(Vol 2) Chapter 23: A Note of Many Layers

Sammy felt ecstatic to see Estara so honored — which was right along with the Dame herself, who was beaming in wonder with tears in her eyes as Agatha belted a sheathed sword at her waist. “Yes! Go Estara! You’re absolutely awesome! Congratulations!”

Giddy with the honors, Estara sent back, “Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you so much! It’s all because of you!”

The whole audience chamber seemed to love the event, too, because they erupted in riotous cheer. When Estara turned around to return to her spot, grinning ear-to-ear despite her tears, she threw her hands up at the crowd, which made them veritably explode anew. Meanwhile, Agatha just smirked and shook her head at the spectacle. Obviously, this was not a common reaction.

Evidently, news was spread about why they’re being honored, however neutered it would be from the demonic truth. Bright, young servant girl as an unlikely hero… this exuberant lass it’s impossible not to root for… Yes, I can certainly see this blowing up into a legend.

Even Merril had a little smile as he watched, and that was a supreme rarity of late.

Trumpets had to blare again to shut everyone up for the continuation of the ceremony. Next up was Bob.

Into the silence he turned and frowned comically with his hands on his hips, then said, “And just how am I supposed to follow that act?”

The crowd laughed.

More knightings continued after Bob, following the same pattern. When Dax came up, the whole thing seemed to take her like a meteor fell from the sky. She knew it was coming and it still shocked her to her core. Disbelief was the word… disbelief in what was happening and that she agreed to it. But when she finally stood she was crying harder than Estara.

“It’s okay to hope for something of what was lost, Dax,” Sammy sent to her. “It was not you that gave up the noble things in your heart… your nature to protect and to fight for what is right. It was them that killed it in you. You are remade and refashioned to a new purpose. I urge you to embrace it.”

Wiping her eyes and taking her place again to sympathetic clapping and supportive calls, Dax sent, “I do, Your Majesty. I do. I’m tired of being a mercenary. I’m tired of not caring. I need it all to… to bloody mean something by the end. I have to try. I have to.”

And then it was time for Merril. He more or less simply endured it all stoically, not terribly engaged and certainly not excited. But after the sword was belted, Agatha kept hold of his shoulder before he turned. She gestured at a servant, who carried upon a pillow an absolutely beautiful golden harp with glittering white strings, with its own rawhide strap.

Merril’s eyes were locked onto it immediately like a dog to a juicy steak, eyes slowly widening, ears perking upward. He did not immediately realize it was for him, either. He was simply admiring it.

Agatha carefully took the harp off the pillow and regarded Merril with a big grin. “Sir Merril, on behalf of the March of Oldaster, for your daring deeds and fine service, I bequeath to you the Harp of Fallen Serrishon, preserved for over a thousand years in the hands of minstrels and bards. It does not truly belong to me, nor even to the one who wielded it before. Only to the love of the art of music is it owned. Not my words… this is as my friend once told me.”

Merril took the offered item in a stunned state and held it like one would the holiest of objects. “It is cross-strung,” he whispered in amazement. “And enchanted. This is… worth a fortune.”

“Indeed it is. But a little birdie told me you were good with them.”

“I am the best.” He said it with simple surety.

Agatha smirked and quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nodded, barely seeming to pay attention to her as his fingers glided lightly over the strings. Then he put the strap over him in a smooth motion. “Like a floor harp in sound, is it? Hmm…”

Just like that, he closed his eyes and began to play. A waterfall, a cascade of notes fluttered through the air, glee channeled into music, as Merril’s fingers danced over strings like a surgeon at work. Gasps resounded in the chamber — and in the realm of a goddess too, as Sammy felt goosebumps from the sounds tickling her.

It was a wild sort of glee that sang from the strings, like a representation of the day: sunshine, happiness, celebration… like Merril in his stark, seemingly bored observation had noted every quality, had absorbed the very spirit of the event and unleashed it back through his hands. He did not play a harp so much as play everyone listening, strumming the strings of their soul to the frequency of his meaning. Everyone felt it and knew it.

It feels like Estara, really.

The adventure, the orchestral tale of sensations in beautiful chimes and twists of many layers, lasted only a few minutes and then Merril flicked the last note and opened his eyes, nodding to himself like, ‘not bad.’ Then he started tuning it.

For a moment, there was only stunned silence in answer, and things like courtly women with their hands on their hearts gazing with rapturous smiles. Estara had her hands clenched up under her neck, eyes wide in amazement and a joyous grin on her face, touched not only by the performance but by the fact Merril was the one performing it. Killing it.

And then applause erupted, clapping and hoots and amazed cheers, among them ‘Sir Merril!’ and ‘Encore! Encore!’

Merril turned around in bewilderment, at first like he might snarl and yell back, like perhaps he was being mocked — something Sammy realized suddenly was his instinct… was something he’d been through again and again in his current life. A loud mob was the coming beating; the sound of the whip cracking overhead.

Realization very slowly dawned on his face. That it wasn’t ridicule being directed at him. His eyes passed over confused and not processing at first what it could be. Then, finally, the old soul synched with the new, and he understood.

Genuine praise.

A feline smile cracked on his face, and a hand came up to hesitantly — humbly — wave.

Sammy found herself absolutely bawling her eyes out as she watched, unable to help herself from the blend of reactions changing before her eyes… and the sheer need she had watched fill up in him, so long in coming. It was just too emotional! It was not lost on Dax or Estara, either, both crying along with her. Dax was so overcome she had to drop to the ground.

Not a cure… but it’s a step in the right direction. Up this mountain, my friend. I’m with you!

“Encore?” Merril spoke it like one might taste a new delicacy.

But Agatha, who’d been watching soberly and curiously, raised her hands. “Enough — enough, people of Oldaster! There is still more business to conduct. If he so desires, the encore may commence after, during the feast!”

There was a collective sigh of sorts, as Merril was directed back to his place and the ceremonies continued. It became less dramatic as it was all previous knights getting an increase in their knight’s fee allowance or other additional rewards. As such, many in the back began discreetly filtering out of the opened doors of the audience hall.

“You asked her to give me a harp, didn’t you?” Merril sent mentally to Sammy.

“Yes I did.”

There was a long pause. “Thank you. This is… priceless.”

“Of course, Merril. I told you I’d be there for you and I am. You are not alone and it is not just your sister that cares for you and wants you to succeed.”

“I’m… I need to pray more. It’s not acceptable. I spoke the words, I promised.”

“It’s alright, Merril.”

“It’s not! I know what I’ll do, though. With the harp you arranged for me to have, I’ll turn it to worship. That will make it easy. Compositions come to me like breath. Will that work?”

“Not only will it work, I’d love that.”

“Good. Count on it, Goddess.”

Sammy lingered until the time of the feast, still with some light in the day. Row after row after row of tables packed with food of all varieties were crammed into a large courtyard. Agatha, various high nobles, and the knights who’d received the accolades were at the table of honor.

The Marchioness, in what appeared to be Oldaster tradition, stood up on her chair and held up a musical triangle that she rang to gather everyone’s attention. “Hear, hear! We honor the newly Blooded! We honor the mandate of heaven! Hear, hear! Heroes in our midst! Heroes passed on! Eat and be merry! Drink and tell stories! Eat and eat again!”

The horde of people held their drinks up and cheered, “Eat and eat again!”

Agatha rang the triangle for a while longer. Oddly enough, despite that the monarch was still standing technically, everyone sat down to begin.

Well, she did instruct them to eat, after all. And I can’t blame them. Damn. Look at the glaze on that bird. Is that bread pudding? Oh, I could go for some bread pudding…

She was not supposed to get hungry, but it didn’t stop the envy of her taste buds, it seemed. She left the mirrors showing her the many scrumptious angles of the event, somewhat sullen she couldn’t partake.

It does remind me I need to check on the cost of additional avatars. Wasn’t there some discount for Illusion?

“Sys, explain to me how the Illusion domain discount works for different faces or whatever? Are these separate Avatars?”

No, User Sammy. They are Faces of the same Avatar but are allowed different physical appearances than your base, Core Avatar, which do not count as illusions or shapeshifting. Only very high-level informational abilities can discern one Avatar Face as belonging to a different Core.

Faces cost 200 FE (thanks to the Illusion domain) and you may have total additional Faces equal to (3 + ¼ deity levels, rounded down).

“But how would I appear to different civilizations if I’m stuck in the same place?”

By function of higher-level abilities, powers, and resourcefulness. This is not provided by default. Alternately, you may fashion a completely separate Avatar (with its own Face slots, configurations, and gear) for the normal cost and anchor it elsewhere. This is also not bound by Core restrictions. You may have up to (1 + ⅓ deity levels, rounded down) total Avatars.

“Possibly next level, then, but… that’s a fuckton of FE… do I get a rebate, hmm, hmm? Pretty please? A quest since I have the Illusion domain?”

The System cannot provide this information.

“Right, since I can’t even do it yet. But, you know, just saying… Illusion domain… It's a big goal of mine and stuff… totally planning on it… hint, hint. Wouldn’t mind seeing a carrot at level 3, you know, a rebate would really entice me…”

The System as usual didn’t respond, but she knew gears had to be turning. Right? Passive aggressive hints definitely had to work on the System. Just like it worked on everyone ever, without fail.

Anyway, I can’t horde FE completely. Half of it maybe. After the domain unlock. But I need Servitors and I need to get on making more clerics so they can start leveling. Good targets among Orswyth’s group. Tashome, Bast, Bamm, Galynth.

Carlisle’s group is more difficult. Finley possibly… I don’t know him well, but he was there in the caves. Or maybe even Bob? Hmm. It’s not like these are going to be typical priestly folk. Merril… one day? He personally isn’t ready yet. And Carlisle is more business-like than any other. But he is a leader. Hmm.

There was much to consider. But her greatest consideration right then was a cinnamon muffin with her name on it. And maybe even dinner.

And that drink she said she wanted to buy me. She’s not going to forget. It’s a date! Wait, no- not a date, not a date!

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