Chapter 14: Sleep Again
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For a moment, less than ten seconds, but more than six, Lazara was feeling fine.
In a way, she'd felt too lucid, like her life was a video game, and she only just realized that she was a gamer, sitting behind a screen. That changed after that moment passed. Changed harshly.
A wave of overwhelming dullness spread through her brain, eating away at her thought processes. With what brain matter was left working, she'd felt like a drunk caveman.
Horrible pain followed the dullness as if a prong was angled against her skull and someone rapped a hammer into it repeatedly; with a balance of force that didn't crack her skull, but kept delivering regular payloads of sharp agony into it. It paled in comparison to what she'd felt minutes prior.
The third sensation was an almost chemical fire in her brain. Like she'd somehow swallowed hot peppers with her head.
Under these extenuating circumstances, she didn't feel it necessary to go anywhere. Lazara dropped to her kness in front of the praying crowd in front of her, and let herself sit there, breathing and recuperating.
She didn't even complain or whimper about the pain and dullness. She's felt worse. Though, if this is what running out of mana felt like, she'd definitely avoid that in the future.
The paladins shot her some apprehensive looks when she fell to her knees.
"Are you okay?" Belladonna asked, expression more melancholic than worried.
"I ran out of mana," Lazara admitted, grabbing her forehead.
Belladonna sighed. "Of course you did. That was conceptual magic; quite advanced, too. I admit that I'm envious. Even as I am now, that kind of spellwork is difficult for me."
Lazara shot her a teasing grin, which receded into a neutral and blank expression in seconds. She was waiting for the day to be over, at this point. Waiting to just go to bed and sleep all of this off, in hopes that she could be at least a fraction more refreshed the next day.
Why did life have to be so unkind?
For a moment, Lazara felt her soul tugging at her mind, offering a solution. Or perhaps, she was tugging at her soul, looking for one?
Some kind of subjective self-targeted mental spell. It caused her to act automatically, like a robot, while her conscious mind went on a coffee break. After that, she could reclaim her memories or leave them be.
Lazara definitely
didn't do that. She was already out of energy, and trying to cast something that complicated - especially outside of her specialty box - was as good as twisting the knife that was already in her head.
Something also told her that, as smartly as her soul might've tried to present the auto-completion process, outlining each step, its actual lack of experience in that brand of thaumaturgy was nothing but a disaster waiting to come out of the proverbial box.
Nuh-uh, not today. No unknown and suspicious spells here, no siree!
The pensive after-battle silence stretched for several seconds.
One of the paladins said, in equal measures thoughtfully and in good humor, "You know. If you'd told me five years ago that some vile fiend from another universe would cut my head off with a tongue made out of light, and I'd survive that, I'd have reported you to the Inquisitors for suspicion of taking fairy mushrooms."
Some people chuckled, and others just nodded with smiles. Everyone was tired, too tired to lead a proper conversation. Apparently, getting resurrected isn't too fun either.
After what felt like several minutes, Timory, Matrim, a guy in a tuxedo, and Lazara's mother came to join the group. Daevina and Timory almost immediately came up and knelt, embracing Lazara in a familial, bone-crushing hug. The annoying part was that Timory's grin indicated he was drawing pleasure from her obvious
displeasure.
While still hugging Lazara, Lady Lightbrook looked at her unconscious husband with a radiant smile. "I'm so glad he's okay. We're all fine." She stroked her daughter's hair, as if to commend her for managing this all.
Lazara felt her breath freeze where it was, going through her throat.
She considered dropping the bombshell right then and there, but internally stopped herself before she could do something that couldn't be taken back. Her mother didn't need that kind of stress right now. It'd be better to let her be happy now and deliver the bad news tomorrow. Preferably while being vague about estimates of when and if her father ever woke up. Lazara wasn't even certain that she could ever fully help him recover.
It was all a big maybe, floating nebulously in the air, mocking her in all of its ethereal pressure.
In retrospect, Lazara felt a coldness shivering across her back. Not because she almost died several times today.
How could she think of her father with such detachment? As just another casualty in a war that was only starting? Any other eleven-year-old would be crying their eyes out and yelling that papa isn't coming back, but right now, she just couldn't find the effort in herself to do that.
Lazara didn't like the implications and frowned appropriately, then asked her mother if she could go to her room and sleep, once the headache passed. It took a minute to convince Lady Lightbrook that she was as healthy as a fish: terrible stinging inside of her skull aside.
She remained with the rest of the group for longer than ten minutes, waiting for the migraine to wane at least a little.
By the time she was getting up, the paladins had moved to the outer garden, where they gathered some logs and lit a flame using magic. The guards, who also survived, met up in the garden with everyone else. The events took a natural course, and turned towards some kind of half-party, half-conversation, full-confusion. No one really knew anyone else's name, or function - with some exceptions, such as Lazara, her mother, and Timory - but everyone talked as if they did as if they had known each other for years.
It was actually kind of comforting. They did, in fact, collectively survive a traumatic event involving an entity comparable to the worst archdemons, after all.
The rest of the staff were called down. Daevina explained the situation to them and ordered them to prepare a small and sudden banquet. Not minutes later, the maids and butlers brought drinks and sausages to be roasted above the fireplace, then came back with trays of cheeses and other minor snacks. Meanwhile, her father was moved upstairs to recuperate in his room - Lazara briefly explained his afflictions to the medic and had him promise not to tell Lady Lightbrook until she, herself, could do that.
At some point, a group of clergymen in white-gold robes, armed with staff-spears, began to move into the garden in tight formations. The paladins got up and went to speak with them, off on the side. Their conversation lasted scantly a minute or two, before the clerics went back out, and the squad of paladins returned to the party.
Apparently, they were going to be stationed in the area, now, by the pope's orders. For the foreseeable future, at least.
The little party continued, and eventually, Lazara felt well enough to walk. She stood up.
"I'm going to excuse myself, now," she muttered, loud enough that everyone could hear.
This drew attention. One of the paladins stood up, then knelt in front of her and stared at the ground for a long moment. From the insignia and ornaments on his armor, she could tell that he was the captain, or sergeant, or whatever: the boss of the group.
"Lady Lightbrook," he started, "I believe I speak for all my men here when I say that we owe our lives to you. We worship different gods, but in duty we are bound, and by duty we are led. We are personally obliged to return the favor, so, if you ever need anything from any of us - personally, as people, not knights - please, let us know."
Most of what he said went in one ear and came out the other. She was too tired and hurting to care properly, though she acknowledged the bulletpoints of what he said: 'thankful,' 'owe me a favor,' 'let them know if I need anything.'
Many of the men raised tankards and cheers into the air. Lazara nodded with a smile, then vacated inside.
She went straight to her room and realized that her bed was broken after the Adversary turned it into tinder. Frowning, she went to the guest room and slept there, instead. It was bigger than her own room, actually, but she didn't really care. She made sure to leave the door open, so that anyone passing by would see her in the morning and they wouldn't raise an alarm over her disappearance or anything stupid like that. She was confident her mother wouldn't act that haphazardly even in light of the recent events, but better to be safe than woken up early with people smacking a bell, as if they were some maddened chimpanzees.
Lazara slept soundly through the night, hugging one of the pillows tighter than she'd ever hugged anything. A bed - her own or any other - was never, could never, and will never again be as comfortable as it was tonight.
She could, even through her thin clothing (she didn't bother changing into her pajama's,) feel every little bit of the mattress; the delicate movements of the springs, and the comforting fluffiness of her pillows. Like resting on a friendly cloud.
She drooled and slept, gaining more energy than ever before.
The next morning, she woke up slowly. Not groggily. Not achingly. Just slowly, in part due to comfort, and in part because of how comprehensive and strong her dream was.
Speaking of, she had almost full memories of her dream.
When she opened her eyes, she looked at her hand.
So small, pale, with little fingers. Tiny, when compared to the one she used to have.
So... my name was Lily?
###
Savior Panel
"After that much work, you deserve some rest. I'll take care of things for now."
It's 25th Goldleaf, 1310, in the early morning, roughly 7 am.
The paladins stayed overnight in the mansion's garden; a group of clerics and wizards came to the mansion only moments before Lazara left. The paladin captain explained the situation, and the backup forces went back to the capital while making their report. The paladins are staying in the mansion until noon, and will then be relocated to barracks in Twinkle Peaks, where they will be stationed for the foreseeable future (Pope's orders.)
Lazara can remember up to 80-90% of her dreams, as a result of her Enlightenment. Her last dream provided lots of insight on her previous life, and clarified the facts she already knew about the Adversary. Lazara, currently, remembers roughly 4-6% of her previous life, though in a very 'flash-forward' fashion. She has little to no emotional attachment to her previous life.
Lazara is disturbed that she's not feeling too bad over the loss of her father. This can be attributed to either (a) a subconscious hope that he'll be healed sooner rather than later, either through her effort or something else, (b) her old memories intermingling with her new ones causing emotional dissonance, (c) the most disturbing possibility:
numbness.
Belladonna has very little left to teach you, and says that she'll be moving out of the mansion at the end of the summer (35 days from now,) unless you insist/convince her to stay. Snake-in-the-Reeds is claiming something similar, but he intends to move out after the winter passes (not like he takes up any space or food, anyway.)
After you ate breakfast, the butler you saved (Johann) came by to thank you for saving his life, then informed you that the pope is requesting to meet with you, Timory, and Lady Daevina.
During the cleanup work, your Enlightening Glasses were found. Fortunately, their sturdiness means they weren't too damaged. You speculate around 20-40 minutes of work should be enough to get rid of the scratches on the lenses, but they will work correctly either way.
Don't forget about your noon meeting with nobles and the Marshall's representative on the 30th of Goldleaf!
Meta Opportunity [Interludes]
You have finished a major story arc! Do you wish to see the events from anyone else's perspectives?
[LIMIT: up to 3]
[] Interlude - Reactions to recent events
[] Interlude - Pholion Lightbrook
[] Interlude - Daevina Lightbrook
[] Interlude - Timory Lightbrook
[] Interlude - King of Algrannar: Lamber Algrannar
[] Interlude - Grand Marshall: Ozirmok Algrannar
[] Interlude - Royal Family
[] Interlude - Pope Theomach Claudius Pallas Julius Alcendence
[] Interlude - Belladonna Whitebrow
[] Interlude - Matrim Redd
[] Interlude - Sylvester Spiritsorrow
[] Interlude - Snake-in-the-Reeds
[] Interlude - Dilican Redscale
[] Interlude - Pyldret
[] Interlude - Sebastian Vahki
[] Interlude - Random [
???]
[] Write-in
[] No Interlude
[] Interlude -
?̻̟ ̤?̴̝̘T͖͎̲͈h̥̖ȩ ̟͖͙̪À͕̦̜d̡̲̠v̜̹̭̗̹͘e̵̼͕͔r͎̱sa͏̖̱͕r̞̜y̸̮̪͉ ?͏͇̗ ͉̬̠͔̞͡ͅ?̟͙?̝̫͕ [ERROR: INTERFERENCE DETECTED]
Social / Political Opportunity [Church of Ten]
The pope, Julius Alcendence, is inviting Timory Lightbrook, you, your mother, and up to two other individuals into a meeting with him and one of his cardinals. Publically, the purpose of the meeting is concerning his plans to crack down on fiendish activity within the Lightbrook domain. Timory insists on bringing Sylvester along. Do you attend?
[] Go there.
[] Demand that he, instead, come to you.
[] Deny the invitation, but let Timory and mother do as they please.
[] Deny the invitation, convince Timory and mother not to go.
[] Anyone you'd like to take with?
[] Write-in.
Are there any Supplementary Actions you wish to take?
[] Write-in.
[] More of... [specific situation/character; next update will contain more related content in favor of other content. This isn't an interlude, merely less abbreviation and more detailed interactions]
[] System change... [write shorter or longer updates, change the rules, something else? Currently, aiming to write less than 4.5k words per update, but more than 3k]
[] Skip to... [if you wish to skip forward to a specific point in time, use this option. Control will return automatically if anything important happens]
