought her back.” Though it was technically the truth, it was also what law officials would call a ‘half-truth’, another form of lying.
Tien shifted her interrogation to Ma’at. “That true? Did she really not order anything?”
Ma’at looked at Sato in the corner of her eye. She was practically on the verge of tears, begging her to help her out. Was she really so simple as to lie to a woman she barely knew for a woman she also barely knew? Why? There was nothing in it for her. Even so, the Maiden’s pleading, glassy violet eyes had a certain power over her. “Y-Yeah… she didn’t order anything. I ate everything myself.”
Tien crossed her arms and looked them both up and down in suspicion. “Hm. Really? Alright, then. We have more important things to talk about, anyway.”
“Yes, we do.”
“What?” Ma’at asked.
The Writer directed her and Sato to sit down in the neatly prepared chairs beside Tien. It seemed as if he were preparing to give them a lecture on something. He scrambled over to his desk on the left. The windows, now open, let the bright, blue sky and sunlight in. It painted the room in a cool, refreshing color that left no space for darkness. He picked up three sheets of paper, three copies of the same document, and handed them out to each of them. Then, he walked back over to the chalkboard and wrote down several different definitions. He also scribbled some half-hearted drawings to give a simple visualization of each word.
Ma’at took a cursory glance at the piece of paper in her hands. It read:
Article 7-A: Effects of the Advent
- Memory loss in different degrees all revolving around when the Advent occurred
- New plant life such as hypnophage and Flowers of Tranquility growing all around Vastyliad
- Magic rarely makes a chime sound, it now makes musical sounds akin to violins and pianos
- Most have been given latent magical abilities relating to the realization of their Paracosm
- Everyone has been given the ability to project their Paracosm, essentially their ‘inner world’ that is the manifestation of both their trauma and emotional strength
- People can still be taken over by their magic and their Paracosm, becoming Enigmas
Article 7-B: Inherent Magic
~Ocularis~
Magical eyes that the user is born with. They can hold a number of varying powers and can be hidden and used at will. Very rare.
~Paracosm~
A person's inner world given metaphysical form through inherent magic. Without intervention, this realm remains in the subconscious imagination of a person. Through a traumatic event or magical reflection, however, these realms can be harnessed as physical instruments. They can also take control and transform the user into a hideous being known as an Enigma.
~Enigma~
Monstrous beings that were once humanoid. Usually created through ‘breakdowns’ or ‘wrathcurse’ events, causing the person to transform into an abomination that relates to their Paracosm in some shape or form.
Article 7-C: Enigma Hunting [TOP SECRET]
All Vroque employees hired under Iteration 7 will be given contracts mostly involving the elimination of Enigmas. These will be mostly contained to the main continent, Vastyliad. Consult your registered director for more information.
Ma’at stared at the document in bewilderment, unable to parse the strange language used and the headache-inducing content therein.
“Forgive me for the text’s brevity,” the Writer carried on. “I didn’t have much time to jot down every little detail. But I’m sure I can answer any questions.”
“Mm, right. As I was saying,” Tien said calmly and intellectually, “these ‘Effects of the Advent’ are new developments? And these can’t be all there is. An event of that scale had to have made changes to the world that are beyond our knowledge.” She pointed at the loose paper in her hand poignantly.
“Quite right,” the Writer responded. “These are just the ones that I have been able to confirm through investigations and the things mercenaries have told me.”
“Didn’t these… Paracosms… or Inner Worlds exist before the Advent as well? Breakdowns and such have been occurring for hundreds of years.”
“Right again.” The Writer nodded and went back to scrawling on the chalkboard. It squeaked as he wrote, making Ma’at and Sato wince at the uncomfortable sound. “Only now we have grown to understand the cause. Through certain missions Vroque led to the Technicist underground, it is surmised that emotions and cognitive thought have a great power over our world. It is the source of magic itself.”
Tien’s eyes practically gleamed with stars as she listened intently. She, too, was jotting down notes onto the backside of the document on a clipboard she’d found. The other two were lost in a sea of confusing words and diagrams.
“Don’t look so dumbfounded, Sato. You know this stuff, kind of.”
“I do?”
“She does?” Ma’at inquired.
“Mhm,” Tien confirmed. “It’s the whole basis of your abilities. You’re able to do the things you do because you can tap into your Paracosm.”
“What the hell is a Paracosm?” Ma’at snapped, annoyed by the woman. Though she’d read the meaning on the page, the definition left a lot to be desired.
“A Paracosm, otherwise known as an Inner World,” the Writer explained, “is an entire metaphysical world beyond our own that exists on a separate plane of existence. It is overlaid on a humanoid’s mind, and grows with the mind. And the mind grows with it.”
“An entire world? You’re saying that everyone’s mind is connected to worlds we can’t see?”
“Exactly, Ma’at my dear! I knew you’d understand. Think of it as a door. Everyone has such a door to their Inner World. What leaks through the keyhole forms their personality and attributes. Their race, their ideals, their characteristics. However, some hold the keys to such doors and are able to open them. Some wider than others.” He glanced at Sato, then back to Ma’at. “What this means is that those who can open the doors to their Inner World are capable of using magic that reflects their Inner World in turn. Their magic brings forth their Inner World into reality in some shape or form. However, opening the door too wide will result in disastrous effects. This is what creates an Enigma: a monster born when a person is completely overwritten by their own Paracosm.”
Ma’at stared back down at the document with a gained sense of understanding. These words started to make sense, and they connected with things she already knew about the world of magic. What she’d seen in the war and elsewhere made it clear that ‘magic’ in the literal sense was quite limited. What a person could achieve was based on their birth and bloodline, and then how that magic could take form would also depend heavily on how developed their imagination was and how much emotional turmoil they’d suffered. Why that was the case was unclear, but she doubted the Writer would know the answer to such a vague question.
“You understand now, Sato?” Tien asked her friend, a nice yet concerned smile on her face.
“Yes, though what is this thing called an Ocularis? I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
The Writer nodded and pointed to a crude drawing of an eye he made. It was bone white and was composed of many circles and shading of the iris. “Oculari are much less known. Truth be told, we don’t know much about them. What we do know is that some people are born with very unique eyes. Perhaps with eyes that can physically gaze into their Inner World?”
“Is that the case?” Tien asked.
“It is highly probable. Just a hypothesis from me, though. I’ve never known anyone with an Ocularis to ask. But every case seems to be different. I’ve heard of people born with eyes that gave them the innate ability to use pyrokinesis. I’ve also heard of people with eyes that can see some seconds into the future. All scary, fascinating things. But as I wrote, they are very rare. I came to know about them not even a few years ago.”
They all remained in silence for a time.
“Any other questions?” The Writer asked, to no reply. “Then, I have to ask, why are you here Ma’at? I thought you weren’t interested.” He crossed his arms in an attempt to appear despondent, but his ravenous passion for giving such a lecture had all but burnt most of his worries away.
Ma’at sighed and crossed her arms as well. She looked away. “Sato convinced me to come back, so here I am.”
“So you’ll be joining us? Even if you’d be a Vroque employee on paper?”
She took a deep breath and silently let it pass through her nostrils. It calmed her somewhat. “Sure. I’ll work with you all as long as it continues to align with my goal.” She threw a fleeting look at Sato. “As long as it aligns with my dream. But as soon as it doesn’t, I’ll leave and we’ll go our separate ways.”
Childishly bright smiles appeared on the Writer and Sato’s faces at the same time.
“Glad to hear it. Truly. Ah, perhaps we should redo introductions? Now that we’re all officially the employees of ‘Vroque Company and Firm Iteration 7’!” The Writer shouted the boring and soulless name of the building as if they were a traveling circus.
“Wow. That’s a terrible name,” Sato said.
“Yeah, it doesn’t really tell people what we do. Can we change it?”
The Writer thought, pinching his chin ponderously as he always did. “Hmm. I don’t see why not. As long as it sounds professional, I suppose.”
“What about… ‘Vroque Bakery and Firm’!?” the Maiden of the Rain yelled out. It seemed as if she couldn’t help but reach for her dream at every chance she had. It was a sentiment that spoke deeply to the type of person Sato was. Her strength of will, though Ma’at wouldn’t admit it, inspired her greatly. Deep down, the mercenary believed that this woman could lead her to better days. That she thought so very different from her, and in doing so, could show her paths that were otherwise blocked off by tremendous, insurmountable thorns.
“No, Sato. Professional!” Tien chastised and shook her head. “I don’t have any ideas.”
A simple name came to Ma’at’s mind. “What about ‘Vroque Investigations’?”
“Mm! That could work,” the Writer agreed.
The others nodded.
“Sounds good to me,” Tien said. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ma’at. I’m Tien. I’m more into data and paperwork stuff, but if you two ever need me physically on the job, I can hold my own.” The brunette woman shook Ma’at’s hand, her calm blue eyes settling her nerves. “And this is Sato, as you know. We’ve worked together for quite a while at another Iteration, so if she ever annoys you, just let me know. I’ll give her a stern talking-to.” She laughed upon seeing Sato’s displeased look.
“I’m not annoying. I’m Sato, Maiden of the Rain! I’m actually a pretty well-known merc around here, Ma’at. Whatever kinda case it is, I’m sure I can help you solve it. Especially if it’s more of a… physical debate rather than an intellectual one, if you understand. Heh.”
Tired and sore, Ma’at shook her hand and was led by the Writer back to the couch for some necessary rest. In days time, they would receive their first contract. Sleepiness claimed her and led her through a blurry dream mirroring the events that had transpired and the people she had met. The future had come and gone, leaving behind a new one to replace it.