“In this utopia of yours,” said Isabelle, “why are there still orphans?”
“They were there in the original Cybral,” Gaius replied. “Usually souls that just appeared one day without undergoing the necessary procedures. We also have the usual causes, but I’m not here to interfere with free will…although I think I should increase support for orphanages worldwide.”
The two of them glanced at the walls of a modest castle, where they could see children were playing games with each other or doing things like reading books through the castle gates. All these children were orphans for various reasons; there were even children from Orb included in their number. The latter were children who had voluntarily transmigrated after hearing Gaius’ words back then; these children were those who had absolutely nothing to lose.
For some reason, it seemed fitting that these unfortunate fellows were now living in an opulent place.
This castle was something Xanadu had made; with the authority Gaius had given her, she could create just about anything. It did look a bit out of place in a small town, though. Once in a while, the people walking on the streets would glance up at it curiously, looks of wonder and awe on their face, and then mutter something about being lucky or something.
Gaius rubbed his nose, somewhat worried.
“Maybe I should strip off parts of people’s personality after all,” he muttered. “I don’t like the looks other people are directing at Xanadu’s little castle. Maybe I should remove one’s ability to desire other things, especially the act of coveting the possessions of someone else.”
“That’s a very scary utterance,” Isabelle replied. “Well, I do understand where you’re coming from, but I don’t think that’s the way we should approach things like these. Otherwise, you’ll end up stripping all sorts of emotions from everyone.”
“You’re right.” Gaius lowered his head. “This is something that mortals must work out on their own. I cannot overstep my boundaries, or else there will not be anything holding me back in trying times.”
“It’s easy to step across the door once you have a foot through it, after all,” said Isabelle. “And it’s really easy to move from ‘Let me remove a certain emotion’ to ‘Let me add and remove certain thoughts’. From there, it’s all downhill, since you now do not have any moral qualms and lines that you’re unwilling to cross.”
“Yeah.” Gaius nodded.
Isabelle planted a kiss on his forehead, before staring into his eyes. “I’ve been watching you the whole time, as you trod on your path slowly. ‘For the greater good’ needs restraints, limitations. Otherwise, it would be an empty justification applicable to any and all actions you want to do.”
“You’re really going to live by that vow, eh?” Gaius held her hand.
“I made a promise,” Isabelle replied. “And I’m…worried, you know. There are stories of many people who gained power and subsequently became dangers to everyone else in the world. I’m scared that something like that might happen to you.”
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“I know. That’s why I’ll always be in your care. No mortal should this much power — that was the reason why I severed any and all means in ascending in the hierarchy of life — but I am still mortal.” Gaius leaned on her shoulder and enjoyed the sensation of being loved for a few seconds. “Alright, shall we get down to saying hi?”
“Sure.”
With intertwined hands, the two of them descended from the skies and into the castle compound. Now that they had a closer look — Gaius hadn’t seen any reason to use his divine sense here — the castle-shaped orphanage actually seemed like a school of sorts. Other than Xanadu, there were actually other adults supervising the kids as they romped around merrily, and despite the varied appearances of these adults, there was one constant.
A gentle smile on their face.
Xanadu seemed to notice something as the two of them approached, and with a small jolt, she raised her hand and waved at them.
“Gaius! Isabelle!” A blinding smile popped up on her face. “It’s been some time, but welcome to my orphanage-slash-school. What brings you here?”
“Well, we were checking on you and the kids,” said Isabelle. “The kids are too busy teaching people how to sculpt, though.”
“But it seemed like you needed manpower, so we came over to see if we could do something,” Gaius added. “Nakama and La-Ti could teach those kids here how to sculpt, but we obviously need your permission first.”
“Incidentally, should we call you headmistress or principal?” Isabelle asked. “You set this entire thing up by yourself, right?”
“Yeah. I figured that my companions, if they were here in a different form, were most likely to be orphaned new-borns,” said Xanadu. “What better way to take care of them by setting up a huge castle and spreading the word that this castle is actually an orphanage? It’s a pity that my old companions will never recover their memories of the past, though. I would have liked to see their faces when they realised little Xanadu was the one who had cleaned their diapers and fed them with ‘Ahhs’.”
“…That’s a very horrible reason.” Despite his words, however, Gaius was smiling. Once again, something like this would have been impossible on Orb. This world, though virtual, was very real to just about everyone, but it lacked the physical restraints that Orb had.
A little girl, sporting a red ribbon that tied her blue hair up, ran over to Xanadu at that moment. “Principal! Who are they?”
“They’re friends of mine, Alice.” Xanadu rubbed her head. “Good friends.”
“Oh.” The little girl solemnly turned to the two of them. “Hi! Thank you for being friends with my principal!”
Stifling a smile, Gaius said, “We’re lucky to be friends with her.”
“There’s no need to thank us,” said Isabelle, her eyes twinkling with a gentle light. Patting Alice’s head twice, Isabelle turned back to Xanadu. “You have good students.”
“Right?”
After chatting for a few more minutes, Gaius and Isabelle got up to leave. Despite the many miraculous aspects of Celestia, the two of them didn’t want to exactly impose upon Xanadu, who was probably facing a bunch of resource issues. Although the children here were theoretically self-sufficient — since they could create food out of thin air — there were still other issues that required daily restocking and maintenance.
“I’ll just do this,” Gaius muttered, increasing her limits of creation. “Still, is it showing too much favouritism?”
“Who’s going to protest?” Isabelle tilted her head.
“Good point.” Gaius stretched. “Alright. We’ll just leave them to their own devices. Everything seems fine and dandy, and lightning hasn’t fallen much recently. It seems that everyone’s aware of the punishments now.”
“Hard not to…”
“Now that’s settled, let’s get on with the last agenda, okay?”
Isabelle looked away, her face slightly flushed, and then nodded.