The Final Lesson, page 14
part #1 of The Final Lesson Series
Solus crossed his arms. “I don’t have doubt in your abilities. You have a multitude of colors in your soul like us all, fervently drifting through any trial presented to you. They reflect like a prism. It’s peculiar to consider, but I think it’s befitting of you.”
His wording seemed a bit strange. He was speaking highly of her despite the little knowledge of one another that they held. From what she was processing, he seemed to be implementing that she has a lot of prowess and potential and that what strength she did possess would carry her through her pilgrimage. Or, so it seemed. Maybe not? Wait. Was he flirting with her? Was this what it felt like?
Solus grinned, amused by her clear confusion. Maybe she didn’t understand his thought process. She was still naïve after all, and even taking that into consideration, there was much she needed to learn. “Did you want to say anything to Rem before you leave?”
Leilana glanced over at Rem. He was further ahead, starting up a conversation with one of the merchants, looking over pieces of armor and weapons, currently holding a freshly polished blade in his hands. She wasn’t sure of the context, but she couldn’t deny he was in better spirits. He was laughing and seemed to be confident. He swung the sword in his hands and showed off his skills, all while remaining subtle about who he was. No one caught on.
He probably wasn’t going to remain that way if she was burdening him, sad as it was.
“No. It’s all right,” she told him.
As she spoke, she was stepping back, clenching her small hand into a tight fist, hidden behind her back to keep from worrying Solus. Their time together had been so scarce—only a day or two since they first met, but the truth was illuminating in her sight faster than she could process it. She hadn’t wanted to leave. She wanted to know them both better, and to be strong enough to fight at their side. She wanted to voice her opinions to them, and to help them on their journey, somehow.
“Just tell him that I said it was nice to meet him.” Without another word, Leilana turned on her back heel and ran off into the crowds of people, slightly shoving through them to keep from looking back. Solus extended a hand towards Leilana as she ran, wanting to find a way to convince her otherwise, but she was just out of his reach.
She forced herself not to heed Solus’s calls to her. If she had acknowledged him, even for a split second turned to look up at him, she felt as though she wouldn’t be able to uphold Rem’s wishes. Solus would want her there. And she’d find a way to stay, to convince Rem that she could be of use. And the last thing that she desired was to burden him by practically pleading for a chance because it meant that she would be far from considerate about his feelings.
Solus dropped his hand, watching Leilana vanish into the crowd. He had to admit, he was almost unhappy to see her go. They had barely gotten to know each other, and though he was certain that she would be safe in this city, he couldn’t help being concerned. Kalonia was vast, and she knew little of the environment. He and Rem were at least used to big cities or buildings after their life spent in Linmus, but she had been condemned to her school, training herself endlessly. There was so much for her to explore during this pilgrimage, and now he felt a little disheartened that he wouldn’t be at her side.
He tugged on one of his front bangs, staring at the loose strands that fell to the ground from the gesture. “I suppose even a day spending time with someone holds more meaning than one would expect.”
“Took you long enough to get here,” Rem proclaimed after Solus returned to him, setting down the sword he was still debating on purchasing from the merchant.
Solus eyed the man at the booth, who was disappointed that Rem wasn’t spending money yet. Sensing his distress, Solus decided to toss him some of the Nyte coins in his pocket, counting out the amount of ninety, just enough for the sword. The merchant grinned ear-to-ear, rubbing his grubby hands on the coins before gesturing to the sword. Solus almost shook his head at the essence of greed while grabbing the sword. He supposed it would suffice to have a worthy souvenir and still manage find a place to rest their heads for the night.
“Where’s your little buddy?”
“She already left,” Solus told him, gaze locked on the blade in his grasp, examining the polished metal. It was a bit dull, but it was in better condition than Rem’s sword was. Changes could be made. “Oh, and she says that it was nice to meet you.”
Rem blinked a few times. “Did she really? Oh, uh… I didn’t think that she would.”
“I would have felt it better that she didn’t, but she insisted that she continue on her own.”
“Oh, I get it. She didn’t want to break a vow.” Solus frowned at the conclusion. “Oh, come on, it’s not like she’s incapable of taking care of herself. Besides, we don’t know anything about her aside from the fact that she’s an Arcana. No reason to get attached.”
“Your mother was an Arcana, isn’t that enough reason for you to-?”
“That doesn’t mean that every one of them is the same.” Rem traveled ahead of Solus, who hurriedly followed, not wanting to lose him in the chaos of the city, asking after him on where he was going. “I’m tired and I’m ready to call it a day. It’ll be nice to be able to rest in a real bed after being in caves and forests for days on end.”
Solus sighed. There he goes again with the Prince complex.
Leilana took a seat inside of what appeared to be a café, the scent of cocoa beans and freshly brewed tea enclosing the tiny space. She rested on the table and blocked out the sunlight by wrapping her arms around her exposed head. She didn’t acknowledge the waiter that approached her table and asked if there was anything that she needed. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty; she just wanted to think and be left alone, to try and forget that she had met Solus and Rem.
Like that was possible. They had saved her life. How do you forget something like that?
“How childish,” she mumbled to herself before searching through her bag, pulling out one of her vast assortment of notebooks, jotting down some words among the dotted lines.
Breach the path of understanding.
She stared at the words for what felt like an eternity, the time elapsing so quickly that upon being asked by the waiter again if she needed assistance, the sun was setting. How many hours had gone by since she arrived in Kalonia? Were Solus and Rem safe?
…Wait, she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about them.
The waiter looked anxious, so Leilana finally gave him an answer after looking over the menu, “I’ll just take some chamomile tea.” The waiter gave her a grin before scampering off. Leilana playfully rolled her eyes. Ah, ambition.
Analyzing the passages in her notebook, she recalled the aura spiraling around Rem’s body while they were in the forest and the afflicted tone that surged through her fragile mind. The spirits of the Warlords were crying, bestowing her with the opportunity to seize a totem. She didn’t have to guess where those desires stemmed from, but now there was more to consider.
Was Rem a key in her pilgrimage?
“Your tea, ma’am,” the waiter chimed, offering up a steaming mug. “It’s a little hot, but I hope it’s to your liking.” Leilana gave a nod of approval before the man took his leave again. She continued her work, occasionally taking sips of the tea.
She needed to ‘understand’ Rem if his morality was going to be restored and she could claim the totem he possessed, whatever it was. He was a person that carried magical prowess, evident by his healing abilities. In hindsight, he was suffering further by using his magic to help others above himself. But that was nothing more than an assumption. She didn’t know much about him, and now that they were on uneven terms, she couldn’t get closer.
“Oh, this is hopeless,” she scoffed, flipping to the next page in the notebook.
She paused, noticing thin edges of the open page. She ran her fingers along the torn fragments, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Strange. Someone ripped out one of the sheets, and it hadn’t been her—she always kept her notes intact. She didn’t hesitate to reach for the Lasette, thrusting out a hand forward in a swift motion, the book snapping open and the pages rushing along before stopping on a slightly crumbled and folded page.
She slammed her hands on the table, rattling the lukewarm teacup. Someone had been pilfering for information. Her spontaneous bout of irritation earned her misperception and astonishment, and she sneered at the onlookers. This was far from anyone else’s business. They turned away faster than she could process. Only certain people, usually those susceptible to Minsuran blood could open and transcribe the pages of the Lasette. And she knew no others that were alive and kicking.
She read over the marked passage. The Orb of Concord, forged by Warlords of Old, a weapon that was near unascertainable. It remained undiscovered since the early civilization after the Warlords became a group chosen by others of their kind directly. No one was worthy of their power, and those that were had no idea where to search. And so, the Orb of Concord was hidden away. She knew well of the winded tale passed into her hands. The words were empty, the language lifeless.
Scanning the pages of the grimoire, Leilana was realizing that there were two people that, in theory, gained access.
Rem and Solus. How could they have unlocked the book and translated the text?
What they were planning to do with the information was obvious: they were going to look for the Orb of Concord. They had good intentions, a solid aspect of manipulating the Orb’s power. But there was more they had yet to understand about the Orb of Concord’s purpose, and how its power affected those chosen to wield it.
“Good grief,” she mumbled, gathering her paperwork and stuffing it into her bag.
How much had they read? And how much did they truly comprehend their findings? If this was their new goal, then she was going to have to put her foot down.
Around dusk, Rem was people-watching from a local inn’s rooftop, his expression contemplative as the wind brushed hair into his face. He didn’t bother to move the loose strands. The guards securing the rooftop to monitor suspicious activity left him alone while he gathered his thoughts. Maybe he didn’t seem the type to jump—apparently, a lot of people were doing that recently. He thought of Solus sleeping a few floors down, unaware of where he was. Then again, even he needed space. The two of them were going through the ringer, and the worst had yet to come.
Sudden shuffling reached him, and he drew his sword, stepping from the edge when a slight yelp pierced his hearing. A bulky green stalk emerged centimeters from the rooftop. A girl leaped off, hitting the ground knees first. His lips parted, his eyebrows furrowing, the entire ordeal baffling. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to help the girl. Once the plant shrunk, he considered that the plant was born of magic and could be contained.
He faced the girl, her long violet hair tied into a ponytail with a thin red ribbon, her blue eyes glistening under the light of the fading sun. Her lips curved into a shy smile when she met his gaze. Rem stepped closer, raising an eyebrow. “Are you an Arcana?”
“I am,” she replied, jumping to a stand, dusting off her ruffled black skirt, adjusting the hem of her long-sleeved navy-blue dress shirt. She folded her hands in front of her, feeling herself beginning to break into a sweat. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I just needed a place to rest. I’ve run out of money, and since no one else seemed to be around, I thought…” Her voice softened, and he leaned in more to grasp her words. “W-Well, I thought I could try sneaking in. I guess that didn’t work out, huh? I’m sorry.”
Rem grabbed her arm as she tried to leave. “I have a question for you.” She didn’t face him a second time, lowering her arm, but refusing to fight out of his grasp. “Is your name Amiria?” Silence. Rem’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see you, but I remember hearing about you.”
“You were with that boy in Paluna,” she concluded. “The one with the long hair.”
“Why did you destroy Paluna?”
She swallowed, slipping her arm free from him only to rest her hand on her left wrist. “I don’t think I should explain myself to a stranger.”
“I’m not asking for myself,” Rem began, “I’m asking for a friend of yours.”
“Friend?” she repeated. “Which friend?”
Rem paused. He recalled that Leilana was still on bad terms with the girl, and the last thing that he needed was for Amiria to know that they were connected in any shape or form. He couldn’t allow her to be put in danger again. He needed to be cautious. “Someone who really wants to speak to you.” The two never broke their nearly identical, incriminating gazes. “I never imagined that I would find you first.”
“Who are you?” Amiria asked, brushing away some of the wind-swept strands of her violet hair. “How can you sit back and chat up some girl you’ve never met?”
“My name is Rem. I’m, well…” He carefully thought over his words, and Amiria continued to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, unsure of how to react to his sudden bout of silence. He forced a grin. “I suppose you can call me a wayward warrior.”
“A wayward warrior,” she repeated. “Sounds charming. Much more entertaining in hindsight than acting as an Arcana.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, “There are many mages that seem to be in high spirits because they get to travel. I thought that you were one too.”
Amiria sighed. “I used to be. But not anymore. A lot has happened. But I’m sure that your friend has mentioned more than enough to you.”
Rem’s eyes met the sky, the tangerine shade overpowering the clouds, blanketing the city in a settling warmth. He rested a hand on the stone edge, overlooking the people below. They all seemed to be rushing home, and despite the scenery, they looked the opposite of tranquil underneath the sunset. “There’s a lot that I’ve heard, but I only have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Did you kill him?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered. “I started the fire in the shrine. Kindall pushed me out and then went to help Leilana and Lancett, and then he…” Her voice trailed off.
“Amiria.” She jumped, gripping to the hem of her shirt. “What really happened in Paluna? I’ve spent a few minutes with you, and from what I see, you’re quiet, and you’re curious.” He crossed his arms, keeping his back to the younger girl while concentrating on his turn of phrase. “I don’t get the sense that you’re a bad person. What caused you to snap?”
She was taken aback by the near interrogating tone. This was the second time that he had tried to force the information out of her, but it didn’t seem to be borderline incriminating like before. Unlike his ally and Leilana, she was putting herself in a better position to be heard and truly understood, if she allowed it. She could sense his pain. Rem wasn’t one to develop the drive to speak about his feelings openly, at least not with just anyone that he encountered. That wasn’t how trust worked, and they both knew it. He had taken a realistic approach, a sporadic, distorted trait under the instincts of optimism, pessimism, and misunderstanding. Leilana was the same; she could see the two of them getting along in a strange manner due to how similar their logic was.
“I learned information about the Warlords,” she started, stepping towards the edge of the rooftop to stand at his side. “I saw the pillar of Anise Kinsley carved by the people of Paluna—they detailed her right down to the tears streaking the copper stone, holding her axe in preparation for battle. I’m certain that there is something that traumatized her and made her not want to fight anymore. But as a Warlord, protection, and valor are traits that cannot be ignored.”
“I never heard many stories about Anise Kinsley,” Rem admitted, “But it was said that she sought a way out and perished for it. Some say that she was cursed, others that she took her own life to free her blood from the world.”
“That’s what I’ve heard too. Those that carry their will are condemned to eternal suffrage. That is what I’ve come to realize after reading over documents from Paluna’s former Warlord.”
Rem thought of his mother. He knew little about her history as an Arcana, her subjects hardly speaking on the manner. Arcana and Maesters were descendants of Warlords, and direct descendants of the original lineage were infrequent. Every Warlord held a different purpose, but what remained was their determination to live and learn. To hear Amiria state evidence on their suffrage from another Warlord was almost unfathomable.
Maybe becoming an Arcana or Maester meant becoming stagnant. And the ability to wield magic was the trade-off for self-loss.
“Magic comes with a hell of a price, doesn’t it?” he mumbled.
“I’ve told you what you needed to know,” Amiria stated, pushing herself from the edge. Rem returned his gaze to her, raising an eyebrow. She addressed his confusion, stating, “I’m still looking to find a place to lay my head, and I’d like to do so before it gets too late.”
“O-Oh. I guess that’s true.”
Amiria giggled, folding her arms behind her back. It seemed like a typical response, but that was far from a bad thing. “It was a pleasure speaking with you. This is the first time that I felt like someone was absorbing my words. Maybe one day, we’ll be able to meet again on better terms.” Rem watched silently as she left, unsure of what to make of this strange girl.
Was Amiria really an enemy? Did she still seem the type to work against them? Sure, she had a breaking point after discovering that everything she worked for was destined to unravel, but what person wouldn’t feel a little afraid?
This was all so confusing.
Rem groaned, gripping his hair. “I can’t believe I’m sympathizing with her.”
No. He couldn’t. It was wrong to bask her in light; it was insane to even consider it. No matter what she felt, her actions were inexcusable. She burned down a town because of the information they carried. She indirectly caused the death of a friend. She left so much mystery behind her relationship with Leilana. Nobody was angry. That was a fact, but facts didn’t adjust the overwhelming truth that her overreaction had cost innocent people their lives.
