by Pirateaba
Ryoka sat next to Lyonette as the girl gulped down air.
“I just don’t know why I feel so unhappy sometimes!”
She confessed to Ryoka, shivering as the wind blew.
“I want to do more, make more decisions even though it’s Erin’s inn. But I know it’s hers. I was just managing it. I know that, but I still want…to be an [Innkeeper] too. Or be something else. I know it’s bad.”
“It’s not bad.”
Ryoka’s voice was soft as she poked at some ice-crusted snow. She glanced at Lyonette. The girl was wiping at her face again.
“I don’t know why I feel this way. I should be happy. Mrsha’s here, I have a good life, I get paid, no one’s after me or angry with me…”
“Yeah, well, I think it’s because you’re a terrible [Barmaid].”
Ryoka sensed the other girl looking up. She coughed delicately.
“What I mean by that is that you’re not meant to be serving people drinks. You’re good at your job—too good, in fact. A decent [Barmaid] is someone like Safry, who works hard but not too hard. She’s a lazy, prejudiced, arrogant bitch at times too, but she does her job and that’s it. If she were a great barmaid, she wouldn’t have all those qualities. But you—you’re different.”
She looked over at Lyonette and saw the girl staring at her, red-eyed, shivering. It wasn’t a glamorous face, but the owner of it had the courage to walk into a nest full of bees big enough to put a stinger right through her skull. Looks were deceiving.
“Erin’s perfect as an [Innkeeper] because it seems like she can make her inn do whatever she wants. But you have too many ideas to just serve drinks for her. You’re too capable. You should be an [Innkeeper] yourself, at the very least. But then, you’re not meant for that either, are you? You are a [Princess].”
An indrawn breath. Ryoka nodded.
“Thought so. Let’s keep that a secret between us, huh?”
“How did—”
“It’s not exactly hard to guess, at least, back when you were screaming about how important you were. Look, it doesn’t matter to me, although I’d keep it a secret. But I think it means you can do more than just serve drinks, that’s all. You were managing those other two pretty well when Safry and Maran weren’t getting in the way.”
She nodded back in the direction of the inn. Lyonette didn’t know what to say.
“But I’m a failure. I never reached more than Level 5 in my [Princess] class.”
“Really? Level 5? That’s interesting. Maybe the you back then didn’t have a chance or you were…spoiled rotten and bratty. But now, I think if you put your mind to it, things might change.”
Ryoka grinned. Lyonette stared at her, parts of her chest lighting up from within.
“You think so?”
“It’s worth a shot. Being a [Princess] isn’t just about where you are or what you’re wearing. It’s what you do. And I think the most princess-like thing you did was stand up for Mrsha back then. Which reminds me, you know magic, don’t you?”
“Yes. I was tutored a bit, but I never learned much. Just a few spells like [Light]. Hardly anything.”
“[Light]’s the most basic and useful thing in the world. Don’t knock it. For instance, light can do this.”
Ryoka raised a finger, and in the desolate landscape, light flashed. Lyonette cried out and shielded her eyes. When she could see, Ryoka looked abashed.
“Sorry. But now you’ve seen it, you can copy it. I call it [Flashbang]. Well, that’s only half of it. You also make a sound like this—”
This time Lyonette clapped a hand to her ears, but the bang was still deafening. Ryoka nodded at her as she took trembling hands away from her ears.
“You could probably learn that in a bit.”
“But how—I never knew a spell like that existed!”
“There’s probably some version of it out in the world. Pisces might know it. But I invented that myself. It’s just a bit of protection magic. If you’re gifted enough, you should try learning that and a few more spells. Typhenous or Ceria might teach you. And pick up a sword while you’re at it.”
“You think I should do all that?”
Learn to use a sword. Learn to use magic. More classes. The idea burned in Lyonette like a flame built of tinder, burning hot but quick to be extinguished. But Ryoka nodded as if that were natural.
“A princess should know how to do all kinds of things. I know it’s not good to have too many classes, but…well, it’s just a hunch. If a princess really knows her people, then she should know what they do, at least a bit.”
She smiled at Lyon, and the girl smiled back.
“No one in my family would ever think that way.”
“Yeah? What level are they?”
Lyonette was speechless. Ryoka sighed, and stood up.
“That was probably rude of me. Sorry. But you look like you’re feeling better.”
That was true. Lyonette felt better. She was still unhappy, but that was because all that had just passed, not because of the future. Ryoka smiled at her, awkwardly. She was a bit like Ishkr. If she worked at the inn, Ryoka would probably let her gather Ashfire Bee honey and go shopping by herself.
“I’ve got to go. I’m taking Mrsha to visit Garia’s family tonight and staying over for a day or two. Don’t worry; I think it’ll be fine when you return. Erin’s falling over herself trying to find ways to apologize, and those other two seem to think you’re worth listening to.”
“I’ll go back and apologize—”
Lyon stood up, but Ryoka held up a hand.
“If I were you, I’d keep Erin sweating just a bit longer. She needs to think more about other people sometimes.”
She winked as Lyonette stared up at her and jogged off. Lyonette watched her go, and wondered if Ryoka had been like her once. Or maybe she just understood what Lyon was going through.
It was a [Barmaid] that left the inn, sobbing, guilty. But it was a [Princess] that trudged back. A princess wearing a coat with snot and tears all over it, and a [Princess] whose eyes were red and whose nose still ran, but a [Princess] nevertheless. She couldn’t forget that.
She was a [Princess].
With levels in the [Barmaid] class.
—-
Pawn waited until his shift and slept. He didn’t know what he’d done in the meantime. He just…existed until the point where he could consign himself to oblivion for a little while. Then he woke.
He felt like a zombie, lifeless, shambling along. The exhilaration that had filled him yesterday was gone.
How could he have been so blind? His people died no matter what he did. How could he be so happy over a useless Skill, two level ups?
[Mass Prayer]. What good was that? What good was praying, together or alone? It did nothing. Pawn turned, and punched the dirt wall of his sleeping area.
“Useless.”
He would have slept there, letting other Workers file in and out if someone hadn’t approached his hiding place. Pawn looked up when the light filled the dark room.
“Pawn. I have been looking for you.”
Xrn, the Small Queen, bent over Pawn as he clutched the thurible to his chest. He stared up at her, radiant, her eyes shining with magic.
“Go away.”
“I cannot do that, Pawn. I am told you have not visited your Soldiers in days. They are waiting for you. They are restless. They need you to lead them.”
“I deserve to lead no one. All I did was get them killed. Protecting me.”
“Fighting. They fought for the Hive.”
“At my command. They did it for me. It was my fault.”
A pause. Xrn bent down next to Pawn, scrutinizing him curiously.
“But they are Soldiers. They are made to fight. What else would they do?”
“Live.”
Pawn whispered the word.
“I don’t want them to die. I want them to live.”
“Some may live if you command them. If not, what do you think will happen? Ref
use, and they will be put on the front lines. Forced to fight. Without you.”
The knowledge was bitter, undeniable. Pawn didn’t respond. He heard Xrn sigh.
“What if one of the other Individuals led them? Your friend Belgrade, or Anand.”
“They’re [Tacticians]. They can do it. They know how to lead.”
“Pawn.”
“Go away. I am sulking.”
“I will not go. I am going to convince you to get up, Pawn. You see, I am no [Leader] either, Pawn. I am a [Thaumaturge], a class derived from [Mage]. I did not choose to lead either.”
Pawn shook his head, denying Xrn to her face.
“That is a false argument. You were created for the role. You are one of the Centenium, a Prognugator. You are a leader. I am not like you. I cannot do what you do. I cannot…lead an army. I cannot lead a single Worker.”
“But you are a [Tactician] as well, are you not? Like Belgrade and Anand. If they lead, why will you not?”
“Because a [Tactician] orders Soldiers to fight and die! I cannot do that. I can only stand and let the Soldiers fight themselves. But I cannot—I am not like Belgrade or Anand. I do not see the link between the chess board and reality! I have no talent for it, do you understand?”
Pawn cried out. He uncurled from his ball and stood up, shaking.
“What kind of a [General] sits and hides behind his Soldiers and does nothing. What kind of leader would do that?”
Xrn stared at him. Pawn was breathing heavily, his mandibles closing and parting.
“I cannot fight. If I did—my Soldiers would die protecting me. I have no talent for it. I cannot lead. I cannot order them to battle. I have no talent for that either. I can only ask them to die for me. I can do nothing else. What can I give them?”
Something in Pawn whispered. Faith. Hope. Identity. He forced the feeling down. It wasn’t enough. It was enough to live for, but not enough to ask them to die for. Xrn shook her head. She did not know either. The part of Pawn that had hoped she would curled up in despair again.
“I have no answer. But you cannot hide from your duty forever.”
“Why? What is my duty? Is it to my Queen? My Hive?”
Xrn nodded.
“Partly. But you have a greater duty still, Pawn of the Free Antinium. The duty all Antinium share.”
“What is that?”
“The duty of the Antinium, Pawn, is to survive. We go to war, we struggle, and we die, all for the same purpose. That some may live. That one may live. All this time, across thousands of miles and an ocean, we have come for one reason. To survive.”
It was the same phrase, the same idea, wrapped up differently. Pawn turned away, bitter.
“At what cost?”
“Anything less than the whole of our species is acceptable.”
“Not to me. Go away.”
He turned back to his cubicle. He felt Xrn’s eyes watching him. Eventually she left. And once again, Pawn went to find Erin.
—-
He didn’t find her. Erin was in the city, screaming at and being screamed at by a Miss Agnes and other people named Safry and Maran, according to the Drake who greeted him at the door. He sat miserably in the inn, not touching his food until Zel found him.
“You look like chewed up Creler bait. Pawn, right?”
He didn’t know why, but the Drake [General] sat with him, waiting for Pawn to speak. Pawn wanted to and feared to at the same time. He looked sideways at Zel.
“I thought you did not like Antinium.”
The Drake coughed a few times.
“True. But Erin and Lyonette happened to mention you led some soldiers into battle for the first time a few days ago. I’ve been there. I thought I might…listen. That’s all.”
Pawn stared at him, at Zel Shivertail a [General], a Drake hero. The words tumbled out too fast for him to stop.
“I let them die. They were defending me and—”
“Stop.”
Zel made Pawn stop and repeat the story from the start. The Drake shook his head.
“Sounds like every story I’ve heard. You went in, you fought. And some of your soldiers died. There’s not a commander on the continent that hasn’t felt like you have.”
“Really?”
Pawn sat up a bit. Zel nodded seriously.
“The key is knowing that they fought for a reason. If it was a bad reason, well, that’s a problem. But they fought because they believed in you, Pawn. Honor that, and keep leading them, or what was the point?”
Pawn sagged.
“That’s not the problem. It is that I cannot lead them.”
“Why not?”
“I keep telling everyone, I am no leader. I cannot order them in battle. But if I do not—”
“Who will?”
Zel was nodding. The Drake seemed to understand Pawn’s dilemma more than most.
“And if you don’t, who will? If you don’t, folks still die. Blood’s on your claws either way.”
“Exactly.”
Pawn shivered.
“Is there a good answer for this, Zel Shivertail?”
Zel paused, and the Antinium knew the answer already. Then the Drake spoke.
“You know, hearing what you’re going through reminds me of what I used to hear from Sserys all the time.”
“Who is that?”
“Oh, no one special. You wouldn’t remember. Anyways…”
The Drake trailed off and then shook his head briskly. He looked at Pawn.
“He told me to keep looking around, at my officers, at my soldiers. In each battle, in war, in peace, look for someone who can inspire others. Someone with talent, courage, a spark. And then to nurture that spark until that individual can surpass me. Only then would I step aside.”
“If no one else can command, you must.”
It was a very Drake-like thing to think. Pawn understood. Zel nodded, swishing his tail slowly across the floor.
“How about it? Do you see anyone in your command who could lead better than you? Or are you the only one who can do what’s right?”
He looked at Pawn, gingerly resting his claws on the Antinium’s shoulder. Pawn realized what he was supposed to say, that there was no one else. This was his duty. But that would be a lie.
“Every single Soldier under my command knows war better than I, General Shivertail. Any of them could lead. I cannot.”
It wasn’t the right answer. But it was in Pawn’s heart. Zel sighed and turned away.
“I understand. But your Soldiers have no command, Pawn. I’ve fought them long enough to see that. Some might gain a high [Soldier] class, and they’re a terror to fight on the battlefield. But in the end, a [Soldier] is just a soldier. He cannot lead. You can.”
He left Pawn then, because he’d said all he could. Pawn sat there, waiting for nothing, waiting for Erin, when someone spoke his name.
“Pawn?”
It was Lyonette. She sat with him as a Gnoll covered for her. Pawn stared at Lyonette.
“Hello.”
“You look terrible. What’s wrong? Are you…it’s the Soldiers, right?”
She knew. Pawn didn’t have to explain. He felt relieved. But some part of him kept talking, kept explaining anyways.
“Everyone tells me I should lead, should bring my Soldiers back into battle. But I cannot be a leader. I tell everyone this. There is no [General] who is useless. Belgrade, Anand, Klbkch…they can all fight, and tell Soldiers how to do battle. Even Bird could inflict damage if he led a unit. But I…I am not a warrior. How can I lead Soldiers who will fight for me?”
He expected Lyonette to come up with some sage advice like the others. But she just shrugged.
“I don’t know. If you think you can’t lead them, then you can’t. But they still trust you, right?”
Pawn nodded. His painted Soldiers would follow him to the ends of the earth. They would fight any foe for him; sacrifice their lives if they had to. He was not worthy of that.
“
In that case, maybe you’re not like a [General], then. Maybe you’re like me.”
Pawn paused. He looked over.
“Like you? I am not Human. I am not female. I am not a [Barmaid].”
“But you are bad at fighting. So am I. And I…am a [Princess].”
He stared. Lyonette smiled as she looked around conspiratorially.
“What you’re facing sounds like what I’d do in war. [Princesses] and [Queens] don’t lead armies. Most of them don’t, anyways. Back home…no one would dream of it. I hear it’s different in Chandrar and Rhir, but Terandrian nobility don’t let women fight.”
“Then what do you do if a battle occurs?”
“Nothing. We just sit behind our warriors. But because we’re there, it matters. You see?”
“Not at all. Please explain.”
Lyonette sat with Pawn at the table and drank from his mug, since he wasn’t thirsty. She slowly began to speak.
“There was a story my mother used to tell me, of a [Queen] who was ambushed while her nation was at war. Her protectors fought while she sat on a chair in the middle of the battlefield, not moving, not trying to run.”
“But if she had run—”
“Her warriors would have to protect her, and they might get hurt trying to shield her. She might do more damage running, get it? But since she stayed still, they could fight knowing she was protected by them. In my mother’s story, the battled raged on and the Queen’s soldiers were falling back, but then she said one word. ‘Fight.’”
“And they did?”
Lyonette smiled.
“One word from her inspired her soldiers to drive the enemy back. They didn’t want her to take up arms herself. They knew their Queen couldn’t fight. But because she believed in them and showed not a trace of fear on her face, they fought like heroes to protect her. Because she was worth dying for.”
“But what if she was not? What if she was worthless?”
“It didn’t matter. Because they believed. And whose belief mattered most? Hers? Or theirs?”
Pawn thought of his Soldiers. He stirred. Something in him stirred.
“If they fought, they would die.”
“Some. But it’s their choice, isn’t it? The [Queen]’s soldiers could have run. But they held their ground.”