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Monthly Short Story for July: The Lives of Professor Chiska
🕑 Added 2024-08-31 02:05:45 +0000 UTCHello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices once again, with a majority voting for Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 19.
We’re back in the Nexus with this one! And in a similar turn of events to Professor Articord’s class, I decided that since we just recently had Professor Chiska’s PE classes, this would be the perfect time to introduce a part of her backstory!
So for this bonus story of the month, I present to you, a small glimpse into Professor Chiska’s past! It’s been something I’ve been really eager to share with you guys, as it gives some hints and insights into several topics you’ll soon see within the story! From mentions of the Transgracian Academy from other characters, hinting at the reason why Nexians might join it, to a glimpse into the life of Nexian nobility and how their paths in life are charted! I have a lot of worldbuilding with regards to that latter point, especially with the crownlands path for Nexian nobility, and I’m really excited to be sharing a bit of it in this story! :D
Let's jump right into it then! :D I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's nineteenth side story! :D
The Lives of Professor Chiska
Nexus. Farlands. Just Outside of the Charter Town of Tular V. Renosornia Forests. Nighttime.
Several centuries prior to the arrival of Pilot II.
The Malamont Pass Incident
Chiska Malamont (The Hero of Hervahale)
Clop clop clop clop clop!
The sounds of horsemen approached with fierce intent.
And where there were horsemen, there were also the frantic cries from their riders.
“Where is she?”
“She couldn’t have gone far! Flare-range search patterns, now!”
None of this deterred me however.
If anything, it forced me to move up and out of the forests.
Though if the past few days were of any indication, this would not be an easy task.
At least, not when my formal alliances ended at the boundaries of the forests of Leylan North, and my warrants only stretched to the forests of Larina South.
The guardians of which, most certainly did not possess influence over the newly-seeded free forests of Renosornia.
“Hurry! We haven’t the warrant to pass through these treacherous woods!”
Though it was clear my pursuers also shared that same dilemma.
Which meant that this chase now boiled down to a competition of wits and skill, as well as maneuverability and adaptability, of which I had both in spades.
I moved swiftly, using the canopy of the young forest as an improvised path towards escape.
Hopping from branch to branch, I felt as the roots of each branch buckled and strained under my weight.
The level-headed part of me screamed at me to stop, or to at least lower myself back down to the underbrush of the canopy.
But the foolhardy in me yelled at me to continue.
The underbrush would give away my position.
There was simply no way to avoid the search party if I were to remain at that layer.
I had to take the risk.
This, however, would be my first miscalculation.
SNAP!
The fledgling branches snapped under the immense weight of my pack, forcing me to tumble down through layer after layer of the forest canopy.
I tried everything in my power to slow my descent, reaching for tree branches and twigs alike, all of which failed to hold my weight.
With the wind whooshing around me, and the world turning into a whirlwind of colors, I had to make a call.
They say Baxis always land on their feet.
Well… I wasn’t about to put my life on the line for a mere theory.
“Ital fertanz!” I whispered, forming a cushion of air to slow down my descent, allowing me just enough time to reorient myself, and ridding me of just enough speed, to land on the ground safely and silently.
This, however, would be my second grave miscalculation.
“HOLD! I detected a disturbance in the manastreams!” Came a voice of one of the mounted scouts.
My heart quickly sank, as I could feel the heavy gaze of Sir Barliaon hovering over me with great disappointment.
But now wasn’t the time to regret my foolhearty decisions.
Rethink your mistakes later, for if you sit and wallow in the moment, you might not even have the privilege of a later.
“There she is! The mercenary of Hervahale! Archers, swap to your enchanted munitions!” Another voice spoke up, a familiar voice, one that’d instigated this whole debacle in the first place.
Rage filled my heart, as I could just about visualize the smarmy grin of that elf.
However, instead of answering the intoxicating call to vengeance, I disengaged; sprinting in zig-zag patterns through the unpredictable brush of the young forest.
I managed about twenty or so paces before the first arrows pierced the air, breaking through layer after layer of the ambient mana of the forest like an alverfish through a calm stream.
That, however, would be their first mistake.
Almost as quickly as the first arrow landed against my armor, deflected as a result of its latent enchantments, the rest of the arrows followed suit; their flights swift and their trajectories true.
One, after another, arrows whizzed by my helmet, my flanks, with some even landing against the thick of my armor.
BRZZT-DINK!
A combination of strengthened metal and ambient spells echoed throughout the forest, the wind nearly being knocked out of my lungs if it wasn’t for the fire running through my veins, telling me to ignore any and all pain or fear for the sake of survival.
Active spells and counterspells buzzed like ripples in the wake of a torrina-fish, manastreams becoming increasingly agitated, and ambient mana quickly buzzing as a result of the actions of both sides.
It was, however, undeniable that the pursuing party was doing more to disrupt the ambient mana; even in spite of my use of spells and countermeasures.
In fact, those close calls, whilst doubly foolhardy, were all necessary for my desperate gambit — to lure the forest to my side.
Because despite its lack of allegiances, the forest was not truly neutral.
No.
It was far from it.
The forest, at this point in its development, was more akin to a wild beast; a force of nature that could be corralled to my court by playing with its latent instincts.
And just like any beast, it did not take too kindly to those that disrupted its natural state.
The enemy of my enemy was my friend after all.
And I would force it to react, by means of agitating it to the point of a response.
Young forests needed stable, calm, manastreams to grow.
So the more Melian’s forces kept at it, the more likely the forest would be to respond in force.
The tough part, however, would be to keep my distance.
This was because the forest would not distinguish between either party by otherwise obvious context clues.
Instead, it would simply attack the offending group it deems to be the source of the nascent threat.
Which meant that there was a good chance I would be caught in the ensuing crossfire if I were to linger too close.
Though keeping my distance was starting to become more difficult than I hoped.
My calves burned even as I channeled every ounce of strength, mana-derived, or otherwise, to enhance my physical stamina.
My breath grew raggedy, and my whole body started to lose coordination, even in spite of the fire burning through my veins.
Come on, come on… I thought to myself, focusing only on buying both time and distance… the latter of which was rapidly dwindling given that the pursuing horses were rapidly closing the gap.
React already! Please! Live up to your namesake and stir up a—
SNAP!
A flash of light erupted right in front of me.
CRACK!
A thunderous explosion sent my ears ringing, disorientation rapidly taking hold as I lost both my footing and my bearings in that order.
The next thing I knew, I found myself skidding to a dramatic halt, crumpling into a heap at the base of a particularly large tree.
My sight… was now dominated by a knightly figure.
An elf, clad from head to toe in inner-guard regalia, the aura of newly-enchanted armor practically oozing from every crevice of the form-fitting officer’s uniform.
“This is the end of the line for you, Chiska.” The man spoke in that signature Condinian accent. “Surrender, and I will consider sparing your name from the shame of besmirchment.”
I attempted to shift in an attempt to sprint away, only to feel the cold manasteel blade of crown-manufactorium vintage poking at my armored throat.
“No sudden moves.” He threatened with a severe glare.
The pit in my stomach grew until it could grow no more.
And a thought finally came over me that caused my whole body to shake and shiver in place…
I’d lost.
This was it.
“I can take you, either dead or alive, Chiska.” The man continued, hammering home the severity of my situation, further sinking that proverbial dagger deeper into my soul.
It was at that point, however, that I noticed something.
Movement… and not from one of the many forces that had converged around my location.
It was the slithering of a vine.
I just needed to buy time…
“We started out with a dream, Melian.” I managed out with earnesty. A broken voice steeped in the frustration and heartbreak of betrayal, with a dash of denial seeping through each and every syllable. “A dream that we could break the cycle, and perhaps start something new, something genuine. It was a simple dream, yes, but isn’t that what we had hoped for? A life away from the dead-end paths of our estates, an alternative to life outside of the crownlands? A free life?”
The elf, to my surprise, paused for a solid few moments.
It was almost as if he was considering my words.
Almost, being the operative word here however.
“I never stopped wishing for a freer life, Chiska.” He managed out with an attempt at a cold and apathetic expression… but it was clear that in spite of the uniform, the man had yet to have been molded into the picture-perfect model of an inner guardsman. “Our experiences together, our battles side by side, are not invalidated by the circumstances of the present.”
“Then why do this?” I gestured vaguely around me.
To which the man finally let out a sigh, a frustrated one, as if the answer to my question was blatantly obvious. “Because I outgrew your childish ambitions, Chiska.” He stated bluntly. “Because some time into our adventures, our triumphs, our trials and tribulations, did I finally realize something — we were playing the role of fools.” He paused, before gesturing at the men comprising up his scouting party. “Look around you. You are in the presence of adults who have long since come to this realization. The realization that this adventuring… is but an endless game. And yes, whilst there is honor in this path, you end up exactly where you said you wished not to — at a dead end. Except instead of ending up in a dead-end position in the crownlands, you’ve simply replaced one gilded cage with a cage composed of nothing but nostalgia for an era which persists only out of circumstance.” He laid it out bare, stomping his foot in the process.
“So what? Do you truly believe that the inner guard would not simply be yet another prison?” I argued.
“It is… to those who are shortsighted. For you see, Chiska, there is another path towards freedom. And that path lies in the adjacent realms.”
My eyes grew wide as the man’s aims suddenly became clearer.
“Yes. You see it now, yes?”
“You’re an idiot, Malian.” I managed out without hesitation.
This prompted the man’s features to curmudgeon, prompting his blade to edge closer, drawing blood through the armor.
“And how on earth did you come to that conclusion, Chiska?”
“Because… you’re going down a vastly inefficient path. Those that wish for foreign positions of power… have already set their eyes on it… since youth. We’re both old now, Malian. How do you expect to be able to compete with a fellow noble who’s had years to cultivate connections at Transgracia? How do you expect to even get to the Crown Compact, or the Ministry of Oversight, when you’ve joined the inner guard of all things?! There is no feasible way you’re getting what you want—”
“The inner guard… has greater reach than you’ll ever know, Chiska.” The man interrupted, just as I noticed something glowing in the distance.
This seemed to have garnered some of the rear forces’ attention.
“Sir, we—”
“SILENCE! Don’t you dare interrupt your superior officer!” He shot back, completely ignoring his surroundings, focusing his attention squarely on me.
That would be his second, and potentially final mistake.
“Now where were we? Oh yes. Your narrative… is as short sighted as always, isn’t it, Chiska? So narrow in its reproach, so utterly naive. Whilst yes, those that choose to sequester themselves at Transgracia, or those that choose to leave for the Compact or the Ministry, might have a clearer path… it is the inner guard that allows true freedom within the adjacent realms. As those that are assigned there, will have free reign, perhaps even more freedoms than the representatives of the compact or the friends of friends of adjacent royalty. Now do you understand? Now do you—”
“SIR! I IMPLORE YOU—”
“IF I HEAR ONE MORE WORD—”
That would be the last word he heard, and indeed, likely the last thing I heard too.
As a crack, and a snap, and an earth-shattering rumble caused the very ground beneath us to collapse.
I felt the wind knocked out of my lungs.
Then, I felt nothing.
=====
The Nexus. Grand Duchy of Old Larissa, Newport City, The Malamont Family Estate.
Many centuries prior to the arrival of Pilot II.
Several centuries Prior to the Malamont Pass Incident
Lady Chiska Malamont
Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chiirrrrrp!
I woke up to the sounds of the delightfully aggravating dawn-bird, a gift from a potential suitor who believed himself to be the life of the grand harvest gala.
Believed, being the operative word here however.
Nevertheless, Lord Archibold hadn’t managed to commit more than a week of courtship routines, before giving up entirely for new prospects in the neighboring Duchy of Osorn.
A week, however, was by many metrics a commendable achievement. As most would-be suitors barely lasted a day into the rituals of courtship before breaking off any and all pretenses of a potential engagement.
Indeed, it’d become something of a phenomenon, to the point where my sister had kept a literal log — the so-called list of broken hearts.
But whilst this was both a matter of great relief and comedy to me, it was undoubtedly a matter of great frustration to the rest of my family.
Speaking of which…
“Good morning, my lady!” A shrill voice emerged from just outside the door, preceding a series of hefty knocks, which I answered with a faux-yawn.
“Come in.” I yawned lazily, prompting a small cabal of servants to arrive with all the creature comforts necessary to expedite my day.
“Lady Malamont, may I present you with the itinerary for the day?” Lay, the head servant of my wing of the manor, and my personal attendant, announced with chipper vigor.
“Just read it for me please.” I groaned, as I stood up, allowing the rest of the servants to begin the typical morning rituals and routines.
“Very well. The day is set to begin with a family breakfast in the east wing… al fresco, given the sunshine. Following that, your private tutoring lessons will be deferred for a visit to the Hall of Recognition in the Museum of Eternia, after which, lunch shall be held in the banquet hall in the museum with—”
“Hold.” I commanded, prompting my attendants to suddenly halt in their tracks. “Not you lot.” I corrected, and instead, pointed my tail towards Lay. “Lay, are you certain this visit to the museum isn’t an evening affair? I doubt my parents would allow me to abandon my studies for an unprompted visit to the museum. Unless… there’s an impromptu ball being held? A visit from a crownlands official, perhaps?”
“No, my lady. There is no mention of any particular events being held there, nor is there an error with the time table. There is, however, clarification that may be had in this letter.” Lay paused, bringing out a sealed envelope which only I could open.
“Thank you, Lay.”
“It is my pleasure, my lady. Following lunch, there is a carriage scheduled to take you and your family from the museum to…” Lay’s words eventually faded into the background, as my attention was instead focused squarely on the letter between my hands.
I could practically feel the aura from the stamp on this envelope before even touching it.
My fur stood on end as I broke off the enchanted wax, revealing a letter written in impeccable handwriting…
“... following the visit to the docks, you are scheduled for a family dinner in the west wing of the manor with—”
“Grandmother is arriving.” I spoke with a hushed breath.
This prompted my attendants to pause, but only for a moment, before continuing with their brushes and moistened towels.
Lay’s reactions however, were decidedly more concerned.
The elderly Baxi immediately lowered the daily itinerary from her face, removing her spectacles, before making an effort to maintain eye contact with me with an expression tied between concern and reassurance.
“I apologize for the brazen presumptiveness… but I am assuming that your grandmother is the reason behind the unexpected changes in your morning itinerary?”
“That is correct, Lay.” I nodded. “Grandmother wishes for a personal and private audience with me, in the Hall of Recognition.”
“And I presume this most likely has something to do with your self-directed path, I imagine?”
“Indeed.” I nodded with a heavy sigh.
The next few moments were spent in silence, as the lesser attendants finished up the tedious morning routine, by presenting me with all manner of jewelry, belts, ribbons, and various other decorations which I reluctantly put on for the sake of grandmother.
“You may leave now.” Lay commanded, prompting the entire cabal to hastily make their departure, leaving just the two of us alone.
“Lady Chiska… I cannot imagine the sorts of pressures you must currently be experiencing.” Lay expressed with empathy, kneeling down next to me as I sat there with my face between my hands.
“This is it, Lay. It’s time. I have to decide.”
“But this is only the beginning of your last year of tutelage. Surely this is just—”
“Grandmother did the same thing to Khala in his last year of tutelage in his twenty-third year of life, even prior to graduation. This is the talk. I know it.”
Another silence descended on us, but was promptly shattered by another groan, and a solid ploomf as I laid back against the bed.
“Sometimes I do envy my eldest.” I muttered out, prompting an immediate reaction from Lay.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Chiska?”
“Not in the way you think.” I answered quickly. “It’s not because he stands to inherit the entire estate and its associated titles as a result of his first-born status. I couldn’t care less for such a massive responsibility. It’s simply because he doesn’t have to make a decision on the matter whatsoever. Sometimes… I wish things were that simple. Sometimes, I wish that I didn’t have to make a choice… especially when all choices lead to the same suboptimal conclusion.”
“Is it not possible for you to simply choose the path of least resistance, my lady?”
“To remain as an executive of the estate? To command the city, to act as second to my brother?” I clarified.
“It is the ‘default’ option, should you choose no other alternative, my lady.”
“It’s the most dead-end option, and one that simply cages me to the whims of my brother.” I replied reflexively, before quickly correcting myself. “This is not to say I contest my brother’s legitimacy. I respect his wisdom and believe he is best fit to rule. However, by staying, I would be inheriting nothing.” I clarified. “I would be, in effect, a leech to the family name and holdings.” A moment of silence perpetuated that latter, almost seething statement. As images of my aunt came to mind, and her decadent lifestyle that nearly cost the family its name. “Besides, you know what I want, Lay.” I continued, bridging the conversation towards something more lighthearted.
“I am very well aware of your dreams of true freedom, Lady Chiska. We’ve had many a sleepless night fantasizing about such a path.” Lay responded with a reverent nod. “However—”
“It’s just not feasible. I understand.” I interjected, predicting what was to come next, and smothering it before it could even be broached.
“I am afraid so, my lady.” She bowed deeply in a fit of apologetics. “However, I do not wish to be the accomplice to an unhappy life. This is… against my better judgment, but I wish to see your dreams fulfilled, Lady Chiska. And despite my lack of knowledge as to how you would go about this, I wish to express my support with whatever path you take. As no matter your decision, nobody can take away your identity nor your titles… even if you decide to go on a path less tread.”
Those words of support managed to warm up my core, prompting me to get back up as I grabbed both of Lay’s hands, squeezing them tight. “Thank you, Lay.”
“It is my pleasure, Lady Chiska.”
=====
The Nexus. Grand Duchy of Old Larissa, Newport City, The Museum of Eternia, Hall of Recognition.
Several centuries prior to the arrival of Pilot II.
Many centuries Prior to the Malamont Pass Incident
Lady Chiska Malamont
The Hall of Recognition was not foreign to me.
In fact, I’d spent many a night here, partaking in the social functions which were expected of the ruling family of Old Larissa.
However, the halls took on a completely different personality in the light of day.
In combination with the distinct lack of people, it was more eerie than it ever could have been, even with light flooding the concourse from the floor to ceiling windows.
It was deep within these halls that a lone figure stood proudly, her eyes fixated on the larger-than-life statue of the man who started it all. The man who brought the Malamont name to the heights it now enjoyed—
“Grand Duke Charlklay Malamont the first…” Grandmother spoke with a strong and powerful cadence, one that refused to waver even in her old age. “... your father has an uncanny resemblance to the man, a resemblance which I see even in your eldest brother.”
“It’s quite fitting that he’s taking the reins of this family, then.” I responded, walking up to the old Baxi, clad in layer upon layer of fine silkenwear and enchanted robes.
“Indeed it is, my dear. Indeed it is…” She responded, finally turning towards me, and giving me the slightest hint of a smile. “It is good to see you my dear.”
“Always an honor, grandmother.” I bowed deeply, holding it for the expected amount of time, before rising back up.
“Hmm…” She perked up, her eyes scanning every inch of my form. “Perfect adherence to expectant decorum. Questionable style of fashion, but still a respectable enough choice of attire, and a face fit for a princess. And yet you seem to lack the capacity to find an appropriate suitor?” She spoke in an almost sing-song voice, teetering between a friendly jab and a blatant insult.
“Suitors are in no short supply, grandmother.” I answered calmly. “However… what does seem to be in stunningly short supply, is the commitment of those suitors to see their courtships through.”
“Your personality plays a role in that, no doubt.” She started accusingly, prompting me to nod slowly in response.
“That is what seems to be the talk of the town, yes.”
“Hmm. I would say this is truly an achievement, my dear. However, considering the circumstances of your current path in life, this show of comedy is quickly devolving into a tragedy.” Her tone grew more stern with each passing word, until finally, she relented. A sigh quickly escaped her mouth, as she began pacing down the hall, urging for me to follow. “So what is it, really? Do you not fancy the looks and personalities, or perhaps the sorts of lords and ladies at the galas and sessions of court? Or does this reluctance to pursue your duty go deeper, hmm?”
I paused, feeling her piercing gaze digging deeper into my skull, even as I avoided eye contact.
“Eyes up, and ears forward, Chiska.” She scolded.
“Yes, grandmother.” I complied.
“Good. Now, tell me. What seems to be the matter?”
Fear started to take hold as I could anticipate the reaction from the matriarch.
However, in spite of everything in me telling me to acquiesce, to simply tell her what she wanted to hear… that latent voice in me yelled at me to simply resist — to simply acknowledge the truth, no matter the repercussions it may have.
“I… I do not wish to play the game of crowns and thrones, grandmother.” I replied frankly, struggling to get those words out. “I… do not wish to rush into a marriage precipitated by titles and politics.”
The elder Baxi took a few moments to regard this, before simply nodding in reply. “Very well then. In lieu of the former, I would have suggested a position within the estate with your brother as the reigning lord. However, given your admission to a lack of interest in family politics, this removes the option of aiding your brother and the family from the equation. So then. What is it you wish for? Self-actualization? Freedom, perhaps?”
“The latter, grandmother.” I admitted abashedly.
“Then it is to the crownlands with you, then.” She stated firmly, as if it were a matter of fact rather than a decision I needed to make.
My reaction was perhaps visceral enough to garner a perk of a brow, the only expression she managed to let slip through.
“It is truly a blessing that you were not the first-born to your father.” She spoke with a tired sigh. “Your expressions can be read from a mile away.”
“I apologize, grandmother.”
“It’s no matter. Your future is one divorced and disconnected from the family, and as a result, any failures at playing politics in the crownlands will land squarely on you and not on our legacy. It should prove to be a time for you to finally learn the game of politics, another brand of politics, but politics all the same.”
“That’s… exactly why I do not wish to head for the crownlands, grandmother.” I admitted.
This seemed to finally elicit some reaction from the matriarch, as she stopped in her tracks, in front of the statue of my father.
“Being fifth from the throne, you have many, many more options in life than your eldest brother, Chiska.” She began sternly. “You could simply choose to marry, to expand our family’s ties… yet you do not. And I respect that decision. You could instead, choose to remain within the estate, to act as Lord-Mayor, or Treasurer, or Advisor, or to fulfill a great number of roles that would always be better reserved for a member of the family… yet you rejected that option as well. And I respect that decision. Finally, you could have simply headed towards the crownlands, to pursue the dreams of many a fringe member of a noble household, by serving the crown directly… and yet you also reject that.” Grandmother let out a frustrated breath, her slitted pupils narrowing by the second. “I wish to respect that decision, Chiska. But I do not see any other path for you, save for simply leaching off of the family by existing with no purpose.” A sense of genuine regret filled her voice, but just as quickly faded as she attempted to correct her course. “But I know you’re not that type of person, Chiska. So tell me — what do you have planned? If not any of the above, then what future do you wish for? Perhaps to pursue some misguided attempt at playing overseer of some Adjacent realm? Applying to become a pupil at Transgracia, perhaps?”
“No, grandmother. I… I simply wish to pursue a path less tread.” I spoke… with a surprising degree of confidence, perhaps realizing that there was no other option but to move forward with my resolution. “I wish to pursue a path outside of the expected paths. I wish to become an adventurer.”
Silence quickly took over, as I felt as if I’d just unleashed some sort of a soul-sucking beast into the halls of my ancestors.
My grandmother, however, remained stalwart; refusing to betray any emotions until what felt like an entire hour had elapsed.
“Walk with me.” She ordered, as we walked back down the row of statues towards one of what looked to be a lesser known Duke. “Do you know who this is, Chiska?”
“Grand Duke Garlnia Malamont, grandmother.”
“Good.” She nodded, before gesturing at the plinth. “You can read.”
I couldn’t tell if this sarcasm was born of spite or humor.
“Do you know the story behind the name, Chiska?”
“I only recall the peculiar circumstances behind his ascension, specifically — how he inherited the throne after everyone else in line died during the war.”
“And do you know what he was doing prior to his ascension?”
I shook my head, which surprisingly, didn’t elicit a sigh from the elderly Baxi.
“Good. You’re not supposed to. You see, Grand Duke Garlnia was twelfth in line for the throne when his sister inherited it. As a result, his terms for his own path in life were rather lax compared to most. He… was allowed to become an adventurer, in an era where peace seemed to be permanent.”
“And then the war happened… and everyone in line died, leaving him to inherit it.” I surmised.
“Precisely.”
“Why are you telling me this, grandmother?”
“Because I want you to know that even when you leave this family, there is always a chance that duty will find its way back onto your shoulders. And unless you shame the family, you will never stop being a Malamont.”
My eyes grew wide at this, as it was clear what was about to come next.
“Grandmother… are you going to allow me—”
“Just stay safe, Chiska.” She commanded sternly. “I cannot sanction this officially, but I can turn a blind eye to this, along with the rest of the family. However, should you demonstrate that you are incapable of such a life, by putting your life in extreme peril… then we will have to reevaluate the terms of this arrangement.”
My eyes grew wide with excitement as it took everything in me not to jump for joy right then and there.
“T-thank you grandmother, I promise! I promise I will try my hardest, and work myself to the bone in order to—”
“Stay safe, don’t be rash, and find a retirement path; preferably to guildmaster or some such sedentary position. We all grow old, so do not let your youth get to your head.”
“Yes, grandmother. I promise I’ll stay safe!”
=====
The Nexus. Grand Duchy of Old Larissa, Newport City, The Malamont Family Estate.
Several centuries prior to the arrival of Pilot II.
Several Weeks following the Malamont Pass Incident
Chiska Malamont (The Hero of Hervahale)
I woke up to a blinding white light.
Perhaps this was it.
“Grandmother… I’m so sorry…” I managed out weakly.
“I appreciate that the first thing to come to your mind is me. Indeed, I’m glad life with the commoners hasn’t rubbed off too much on your chivalrous and well-conditioned nature.” A familiar voice spoke, prompting me to toss and turn, in an attempt to find its source.
“Who? What—?”
“It’s alright, Chiska. You’re safe now. You’re home now.” The voice continued, and as my vision cleared, so too did the source of the voice become obvious.
“Grandmother? What? How—?”
“To summarize several sleepless weeks, my people saved you, Chiska. The situation has been dealt with, and you’re safe now.”
Fear, uncertainty, unease, all of those emotions finally came to rest following those words.
However, a new feeling quickly took hold — guilt.
Guilt at having to drag my family into this.
Guilt at failing to uphold my promises.
Guilt… at having failed at the path I had thought I’d become a master of.
“Your wyvern is safe too, by the by. He was actually what allowed us to conduct such a speedy recovery mission, so I commend you on taming such a remarkable beast.” It was at this point however, that the elderly Baxi’s voice shifted. “However, I hope you’ll understand that now is the time for a change of pace, Chiska.” Grandmother spoke with severity, getting right to the point, as all I could do was to nod as I realized that my time had truly come.
The end of the line for the life of an adventurer.
“When do I start under my brother’s employ, grandmother?” I spoke with a tentative sigh.
“While I’m glad you’re so willing to take up the family banner once again, I’m afraid I have a different path for you, Chiska.”
My ears perked up at this, prompting a genuine smile from her this time around.
“Whilst your life as an adventurer has ended… that doesn’t mean your skills cannot be put to good use. How does a new life as an instructor for future adventurers sound, Chiska?”
Comments
Skrzynek
Hmmm. This means that this Wyvern could very well be older than he design of Emma's "ancient" gun! That, and Chiska herself could be anywhere between 600 to 1200 years... Oh and I see the cheeky reference to D&D's TAbaxi :3
Michael Halpern
flip side is that the Nexus will struggle to keep up
Jcb112
Thank you for catching that! I've made the appropriate edits! :D
TheArchivist
Was not expecting our favorite Orange Cat to be that old, must be something in the “mangastreams” (there’s a typo in the beginning with the trees being disturbed) Also, I’m fairly sure that leech (the parasite) is the better word for it, but I understand the use of the word leach (to drain away a soluble chemical or mineral)
Tainted_But_Thriving
Lovely backstory. I also love the harrowing realization that she’s centuries old. Some elves are millennia old. The king is eternal. And so too is the status eternia. Damn humans never stood a chance
