Chapter 70:

What I was Made for

Scarecrows, much like people, aren’t born. They’re made.

Some hay there, old clothes to hold them together, and some sticks to make them stand up. People, be it humans, elves, mermaids, or whatever being, are the same.

Flesh, organs, and beliefs and truths. I hate beliefs, how they can mislead people to their doom or to dooming other people.

Like Sabere dying at Vega’s hand, like Runtaii into this unplanned and unprepared invasion, weeks too early. With Ani Arma… a man that thought he must do everything his ruler told him and not to spare a thought for his family or even himself…

And me… a ghost of a person long past. Someone who cheated, like Ani Arma, of the ways things must be.

Despite all this cosmic and earthly material, none of us are born with purpose ingrained into our fibers, woven in like a story quilt. And so often we struggle to find it, to realize it, to remember it.

To sing it.

To create it.

To love it.

Vega is such a person, who may be different in craft and form, but whose soul we can find on our own. One that wants to figure all of it out, wanting someone to fill that hole in ourselves that we believe can only be filled by other people.

That if we’re alone, we can’t be strong. Or that we can only do it alone.

My dear student, if you take anything away from my teachings, remember this. You are so much more than what you think you are. And you are capable of incredible feats, be it big or small. Saving someone, or making a person smile.

It’s okay to be scared of not knowing what to do, or who you want to be. But never let anyone stop you, and never stop yourself.

The truth will set you free. Find your truth.

Anyways, besides all that vague pseudo-philosophical bull crap, let’s get into all the nasty interpersonal drama and fights! Grab your popcorn, this is going to be fun.

“...You already know what to do. All you need to do is to realize it. You are art given life. A death given power. …Do good...” Her eyes glazed over the inscriptions and she repeated them over and over again.

Kneeling down to the foot of the statue, Vega touched the words, feeling the spaces in them, and the power they carried. The graveyard of the battlefield behind them, the dark deeds of Kaliber. The truth is, Kaliber wasn’t a good person. Kaliber wasn't like Vega much at all.

Krimm winced as the scarecrow sank down. Knowing the meaning Kaliber had both to Ani Arma and to Vega gave her perspective, a sobering one at that. This place, this memory, was the battlefield where her lover Kalio had passed.

Here and in the past, there was no body to be found. Putting two fingers on her scar, she finally realized why. Gem Harvest used the dead’s and the dying’s power and transformed them into Soul Gems. Krimm might have commended Kaliber for such a cunning tactic, but it just made her feel alone.

“...clod…” Hearing stone break, Krimm spun around to Vega, the scarecrow’s back facing her. Vega’s glove hand gripped tight at the inscriptions, each finger forming cracks around the statue’s base. Grunting, those cracks turned to chasms and her fingers plunged deeper into the stone.

And out from her palms, tiny vines the size of flower stems formed.

“Vega… what are you-” Krimm fell back, amazed at what Vega was doing. There was not a Soul Gem to be found, and yet she was making vines appear out of nowhere.

“Huh-huh?” Turning her head back, Vega’s face was remarkably more dumbfounded than an upset floor or pain filled grimace. Like she had been asked a question to a conversation she wasn’t listening to.

“...you’re doing magic!” Krimm pointed to her hands, which Vega flipped and put them directly on her eyes.

“I am? Wha-what the hell? It was the rose first, and now vine-vines!”

“Technically you were using vines back in the first Obstacle.” Krimm also pointed out, in a figurative sense.

“Yeah, but that-that place had a fucked up Soul Gem. Here? I…I…” Slowly going silently, Vega’s gaze returned to the statue of Kaliber. Her brows bent and she gritted her teeth, like she was biting down on her own heart.

“Hey, Vega. Are you okay?”

“Sorry! I’m just having an existential crisis right now.” Vega apologized, bowing twice and scratching the back of her head in embarrassment. “Is that norm-normal?”

“Is anything normal around here? The last place we were in was a giant cave that had painful echoes.” Pushing herself up with her knee, Krimm cautiously stepped to Vega. “Look, Vega, I need to-”

“I really need to cry-cry right now. One minute please.” The moment she finished speaking, a waterfall of… well, water, belched out of her animated eye sockets. Happening so rapidly, Krimm had to dodge out the way, yelping as she did.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Holy shit that’s a lot of tears! Are you making a puddle right now?” Raising her now soaked boot, dripping immensely. “Fuck, how I even deal with this?”

“Krimm, please, I need some support here.” Vega didn’t move her position, simply waving her to her side, like the amount of crying she was doing was anything someone could just support away.

“Uh, you’re a very good singer, you have the best hair on a scarecrow I’ve seen ever, and I think you’re a really good person?!” The Assassin grabbed her two pigtails and pulled, hoping that just one of those would work.

“Not that type of support, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Still, my eyes are crying, my heart is hurting, and I really want to eat ice cream for some reason.” Vega’s voice now recognizing the severe stress she was going through, now changed from neutral to mildly displeased.

“Well… are you breathing?”

“I don’t need to breathe Krimm. I do, however, need to blink for some fucking reason.”

“Right. Uhhh, fuck, I don’t know how to do this… do you…” Krimm heistated whether to suggest the option she had or not, but seeing that Vega was obviously in shock, she decided to do it. “... do you want me to slap it out of you?”

“Honestly… hell-hell yeah.”

“Alright.” Backing up to get enough momentum for a proper slap, Krimm prepared the meanness slap in the history of the continents. I’m talking ear ringing, nation breaking level of slap. Taking a breath in and narrowing her eyes, she was ready. “Here goes!”

Slep! And yes, it sounded about as pathetic as the way I wrote it.

For a couple of seconds the crying stopped, and Vega tapped her eyes testing them. Smiling wide, Vega jumped on down and cheered.

“Yay! Now I don't have an existential crisi-” Immediately, the crying resumed in greater velocity and violence, now less of a waterfall and more of a hurricane.

“Oh shit! That made the crying a lot worse!” Ducking below, Krimm wished the rest of her body to remain dry.

“...god why can’t someone help me…” Vega spoke all gloomy, hugging herself and shaking. The tears trickled down the hill, splitting into streams among the blades of grass.

Krimm didn’t know what she had to do, it had been a while since she had encountered an emotional relationship, especially one of such volatility. How long had it been since she met someone like this, someone who could talk sense into her head, and someone who wanted to know more instead of rejecting her.

How long had it been since someone had asked her name?

The Assassin didn’t know what to do. But the Elf Fairy, that part of herself that Krimm had forgotten or was made to forget, knew what had to be done.

The Fairy hugged the Scarecrow.

Within a minute, the hurricane turned to a waterfall. And a waterfall turned into a stream. And the stream turned to tears.

Krimm held tight, and started to feel warmth in her heart. So did Vega.

“...what are ya doing?” Vega asked, realizing that it was Krimm hugging her. Not begrudgingly, not because she was forced to. Because she made that choice to stop someone from hurting.

“Wow. I think… I actually felt that.” Putting a hand on Krimm’s wrist, Vega hugged Krimm back. This killer had delivered her kindness, despite having been sour she was now sweet.

Krimm, looking down at Vega, let go and stepped back awkwardly. What was she doing, she thought? Why did she do that? She was someone she had to bring back, not to hug or to be kind to. And yet, Krimm felt the closest thing to being genuinely happy while hugging Vega. The closest thing to friendship.

“...don’t… don’t say anything. I… I need to think.” Wandering back down the hill to see the graves of the Elfs, Krimm didn’t turn around.

“...okay. Take your time.” Vega didn’t chase after her, letting her examine her feelings on her own. After all, they both went through a literal and spiritual journey. Plus crying all that tears had left her a little exhausted. She needed some time to think over what would happen next.

Leaving each other for an hour, the two separated and thought on their futures and their pasts.

Krimm explored the landscape, charting down on how accurate the environment was and where certain events took place. The time she meet a river nymph, the time she helped an Elf boy from a tall tree, and the time she met her first Iozian. All memories if insignificant then, were important because they had happened here, and now they were important because they no longer existed. In recent years, battles and blood were all that Krimm knew.

At least all she believed she knew.

Sitting down in the graveyard, she picked up one spear and looked at it’s metallic reflection. A weapon of war she never thought would touch her hands years ago, but now meant hardly anything. Just another tool.

Weapons rarely had names, but Krimm had one. Vega called her by that name, but Ani Arma only referred to her by his designed purpose. The Fifth Assassin.

Krimm dropped the spear and hugged herself in the fashion she did with Vega. She did not feel warm.

Picking all types of flowers, hoping that she could take them with her if she could escape, Vega wanted to take this place with her. Sure, it was filled with death, misery, and all types of agony. However, this experience could not be reduced to that. Because she met Krimm. She met Ena. And she met Kaliber.

Although Kaliber was not who she wished to be, and could not provide her the answers she so desperately wanted, she could not discount what did. Building several landscapes, showing memory’s of Ena, and providing a road and a potential way to defeat Ani Arma. That dedication to help a person she would not see, that made Vega feel whole.

Putting down the collection of flowers, Vega open her chest and pulled out the piece of paper, the one the monk had given her. It read…

“To the one who searches…”

“To the one who searches…” Feeling a tear welling up, Vega shook her head. She could simply eradicate all of her pain, or all of the doubt.

Vega didn’t want to end up like the landscapes she had seen before, alone and barren. Only friends with echoes of the past.

But she knew that being alone didn’t have to be her future, that so long as she pursued goodness and stopped those that would bring the world to ruin, she could find friendship and purpose in the simple things.

With the moon at night.

With a Snake Skin that sang with her.

With the rhythm of the world.

With an effeminate alcoholic elf.

With a crow that spoke with her.

She could find it with a smile.

The scarecrow wrote down her purpose.

“To the one who searches…

Ya are enough. Ya can be so much more.

Ya are an artist. Ya are a learner.

Ya are a warrior. Ya are a friend.

Ya are Chaos. Ya are Unity.

Ya are life and death.

Ya are the mightest, smartest, kindest, and most bestest construct of all.

Ya are Vega the Scarecrow.”

Upon writing down her purpose, a rumbling hit the ground. And the tower spoke.

“ALL OBSTACLES COMPLETE! WELCOME HOME, Vega the Scarecrow!”