The Last Experience Point

Chapter 132: A Commitment

As far as Zach could tell, it all began when Fluffles heard Jimmy singing in the shower. Having come home covered in sweat, some blood, and considerable grime, he, Kal, Jimmy, and Tena had all wanted to clean up before heading through the sliding-glass doors and into the spacious backyard for some swimming and barbeque. Zach and Kal had showered together in the bathroom closest to the master bedroom, and given there were two others in the house that had showers, they’d offered the other two to Tena and Jimmy, who had decided, both blushing, to also shower together, which Kalana had thought was adorable.

Now, just shy of an hour later, Fluffles would not shut up. For the moment, everyone was indoors as one of Kalana’s island’s intense, but brief storms was passing through, causing the sound of thunder and heavy rain to occupy the world. Yet those noises did not stand a chance in competing with the cat, who had somehow taken such a liking to one of Jimmy’s Earth songs that he simply would not stop.

“Fluffles don’t want no scrub! A scrub is a human who can’t give no pets to Fluffles.” He jumped up onto the kitchen counter and began running across, allowing Jascaila, who was seasoning the burgers, to pet him under the chin, and then he ran back in the opposite direction. “Hanging on the passenger side of his—”

“Enough!” Zach snapped. “Fluffles, seriously. No more singing.”

Fluffles paused mid-motion, his front paw extended as though to take another step forward. His amber-colored eyes stared directly into Zach’s, and for a few seconds, he said nothing at all. The two of them simply looked at each other. Fluffles came across as blank and expressionless.

“Of his best friend’s ride,” the cat continued, resuming right where he left off. He jumped down off the counter, darted into the living room, and hopped up onto the couch Ruby was lying on. “Trying to holler at Fluffles.”

The cat was apparently singing some weird variation of a real song that Jimmy knew, and he’d been doing it on what was basically repeat. Honestly, the cat was behaving more like a Gods-cursed parrot. It was making Zach more and more irritated. His anger was starting to rear its head. But was it really over a song? He wasn’t sure. He looked over to Jascaila. He was glad she’d stayed as long as she had. She was only supposed to be here a week, but Zach still badly needed her, and she claimed she’d remain as long as she felt it was necessary and Zach was willing to work with her.

Right now, she was organizing things they were going to take outside with them when the storm passed in a few minutes. “Do you two want me to defrost the hotdogs?” she asked Rian and Seiley, who were sitting together in the living room and watching the news on the holo-tab.

They looked at one another and both nodded. “What about you, Lienne?” she asked.

“I’m fine with whatever we’re already having,” she replied.

Lienne was helping in the kitchen with Jascaila. Trelvor, on the other hand, was at his absolute most insufferable. Ever since Fylwen had walked through the door, he had gone from an uptight, but affable new friend to like some kind of cadet in the presence of his drill sergeant.

“Would Her Majesty please allow one such as myself to serve Her Greatness a refreshment?” he asked, kneeling before his “queen.”

“That would be most appreciated, thank you,” she said.

“Yes, my queen!”

With that, he stormed his way into the kitchen, and everyone stayed out of his way as he prepared to brew her some kind of coffee mixture that he was actually pretty good at making. Honestly, if he wasn’t an Elvish warrior, he could have been a bartender or even a chef. He cooked breakfast for them a few days ago, and the Gods strike Zach down if he was lying—but it was like tasting paradise. Yet seeing him like this…it was annoying Zach. Just like Fluffles and his singing. Just like the way Lienne was making this constant tapping sound with her finger on the table. Everything was annoying him.

Jascaila seemed to pick up on this, because she winked at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her raspy voice oddly soothing.

“I’m pissed off and I don’t know why,” he said, walking over to her. “Everything’s making me mad. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “Should I get my battle-axe?”

“Can you? It’s still raining, though.”

“I’m okay with that, kiddo.”

He hesitated a moment then looked at Kalana, who had just finished drying her hair and had only first entered the kitchen. “Kal, I’m going to do a quick session with Jascaila, okay?”

She nodded and smiled. “Okay, baby.”

With that, Zach placed his hand over the hilt of his blade, which rested in the scabbard on his back, and he stepped out with Jascaila into the rain.

*****

In the same moment that a bolt of lightning lit up the fully overcast skies, Jascaila slammed her battle-axe down onto the top of a hill just a half a mile away from Kalana’s massive home. They’d had to travel a bit farther out than usual since another three large homes had gone up as more and more Elves were having property built here; Fylwen was paying for each and every “vacation home,” though unlike the circumstances around Kalana’s house, the Elves themselves were now doing all the building, aided in part by the white-cloaks, so the only expense was in materials.

“You almost got me with that one,” Zach said to her, laughing. He made a sudden motion forward, and then he swung his blade across, nearly succeeding at scoring a hit on Jascaila, but she was able to face her axe downward near her chest and guard against it. Although they were both attacking at full speed, and with more than enough power to kill an ordinary, level-1 person, they were not attacking with enough strength to even scratch, let alone wound one another.

Jascaila raised her axe, which she gripped in both hands, and she lifted it above her shoulders. But then she paused, took on a thoughtful demeanor, and lowered it. “So, what did you do then?” she asked him.

Zach also lowered his sword, and he explained to her how he’d kept his cool and succeeded in making sure he didn’t kill this “Zylor” guy that had attacked him. For the past few minutes, he’d been telling her as much as he could about the attack in Shores of Wrath using a method that she herself had come up with. During their first few sessions, Zach had found himself getting restless and agitated whenever they talked about anything serious, and that was when Jascaila came up with the idea to spar and talk at the same time. Not only had it worked, but it was kind of a breakthrough for Zach.

For some reason, he found it easier to think and reflect when he was outside and sparring with her. Of course, unlike a true sparring match, there were frequent breaks and pauses in the action, sometimes for many minutes at a time, such as now, as he recounted events to her.

“And do you think this is why you feel so frustrated?” she asked him once he’d finished retelling events.

Zach looked away and tried to focus his mind. He reflected on everything that had happened both during the scuffle and immediately afterwards. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It is.”

“And why is that?”

He sighed. “Because I did everything right. I spared his life. We made it through without anybody dying. I should feel…better now. After those two assassins vanished, I thought to myself that maybe things would be okay now, but then, on the way home, that guy I told you about, Jimmy, he started talking to Tena about the war going on, and it made me flash back to when I killed all those people, and I started feeling it all again.”

He was limited in what he could say regarding the nature of the two men, but he was sure Jascaila understood. In order for her to fully grasp his situation, he’d naturally needed to confide with her in Angelica’s, and so, a little more than a week ago, he’d told her everything that had been going on—about Adamus, the world, and the dangers they faced. She’d taken the news a whole lot better than her brother and Mr. Oren had, though she did seem a tiny bit shaken up. Still, she’d gotten over it fairly quickly and seemed very grateful to have been informed.

“So that’s the source of your anger,” she said. “You’re angry at yourself. At least, that’s what I’m hearing.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Because…you think you should be ‘healed’ now?” He nodded again, and she made a playful, yet scolding gesture, shaking her head at him. “You keep trying to apply quick fixes to what is a process, Zach. You need to understand that there’s no one moment or one event that’s going to revert you to how you were before. The goal isn’t to erase your trauma, but to learn to live with it and even become a stronger person in spite of it.”

“I know that,” he said weakly. “I just don’t like how I keep getting jitters. They’ve gotten better, but they’re still there.”

“It takes time.”

He exhaled. Then he clashed his sword against her axe, ducked beneath a wide swing, and saw an opportunity to step forward and cut her across the stomach—though of course, it did not even scratch her equipment, nor did it injure her. With that, he lowered his sword down to his side and said, “I just feel like I did all this to myself. Like maybe if I’d have been smarter, I wouldn’t have let all these things happen to me.”

“There’s no point thinking that way,” Jascaila said. “Wondering about what might have been is counterproductive, and from everything you’ve told me, I still stand firm that none of this was your own fault. Let’s back up a bit, though. To something we were talking about yesterday.”

He swallowed uneasily. “My dad?”

“Right. You told me you blame yourself for his death, and I feel like we didn’t really get any resolution to that conversation.”

Talking about this was still challenging for Zach, but he knew it’d be better in the long run if he did. “Kal and I were out grinding the mobs in Whispery Woods. Neither of us were there when it happened. If I was, maybe I could’ve made Varsh focus on me instead. I don’t know. I know it’s not my fault. But it feels like it is.”

Zach did not bother hiding the tears that filled his eyes as he once again recounted the horror of the fact that his father’s body had been left there on the street to rot, and that if not for Mr. Oren, no one would’ve ever bothered to pick up his remains and bury them.

After a moment, she asked him, “Have you considered, Zach, that you blame yourself because you feel more in control?”

“What do you mean?”

She stuck her axe face down into the grass then rested her palms on it as she continued to speak. “Well, is it possible you feel that by blaming yourself, it gives purpose to his death? Maybe you are caught up on the randomness and meaningless of what was done to him that you find it easier to blame yourself than to accept he was murdered simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Zach felt a pinching sensation travel from his throat down to his chest. Jascaila had a way of hitting so close to home. He had no idea how she did that or how she knew what she knew—but she was right.

“I think so,” he said, surprised by how right she was. “I can’t accept that his death…that it was for nothing. I know how weird this is to say, but I feel like I’d almost be more okay with it if at least him and Varsh had been enemies or if he was connected to something somehow. Because at least then it would have been for a reason. It makes me…it’s hard for me to accept that he died because of a whim.”

Jascaila nodded her head along with his words. “That’s understandable. But here’s the thing, Zach. It’s leading you into a very unstable place. You need to accept that your father’s death was not your fault. The more we tell ourselves lies, the harder we have to work to keep justifying them to ourselves. This creates a toxic dissonance. You’re using guilt as a bandage and that can create a very harmful cycle of blame and self-accusation. Sometimes, the most difficult but healthiest thing we can do is accept that some events—even horrible ones—happen that are completely outside of our control.”

He knew she was right. There was no denying what she said. At least not on a logical level. Even still, accepting it was easier said than done. The question over how things might have happened—as opposed to the way they did—was one that haunted him. Zach, considering her words, sheathed his blade and stood there silently in reflection. At the same time, the thunder stopped, and the rain slowed to a drizzle.

“You know,” he said, breaking the period of quiet contemplation. “What’s so crazy is that I don’t even hate the Royal Roses. I met Vim Alazar, and I actually liked the little man if you can believe it. I was really surprised by that. I expected to hate his guts, but deep down, I know he had nothing to do with it. Varsh did what he did on his own. And that’s actually the other thing that’s bothering me.”

“The execution?”

“Yeah. It’s bothering me really badly. I didn’t think it would. I mean, I barely know Vim, but I did fight by his side, and in the few days I was around him, we developed some kind of uh…a kind of weird back-and-forth jousting type of thing. He grew on me and I started to like him even though he’s a bigger asshole than I am.”

Jascaila made an amused hum. “My brother told me the same thing.”

“He did?”

She nodded. “He said he hates every one of the ‘political guild fuckers,’ but that if he had to ‘have a beer with one of them’ it would be Vim.”

Zach met her eyes, and he felt a chill go down his spine as he asked, “Do you think I should try to rescue him?”

“I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do,” she replied. “Do you feel you’re ready to handle what that might entail?”

“No,” Zach said honestly. “I’d have to kill people. I don’t want to do that.”

“Then there you go.”

“But,” he continued. “I don’t want to live with the knowledge of knowing I could’ve done something but didn’t. And it’s not because Vim means all that much to me, either. Like I said, I’m not close enough with him to feel motivated to save his life. It’s more…”

“Go on,” she said after he let his words trail off.

Zach held off a moment while he tried to order his thoughts. Jascaila waited patiently for him to do so. After about twenty seconds, he opened his mouth to resume speaking, hoping that his words would make sense to her.

“Here’s the thing,” he began. “I hated the political guilds so much, and I probably always will, but I’m starting to realize that even those idiots who run them are better at what they do than anyone else I can think of would be. I mean…well, no offense, but imagine for a second if Donovan was in charge.”

Jascaila laughed so hard that she cackled. “Oh, that’d be bad all right.”

“Someone’s always going to be in charge,” Zach continued. “But the more I see of the world and stuff, the more I realize that there are different levels of ‘bad.’ I’ve seen what real evil looks like now. It’s not people like Vim, or Queen Vayra, or even the other selfish guild leaders. They’re all corrupt, but they’re not completely corrupt, you know?”

“I do know,” Jascaila said. “I understand what you’re saying completely. You’re noticing that it’s not so black and white, is it?”

“No,” Zach said, nodding. “It’s not. They’re not the best people, but I mean…they’re better than the Guild of Gentlemen. And even the Guild of Gentlemen is probably better than having nothing at all. Anyways, I just worry about what will happen to the world if Vim has his head chopped off. I saw how hateful people are getting now over this. Like that guy in Shores of Wrath who was cheering for me to kill all of them and their families. I feel like if Vim is executed, people are going to lose their minds and society might break down.”

For some reason, Jascaila shuddered. “That’s…true,” she said. As if noticing his confusion, she began to explain. “I’ve visited South Bastia a few times. So I know what that might look like.”

“We’re there right now,” Zach said with a laugh, gesturing at the world around him.

Jascaila shook her head. “No, I mean the real South Bastia. South of Shores of Wrath.”

“Oh,” Zach said. “The poor areas.”

“That’s an insensitive but fair way of putting it. How much do you know about the other regions of South Bastia?”

“Not much,” Zach said. “I just know they’re crime-ridden, dangerous, and they’re run by corrupt warlords. Like Whispery Woods.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Nothing like Whispery Woods. The reality is so much worse than you can imagine, Zach. Every bad thing you’ve ever seen: that’s daily life for people who live there. What I’ve seen there confirms to me that even a poorly run government is better than having none at all. Imagine for a second a world where everyone higher than level 1 decided they could do, take, and rape whoever they wanted. If there were no consequences for that behavior.”

Zach thought over her words, and he found he agreed. Due to his own personal experiences, he had no trouble imagining what such a hypothetical society would be like. “It’d be like encountering a Varsh every single day.”

“Exactly,” Jascaila said. “That’s exactly what it would be like. And that’s how South Bastia is. Our guild leaders might use titles like ‘sir’ and act like pompous asses, but I’d take that a hundred times over if the alternative is men who behave like animals and torture and kill at a whim.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It’s worse. Whatever image you can draw in your mind, the reality is even worse.”

Zach could think some pretty terrible things, so the idea of how bad life must be like for most people in South Bastia sent shivers down his back. The idea of North Bastia becoming that way seemed unthinkable, but if society broke down as a result of the Guild of Gentlemen, could it not happen there, too?

“If I go to Shadowfall Coast and save Vim,” he began, struggling to keep his words audible as he felt a great sense of unease budding up from within. “Will you help me pick up the pieces?”

“Of course,” Jascaila said, a certainty in her voice. More softly she added, “But you shouldn’t go if you’re not ready.”

“Tomorrow, when I speak with my…my friend, I’m going to learn more about the situation over there. But if I do go, it might have to be really soon. Tomorrow night, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Hey, Zach?”

“Yeah?”

Jascaila’s expression hardened. “If you do decide to go, I’ll come with you.”

Taken aback, Zach felt as if her words had actually shoved him. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“But why?”

“To support you.”

“And why? Why would you even care about me that much?”

“Because I know how capable you are. You were born very gifted, Zach. If I can do one thing right in my life, it’ll be making sure you don’t let the burden of it drag you under.”

Zach bowed his head, filling with a sense of utter gratitude. “If I decide to go, it’ll be dangerous. I’m already thinking of how I can get it done. I have some ideas. I know where they’re keeping him, too.”

“How do you know?”

“My ‘friend’ told me last week.”

He did not elaborate further than that, and she thankfully did not ask him to, which told Zach she understood he was referring to Eilea.

“Wouldn’t it be well defended?” she asked. “Meaning, wherever they are holding him.”

Zach felt his nerves rising but also his determination. “Very,” he said. “But if I could somehow convince your brother, my vampire friends, and a few other really powerful adventurers to come along with me, we would be able to smash our way in as long as we showed up unexpected and were quick about it.”

“Do you really want to do this?”

Becoming more certain by the second, Zach turned himself half around so that he faced the direction of Kalana’s home. The storm had passed and the sun was coming out again. “I do.”

“Then I will go with you, and whatever happens, we’ll work through it together.”

*****

Alex closed his eyes and released a slow breath. He felt as though a sickness was escaping through his lips: he was overtaken by a sense of relief so great he could hardly describe it. “You’re serious, Zach?”

“Tomorrow, when we meet, we’ll figure out a plan. But I want to get it over with.”

“You’re doing the right thing, my man. I’ve never been more proud. Tomorrow, we’ll make a plan together, and we will succeed. You have my word. At any rate, I have to go. I’m meeting with Sir Besh in a few minutes to discuss the conditions of our surrender.”

“The Lords of Justice is surrendering?”

“If things don’t change, yes. But don’t give up heart just yet. If our friend gives us the information we need, we can still stop this dystopian nightmare from becoming a reality. It’s not too late, Zach. It’s never too late.”

“Okay, then. I’ll talk to you soon.”

The call ended, and Alex sat back in his chair. He did not know what could possibly have inspired the kid to finally open his eyes, but he was glad that he did. This was the most precarious situation North Bastia had faced in a very, very long time. Driven by the threat of nuclear annihilation, the guilds were either finalizing the terms of their surrender or agreeing to surrender. It could be a matter of days, not weeks, before the Guild of Gentlemen—before Sir Morrison—was the undisputed king of humanity as the Brayspark family had once been.

There was no telling how many people would suffer if that ever came to pass. They needed to fight back, and rescuing Vim Alazar was a great place to start. Alex did not give up his life as an adventurer to bow before a tyrant. Not now. Not ever.