An Inheritance of Fire

“Here. And thank you.”

Varus looked up as Linua placed a small stack of books on the desk between them. He was dressed the same as always, in his long white coat and simple clothing. His golden hair caught the sunlight behind him.

“You’ve already read through them?”

“There’s not much else to do.”

“I see.” Varus reached out and pushed the books to one side of his desk. “Did you find them helpful?”

Linua nodded. “I did.” She’d asked for his help in acclimating to the human kingdom. The books were an extension of that request; as were the handful of papers interspersed between them. It wasn’t the extent of her studies, of course. Just a small portion of it.

In some ways, her children would have an easier time adjusting. They were still young, but she was older. Many of her ways were already set.

“So. What’s next? I presume you have a course of action in mind.”

“I do…” Linua trailed off, unsure how much to share. The golden-eyed human was their benefactor, but one still shrouded in mystery.

“I think it’s time we found a home of our own,” she said finally. “We’ve relied on your generosity long enough. We intend to pay you back in full. It seems… there’s more than enough to do all of that.”

A bundle of emotions knotted itself in Linua’s chest. They were complicated. Hard to truly understood. Part of her had always wanted to leave Cress; even used her daughter’s illness as a reason to do so.

But now Cress— and the home she’d built with Seon— were gone. The money was all that remained, but even that was a gift from the dead; still stained with their blood and ashes of their home village.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like…” Varus started, but she cut him off with a shake of the head.

“We’re grateful. We always will be. And…” Linua trailed off. “I suspect we’ll still need your help.” She sighed. “I don’t even know where to begin looking for a home. It was… different, in Cress.”

“I’m more than happy to offer assistance.”

“… My thanks.”

A short silence settled, only to be broken by Varus. “And what of your daughter?”

“… What about her?” Linua tried to keep her suspicion in check— but only momentarily. She was well aware of the doctor’s interest in Gwyn. Regardless of that, however, he’d aided them— and expected nothing in return.

Varus smiled wryly. “I only ask out of concern for my patient’s wellbeing.” He paused, then continued. “Your son seems to have found something to occupy his time— something your daughter noticeably lacks.”

Linua nodded.

She herself had already seen Gwyn’s restlessness. It was always there, but until recently, it had been kept at bay. First by a mix of anxiety and fear, and then by Selerim’s physical presence. Now that he was gone, it was taking over. No matter how much Gwyn tried to hide it.

“I don’t know.” She was like her brother in some ways, but his polar opposite in nearly every other. Both siblings exuded the same quiet sense of strength, and under that, each was terribly stubborn— especially when it came to each other.

And they were both quiet; opting to observe before speaking. But Selerim was cold. Detached, even. Not that it bothered Linua— she knew it was simply part of his personality, rather than a conscious choice.

Underneath it all, he loved them.

He just had trouble expressing that.

Gwyn, on the other hand, rarely took more than a moment to understand how someone felt. Linua knew that she’d calmed and soothed her brother on their outings, and for that she was grateful— and slightly ashamed at needing help from her child.

“… I assume you’ve brought it up for a reason.”

That was one of the few things she’d come to understand about the golden-eyed doctor. He very rarely said— or did— meaningless things.

“I have,” Varus nodded. “But your family is your own. I have no desire to meddle more than is welcome.” He paused, then admitted, “I was surprised when you allowed your son to leave.”

Linua closed her eyes. She’d considered that, as well, but there was another, larger factor at play: the permanence of their situation.

They’d been here, in the human kingdom, for more than a year now. But much of that time was a blur; spent in a daze after discovering the ruins that were once Cress. The flow of time had really only resumed after their reunion; and returned to normal once Selerim left.

Her son cited a longing for the darkness, and though Linua knew that was true, she also knew there was more to it.

The camaraderie he shared with his friends was different than his love for her and Gwyn. She’d long since accepted that.

There was no reason to rue it.

If anything, she was grateful. They’d helped him find happiness again.

But they were gone now; and with them, that happiness. She knew he longed to find it again. This was just an extension of that.

“… Selerim can take care of himself,” Linua finally said. “And I don’t think he’ll do it forever. Just… until he finds his balance again.”

“I see. I’ll admit, I had… difficulty. Getting a read on your son.”

She laughed at that. “He seems complicated on the outside, but he’s really quite simple. He doesn’t understand people… and that includes himself. He needs to strip away the sentiments of a daily life to see who they really are.”

Varus’ look turned thoughtful at that.

Linua chided herself, vowing to keep her tongue stiller in future exchanges. “So. Why do you ask?” She forced the conversation away from Selerim.

The doctor’s golden eyes fixed on hers. “You’re becoming aware of it, aren’t you?” he asked gently. “That you’ll be here for the foreseeable future.”

She sighed. “Am I that easy to read?”

Varus shook his head. “Not at all. Your entire family, in fact, seems to be rather skilled at controlling yourselves. But I’m uniquely aware of your situation. And you’re intelligent. It’s not hard to follow your thought process from a logical standpoint.”

“Well?”

He set his teacup down before responding. “Gwyn is young. She will have an easier time acclimating. But that depends on how much information she receives… and how much you want to integrate.” The doctor paused. “You understand what I’m saying, yes?”

Linua nodded after a moment of thought. The terms were strange, but simple. “Selerim will never fit in. And… I don’t think I will, either,” she admitted. “I wanted away from Umbra, but it’s too late for me to change much. But that’s fine. He and I will have choices in the future. Gwyn won’t. So she, at least, should learn.”

Varus nodded. “For what it’s worth, I concur with your assessment.”

“Then I assume you have a proposition.”

“I do. There’s a program your daughter may be well-suited for.”

“A program?”

“A military one.” He paused. “I won’t sugarcoat it. Most academies related to magic or martial arts are meant to breed combat prowess. There are always trade options, but she’s unsuited to the vast majority of them.”

“How would she be treated?”

“By the military members? Very well. By the other participants? Hard to say. But there’s an unspoken rule to leave your people be, so long as they don’t cause problems. I struggle to believe they could overcome that so quickly. And besides,” he added, “your daughter will be physically stronger than most.

“As far as military programs go, this one hardly qualifies. The goal is to foster unique talents in the hope they put them to use. There’s nothing binding afterwards.”

“Unique talents?”

“I believe your daughter will qualify.”

Linua mulled over it for a minute. “The decision is up to her.”

“As it should be.”

“… But I think she’d accept. Sooner or later, she’ll get tired of sitting around. And she’s practical.”

“I’ll make sure to have an information packet provided for your daughter. She should have as much information as possible. But if she accepts— and my hypothesis is correct— I will draft an application for her. It will require relocating, however.”

Linua shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. There’s nothing tying us down here. Selerim will find a way back to Umbra somehow.”

“He would have no trouble continuing his activities there.”

“Is the journey long?”

“Not at all. The central city is one of the few with open gates.”

“Open gates?”

“Warp gates.”

“Ah.” She’d read something about that. It was a big deal. “Then I’ll ask her.”

“Very well. I’ll set about proving my hypothesis, then.”

“Alright.”

“A military program?” Gwyn blinked. “Nothing binding?”

“Nothing binding. That’s what the doctor said, at least.”

“Then I don’t have much reason to say no.”

Her mother smiled. “I figured that’s what you’d say.”

Gwyn scowled. “I can only stay put for so long.” The boredom set in the day after her brother left. And, truthfully, there was another reason. As much as she loved her family, she needed space from time to time. Part of her was relieved when Selerim got a room of his own.

There was another reason, of course. Military. That meant strength. She’d become painfully aware of how she lacked it. Her mother had traveled the cold alone, with little more than a cloak, a sleeping roll, and a bag of ration bars.

Gwyn had been left alone, painfully unaware of her family’s wellbeing. She bore neither of them any ill will; that was simply how it had to be. Her brother was far away, and her mother couldn’t afford to look after her.

It left her with a burning desire to never be left behind again. That means pursuing strength. She already resolved to ask Selerim to train her. That was an easy decision, and she knew her brother would accept.

This was just another way to do that. “I’ll talk to Selerim when he gets back.”

“Alright.”

Even if he took issue with it, Gwyn knew how to convince him. She could see the worry on his shoulders. He would be glad to lessen it. And even if not, she wanted to. That was part of her duty as sister.

“… Any word from him?”

Her mother shook her head. “No,” she said gently. “And you shouldn’t expect him to send Nyx away. He needs her.”

“I know,” Gwyn grumbled. “But still.”

Just as Ember said, they encountered a group of Reavers. He seemed aware of it before the merchants. His sword was in his hand hours prior to their skirmish. It lasted less than a minute.

That was surprising.

Not the fact that they’d prevailed, or the fact that there were no injuries. Even its brevity wasn’t really out of the ordinary. They were a seasoned group, and both Naru and Rase were more skilled than the average soldier or mercenary. But how brief it was was another matter entirely.

There were six Reavers in total. Small ones. That wasn’t surprising, either. Only the smaller ones would be this close to settlements.

Ember alone had cut down three in a matter of seconds. Naru and Rase handled the others in the same time.

That was surprising. Suli had watched him sweep through their midst like a shadow-clad blur. The long, thin sword that she’d through fragile cut through their hides with ease. It took him only two strokes to slay the beasts.

The first split ones head open, and the second neatly lopped the heads off of two others. Just a spray of red mist, and then they were on the ground dead. The first one killed leaked brain matter, but he set to skinning the corpse and retrieving the Hearts as soon as the danger was over.

He worked quickly.

That was also surprising.

But even more surprising than that was what he did afterwards.

“Here,” Ember said, offering Suli the pelts and Hearts.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “You trust me enough to carry them, now?”

He shook his head. “No. I want you to have them.”

“Have them?”

“Keep them.”

“Why?” Suli asked incredulously. “This pays poorly as it is.”

“I’m not doing this for the money,” he answered, voice even lower than usual. “I have no real goal. I would rather contribute to yours than take it without purpose.”

“I see.” She reached for them. There was no reason to turn him down. “I’ll be sure to split it between everyone evenly.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re fast.”

He fell silent.

“Where did you learn to fight?”

“… Somewhere far away.”

So Tasha’s right. Suli accepted that answer easily. This was just leftover curiosity; she’d already decided to stop prying into his past.

“I see. And you’re alright with long journeys?”

“As long as you tell me ahead of time.”

“That’s easy enough.”

“… Then it’s fine.”

She would still have to confront Worrick, but Suli was also grateful. Mercs were common. Someone of his caliber was not. And there were plenty of other groups that would have taken accepted him in a heartbeat.

“There probably won’t be an encounter until we return.”

Ember nodded in acknowledgement.