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That morning, when I'd gone to work, they hadn't been there.

That afternoon when I'd had lunch, they hadn't been there...

It was only as I was washing my hands in hot water, soaking them to try and ease the pain from scribing, that they decided to appear. Like ink dropped in a bowl of water, the markings scrawled themselves on my skin.

And I knew what they were before they'd even finished forming. There was only one thing they COULD be, after all.

There was only one Diadem that chose commoners anymore. And it wasn't one I wanted.

"No, no no," I whispered and tried to scratch and scrub with my fingernails. "No, I refuse, I do not consent, go away." But the Diadem of the Sceptarch needs no permission. It is not a person you can negotiate with or an entity with a soul to be bartered.

The Diadems, all of them, were a force of nature. Entirely undeniable.

And yet I struggled and scratched anyway.

My life had been going so well.

Finally I'd gotten to be an adult on my own. Finally I'd gotten a job that suited me. Finally... I was starting to talk to people in a way that didn't feel like it was constantly draining me.

Not that I like people, necessarily, but it was a hazard of the job-

And I could finally do it without a nap in the afternoon!

So there I was, with a pair of brambles wrapped around my wrists. One silver and one gold-- my head on fire as the actual diadem etched itself into my forehead. Thinking...

Shit. My life is over.

The Sceptarch is the one position that is always human and always a commoner. And the reasons were a mystery to all and sundry because no one knew what 'traits' needed to be cultivated. If they did, they'd all have cultivated the exact opposite traits in their children and the Vireld had to know that.

So we were stuck in a repeating cycle of a new human commoner taking up the mantle every time the last one dies. And my predecessor apparently died just as I was massaging my hands in warm water.

It doesn't necessarily happen instantly, I guess... I thought as I stepped over to my desk to look in the small mirror that Brint had given me for last solstice eve at one of the few parties I ever attend.

The Diadem is just as described in the stories told to every child below the nobility.

Brambles arching across your forehead, with a gemstone grown from the center. A real gemstone. It was the focus for the abilities of the Diadems. The Diadem of Exchange was a Diadem of death. Literal death.

The silver brambles on my right wrist were for the power of death, and the gold brambles on my left were the power of transference of life. I could theoretically draw life from others to fuel my own body-

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But you'd turn into a Vireld if you did that. And then the Vireld had to kill you so that another human commoner could take up the mantle.

The gemstone itself was dark blue, but the brambles on either side of it were a mirror image to the ones on my wrist. Silver on the left, Gold on the right. And the gemstone itself was real. Unlike the embossed and raised designs on my skin and forehead of the brambles, the gemstone when I reached to touch it, was made... of real gemstone.

And it hurt.

Not because it had been fused to my head, but because it had grown from my skull.

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Everyone with a Diadem, had a gem. Right in the center of their forehead. It was just how they manifested. And it wasn't something you could change. If the gemstone was removed, you'd just die. Well, usually. People sometimes said if you got it back fast enough and reattached it, it might be possible to survive... but I'd trust that tale about as much as any other that people gossip about at work.

I can't let them see it, I decided and rushed to cover the marks with a scarf and some bandages I had in my office. Thankfully, I just had to pull my hood up and lightly wrap my scarf around my forehead, like I was keeping my hair back. And my sleeves were long, so I could hide the loosely wrapped markings on my wrists without much effort.

The cloak was something I didn't ordinarily wear unless it was rainy, winter or there was a chill outside... but I was hoping no one would care today.

I was very stupid.

"Celia!" Brint called to me just as I left my office and had begun heading for the front door. "You alright?"

Brint was a bit of an annoyance, but not so much that I would snap at him, ordinarily. He was just an overly-worried person concerned about everyone he thought needed 'help' and ever since moving here, he'd decided my antisocial tendencies made me some kind of damsel in need of rescuing.

In order to be truly annoyed about that, I would have to care and I simply didn't.

"Have you caught a chill?" Mish asked, from just beside Brint. She actually looked concerned, which was surprising... and suspicious.

Mish hated me. Because she liked Brint and she thought Brint liked me.

THAT was something to ruminate on, did I actually look that bad? That's what I wondered as I responded.

"I heard it was going to be windy after work today," I replied. "Better safe than sorry. I'll be heading home now-"

"Ah, wait!" Brint moved to block my exit and I was... a bit shocked.

Brint was insistent of course, but he'd never been outright obtrusive. At least not physically. I assumed he must have something very important to say and simply tilted my head at him and waited.

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He cleared his throat and reached up to run his fingers through his hair.

Oh no.

"I was wondering if you were going to the Jamboree?" he asked in a tentative tone.

Why the fuck now?

"No, actually," I replied. "Something in my family actually came up for that whole week. My mother managed to finally get in contact with me and I have to handle it."

It's was as good a reason as any. Everyone knew I hated my family, but they also kept offering the very unhelpful 'advice' that I would regret not going back if someone died or something.

So, easy for them to swallow as a reason why I'd leave and then never come back.

Brint though, he looked like he was just slapped and tripped over something and landed straight on his face. "I... I see... well, then maybe-"

"I'm sure I'll see you at work for the rest of the week," I cut him off. "But I have to get home and get started on dinner now, or it won't be ready by bedtime."

"I-but-" he tried to grasp at my wrist, but I whirled away and grabbed the handle to the door.

"Brint, if you wouldn't mind, I'm trying to leave," I said as I wrenched open the door, even though his body was still blocking it, slamming it into his shoulder. "Thank you!" I chimed as he flinched and staggered away.

I didn't know why he was so obsessed with trying to invite me to Jamborees and other parties, but he'd been that way almost since I arrived. As though he believed a party will fix all my ills. As though he even knew what my ills were.

Of course I attended functions where my boss and some other few coworkers would be, to network. I attended when a potential client would be. That sort of thing. But apparently that wasn't enough?

His attentions would be better spent on Mish, whom everyone assumed he'd get married to in a few years. But he was so caught up in the idea of being a savior of some kind... I hoped the girl found someone better for her.

Being twenty-eight, I was nearing 'spinsterhood' and everyone reminded me of it, constantly. I didn't understand their obsession with whether or not something was going in or coming out of my nethers.

Mish's mother and Aunt were some of the worst. They thought I was about to steal Brint out from under Mish and have encouraged me to find another husband, multiple times. Though they did calm themselves slightly when I told them I didn't want to marry, ever... it seemed they didn't truly believe me because it never completely stopped.

The road to my home was not as well-beaten as the main road in town, but it only took me ten minutes to walk to and from work, so it wasn't that far from everyone else. I didn't understand why the girls in the sewing circle would see me walking and tut that I was so 'isolated and alone' when I was at work every day? With people?

I nearly tripped a few times, but managed to catch myself. The twinging in my head and wrists was intensifying. I hurried through the last few minutes of my walk, gasping a bit for air by the time I got inside. I didn't know why, I'd run the full distance before when I needed to work up better muscles so that I could sit for long periods without getting a spasm in my back.

When I removed the bandages, my marks were red and irritated, but almost immediately began to recover. As did the mark on my forehead when I finally removed the scarf and hood.

Nothing in the old stories said you couldn't hide your marks, so it must've just been that my skin was too irritated to have anything touching it right then.

In response to that, I decided to do some small amount of doctoring. Though I wasn't a medic by any means...

I had a few small things that I'd accumulated over time. A tin of ointment for burns, cuts and other such painful things was one of them. Enchanted with the Diadem of Stasis, by the daughter of an industrialist, so far as I knew.

The Diadem of Stasis wasn't given to the head of the family, but instead to a family Mascot, as the head couldn't be expected to be blessing vessels all day long.

I once thought it would be nice to end up with the Diadem of Stasis or even the Diadem of Plentiful Growth... to be the Mascot would be an easy job, wouldn't it? Bless the fields, bless the vessels... go home and live in the lap of luxury.

I'd have been able to follow my hobbies perhaps in the hours I wasn't working... and get better at painting, which I'd been trying to do since I was fourteen.

The ointment went on easily enough. My markings had seemed to calm down and I wasn't feeling an intense stinging anymore...

And that's when I spotted the stiletto on my bedside table and remembered... The Blade.

They were in the stories, too. Men and women of Vireld who were chosen by the Diadem of Exchange to protect the Sceptarch. The Blades of Vireld were held in a very unique position.

Amongst diadems, secondary holders were nearly nonexistent. There was just Exchange and Balance, so far as I knew.

Balance was all about some kind of equalization that took one thing and turned it into another? And Exchange was about life force. Each one had a dual aspect of giving and taking, destroying and creating. So the users had to be dual as well.

But there was a primary user, and a secondary user. The primary was the 'Diadem Holder' and the secondary was usually considered a bodyguard. As their life continuing depended upon the Holder surviving.

The only person in this world who CAN'T kill me, because it would kill them as well, I thought with a bitter twist of something... I wasn't sure what to call it? Relief that I knew there was one person out there who WOULDN'T kill me if they could help it?

But then again, you don't have to kill someone to hurt them, now do you?

There've been a few times the Holder has committed suicide immediately, but I couldn't do that, even if I wanted to die. I'd have to talk to the Blade first and see if they also wanted to die. It's irresponsible and selfish to take someone else's life just because you think you might be a bit miserable in one way or another.

It was, after all, a rulership. You'd never want for good food and fancy clothes again. You'd just be forced to handle the... aspects of the Rulership that nobody wants.

Like carrying out executions in the kingdom.

That would be difficult, I felt. But it wasn't like it would be impossible. All you had to do was touch them, or something. They could just put them to sleep before I walked in and- tap, done!

Maybe. But the fact that I wouldn't get to choose who lived and who died, would... bother me. It always bothered me. When I heard about how someone was being executed for crimes against the crown and it turned out the crime was.... having had relations with a princess, duchess, etcetera.

It wasn't as though adulterers weren't disgusting, but nobles were in political marriages-- so the real reason they would be executed was that they made the nobleman feel small and undesirable. And I just didn't want to kill a man for that.

But if I didn't do the duty of the Sceptarch, they'd kill me and the next one would be at their beck and call, because they'd be so terrified of what happened to me, happening to them.

...but I did have control over the entire process, if I remembered correctly.

As my mind spun on, I slowly undressed and turned on the spigot in my water closet. The water was always lukewarm because I could only afford the lower-tier stones, but it was... warm water. Which was always MUCH better than cold water.

So I couldn't complain.

The process of washing my hair usually took the longest out of everything. I could just scrub my back with my lufa on strings, and the rest was quite easy. But my hair...

Washing it took so long because I was very careful about breakage. I used my fingertips to massage my scalp free of dirt and oil. Then used the special hydrating oil made from some sort of seed I couldn't pronounce and...

Then I had to comb it, of course. So once I got out of the shower and wrapped my hair in a towel, padding around my cabin naked to get dinner started, that was only step two.

The stew I'd been eating for the past week was on its last legs, and that was quite good as it would've spoiled soon anyway. Even with the stasis enchantment on most pots and pans, you have to cover it for it to have any effect. So every time I opened it, took stew out and then covered it again-

Well, thankfully it hadn't gone off yet, so I was able to make two bowls of stew from what remained and took the pot to the water closet to wash it. Thankfully it'd also been lightened, so I didn't break my back doing it.

Most people with my kind of pay could afford those things... but I didn't have them growing up. It was so different, to be able to do anything and everything by yourself instead of having three women in the house who were all expected to share in the labor.

Eating the stew was a bit difficult, as with all the times I opened and closed it and mixed the stew around, it was only barely warm by the time I got to eating it. But I was able to eat the one bowl without issue and simply set the other bowl aside for breakfast. I could use the pad on the table to warm up the contents and eat it in the morning...

There was some breakage when I combed my hair out, as I couldn't really avoid it. But it was minimal. And I only had to grab my scissors and snip it above the breakage point to keep it from splitting the whole way up.

By the time I was finished and dressed in my nightclothes, I didn't have much energy remaining.

But I took a moment to sit in bed and pulled a notebook out of my nightstand to start writing down things I needed to do.

Sell the House

Sell everything IN the house

Buy travel clothes

Buy food for the journey

It felt less like a monumental change in my life and more like a manageable problem, that way.

After all, life goes on, doesn't it?