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Vega Of The Wastes
Chapter 21: Dear Father…

Chapter 21: Dear Father…

Chapter 21: Dear Father…

If I have done anything right in recording these events, my dear reader, my thoughts will transfer to you.

If Vega was doing anything right to find out who Kaliber was, her unknown secrets will come true.

The scarecrow, sitting in a bed made for two, tried to sleep into a blanket of papers and notes. Vega had no clue where they had come from, as they had seemingly appeared from inside herself. She counted. She had counted three series of letters. Three fears punctured her form.

What is happening?

Why can’t I remember?

What am I?

Her stitched hands went to where stomach would be, as it ached in pain. She already took out all the objects from herself in a failed attempt to purge that fear. That fear had begun to turn into pain. I’d compare it to food poisoning, but this was more in the range of some kind of mental force.

Right! Psychic toxins is the term. Where fear in the mind destroys systems of the body. Blood veins become full of corrosive sand. Stomachs melt into battered slush. And hearts are crushed like a bird in the jaws of a tiger.

No one doctor can fix it. The cure must come from within.

“I have to stop this…” Vega tried to tell herself to act, in her foggy state. Repeatedly, her eyes swapped from scribbled drawings to perfect replicas of human eyes.

“You can forget your past.” Vega spoke towards the ceiling, as if the fear wasn’t strangling her system. “But the past won’t forget you.” Her pain returned, with her writhing in pain.

Trying to step up from her bed, she placed her hand onto a stool. Lavender flowers, a mint purple shade and held in a vase tied with velvet.

When she went to stand up, her legs gave way and her arm swung the vase down to the floor, breaking it apart. As her head smashed beside the remains of the lavender, as a single strand unmolested.

Stacked leaves, thick and plump, a fine look. Green, rounded spikes make the bottom portion of the flower, holding on to a dark emerald stem.

The scarecrow got up and sat on her calves. She picked up the flower and brought it to her eyes. Admiration. Her smile returned.

A fond appraisal of the world. That was her solution to fear.

“Huh. That was weird.” Vega admitted. Swaying her head side to side, she knew that she was going to have to organize this disorder. Somehow…

Bolato, with his enraged state cooling off, stared upward into the midnight sky. Delicate stars like rich shredded cheese. He was hungry.

The soldier was on a balcony in the serpentine woman’s estate. It was almost dizzying how well made it was. Apparently, the boss had multiple forms of income, all operated by the prostitutes. Discrete farms hidden in groves and frozen marshlands. Fisheries manned and protected by a band of bandits.

Bolato knew she couldn’t sell those services legitimately, as any goods produced by ghosts or those in relation to ghosts would be burned. Ironically, prostitution made her trustworthy enough so that Fort Jao didn’t suspect her of any wrongdoing. The same bandits that protected her workers smuggled her goods in other cities.

Of course, prostitution was her most profitable business. However, Bolato knew something was up with the serpentine boss. He walked back into the halls, determined to find out more.

Her estate had entirely been made from marble, and packed full of rooms not decadiated to enjoy luxury. No fancy dance halls or kitchens. Bolato wasn’t skilled in stealth, but he used vanta black shadows to hide himself from the workers that roamed the halls still.

These hallways were almost comically bare, with big windowless openings and lacking any sort of decoration.

“Huh. Maybe she’s humble…” Bolato whispered to himself.

No courtrooms or even a nice bedroom for herself. In fact, her bed was the same as the prostitutes. Bolato didn’t like to enter her room, and didn’t even like how it looked.

Organized like a bee’s hive, each corner had a desk and chair. Stacks of paper and books, with pen and ink next to a dead candle. A single well worn rug made the room eerily gross.

Bolato left her room, a tad disturbed but he quickly purged that feeling from himself. She was a good woman, but why she invested herself in ghosts, he did not know. He didn’t need to know. Whatever her secret may be, it encouraged her to be a good person. That was enough for Bolato.

Returning back to the garden, it was clear that the party had finished. A few straggling parties stayed, most huddling together in blankets. Mouths took breaths and released white exhales. What plates that were still there only had a scrap of food left on them, which were being picked by Florato.

“Oh. Hey Bolato.” She spoke in a suspended tone, knowing not to speak loudly in the night hours.

“Hey. You wouldn’t have seen Skaldi? Did he go to bed or something?” Bolato joined her in collecting the plates. Florato took a moment to approach the subject of Skaldi.

“No, I think he must have left when Vega started performing. You should have seen it.” Florato put up a smile.

“Right…” Both of them went silent, playing a game of who would speak about the elf’s behavior. Bolato lost.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for how… Skaldi’s been acting around you. Around us.” Bolato looked her in her eyes, as she bowed her head down. The actress put the plates down on the end of a table and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Well, I’d much prefer an explanation rather than an apology .” She pressed with a friendly tone.

“No, you’re right.” Bolato admitted, also putting down the plates. “He’s… got problems. I don’t know what problems that causes him to be an asshole. But something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Skaldi is… unsure about himself.” Bolato stared into his hands and how rough they were. And remembered Skaldi’s form and his hands, rough too but also delicate. “He’s not like most guys. Where they’re tough, he’s soft. And I don’t mean that as an insult to him. I love my husband. But that… literally weakness… that makes him unhappy.” Bolato kept his eyes wide, complete and full.

“I get that. But that doesn’t justify him being awful to me or anyone.” Florato crossed her arms and her brows lowered.

“I’m not justifying it. I’m explaining it.” Bolato nodded, knowing she was right in being upset. “Look, he’s a good man. He just responds differently to new people. New people that… remind him of himself.” Florato upon hearing that, felt hurt. But she started to reflect and piece together what Bolato was trying to transfer to her.

“That remind him of his femininity?”

“Exactly! Thank you.” Bolato said excitedly, glad to have someone put into words what he thought. “Skaldi, sort of looks down on… girl things.”

“Like caring for kids and nail polish?” Florato said jokingly.

“Ha. Well, you’re not wrong. You know, that’s kind of the reason why I like him a lot.” Bolato had a toothless smile, with his lips perking up. And his voice was full of admiration. “He’s feisty and playful. And sometimes gets himself into situations where I have to save him.”

Florato took in the sight, knowing that Bolato was speaking through the heart. Her study of acting knew that this was false. It was true and beautiful.

“And he does this cute thing where brushes his hair to the side with his thumb, and-”

“I get it. You care about the redhead alot. Can we please get back on track?” Florato snickered, with Bolato becoming a tad embarrassed.

“Sorry. But you know, he doesn’t really enjoy… being like a girl? I mean, he likes doing things girls do, but doesn’t like the fact that it's a girl thing.”

“Not out of love for his femininity, but looking down on it.”

“Yes! Damn, I wish I went to school!”

“But still… What are you going to do about it?” Florato slowed down and put on a serious tone. Bolato nodded and his fingers went to his lips. “What about drinking?”

“Well, I ought to talk to him about it. Make a routine he can follow. It will take time, but it’s something that I can do with him. The rest must come from himself. The cure can only come from himself.” Bolato said assuredly, much to Florato’s disappointment. She knew that Bolato was going to try, but couldn’t believe that Skaldi would.

“...Don’t you feel bad?”

“For what?”

“That… Skaldi gets drunk like that, doesn’t that make you…?” Florato gestured to the side, and turned back to Bolato.

“Listen. He drinks. Too much for his own good. We soldiers do what we have to do. He was a soldier. I was a soldier. I got nicked with smoking a little. He got hurt with drinking.” Bolato stopped, making sure Florato savored what he was saying.

“I’m not ashamed of him. I’m never going to be ashamed of him. I want him to have good habits. He cares. He cares a lot. He cares so much that he’s willing to rob a bank. That’s the idea.” Florato breathed deeply and nodded. Satisfied, she walked away to find a room to sleep in.

“Hey Florato?”

“Yeah?”

“...I love my husband. I love him alot. Give him some time. He’ll love you too.”

Vega roamed the dark paths of the garden, hoping to find a smart person. Luckily, she found Bolato smoking some tobacco and resting on a bench.

“Hey Bolato!” Her yelling made him jump up and bumb his head against a wall.

“Quiet, please. I nearly bit my tongue. What’s up?” Bolato put up his smoke, tossing the embers into a flowing fountain.

“You know how to read-read? Right-right?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Cool! Can ya help me read some stuff?” Vega asked, showing him a couple of notes. From what he could see, all of them were written in authoritative black.

“Sure. It’ll help me get some shut eye. Keep in mind, I’m not that good at reading stuff.”

“That’s fine. Just so long as there’s another person.” Vega led him back to her room, which was a chaotic mess of writings and pins. Most of the paper was glued to the wall, using a sticky substance Vega found in a drawer. Bolato wasn’t prepared for this and when he entered he immediately laughed.

“Holy! Haha! Do you want me to read all of this?”

“No.” Vega’s eyes projected the moon for a second.

“What?”

“I want ya to read…” Vega swiped and dug through the papers until she found the letter. “This!”

It was an odd bit of journal. Bolato grabbed it with both of his hands and examined. No wrinkles, an ashy white color. And had a red wax stamp. The stamp showed what he could describe as a rusted set of armor.

Bolato opened it. It read…

“Dear Father,

It’s been a while since you’ve sent me a letter. I wish to inform you that the farm is prospering. Galataii has been making sure my schooling is smooth, but I haven’t seen her in some weeks. She didn’t mention where she went, would you mind telling me?

Kaliber came to visit me. She’s very sweet and bright. She told me a joke.

“What did the sarcastic apple say to the pear when it fell from the tree?

“Apparently!”

She’s funny.

The Yita Mountain is still very beautiful. I spend most of my freetime there, since there are not too many people to talk to. Hearing and feeling out the strings is a lot easier within the caves. I think I’ve come up with a few names.

Musician’s Hole

Earth’s String

The Cave of Doom of Mountain Super Death

Kaliber came up with the last name.

I’ve made a friend. Literally, I made a friend. Remember the farm? Perhaps that will give you an idea.

Kaliber has been helping me build her actually. She’s definitely crazy in some sort of way. But she is genuine and complains a lot. I like people who complain. I think it means they know what is wrong with the world. Not too many people know that. At least, not me.

She’s my adopted sister, right? At this point, I think she’s just a sister now. I forget, but did she come from the Oligarchy? Was it in Uvi Jantok? Please answer.

Schooling has been going fine. Teachers are cooperative and invest time to help me. I thought bribery wouldn’t work but I guess you know better. History was pleasant. I only wished they told me about Iozians. At least, the way you and mother do.

How is she? Kaliber told me not to worry about it, but I must. I have received a letter from her, but it was very brief. Is there something wrong back home? There haven't been too many caravans coming in recently and guards have started to erect palisades. Food and water is fine, but I began to feel… scared.

Is everything fine?

Is mother fine?

I love you father. Say I love you to my mother for me. Please.

From,

Ena.”

Bolato raised his head back to Vega, who was looking over his shoulder intently. She swayed from side to side, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Vega?”

“Yep-yep?”

“I can’t read Tripolian.” Bolato answered, scratching his head at Vega’s stupidity. She knew what Iozian was, why did she think he’d understand it?

“Really?” Vega snatched the letter from him. “Oh! That makes sense!”

“It does?”

“Yeah. For some reason, I can read this letter-letter.” Vega went to collect all the papers together and placed them into a stacked pile.

“You can read Tripolian?” Bolato chuckled out.

“No. But, somehow, I can read it. Weird, right?”

“Weird? No. It’s bananas.”