– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 216, Season of the Rising Moon, Day 16 –

“Did you even sleep?” asked Wallace as he was entering the room of Sigille’s wake.

Terry glanced up from his seated position at the wall and shrugged. He hugged his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

“Look, kid, you need to sleep and eat,” said Wallace with concern. “And find something to do aside from looking at the corpse of the woman, who would be the first to tell you to do something, anything else. If you want, I can show you a few tricks again.”

Terry just lowered his gaze and shrugged.

“Come on, perhaps we—” Wallace interrupted himself and turned around to see Emaldine barging into the room.

Emaldine stared silently and incredulously at Sigille’s corpse that was resting on the field of grass and flowers.

The sound of more approaching steps followed shortly after.

“Did you reach him?” asked Wallace.

“Yes, but…” Amelia took a deep breath. “I don’t know who told him, but it was obvious that Matteo had already learned of her death. When I found him, he had already split up from the other death hunters and was walking here…”

“Then, where is the kid?” asked Wallace hoarsely. “You could have brought him here with you, couldn’t you?”

Amelia grimaced, and Dargones could read the topic on her face without hearing Wallace’s question.

“He…” Amelia sighed. “Matteo did not speak or listen. He just kept walking while grabbing his heartseeker dagger. Honestly, the fog in his eyes was so dense I’m not even sure he heard what I was saying…” She bit her lower lip in frustration.

Dargones’s lips moved without uttering a sound that could be heard by anyone other than Amelia.

“…yeah. That, too,” muttered Amelia.

Wallace shot her an inquisitive glance.

“Matteo’s aura was intense,” elaborated Amelia. “It’s scaring the Wastes out of the creatures in his path. On the bright side, there should be nothing willing to pick a fight with him. Elenec and some other friends from the death hunters will keep an eye on him, regardless. But…”

Amelia took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what will happen once he arrives here.”

“I’ll kill that cultist bitch,” growled Emaldine and she reached for the spears on her back.

Terry raised his head to stare at Emaldine. He clenched his fists in front of his knees.

“Don’t.” Wallace hurriedly moved to block Emaldine’s path.

“Move,” growled Emaldine with bloodshot eyes. “Or I’ll go through you.”

Dargones silently spoke to Amelia, but she only shook her head.

“Do it then, stubby arms,” retorted Wallace and spread out his own limbs to block the exit. “I doubt you have so little of your mother in you that you would bloody your hands with the blood of a friend.”

His unfazed attitude to her threat caused Emaldine to pause. Wallace was obviously weaker than her.

“WHY?” roared Emaldine. “Why would you want to protect that bitch?!”

“I don’t have the slightest desire to protect that stupid woman,” replied Wallace calmly. “But I wouldn’t be able to face your mother if I were to just let you go stomp to your own death. Your mother would not want you to get yourself killed on her account.”

Emaldine grimaced and snorted. Her face contorted into a snarl, and she shook her head before staring defiantly back at Wallace. “I’ve been a disappointment all her life. Why should her death be any different?” She spat the words and lowered her head. “Move.”

“Oh, fuck off and get over yourself!” Wallace snapped. “Do you have any idea how often the old lady spoke of you? How many of her stories I had to listen to? How—” He stopped himself and pointed towards Sigille’s corpse. “Go look underneath her heart plate and see for yourself! See her most precious belongings!”

Emaldine was taken aback by the weak elf’s outburst. Before she knew why, she did as Wallace had told her.

She flinched when her fingers reached the cold body of Sigille.

While Sigille’s armor was broken in many places, the protective plate in front of Sigille’s heart was completely intact.

Emaldine moved the plate to find a hidden dimensional storage pocket that was only suitable for a few smaller items. There was an old picture that had been created with light-aspected magic a long time ago.

Emaldine saw her toddler self held in the arms of her two parents, who were both kissing one of her cheeks. She choked on her own breath.

“When Sigille came to find Matteo, she stayed with us at camp for a few weeks,” said Wallace. “Emily was about the age that you are in that picture. While the old lady and I had little in common, we both loved bragging about our daughters. The first few nights, she barely shut up about you. Every little step from Emily seemed to remind her of another story.”

Wallace raised his chin at the picture in Emaldine’s hands. “Sigille told me she liked to keep her most precious memories there. She said that it reminded her to protect her own heart.

“That storage is locked to her mana signature, but I can already tell you what’s inside.” Wallace took a deep breath. “Nothing but a bunch of pictures, letters, and trinkets with stories behind them. Whittled figurines, which you apparently gifted her when you were younger. Some ancient practice spears. A plush bunny that looked as if it had been dragged through the Wastes and back. A few—”

Emaldine collapsed to her knees and started sobbing into her crossed arms on Sigille’s body. “Ma…”

“Take some time to grieve first,” said Wallace. “For the rest…” He sighed and shook his head. “At least wait for the kid.”

Terry thought about Matteo’s coming arrival in the outpost. He stopped hugging his knees.

“We’ll wait as well,” declared Amelia solemnly.

Wallace raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have to take on missions for the Guild?”

Dargones moved into the room and sat down at the wall opposite the entrance.

“Sure, but right now, we couldn't care less.” Amelia shrugged with resolved eyes. “And I’ll imagine there will be a lot of missions abandoned and ignored in the coming days.” She walked next to Dargones.

Terry, on the other hand, stood up and left to put on his equipment.

***

Terry interrupted his exercise when he heard familiar voices. He exhaled shakily and ran towards the room of Sigille’s wake.

There, he found the source of the wail. Thena was sobbing uncontrollably while a pale-faced Clayson tried to comfort her.

Behind them, Rachel stared at Sigille’s corpse with disbelieving eyes.

“Noooo,” wailed Thena in a heart-wrenching voice.

Terry felt his stomach plummet at seeing the short dwarf, that was usually so cheerful, so heartbroken. He caught the expression of Emaldine, who was scowling and watching the new arrivals with judging eyes.

Rachel took a deep breath and glanced at Dhruv. “I would like to see the recording. The full recording. Not whatever management is trying to pass around.”

“Talk to Vhida for the complete version,” said Dhruv.

“Did Willow really invite Anand here?” asked Rachel in a low voice.

Dhruv nodded.

Rachel clenched her fists. “If only I did not have to…” She grit her teeth and left the room.

Tara and some other disciples of Sigille entered the hall. They all froze when they saw Sigille’s corpse.

Tara was the first to recover. She emitted a low growl. Then she walked forward and kowtowed three times in front of Sigille’s corpse. “Thank you for all your teachings, Instructor. My eternal gratitude towards the kind teacher that took in this useless one.”

Afterwards, Tara kept kneeling in front of Sigille’s body with closed eyes.

The other disciples performed their own goodbyes and acts of gratitude.

“This is it?!” barked Emaldine. “Her own disciples just whine and accept this shit?” Emaldine’s eyes were filled with contempt and indignation. “What a disgrace.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Tara kept her eyes closed without showing any reaction.

Before any of the other disciples could respond, Wallace intervened. “Could you give it a rest, please?”

Emaldine harrumphed and glared at everyone.

***

Terry was exercising in the training grounds. He was practicing spear choreographies created to incorporate burst techniques.

His eyes wandered over the mass of people that had trickled into the outpost in less than two days. Matteo had not arrived yet, but many other people had. In fact, Terry had never seen so many people in the Libra Outpost before.

Most of them, Terry had never seen at all, but many people had approached him with condolences after they had learned that Sigille had considered him her nephew.

The most astonishing thing, however, was not that so many people came so quickly, but how barely anyone seemed to leave again.

Terry’s gaze moved over a large hole in one wall at the training grounds. The damage had been caused by Instructor Palmer after he had learned about what had happened. The man had stood speechless with shaking fists until he could not take it anymore.

Others had only stared in shock.

Terry noticed someone approaching and his expression darkened as he recognized one guardian that had spoken ill of Sigille when they were trying to open the door.

“What are you doing here?” The channeler addressed another Guardian.

“Being bothered by a pest beetle, evidently,” retorted the Guardian. The woman was wearing a heavy set of armor and a large hammer on her back.

“Hilarious,” sneered the channeler. “You know what I mean. You were supposed to be in the forest to take care of the—”

“Well, I am here, so I guess you need to find someone else for that,” retorted the woman with cold eyes.

“You can’t just do that.”

“Evidently, I can.” The woman did not blink. “I will not leave this outpost. If you want that mission to be taken care of, then why don’t you send one of the witch’s bunch?” Her eyes moved across the area. “From what I can see, there are still plenty to pick from.”

“This—”

The woman walked away without another word or so much as a glance.

Terry clenched his fists, nodded, and returned his focus to his training.

***

“What are your plans?” asked Rachel.

The tall elven man in black leather armor shook his head. “You know the old hag could be a pain in the ass and I never really got along with her…”

“But?” Rachel searched the man’s expression.

“But.” The man clicked his tongue. “When I got in over my head, it was her that saved my sorry arse from certain death. She even picked a fight with management over it.”

Rachel smiled faintly. “I figure at least a quarter of the older Guardians have a similar story. I find it hard to believe that everyone will just disperse and forget about it.”

“Damn it…” The man sighed deeply. “I can’t afford to be placed in the middle of this and I can’t trust my temper either.” He frowned. “I think I’ll take an unannounced vacation with my personal disciples.” The man growled. “I will hate myself for that later. I just know it.”

“Welcome to the club,” said Rachel with a bitter expression. “I figured that’s what you would say. You should talk to Dhruv. He may find a suitable cover mission to get some distance from here. That would at least save you the disciplinary inquiry from management.”

***

“Terry!” Harrison jogged over to where Terry was training.

Terry gave a nod as a greeting.

“I heard what happened,” said Harrison. “My condolences. I know she was still your aunt, and that you looked up to her.”

Terry returned his spears to his storage bracelets and retrieved a bottle of mana-imbued ice tea to drink. It also provided an excuse for not speaking much.

Harrison looked into the distance. “Guess it just shows that reality never lives up to the legends. To think that the Divine Hammer would just snap and murder innocent Guardians. Truly a story of a hero turned villain, I just—”

“Shut up!” spat Terry with furious eyes. “The one that murdered a Guardian was that witch Willow. She set this up. The others, too, are dead because they trusted her.”

“Come on, Terry.” Harrison stared at him with stunned eyes. “If it wasn’t for Bright Willow, then even more would have died. I get that she was your aunt, but—”

“Do you have any idea who that ‘guest’ of Willow was?” forced Terry through grit teeth.

Harrison hesitated. “…yes. I have heard, but none of that changes that he was a guest of the Guardians and that your aunt had no right to murder—”

“Piss off,” growled Terry. “I’ve watched the recording. My aunt gave everyone a choice. They chose to stand with Willow and the murderer she had invited.”

Terry turned around to leave.

“That does not mean they deserved to die,” protested Harrison with indignation. “I knew some of them. They were good people.” Harrison followed Terry and grabbed him by the arm. “Just like Willow.” He pulled on Terry’s arm. “You misunderstand her if—”

*Clash* The tea bottle dropped and broke on the ground.

Right after the tea bottle, Harrison dropped to the ground as well, reeling from the punch that Terry had thrown in his face.

Terry and Harrison both stared at each other in a daze.

Harrison’s face contorted in rage, and he jumped back up to unleash his own fist.

Before Harrison got very far, however, a man in a traditional martial arts uniform caught Harrison’s arm and then hurled Harrison across an astonishing distance.

For a brief moment, the image of a giant golden monkey with a lion’s mane resonated in the mana around Vicente.

Afterwards, Vicente nodded at Terry without speaking a word.

Several people came running to demand explanations.

“What the Wastes are you doing?!”

Vicente just stared coldly at them without a word.

“You will accompany us to management for disciplinary action.”

Other people came running and stood on the side of Vicente.

Terry looked at his own clenched fists and then at the gathered crowds. It was not the first of such confrontations. Several smaller fights had broken out over the past two days.

The size of the opposing crowds grew from incident to incident as more and more people made up their minds.

Vicente continued staring silently, without moving an inch.

“If you don’t come willingly, we’ll—”

“Leave.” Palmer stepped forward to face them and growled: “You’ll leave.”

“You can’t be—”

“Now!” Palmer’s aura rose with his mana flaring up.

In the end, the management-loyal group backed off under the pressure of Palmer and the others.

Palmer nodded at Terry and left to continue his own training.

Terry saw that Derek had followed Palmer the whole time, and they, too, nodded at each other.

Terry recognized another face from the gathered crowd on his side.

“Uhm, I-I’m sorry for your loss.” Isabella looked extremely uncomfortable. “I… Your aunt, you know, she stood up for mages and all mana users. Without her around, things will get worse and worse around here.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Terry.

When Isabella was about to leave, Terry spoke up without looking at her: “You know, I can honestly only cast a single spell. It’s not obvious from the outside, but I am aspect-impaired.”

Isabella stopped in her tracks and turned back to Terry. “Seriously? But Arcana Academy…”

Terry glanced at her. “It’s really not obvious. It only became apparent when we started on spellwork. Then I was thrown out. My whaka took me in, trained me as a cultivator, and helped me look for a spell I can cast. It took me nearly four years of checking new spells every day until I found my spell. My only spell.”

Isabella stood with mouth agape for nearly a minute. “Well, now I feel like a pus weasel. Look, I only hoped to see some new spells and then I thought that— Sorry…”

“You didn’t know,” interjected Terry.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” asked Isabella. “Many people would have looked at you differently.”

Terry’s eyes moved to look toward Sigille’s room. “My aunt thought that a reputation as a powerful mage from Arcana might help protect me from trouble…”

Isabella narrowed her eyes. “So why tell me now?”

Terry shrugged and went back to his spear routine. He could not tell if the training made him less or more angry, but he was certain that he needed it.

***

“Willow has gone too far!” Lucas barely kept his voice at polite a level. “We have argued a lot, but the old lady deserved better than this.”

Kipkoi sighed. “I know, but we cannot afford to lose the support of the faithful. Not now. Not when we are this close to finally moving forward.”

“I’m not sure that this issue can just be ignored,” stressed Lucas. “Willow is already unable to keep mission work going. Wastes, this is even spilling over to other outposts. They are getting abandoned while more and more people are gathering at the Libra Outpost.”

“Willow has increased the number for outpost guard assignments, but she cannot get them filled.” Lucas raised his hands in exasperation. “The outpost is basically filled to the brim with Guardians, and she can’t find enough Guardians to fill her guard positions.”

“Willow had to reach out to the Guild instead.” Lucas shook his head. “Even there, she got rebuffed to a surprising degree. Willow has now requested aid from other worshippers beyond her Circle of the Bright Lady to make up the numbers.”

“Perhaps…” Kipkoi wondered out loud. “Perhaps we could also use this to further our case for tighter magic restrictions. The only reason this has the danger of spiraling out of control is flawed people getting emotional and forgetting the duty that comes with their mana.”

“Don’t you—” Lucas could not suppress a scowl. “Minister, if I were you, I would not dare to make that point in public. If you try to pin this entirely on the Divine Hammer and her supporters, that would pour oil into the fire. Countless people have been helped by her over the years.”

Lucas paused and lowered his gaze for a second. When he raised his head again, his eyes were glistening. “Lady Sigille never shied away from a confrontation, no matter if it was for herself or for others. Even for those she disagreed with. She stood up when others didn’t, be it in front of dangerous creatures or in front of management. She cared.

“All these people whom she has helped, they are just as flawed and emotional.” Lucas’s eyes turned red. He very much included himself in that statement.

“You are probably right,” admitted Kipkoi contemplatively. “It is also true that Willow’s much praised ally, that can create long-distance dimensional gates and achieve what Ava couldn’t, has turned out to be a wanted criminal from another empire. We can emphasize that aspect for a similar effect.”

Kipkoi nodded to himself. “A case that even the Guardians are still getting too much independence and that there should be more ministerial oversight and control in the Guardians and the Guild. However, that is a point to be pressed later.” He caught Lucas’s gaze. “Not now, when everything still depends on the support of Willow and her allies.”

“I am not sure we have a choice.” Lucas shook his head. “People are on the edge. Her daughter, Palmer, her former and current disciples… All it takes is a single person that does not stop and does not listen anymore and…”

Lucas clenched his fists. “And there is simply no way that the Fury Kid will let this go.”

“Good,” exclaimed Kipkoi, which caused Lucas to become dumbstruck.

“As long as their battle is limited to the outpost and does not spill over into the city, that will work,” said Kipkoi. “Let them deal with Willow. We only need a few more days before we can finally move forward. A few more days to put the stupidity of the era behind us.”

***