What a bastard of a thing to ask. By its very nature it likes to put doubt right between your ears. To make you wonder about your skills, your capability—your value as a living, breathing person. ‘I don’t have what it takes, do I?’ You might say. ‘Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a question. It would just be obvious that I am enough.’
Insidious, that question. Especially so because of where it comes from. I don’t think anyone has said this to me—not in so many words. It’s just not the sort of thing people tell each other in polite company. And that’s part of what makes it so awful. The seeds of that question grow from so many uncountable, immeasurable little things, until the idea takes root somewhere deep, deep in our hearts. Where it’s hard to recognize the source.
It’s easy to accept a question like that if it comes from inside. And I don’t even mean the work of wrestling with the question per se. The premise itself is so inviting. Doubt. You should doubt yourself. Go on. It’s so easy. Just think about all your mistakes, all your faults and realize that you can do nothing. Nothing right—nothing worthwhile. Just accept it. Your choices don’t matter—they never have, and it’s a delusion to think otherwise…
So give up.
This is what is going through their heads. Fig, Toni, Roy—each of them. It would have broken anyone, and you couldn’t blame them! Someone they cared very much about got hurt, and they all shouldered that failure. If only they were with him when it mattered… But it was too late… Now, would Fig drop her fists and slink off to drink herself unconscious all day, every day? Would Roy unsheathe his sword, fold in on himself, and stop making choices all together? Would Toni forget the puzzles and the open books, and relegate herself to the same boring life her mother had?
Maybe. Why don’t we watch them for a while, and find out together?
***
“How do you work!?” Toni growled at the notes in front of her. She had secured her hair in a bun so she could work unbothered, but now she better resembled a third-grader’s drawing of a Creature. The one that got the kid sent to the school counselor. She hadn’t slept since the day before, and had barely eaten despite Mrs. Handlut covertly worrying over her, and delivering receipts.
“Information is King. Knowledge is power.” She didn’t know how many times she had said that to herself. It wasn’t helping anymore. She felt so… so… it might have been better if she was left behind so she wouldn’t be a burden. Then Fig would have been with the boys and Oak wouldn’t have lost his… no. No. That was conjecture incompatible with the scientific method. The rhetoric did not hold water.
She took a deep breath, and let it out. Again; Time to go over what she knew.
“[Skills] are the fundamental structure that society functions on top of. Every person can gain power and prestige as long as they are sufficiently accomplished, and thus have gained many levels in their respective [Skills]. Accomplishments fuel power gain, and vice versa.”
She was pretty confident in this observation. But it was so general. Every good scientist knew that the devil was in the details.
“[Skills] can be utilized at the same time, with powers, or bonuses stacking together. Developing the right constellation of [Skills] in a so-called ‘[Compound Skill]’ is the basic, go-to strategy to surpassing typical limits. Constructing a sufficient number of [Compound Skills] in a developed skill set is what determines the difference between high-level individuals, and actual experts.”
Toni was yet to confirm this hypothesis, but she had uncovered many anecdotes to support this idea. Now… Onto the… other things.
“High value equipment has been magically altered. This is ‘[Imprinted]’ equipment which is characterized by writing, symbols, or pictures attached to an item.’”
Toni chewed on the back of her pencil as she stared at the scarce information. Agh! There was so little information about this! She had asked people, she had looked for books—not that there was a true library anywhere but with the gangs. But she could find practically nothing. It was a wasteland of information; salted ground… She missed the internet. How did [Imprinting] work? Was she obsessing over a mystery that was better left till later?
“But how do you work!?”
Toni was stuck in a loop, and had been for hours.
She wasn’t thinking logically enough. She was barely problem solving at this point! What good was all her education, every scrap of dedication to learning if she couldn’t use it to help those she cared about?
‘It’s a fine enough hobby, sweetie, but you’ll be much more happy when you settle down.’
It terrified her. Not that prospect of ever taking up such a life. But that it would be more fulfilling. How long had she looked down on people like her mother? Toni couldn’t remember when that had started. Why abandon yourself when there’s so much out there to discover? So much to lift the tide of humanity? All for some civil union, or a litter of children.
But she couldn’t ignore the prospect either. It was essential to question one’s premise. A person could fall into self-obsession without checks like that but—but—! Toni shook her head. She didn’t want to figure it out. She didn’t want to explore that.
Toni rubbed her eyes. Now here she was drifting off into tangents. Seriously, girly-pop, stay on task! Something had to change. Toni stood up, and packed up her supplies.
It always came down to this, didn’t it? Toni puffed out a breath, and nodded to herself. As she stretched, she covertly checked out the patrons of the inn. Good, no one was paying any attention to her.
Casually, Toni sidled up to the door in the corner, the one to the Church of Patches, door slightly ajar. Inside, she found the room silent, and empty. The door to the records locked. There had to be more information in the bug fixes! She was going to find it, no matter what! Time for an old standby, even if it got her in trouble sometimes.
Click!
Hoarding information was disgustingly criminal, after all.
KrrCHUNK! KrrCHUNK!
[Lockpick] - Level 1 (2)
***
Fig’s jaw was sore. It was hard to stop gritting her teeth, but it was the only thing keeping her from marching right up to Lilypad, and liberally applying rhinoplastic cosmetics. With brass knuckles.
“Hit me.” Varnish said.
KrrCHUNK! KrrCHUNK!
[Punch] - Level 3 (6)
“Urmph. Good.” He rubbed the bruise on his chest with one hand, and nodded. “Again.”
Fig wiped the sweat from her brow, and raised her hands once more.
“You really like being punched by a woman this much? Hah!” Her next punch landed squarely in Varnish’s palm with a loud slap! “That’s not healthy, you know.”
Varnish snorted. “Not so good... Hitting women is better.” He admitted.
Fig’s next attack faltered.
Pap.
“You actually— I’ve never heard anyone say that. Dude, that’s messed up!”
Varnish frowned. He beckoned with one hand for her to continue. “Why? You punching me right now. Is fun!”
Fig frowned. This was fun, yes but… but—!
“Hah!” She hit him again, “It’s different.”
“No.”
“You can’t really believe that. First of all, this is sparring!”
“Punching is punching. Break good, but no break also good.” Varnish said, then wound his arm back. “See!”
Varnish’s hydraulic press of a hand swung towards her. Fig raised her guard, and jumped backwards. But Varnish’s long, dangling arms reached her anyways!
Whump!
Fig rolled and rolled, and kept rolling until she it the wall.
Thump.
She groaned. And got back to her feet. Varnish grinned at her, but she only saw condescension in that smile. She was so weak! Everybody here seemed to treat her like a plaything, and she could do nothing about it. Useless useless useless! Was she all bark, then! A stupid girl who didn’t know how to do anything right except mouth off!?
Fig glared.
“You see it!” Varnish said. “Come play. Hit me!”
“Oh I’ll hit you alright.” She growled.
Fig charged the man, and disregarded the idea of sparring altogether. She was out for blood. She swiped with her right hand, which Varnish caught easily, but she threw an uppercut in the new opening. Varnish took a step back, and she missed.
“Good!”
“How about this!?”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Fig slammed her shoulder into his gut to throw him off balance, and that forced him to take another step back.
KrrCHUNK! KrrCHUNK! KrrCHUNK! KrrCHUNK!
[Ram] - Level 2 (4)
Varnish still had that infuriating grin on his face. Why was he so relaxed!? It was as if the fight that Fig poured all her rage into was as pleasant as a rose-petal bath! Fig’s shoulder ached.
The man stuck out a hand and pushed her back, and she almost fell onto her butt. She windmilled for a second before she regained her balance. She charged him again.
Punch punch, jab! Go for his stomach, go for his nose—whatever was exposed, and hurt him. Smack that stupid look off his face. She was not a child! SHE WAS NOT THAT SCARED LITTLE GIRL!
“Come on then!” She cried.
Tears blurred her vision as Fig struck out wildly. She couldn’t tell if she threw straights or jabs, hay-makers or uppercuts. She just attacked in a flurry. She attacked in a—-
KrrCHUNK-chunk-chunk-chunck-chunk-chunk
[Rush] - Level 3 (6)
“Ooph!” Varnish ended her rampage with a palm to the stomach. The wind knocked out of her, and she sat on her butt, humiliated. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe. She hated being weak so much—put in so much work before to never be weak again—and now look at her. Crying on the ground once again.
Her jaw hurt.
But now that the tears were finally flowing, she felt better. A fight itself wasn’t cathartic to her, she needed to be pushed to this point. Really it was so stupid that she couldn’t have a cry like a normal person. Probably a defunct psychological defense mechanism entrenched in childhood trauma. Or something.
Hah! Neeeeeeeerd! See that everyone Fig’s secretly a nerd! Haha, can you believe her? How embarrassing is that?
She could think again, without getting so distracted. She went through her affirmations again. Not useless. Useless people don’t get such good grades, or do so well in rugby. Fig had proven to herself time and again that she could be the best. Was the best in several beautiful instances.
But maybe she wasn’t the best friend. Not yet.
Fig pushed herself back onto her feet, and rolled her shoulders.
“Glad I got that out of my system.” She said to herself.
“Huh?” Varnish said. “Come. Keep punching.”
Fig grinned at the man, and shook her head.
“I think that’s all for the day, big guy. Don’t worry. I’ll fight you again soon, and beat you.”
Varnish frowned. “Can’t beat me. You baby with no [Skills].”
“Keep telling yourself that pal. Anyways, I gotta go see a stupid I shouldn’t have left on his own.”
Varnish growled. “You know little Striker. But need Taker. I teach you!”
Fig waved him goodbye. “See ya Var!”
“Aww.” Varnish sulked. He kicked the dirt sullenly, and sent a cloud of dust over the wall. “Not even diamond time.”
***
“How long has it been?” Roy asked. Baron didn’t answer, but he didn’t speak the way people did anyways. “Only a couple years… less than three, but it feels like more since I left you.”
Roy held the eepe across his lap, blade still sheathed. Even holding it like this felt… bittersweet. It hurt, yet it warmed his heart.
“I thought I didn’t need you…” He ran his hand down the length. “Not around normal people. I thought being with you wouldn’t feel right, as long as I was with them. And I have to be normal…” He smiled sadly.
“The universe likes to be humorous, doesn’t it? Suddenly I’m in a place where all of You are venerated. Given such potency. I don’t even know what you can do now!”
Baron unsheathed the sword, and watched the gold shimmer in the sunlight.
“We have a blade. We can dance again. We can speak…”
Baron held the handle through his hand. Even after Roy had abandoned him… Roy shook. He avoided looking at the sword entirely.
“What if I lose them? Is it worth it to protect them if they realize I’ve been lying to them this whole time? That I’m different?” He let out a shuddering breath. “Would they see something wrong with me? I… I can’t go through that ordeal again.”
Baron chopped down mid-air. It was clumsy, imperfect, off. Baron was right there, if only Roy let him in—let him stay. Baron swiped a horizontal slash. Again, it was wrong.
“Could you even forgive me for what I did to you? To all the others? I know it isn’t fair.”
As the weight of the eepe became familiar, Roy felt a sense of comfort flow through his arm. He didn’t deserve it.
“I may leave you again, Baron.”
Roy stood, and Baron guided him into proper form. It felt so right.
“Why aren’t you angry?”
Baron jabbed, jabbed again. And Roy fell into exercise he would never forget. Through every step, inside every swell, and into every strike, He felt it. And it made his breath hitch.
Baron embraced him.
In every sword, Roy would find him again. Baron would never turn him away. No matter how many times Roy tossed him aside, he would be there. Companions for life. Partners, as they had always been, brought together in that horrid place. Never to be forgotten entirely.
Roy stabbed the epee into the ground and retreated to the side.
“Your kindness is so intoxicating. I feel myself obeying so easily, as if no time has passed at all…” Roy’s breath grew ragged. “I want it. I want that oblivion so much. No more worrying; only action. Just let you move through me without a thought.”
Roy circled around the blade, like in a boxing ring.
“But I can’t be nothing again. I will be myself.”
He stepped closer, and rested a single finger on the handle.
“I’ve changed, Baron. And I’ll hold you in my heart again, but you have to change too. I can’t accept anything less, I’m sorry.”
Roy gripped the handle, and held it aloft. He waited. Baron held it too, and waited. They… just waited together. Roy let out a scoff, and brought the sword down in chop. Roy did. Roy made the chop. And Baron merely helped. Roy continued to laugh to himself, even as his vision blurred.
“Okay.”
Roy wiped away the tears as fast as they came, but he didn’t stop swinging the blade. He spoke tenderly with Baron, not in words, but in movement. He could barely hold the eepe; his heart filled with so much relief. And hiding underneath it wriggled the fear. His friends might hate him soon… Baron was back… but the others would want to return too.
Was it worth the risk?
KrrCHUNK! KrrCHUNK!
[Stab] - Level 1 (2)
The twins watched Roy work through it all, and turned to each other.
“Later?” The boy asked.
“Later.” The girl agreed.
***
Toni jerked awake, and wiped the line of drool from her mouth. Hastily she checked the room.
“Oh, good.” She sighed. “No one caught me…”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. She couldn’t believe herself. Falling asleep in a place she had broken into? Embarrassing.
How much time had passed? A few hours? More? Maybe it was the next day, and Les, or someone else would find her where she shouldn’t be. That was a good way to get on the bad side of the few people in this new world she had a friendly anchor to. She shook her head. Time to head out.
She spooled the History of Patches back up, and collected her notes.
Tap, tap
As she organized them, she looked over her entries with a frown. Many of these were enigmatic at best. ‘
“Almost a waste of time.” She whispered. Toni walked to the door, and pressed her ear absentmindedly as she read the true gem of this day. ‘Killing other Players no longer counts towards unlocking any of the “Colossal Game Hunter” Achievements.’
Toni smiled. She had done it! She could actually help, and all it had taken was a little trespassing, and a level or four in [Read], and [Write].
Click!
Toni flung herself under the table just in time.
“Come onnnnnn.” Ryte said. “There’s only stuffy old people around here, and none of the fun ones are being fun right now.”
“You’re from around here right? Show us where all the other kids are and we can play some games.” Lepht added.
Les pushed on the door, but the twins blocked it. “No. Everyone knows it’s gross for Priest to play with little boys and girls.”
“But you’re a little boy!” The girl whined.
“At least show us one of your compendiums then.” Ryte said.
“How did you—no way! Those are inappropriate for your age range.” Les said.
“Ugh. They should call you the lame kid instead of the Priest kid.” Lepht said.
Les winced. In the moment of weakness, the twins burst into the back room.
“What’s so important that you need the room to yourself, anyways?” Ryte said.
“It’s where I study… I guess I could read to you?”
“What, like, learning?” the girl asked skeptically.
“Lepht, that is so boring!” The boy added. He puffed up his chest, and put his hands behind his back. “Look at these numbers that you hate, now put them in your butt!”
Lepht copied her brother’s posture. “Indubitably. That’s where you find the money.”
Toni twitched. These kids! Did they have no respect? She had half a mind to bring them to the light, make them understand—but no. That would blow her hiding spot. Breathe, Toni Toney, breathe.
“It’s not just about learning…” Les said defensively. Toni nodded twice. “The stories are cool too.”
“I guess that’s true. I like the old epics of the Exponentia. Back when heroes and monsters could crack the world in half? Do you have any of those?”
“I… I can’t share those, sorry.”
“Priest secrets? That's what our—I heard that’s why you don’t really speak about those days anymore.”
“Ugh, just like the adults. Why don’t they ever tell us the truth? Then we wouldn’t need to lie to them.” Both twins shook their heads mournfully.
Les shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes, you have to have secrets to protect people. That’s what my teacher says—said.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“Yeah!”
Les folded his arms. “I can’t tell you! That's the whole point of a secret.”
“Spill iiiiiiiiiiiit.”
“No!” Les said.
“Lame kid, lame kid.”
“Shut up! I can’t just tell people about the old artifacts or places or they would go off and do bad things! That’s what happened with [Imprinted] [Skills].” Les’ face flushed red, his fists were clenched and he shook. “A person has to prove they have what it takes to use that power for good. And you two—you’re bad kids so you will never ever learn!”
The twins recoiled like they’d been slapped. Instinctively they huddled together a moment, before they began backing away.
“Grmm.” Ryte growled. Well, tried to growl. Kids that age don’t really rumble very much unless you forgot to take out the lint and set the dry setting to 'permanent press.’
As they about slipped out the door, Lepht held fast. Ryte turned to her, confused.
“Okay, Priest Kid, you’re no slouch. Come find us so we can play hide and seek.” Lepht said. Ryte frowned, but let out a sigh.
“Truce?”
Les’ breath was heavy for a few moments. Then he unclenched his fists, and nodded.
“Truce.”
The twins smiled, and waved. “See you later Priest Kid!”
“Bye.” He waved back.
Toni shook her head with a smile. Kids… Seriously. Then Toni cocked her head, and her heartbeat quickened. Les had let something slip, didn’t he? Toni rolled over to look at her notes, and scribbled out a single question:
‘What does it mean to [Imprint] a [Skill]?’
“Toni? How did you get in here?”