Chapter 58
A Soul’s Paradise
Mara, the Thief of the Stars, as the legends went, was a Witch of the Lonely Lakes with the ability to read people's minds. Throughout her childhood, she would help lonely men and women to a spouse, and would even solve thievery and occasional murder when it happened. The word of her marvelous abilities spread throughout the lands, reaching far and wide until she was recognized as a Witch by the Priest Ha'nnal himself.
“For most of her life, it goes on,” El continued, taking another sip of the liquid fire. “She went around the known lands, part of the Inquiry Order. She rooted out heathens, liars, thieves, spies, and ended all manner of debauchery. She was lauded as Holy, the Virtuous, the Most Pure and Most Just.”
“...”
“Churches built in her name, statues erected, songs written. Legends abound. If you see Mara the Virtuous, the Gods shall bless your crop for a year. Kings and Queens of Kingdoms beyond borders gathered for her favor, desiring her powers. But, one day, when she was supposed to lead a prayer in a Church... instead, she accused the Crown Prince of an illicit transgression.”
“...”
"If there was one person alive at the time more beloved than she, it was the Prince," El's voice cracked ever so slightly, her gazes shifting over toward Asher. "Beautiful, clever, strong, just, kind, loving, proper, trustworthy. A man had the hearts of all captured within the lines of his smile. All but a war broke out overnight. Then she made similar claims against others. All men of 'high virtue'. Dozens, soon hundreds. She plucked them... like the stars for the night’s sky.”
“...”
“And thus, Mara, the Thief of the Stars, was born. A belier. A cheat. A sordid sort best left for marred legends. Soon, they hanged her. In private, away from the world. The legend goes, she still haunts the palace walls, her wails warning the young men of charlatans who would undo them.” she took a moment and yet another sip, swiveling the liquid in her mouth for a long while before swallowing.
Asher looked away and toward the courtyard, sighing inwardly.
“Nobody trusts those who know others as well as you seem to do,” she added suddenly. “I would keep that tight abreast.”
“What? People don’t like when I can pick up on their habits and quirks after one conversation? No way,” he chuckled. “I was certain people would be lining up to chat with me. It seems whether human or whatever you are,” he added. “We all fear the different, the changing. Anything that seems out of place, whether for better or for worse.”
“You had that in your own world?” she quizzed.
“Everywhere,” he replied. “Everyone wanted the world to be changed... just not like that. Everyone wanted the world to be better... just not like that. Or for them. Those with aspirations beaten into mediocrity by those who envied. Those thirsty for knowledge mocked for it. Better to trudge through the mud together than anything else.”
It was only ten minutes later that Asher left, leaving behind lingering silence. She didn't ask him, but he knew when it was time to go. Virtually as soon as he exited, and before he was even halfway to the tavern, he was accosted by Sarah, her wide, doe-eyed expression goading him. It was strange, he mused inwardly, just how many times he'd fallen for this precise thing in his life. Even after he supposedly 'learned' how to figure it out.
“So?” she quizzed, locking his arm with hers as they headed over to the tavern.
“Hm?” he glanced at her.
“Oh, dispense with suspense. Did you ask her?”
“I did.”
“And?! What’d she say?!”
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“Sarah who?”
“...”
“Wow, that’s some mighty grip you got there,” Asher chuckled. “Any tighter and you might break my arm.”
“So, what’d she say for real?” the high-pitched voice went down an octave as the two entered the tavern. She dragged him over to one of the empty tables as though he had no choice.
“She said she’d sooner eat moon’s shit than craft you an item,” Asher spat out casually, yawning. The liquid fire that he drank had completely depleted him, and he could hardly wait to go back to the cabin and take a nap. Looking over to the other side of the table, Sarah’s expression was rather chilly. It was as though he was looking at a mirror of years past. “Come on, what? You can’t handle a newbie yanking you a bit?”
“I can’t,” she said. “Otherwise, people will get a strange idea.”
“What idea?”
“That I can be yanked.”
“Scary.”
“I can be,” she seemed to have dispensed entirely with the mask. There wasn’t a trace of the cheery woman that had approached him. “If you keep fucking with me.”
"I've fucked with quite a few people in my life. Do you think you're the first to threaten me with a bad time?" Sarah leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze head-on.
“Maybe not the first,” she said, her voice low and unwavering. “But I promise you, I’ll be the last.”
"... scary. Well, would be if we were in the eighth grade. What are you doing, Sarah? Isn't life here already awful enough without you needing to turn it into some Bond-villain performance? Aren't you embarrassed?" her lips curled into a disdainful smile.
“Embarrassed? Hardly. I don’t play games, Ash. I get what I want, and I don’t care who I have to step on to get it. If you think this is some performance, you clearly don’t understand what it takes to survive around here.”
“That’s true, I don’t,” Asher said with a chuckle. “I’m blind to the nifty little secrets that you lot are packing. But there is always one, universal rule that has never betrayed me.” she arched her brows inquisitively. “Anyone who needs to posture in power... can be overcome, no matter how dire the circumstances.”
For a moment, Sarah’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and challenge, ferocity hiding deep within roaring in a flash. She stood up suddenly and left her parting words.
"Is that so? Then, by all means, try your luck. But remember, those who thought they could overcome me... well, quite a few were just as witty and clever as you are, Ash. You can call it posturing if you want, but you’ll find out soon enough--I’m not one to be fucked with.”
She left with a huff and Asher traced her movements for a little while before losing interest. It wasn't as though he was an idiot--he knew that she likely had the means to screw with him. In fact, he was beyond shocked that the powers-that-be hadn’t invented some sort of a gladiator arena as it were just so they could watch the pathetic humans go at each other’s throats.
No, it probably exists, he mused inwardly. After all, he’d only been a part of this world for a short while--not even a month, as far as he could tell. He’d only glimpsed a small part of the whole, and there was likely a litany of undercurrents that he was wholly blind to.
Despite knowing that, and understanding that she presumably had the means to retaliate, Asher still aggravated her for a simple reason--to stir the nest. She was clearly no 'Shepherd' but she also didn't seem quite the 'Bandit' either, at least not as Asher understood those two categories. Further considering El's comments on how newcomers are sometimes tricked into causing trouble with her, there was much more to this world than just what was visible on the surface.
If there were ‘clans’, there were conflicts, and if there were conflicts, they were there for a reason. No matter how moronic people appear to be, they would never fight with one another, especially within these kinds of circumstances, for absolutely no reason. There was something to be gained from this, a yield that made the potential fallout worthwhile.
Stirring the hornet's nest, though it could backfire, would also surface them much quicker, not to mention fronting their motives so he could understand them easier. He still didn’t quite get what Sarah wanted from him--the request was too specific to be just a random prank, and no matter how much he battered his mind, he couldn't foresee the outcome in which she would have won something. If he was just a mindless newcomer and asked of El to 'forgive Sarah', what was the likeliest outcome? Confusion, a litany of questions, and virtually no fallout. No, perhaps some fallout on his part.
But there was nothing larger than that to gain for Sarah--at least not on the surface. That... he didn’t like.
Asher hated when he lacked the full picture, when there were things hiding in the shadows, taunting him. When there were questions sprawled across his mind, the questions he could not answer. It was like an itch at the back of his throat, annoying him into drinking anything he could get his hands on just in an attempt to make it go away. But it never does. It stays and annoys into madness.
Returning to his cabin, he found the strange goblin sweeping away the living room. Asher merely nodded toward the creature before returning to the bedroom and turning off the light. Jumping onto the bed, he felt the tiredness sweep through his entire body, consuming him.
It was stranger still that he wasn’t physically tired--he felt as though he could run from one end of the cosmos to the other and never run out of stamina, but the sensation of the entire body yearning for sleep was impossible to overcome. He was drained from everything--from the Stage, from the bombardment of information at the end of it, from the smithy visit, from Sarah... one nap wasn't enough to reset him.
Closing his eyes, he let himself drift and forget.
A voiceless mind.
Thoughtless sleep.
A soul’s paradise.