Chapter 12 - Compassion (Patreon)

“You’re not eating,” mentioned Amalia. “I slave away for you cooking, and you won’t eat. I’m hurt.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, grabbing a fork and stabbing into the food. “Was thinking about training. I only have two weeks left with Jessie and the others and haven’t made much progress in a while. Not like I did at the start.”

“There are other things to life besides swinging a sword or shooting fire.” Amalia spun around the circular table and sat between me and Quintin. “Quintin, tell her to stop worrying so much and enjoy life.”

“Stop worrying so much and enjoy life,” repeated Quintin like a bird. He had his codex open and was reading something inside.

Amalia swatted at Quintin, causing him to recoil. “Pay attention!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Quintin closed his codex. It disappeared as the covers slapped together, disintegrating into particles. “What are we talking about?”

“The meaning of life,” I said in jest, though, honestly, it wasn’t entirely unrelated.

“She’s got the same expression she did right before you taught her the Heavenly style,” noted Amalia. The revelation surprised me.

“Oh?” That piqued Quintin’s interest. His focus entirely shifted my direction. “What’s wrong? Need more pointers?”

“It’s not that,” I rebutted. “I dunno. I don’t feel like I’ve progressed very much since I started training to cut mana.” My arms crossed over my chest and I leaned back casually in my chair. “How long is that supposed to take?”

“Depends on the person,” replied Quintin. He leaned back as well, copying my posture. A stream of sunlight cast over his mouth. “Some people take months or years. Not everyone can ascend to Expert, no matter how hard they try. The vast majority, regardless of their effort, stall there or at the Master level. A select few go beyond.” He frowned. The beam of sunlight cast over his lips faded into a thin line to match. “I’m barely an Expert myself.”

“And you and Barcus are already helping me.” I sighed. “Just need to be patient.”

“Absolutely.” Quintin nodded. He leaned forward. The beam of light fully left his face. “You’ve been on kind of a lucky streak for a little while now. It was about time you came down here with the rest of us.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Your body has to get used to channeling mana. The pathways enlarge, and the energy moves more easily the more you use it. Your eyes are white. There’s no doubt you’ll be a Master or higher in time.”

“Tart and Bydon think I should go into the Forest of Beginners soon,” I said slowly, watching both of them. “That maybe a life-or-death moment could push me further—shake something loose. They said I needed to get used to killing monsters and harvesting their mana. That it’d make me stronger or wiser. Or something.” I glanced at them, uncertain whether I would get permission. “What do you two think about that?”

Silence followed. Quintin’s brow furrowed like he was doing math in his head. Amalia didn’t look away from him, her eyes boring into the side of his head.

Amalia spoke first. “Going into the forest while Barcus and his people are here would be the safest option. She’ll do it eventually, so she should do it when they and you can supervise, right?”

“That’s true,” said Quintin after a moment. He glanced at his wife. “Surprising to hear you say that.”

“Thought I’d say no?”

Quintin nodded, and I did, too.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ll pray every second you’re gone,” iterated Amalia as she focused on me. “But your eyes are what they are. It’s your destiny to do something great, and great things require risk. It’s best to get as much practice as possible, as safely as possible.

It was an entirely rational argument that still shocked me deeply given who the words were coming from.

“I’ll bring it up with them then, if you’re both okay,” I said, my eyes flickering between the two of them.

Once again, they made no objections. Satisfied, I quickly finished my food, said goodbye, and headed outside.

I opened the front door of the house and immediately got bonked in the forehead by a fist.

“Ow,” I muttered

Nigel stood there, blinking like a deer watching a hunter shoot at it. “I-I was going to knock.”

I stared at him flatly. “On my head?”

“I panicked.”

“Do you always panic with girls?”

He flushed. “Only the ones who can beat me up.”

“…so none, then.”

“True!”

I closed the door behind me, stepped forward into the yard, shook my head, and smiled. “Very cocky.” My eyes glimmered. “I have the sudden urge to thrash you.”

“Ha! Please.” Nigel’s concern immediately gave way to smugness. “You barely win.”

“Barely? For someone two years younger than you with significantly less training? That’s your bar? Barely?” I stared at Nigel, dumbfounded, then tapped my chin with my finger. I rolled my eyes then grinned. “You should be embarrassed.”

“I don’t—”

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!” The voice cracked through the air like glass shattering A man’s scream—high and panicked. “THEY HURT HIM! THEY’RE GONNA KILL ME!”

Nigel spun around instantly, emotions on his face. I followed half a second slower, not as invested since the words and fear didn’t relate to me.

A man came into view, sprinting down the dirt road that passed in front of my home. His black hair whipped around him like a torn banner. Freckles, a gaunt face, eyes so wide they looked ready to fall out. He clutched a small boy in his arms. The child’s neck lolled awkwardly against the man’s chest, his mouth open, and his face streaked with blood.

Blood clung to the man’s shirt like rust. It dripped in a thin, winding trail behind him, each drop a red breadcrumb leading deeper into town.

The boy in his arms wasn’t moving. His limbs dangled like wet rope. His hair was soked with something too dark to be water.

I didn’t bother to move. My curiosity was piqued by the horrific sight that should have sent shudders down my spine, but instead sparked my intense fascination and curiosity.

I couldn’t help but glance at Nigel. His face was stained with worry and fear. I already knew what I looked like—the same as always. The threat was to someone else, I wasn’t a part of it, and neither were my parents. I didn’t know the guy or the kid. Nothing about the situation mattered to me. It might as well have been two animals for all it affected me.

Eve’s expressionless face flashed before me as her inferences of my personality—or lack thereof—tickled the back of my brain.  

Nigel suddenly grabbed my hand. “We’re following,” he said. Not a suggestion.

I let him pull me forward before I could protest the uselessness.

My eyes followed the blood trail as we charted into town. It ended by Beginner’s Rest. A crowd had formed around the square in front of the inn. People were centered around it, looking at something.

“I’ll push through. Stay behind me,” said Nigel. Like before, without consulting me, we pressed forward.

He gets very controlling and single-minded in a crisis. I noticed.

The crowd consisted mainly of the townsfolk. The snowy season would begin soon. Many of the adventurers were headed to larger cities in preparation. A few stragglers were still around, the strongest being the Trailblazers. The rest were rookies and solos.

 “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything!” A voice cried as we got closer to the inn. “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do…anything…”

We finally made a break through the crowd and could see the source of the chaos. The man we saw running into town was lying on the ground, leaning against the wall by the door. He curled forward into a ball rocking back and forth. Blood smeared the front of his clothes and pants. Jessie was sitting beside him rubbing his shoulder, but he paid her no mind.

“That’s Turk,” said Nigel as he looked at the man.

“Never heard of him or met him,” I replied.

“He was here with his brother to train him like Barcus is with me.” Nigel’s eyes were dark. “He’s got a little brother named Cairo. I’ve talked with him before. He’s nice.” He clenched his teeth.

That’s probably who Turk was carrying. My expression was blank and my gaze dispassionate. He’s probably dead with all that blood loss.

My lack of seriousness and empathy immediately bothered me even though it didn’t surprise me. I’d never met either Turk or his brother. They didn’t affect my life, so their likely tragedy rang hollow in my ears. I’d probably have felt different if it were Nigel or Jessie instead. Hopefully.

Suddenly, Barcus exited the front of the inn with an older man in tow. It was Doctor Bink, the only physician we had in town. Doctor Bink was lanky and hunched forward. He had thinning white hair tied into a ponytail and a clean-shaven face. His brown, withered eyes were cracked with age and devoid of light. It was clear at a glance he’d seen some shit in his long life.

Barcus kneeled down before Turk. Doctor Bink as well. Jessie watched them with sad eyes. I couldn’t hear them, and neither could Nigel. He tried to get us closer, but everyone had the same idea. We couldn’t find a gap, and people wouldn’t let us forward. Instead, we watched from the crowd with our ears strained on the turmoil.

Whatever they said, it caused Turk to stop muttering to himself. He gazed into Doctor Bink’s eyes for a moment as if frozen in time. Then he started crying. It was initially soft. After a second, it deepened and deepened until his emotions became thundering wails of pain.

So loud and awkward…

Some of the villagers shifted uncomfortably. Others stood stone still. I even noticed one woman holding her child tighter. Another had her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and watery.

I cataloged the reactions. Most avoided looking directly at Turk. His sounds made them uneasy. I understood that even if I didn’t share the feeling.

I wondered if crying helped. Maybe it really is something. Perhaps it was just noise.

The expression I had on my face didn’t match those around me. I hated it when that happened.

The last time I had trouble comprehending others was when Nigel accidentally knocked me unconscious with his sword. I woke up with everyone yelling at him, and I was totally confused. The point of the exercise was to engage in combat, so their yelling was unnecessary. Nigel did what he was supposed to do, and the blame was entirely on me for failing to defend myself correctly.

Everyone looked at me like I was crazy when I brought it up, though.

Another time, when I was much younger shortly before my ears got revealed, I was playing a game with some kids in the village. I helped lead my team to victory against the others by a wide margin. Everyone on my team eventually slowed down to let the others catch up and have fun. I did not. It made the others angry, but it was their fault for not being good enough to fight back better. They didn’t invite me to play much after that, especially after I explained my logic.

To me, it always seemed like too much kindness was a net negative. Failure was a good teacher to me. Then again, I could do most things by myself with practice, so I felt being mostly independent was a boon overall.

Barcus looked into the crowd. His eyes were half-closed like he’d missed a day’s worth of sleep. When he made contact with Nigel and me, he grimaced. I watched him break toward us. “Come on,” Barcus spoke to us. “We need your help.”

Barcus’s presence caused the crowd to part. It allowed Nigel and me to slide into the center of action. My eyes gazed curiously over Turk as Barcus led me inside Beginner’s Rest.

It was empty inside the inn except for the members of the Trailblazers, minus Jessie, who remained outside with Doctor Bink and Turk. On a table was a small boy covered in a cloth stained with red blotches. Tannin and Bruno stood awkwardly at the bar, watching over the situation. Bydon and Tart were near the table by the body, looking down. Tart had her arms crossed over her chest while Bydon stood solidly with a stoic expression. Garreth sat in a chair some distance away. His eyes were empty as he stared at the floor.

I suppose my expression resembles theirs more. No, not really. Even with them, I can feel tension and anger. I just don’t really care, and I can’t make myself. I thought as I internally groaned. I’ll just try copy everyone else like I always do.

I adjusted my face. The trick was subtle—just enough downward tils at the corners of my lips, a soft quint at the eyes. It was something I practiced in the mirror constantly.

I didn’t feel anything as much as I wanted to. Not grief. Not sadness. Just a vague sense of annoyance that people kept looking for reactions I didn’t have. Or, at least, I assumed they were. That’s what I did.

So I gave them one just in case. Just enough to blend in. That’s all people want—mirrors for their own feelings.

I tilted my head and let my brow crease, mimicking what I saw in Nigel. Not too dramatic. A quiet, respectful grief.

Good job, Yen.

“Why do we have to see this?” asked Nigel. I hadn’t noticed, but his gaze never left the boy sitting on the table.

“It’s necessary for you if this is the kind of life you wish to live,” said Barcus after a minute. “I can’t say get used to it. You never can. But you should be aware of the worst parts of the adventuring life. Death follows you.”

Obviously. Good thing I changed my expression. No one thinks I’m weird or pointed it out. Another win for me.

“And…we’re going to give you your first job.” Barcus crossed his arm over his chest and looked over at Tannin and Bruno, the owners of Beginner’s Rest. “That okay?”

Tannin looked between me and Nigel. She nodded. “I’ll make a special exception. Nigel’s not a stranger. I’ve seen him around Cairo and Turk. And the girl…she doesn’t flinch.”

“How?!” Nigel burst forward away from me. The expression on his face was stern and determined. He stared at Tannin. “How can we help?”

“Should be asking what happened first,” said Tart in a cold tone.

Nigel flinched. His head dropped, and he muttered, “Sorry.”

“Relax.” Barcus held out a hand in front of Tart. His face was stern. “I’ll tell them.”

It was a heartbreaking story based on the content…not that it moved me any.

Turk was an up-and-coming adventurer who worked in the vicinity of the Forest of Beginners. He moved between all the small towns as a lone adventurer. His home base was Port Prosper, like many of the people with similar work lives to him.

Apparently, Turk’s little brother Cairo had just awakened to his mana, and Turk offered to show him the ropes. He’d taken Cairo along many of the small towns outside of the Forest of Beginners. Sandy Branch was going to be his last stop before heading back to Port Prosper.

Coming back from the forest, they ran into a group of bandits.

These bandits reportedly consisted of two or three dozen men and women. Turk didn’t know the exact number, and he was rambling to Barcus when he made this statement. They ambushed him and his brother, but Turk felt he could flee them without worry.

“A large wind spell punctured Cairo’s chest as they ran away,” said Barcus in a cold tone. “It killed him instantly, but Turk didn’t know this until he got here.”

“Gods…” whispered Nigel beside me. His knuckles had gone white from clinching his fist. “That’s—”

I glanced at him. He looked like he might cry.

That reaction again. Automatic empathy. So strange…

Barcus continued, unfazed.

Turk rambled when Barcus asked him about the bandits that attacked them. He didn’t know their intentions, given how brief their encounter was, but he gave a general location, and Barcus filled in the rest from there. Based on his past history, Barcus felt the bandits were likely intent on continually hounding groups of beginners, raiding the town or capturing people to sell as slaves.

That was all they knew at the time.

I digested the information silently. A sense of relief flooded over me.

It was a good thing Turk and his brother had a mishap with these bandits and made it into town before they attacked the village, if that was one of the listed possibilities. Now, the bandit group was a known entity, and they could be dealt with—in theory.

It was nearing the snowy season. The Trailblazers were the only strong group of adventurers around. The rest were solos or weak newbies trying to gain experience. There was a lack of cohesion that’d make retaliation in the event of an assault difficult.

We got lucky.

“That’s a horrible story,” said Nigel at the end of Barcus’s retelling. “I feel so bad for Turk.” He said it like he was choking on his words. His fists were clenched, and I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch.

Nigel apparently had some sort of relationship with Cairo and a lesser one with Turk. Still, it was apparently enough to evoke a strong emotional response. Enough for him to want justice and to grieve for the two of them.

I envied Nigel sometimes. I’d learned a lot about being a person and socializing from watching him the past few months. The ability to feel for others without needing a reason—was impressive and baffling to me.

And that thought didn’t even cross my mind for a single second…

“We’re going to do something about it,” replied Barcus to Nigel’s sentiment. His gaze was authoritative and firm. “We’ll gather who we can and eradicate the threat after scouting the situation.” He pointed between me and Nigel. “You will watch over Turk until that’s over.”

My nose crinkled. “Why? Shouldn’t we come with you instead? What’s the point?”

Bydon and Tart didn’t seem particularly shocked by my comment, but everyone else did. Nigel stared at my face while the others’ eyes lifted slightly.

“Just do it,” said Tart. She glanced at me. “Compassion’s part of the job. Having you and Nigel here taking care of the victim will ease our minds.”

Ah. So that’s the logic. Okay.

I nodded. “That’s fine then.”

Everyone relaxed except Nigel. He still looked at me with concern.

Why is he so sensitive?

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•

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The scouting party came back with evidence of bandits, thus validating Turk’s story. Barcus created a hunting party, and they departed late in the afternoon with the intention of using the scouting information to plan a nighttime ambush.

I laid awkwardly across the couch in my home while staring at Turk. He sat at my family’s kitchen table while Nigel and Amalia buzzed around him. Quintin would have helped, too, but he was out with Barcus’s party, helping them with scouting and strategy.

“Freshly baked bread, eggs, and milk,” said Amalia as she and Nigel served Turk food. “Warms the heart.”

I don’t think that will work.

And it didn’t. Turk stared at the plate blankly like he was looking past it into another world. His eyes were glassy, but he was at least clean now. His clothes and his hair were washed. All signs of tears were gone. If it weren’t for his dead expression, he’d look like a whole human again.

I don’t know why he’s just sitting here. If someone had killed Amalia or Quintin and I knew where they were, I’d act. Hunt. Take something aback. That’s the logical response. Equivalent loss. But he just…sits. Like grief is heavier than vengeance. I don’t get it. I don’t like it.

My biological parents died before me, but I never knew them long enough to care. Even so, I’ve gained attachments in this life. There are people I’d fight and kill for now if anything happened to them. But to see Turk be so passive made me think I was wrong again. That my reactionary conclusions were not the norm.

Nigel and Amalia awkwardly shuffled in place. They struggled to find words to push Turk to eat, speak, or do anything normal. It wasn’t as if I could help. They were better equipped for this situation than I was, and if they were failing, I wouldn’t have had any success.

Still, it bothered me. Barcus asked me to help, said this was an important role, and that we’d learn something from it. I felt like I was failing on two fronts: to help Barcus and understanding grief.

All my mind could reflect on was the totality of the situation.

I’d never seen Turk before. Barcus and others seem to know him, Nigel even met with his brother a few times, but I didn’t recognize his face or name. It seemed like he came out of nowhere. Then again, I didn’t really pay attention to people that I didn’t somewhat know, so it’s very possible I’d passed him multiple times over varying days and just never bothered to record his face in my memories.

I knew all the small children around my age in the area. I felt like if there were some awakened kid named Cairo in Sandy Branch, I’d have heard about him. Then again, Nigel knew him without prompting from anyone else. It was possible I did know at some point and just forgot.

It was also surprising that Turk wasn’t killed fleeing with his brother. Based on what I heard, he barely got away. I saw all the blood dripping from him. He left a trail. It would have been easy to follow. If I were a bandit, I’d have finished the job. It was obvious that Turk would run to the nearest settlement. If the bandits planned on sacking Sandy Branch, killing him should have been a priority.

It was also possible the bandits had other intentions than what Barcus suggested, at the very least, and they felt going after Turk was unnecessary. The scouts did find they existed, and the group was going after them, so Turk was telling the truth.

It just felt like I was missing information, and I never liked that feeling.

“Your food is so good!” Nigel chomped down on some of the bread Amalia set aside on the table. “Feels like home.”

“Is that why you come over here to eat in the mornings?” asked Amalia. It’s a little tradition Nigel’s picked up as our training together neared its end.

Nigel nodded, but his cheeks tinged slightly red. “Absolutely. The inn’s great, but nothing there beats what you make. I’m jealous of Quintin and Yen. They’ve got it good.”

“How sweet.” Amalia smiled. “Come over any time.”

They were not talking directly to Turk, but they were creating a welcoming, homey vibe around him. I was jealous of how natural they made it appear.

“It’s getting cold.” Nigel glanced at Turk. “You sure you don’t want any?”

Turk remained silent.

Well, I can’t help, so I’m leaving.

Annoyed at myself and Turk, I exited the house without so much as a word. Outside, the chilly air blasted my skin. I went to my range. At least the arrows made sense. They went where you told them. Straight lines. Clear results. People weren’t like that.

I drew my bow and fired.

Thunk!

My first shot nearly hit the mid-point of my practice target.

I heard the door to the house open. Curious, I peeked over my shoulder to see Turk standing a few paces over my shoulder, staring at me. Nigel and Amalia were behind him, braced with worry.

“My brother…he was an…archer,” muttered Turk. He stared at me, his hands shivering.

I froze, unsure of what to say.

Turk’s knees collapsed. He looked at his hands. “I-I got my brother…killed. I killed him. It’s my fault.” He wrapped his arms around his body and began to wail. “It’s my fault!”

I quickly glanced at Nigel and Amalia. They looked just as stunned as me.

Tentatively, I placed my bow on the ground.

People comfort each other like this. I remembered. Nigel did it to me once in training, and Quintin liked to do it a lot when I was older. It probably works for normal people.

I walked over and put my hand on Turk’s head. My fingers moved in small circles. He didn’t clinched.

Good response. I did the right thing.

Not a word was exchanged between any of us.

Turk eventually recovered enough to talk about his brother. He leaned against the house and regaled us with stories of their adventures around the Forest of Beginners the last year.

Afterward, we retreated inside. Turk’s stomach grumbled, and he remarked that he was hungry. His mood improvised slightly as he ate, and a little light returned to his eyes. He kept talking to me, telling me stories and asking me about my archery. I responded simply and amicably.

The whole situation confused me. I didn’t know why the simple act of me firing a bow sent such a change through him, but it did. I wanted to ask why, but it didn’t feel like I could or should.

Exhaustion soon took over Turk. Amalia offered him my room, and he was grateful. Hours went by. Amalia checked on Turk later in the evening then headed to her room for the night. Nigel slept downstairs with me in the living room. We talked for only a few minutes before he passed out snoring wrapped in a warm blanket.

I didn’t have the energy to rest, even as the hours progressed. The events of the day had me on edge, and my feelings about everything were confused and concerning.

I guess I did the right thing in the end. Yay me. I thought though that didn’t settle the confusion in my mind. Such an odd day. I’ll have a lot to think about and work on when this is all over.

I rolled over on the couch and looked at Nigel. He snored blissfully. One of his arms was tucked behind his head. I could not help but smile at how goofy he looked.

Cute. Still just like a puppy.

Upstairs, the floorboards creaked. I craned my neck to follow them as the sound echoed across the floor, to the stairs, and finally down to the living room.

Turk stared vacantly at me. I gave him the same gaze back.

“You need something?” I asked in a whisper. “Everyone else is asleep, but I can probably help.”

Turk just stared at me.

I blinked. Why?

“Your eyes,” muttered Turk.

I reached up and felt my face. The blindfold I usually kept on was off. I didn’t wear it at night.

My white eyes were on full display.

“Heh heh…surprise…” I said. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Turk kept staring at me. His expression didn’t change. It was like there was something behind his eyes. Not fear or awe…curiosity? “I promise,” he said after a moment, too easily.

Somewhat relieved, I let out a small breath. I don’t have to kill him. People probably wouldn’t believe him now anyways given the stress he’s underwent. The Trailblazers all know, so they’d defend me. I paused. Could I kill him if I need to? Is that warranted at this point? I pause again. Probably. He’s just an animal at the end of the day.

“Do you need something?” I asked, mustering the kindest expression I could. “Did something wake you?”

“I was gonna…go outside,” admitted Turk. He looked at the door, scratched the back of his head, and glanced at me. “Sorry. I needed air. Everything’s suffocating.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fine. Go.” As soon as the words left me, the word ‘suicide’ rang in my head. I got up and walked in Turk’s direction. “Actually, I’ll go with you. I can’t sleep either.”

“…sure. Why not?”

We stepped outside. The cold bit harder than before—windless but sharp, like the world had turned brittle. The moon hung high, casting pale light across the yard and trees. Shadows stretched everywhere.

Turk didn’t say anything at first. He walked slowly. Relaxed. Very relaxed.

I stayed beside him, eyes scanning the tree line. Just in case.

 Everyone that survives the fight will be back tomorrow. I reminded myself as I nervously gazed around. If they have the element of surprise, they’ll probably win. Jessie looked extra angry, and I wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.

Turk stared awkwardly at the sky. His hands were in his pockets, and his breath left small puffs of smoke as he breathed slowly in and out. He relaxed forward, calm. It was a big change from earlier in the day.

Maybe he’s imagining the bandits getting killed right now. That’s what I’d be doing.

“I hope they avenge your brother,” I said, searching for something to say.

Turk frowned. “No matter how many monsters they kill, it won’t bring him back.”

“…right. I’m sorry.”

I turned away and stared back into the sky.

Monsters? That wasn’t right. I thought he said bandits. Everyone did. It was confirmed. Is it metaphorical or something?

I turned slightly toward him.

“You mean bandits, right—?”

A hand clamped on my mouth, and a blade pressed to my throat.

Turk leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. “Oops,” he whispers. “My mistake.” The sadness in his voice was gone. What was left was clean, cruel certainty.

I narrowed my gaze.

“Kidding!” Turk said a little louder. “I said that on purpose.” He chuckled, sharp and joyless. “Doesn’t matter now. I win.”