Introspection and the Lord-Protector

John was moving before he let his erudite mind start processing. He knew if he let his mind start thinking, and overthinking, he’d never have the courage to move, and Velvet needed someone.

He moved quickly over to her, discarding his own storm of emotional dysregulation: anger, upset, confusion, guilt? All was left behind as he reached the crying brunette. Carefully, as if handling porcelain, he wrapped his arms around her and guided her head to his shoulder, letting her cry. “Shh… It’s okay, Velvet. I promise, it’s okay.”

As her weeping continued, John idly realised that he’d placed his back to Moira, Erica, and the rest of the courtyard. He was subconsciously shielding her, this beautiful and strange blind girl that he didn’t quite understand his feelings towards, from the world while she was at her most ****.

He continued to murmur into her ear, holding her slender frame tenderly. “I’m not any good at this, but I’m here right now, and I won’t abandon you.” She tightened her grip on his waist, sobbing incoherently, and John waited, knowing she’d eventually cry herself out, and he’d still be there waiting.

After a few minutes, the sobbing had abated, and there was nothing other than the occasional sniffles from her. Very quietly, she said, “...Thank you, John.”

He leaned back just enough to look down at her face, framed by the slight wave of her hair. Even with the slight amount of makeup she used ruined and trailing down her cheeks in tear streaks, the misty red eyes and other signs that she had been crying, John couldn’t help the surge of attraction he felt looking at her.

Careless of the damage it would do, he gently swiped her ruined makeup away from her face using his sleeve, and she raised her white eyes upwards towards where she knew his face to be. It was nothing more than a courtesy from her, since she couldn’t use them to look at him. The sheen on them from her tears made them seem all the more like a pair of pearls, taken fresh from the ocean. He lost himself in those snowy depths for a moment, until someone cleared their throat behind him.

It suddenly crashed down onto his awareness how he was standing with Velvet, what he’d done, and the gentle intimacy that had been present in his actions. A hearty blush filled the pair’s features as John stepped back awkwardly, moving next to Velvet to face the other girls.

Moira was the definition of neutral. A very careful expression decorated her face which gave away none of her thoughts on their behaviour. Or, it would have if not for the very slight way her lips turned up at the edges, how her eyebrow lifted minutely in silent question, and the faintest hint of red in her cheeks.

Erica, on the other hand, was not even trying to keep her opinion hidden. An enormous grin spread across her face and she was looking directly at John with it. She did, however, send a wink his way, and changed the subject. “So, I’ve played a video game or two, and most of this is familiar. A health bar, a mana bar, a ‘party’ and our little name and title bit. Is there anything else you want to show, to really drive home the weirdness?”

John breathed a sigh of relief, glad he didn’t have to answer questions he hadn’t thought of yet. As he took a moment to gather his thoughts, he realised with a shock that he didn’t have a proper answer to the blonde’s question either. “I… I don’t actually know,” he said slowly, still turning it over in his head.

“Well, no. I know there is more, but I don’t know exactly what? I haven’t actually had a chance to look at it properly yet today, and a lot has happened since I got the m-magic yesterday.” He stumbled over the word, still unused to the fact that magic was real.

He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully again, and willed his character sheet to come up again. Immediately, the three girls in front of him started in surprise. Apparently they could see it as well.

“By the Lady… this is remarkable,” Moira breathed, waving her hand through the screen in front of her which didn’t actually exist.

“Yeah…” Erica said absently, her eyes skimming over the information on John’s sheet.

John followed her eyes and read over his sheet for himself, noticing a couple of changes.

First to note was his level. Somehow he had jumped to level five, though he wasn’t quite sure how. With the level up, however, he was at a whole ten skillpoints to spend on his stats as he wished. He started thinking of what to do with them, looking over his stats.

Secondly, however, was that he realised as he looked at how he could distribute his stats, that the girls could see his character sheet. His very brutally honest stat sheet. The one that painted him as an absolute nerd, with no real physical aptitude to speak of. It was also the one that quite literally put a number to how horny he was. And, as he was reminded by seeing his Libido score, the sheet also happened to clearly state his skills. John immediately noticed that there were more skills than before, but was more immediately distracted by the presence of ‘Masturbation’ so high up on that list, and so high level.

He quickly closed it, glancing at each of the girls discreetly to gauge if they had noticed. Neither Erica nor Moira seemed to have noticed anything, though they were a little confused why he’d closed the sheet so soon. Velvet, on the other hand, was blushing slightly. That was expected, but what was not expected was that she seemed to be muttering to herself in what seemed to be a disapproving tone. John was a little startled to find he was worried why she disapproved. When did her opinion become important to him?

“I-I-I’ll have a l-look over it later, o-okay?” John pushed on with the worry giving him a stutter.

Erica nodded slowly, lost in thought. “Alright, dude. Yeah… I can work with this.” She looked directly at John. “You’ve got some real strong berserking abilities. And there’s some weird and interesting other stuff that I’d love to get a look at. But, I gotta warn you.” Her expression had become serious, and John thought her eyes glimmered slightly. “If you’re letting me train you, it’ll go fast and it’ll probably be rough. And not in a fun way. I… leave in a week, so there’s a ticking clock.” Embarrassment at her innuendo faded as he applied his mind to properly considering what she was saying.

Did he want to train these skills? His first instinct was to say no. Why would he, or anyone, ever want to train these abilities? They were bloody, violent, primal. There was no intelligent side to it that he could see. The only purpose was to do terrible, thoughtless, indiscriminate ****. It went against the grain of his lived experience so far.

But then, much like when he had first chosen the class, in the disgusting basement, he glanced at Velvet. There was a reason to train. So he could protect people he wanted to keep safe. So he wouldn’t hurt those around him. There was a moment of amusement at the thought of how badly Frank’s next attempt to bully him could go, but he realised that there was no way he could live any kind of normal life safely if he didn’t train his skills until he had control of himself. He was uncomfortably aware of what Frank could look like if he said or did the wrong thing. And if John used magic in that, as far as he knew, Gaia would blow him up, or something.

Then there was something further, and simpler: so that he was safe. Despite the lack of any lasting injury, if John thought about it too much, he could still feel the bite of the cold steel as it caused tendon and muscle fibre alike to snap like thread, the oozing of his blood out of hi- ‘No. Stop that.’ He **** it away again. He knew now, in the harshest way possible, that it didn’t matter how much magic he had, he could still be hurt, and if he could be hurt, he could still die. The most basic animal instinct part of him told him that training was a wise course of action, if only for self-protection. In the mundane world, he was now a big fish in a small pond. But in the Abyss? He was barely even a fish, nevermind a big one, and the pond had become an eldritch ocean of gnawing teeth and stalking eyes.

When he thought of it like that, there was really only one answer left to him. “Yeah. L-let’s do it.”

Erica grinned. “Alright!” She turned to Moira. “I need to go prep some stuff and talk to some people… Do you think, if I can swing a Fateweaver, you can set it up for early tomorrow?” The redhead nodded, slight surprise clear across her features. “Thank a bunch, Moira. I gotta run, but I’ll see you all tomorrow. Later, dudes.”

The three of them called their goodbyes as the blonde walked away into the manor, then Moira turned back to face John and Velvet, a businesslike manner coming over her. “Now, John, there is one last small matter before you may leave. As I said earlier, I’m offering the Order’s aid free of charge or obligation for personal reasons, but my father would like a word with you, and likely also to offer you a Writ of Protection.”

John raised an eyebrow, inexplicably nervous at the mention of her father. “W-why? What does he want from me? What’s the protection thing?”

She picked up on his discomfort, her tone calming. “No need to worry. I believe he simply wishes to meet you. As for the Writ of Protection, it’s naught more than a simple document to make the offer of the Order’s protection official. That is all, as I understand it. Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?” the redheaded paladin asked.

John was about to say no, as he had only had this visit to the Order for today; still more social engagement than he’d had the past few years combined. Velvet interrupted him before he could speak, however, “Yes, actually. Dad wanted to talk with him as well. He mentioned something about practice, though I don’t really know what we’re going to do.”

Moira nodded with a smile. “Alright then. That’s good. I’ve some work to attend to, and it would have been tight on time to complete it in time as well as properly host you for the day.” She blushed slightly, realising how that could be interpreted, and opened her mouth to apologise. Velvet cut her off with a soft giggle, and John smiled, both putting her at ease. “W-well, anyways.” She gathered herself, though she couldn’t get rid of the red suffusing her cheeks. “My father is actually currently out on a training exercise with some troops. He should be back within an hour. I… If you would like, we can… have some… tea?” Her confidence seemed to wane, with the final word becoming a question not so much of the pair’s preference as it was questioning her ability to provide the tea offered.

John chuckled slightly, not noticing how Velvet seemed to shiver slightly beside him as he did so. “No, thanks. If it’s alright, I’ll just stay here.” It filled him with confidence somewhat to see the elegant redhead stumble socially. It was almost as if, so long as someone as composed as Moira could mess up, his own difficulties and failures weren’t so insurmountable.

John was acutely aware of how Velvet’s slender, pale arm was hooked around his. She had pleaded that she needed the guidance when they were walking through the corridors of the manor, and simply had yet to separate from him. John couldn’t honestly say that he didn’t enjoy it.

A ringing crash pulled his attention momentarily again. Moira had relayed that when her father arrived, it’d be at the main practice field, so that’s where the pair had moved to. Apparently, there was a discreet utility road that allowed access to the field from the main road. John had barely noticed, truth be told. Too many other things held his attention, swirling in his mind, such as the awareness he had of how warm the slender body beside him was.

Also capturing his mind’s focus were the continuous yet irregular clashes, thuds, shouts, and other noises that came from the knights spread across the field. In pairs, trios, and larger groups, they practised so many varieties of combat scenarios that John could hardly keep track at any given time of what was happening. Further confusing the scene was the equipment. They all wore variations of the same set of strong white and golden armour, and the weapon most prevalent was quite clearly the sword, specifically a versatile, long-handled one which they seemed to use both one- and two-handed. While it may have seemed that this uniformity would help, for John it was remarkably difficult to keep track of who did what since they all appeared very similar. Compared to the Peacekeepers he had seen, the Order’s knights were a well-oiled machine.

There was another thing which pulled his attention, as well. The field was by no means full, yet there must have been dozens practising at any given time, and there was a slow but steady stream of knights entering and exiting the manor. The pair had been there for barely a half hour, and John had so far seen almost as many troops in this practice field as the entirety of the Peacekeepers’ HQ could house. It was remarkably confusing, considering the respect with which Moira had dealt with Eion.

Even putting aside the noise of practice, the curiosity of the difference in troop numbers, and the heat he felt from Velvet, he still couldn’t help the way his thoughts rattled against his skull, a captive behind cell bars. Throughout the past two days, since that first moment he threw himself at Toby in unexpected courage, fear had cradled his heart in frosted fingers, and uncertainty had gnawed at him.

Thrust into a bafflingly complex version of reality without warning, John found that he couldn’t help but worry and agonise over every choice, every action. It felt to him that any decision he made was wrong, and that to be wrong could be fatal. Every darkened corner had him holding his breath, and every heated word left him tense. He felt himself twitch on hearing shouting and the thing he found frightened him most was that he didn’t know if it was his normal, nervous and introverted habits startling, or if it was him about to lose all sense of self-preservation and sanity as he descended into raging battle madness. More than that, he couldn’t help but wonder to himself that there might have been another solution, had he rejected the offered choice of berserkism.

He stopped, becoming almost entirely still, eye fixed on a far distant point, yet seeing nothing. It had been a choice. He had made a choice at the time, and accepted the consequences. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, whenever he thought of his new powers, all he felt was uncertainty and fear.

Did Moira ever whine about being born into her position? Unless John misunderstood it, she was never asked if she wanted to be the Warden. It was hereditary, and there was no way to abdicate the power like monarchies could. Once upon a time, did Moira hate the life that was thrust upon her from birth without alternative?

Did Erica ever complain at the fact her fate was chosen for her? Was there a time, at some point in her life, that she had stopped and bitterly complained of the fact that, for whatever reason, she was **** to deal with the ever-present risk of losing control and sanity, simply because something had decided to give her a fixed deck of cards?

“How did you cope with your blindness so well, Velvet?” His words came out as he thought them, eyes as yet unmoving.

He didn’t see her start with surprise at the unexpected question, or the way her features dropped in introspective thought and hardened with guarded discomfort at the intensely personal question. He also didn’t see the way she eventually turned to face him, seeing something nobody else in the world at that moment could have seen, or the way her guarded expression softened, slowly giving way.

What he did hear was her reply. “I… didn’t. For a long time. Eion adopted me at 14, we think, and my memories are… hazy before that, though I know I was almost mundane before then. It took me years to struggle through learning adaptations around my blindness, and I nearly drove Dad mad with the puberty mood swings, shouting and sobbing because I’d walked into a table that had been shifted slightly, or someone had left something on the ground and I’d tripped.”

She sighed remorsefully, remembering the past. “It was infuriating, the way that I couldn’t do something that was so basic to most, and I would find myself so restricted because of it. I couldn’t play games, or read books. The only way I could use a phone was through text-to-speech. Not only that, but I had no natural ability to use aura sight. I had to learn what little I have from nothing, and I’ll never be as good at it as someone with natural ability.”

John didn’t see it, still trapped in his own thoughts, but she smiled then, her face becoming luminous. “Then one day, when I’d despaired of learning what little sight I do have, Dad found me in his training room - it was the only room that was truly quiet when I wanted to think - and he approached without a word. He was sneaking up on me, trying to tickle me, when I caught his hands.”

She giggled at the memory, and John was barely aware of the warmth that filled his chest at that noise. “He was so surprised. He spent the rest of the day testing me, to find that I’d gotten a fine sense of sound, scent and air movement around me and the like. I couldn’t walk through a room without falling over, but I could stand and catch things he threw at me through the air, or dodge out of the way. Most of the time at least. He started training me the next day. Eventually we trained my burgeoning aura sight, though it never worked quite how it should.”

She stopped and looked towards John again. There was no way to know what she saw, if anything, but when she spoke again, her voice was soft and comforting, “I guess I found that I could accept that I was blind, because I found the bits inside it that were good.” She gently reached forwards with subtly probing fingertips, and laid her hand on his arm in support. “I’m sure you can do the same, John.”

Something clicked in place for him. She was right. John had been so busy worrying and fearing the side effects of his new abilities to think of what they could give him. Berserkers were feared warriors for a reason, right? Their intensity in combat couldn’t be matched, and they were far stronger than the average fighter. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how much he had been ignoring whilst he sulked. Erica had fought using berserkism yet had retained her sanity through it. Surely, if she was able to, it followed that he could learn to do the same?

More than that, it was once again this seemingly gentle girl beside him that helped him understand. He had made a choice to accept berserkism, and would accept the consequences as they came. He had intentionally taken that life-changing choice to become a berserker. And it was because, in that moment in a hopeless basement, he had been willing to change his own fate to prevent someone forcing a horrific change onto the blind girl who sat beside him. To stop someone from forcing their will upon another.

“You’re right,” John said, his thoughts becoming spoken words unbidden. “I need to stop regretting shit and get a grip on all of this.” He nodded concisely. “Alright. Training starts tomorrow, and I’m going to get a handle on this crap.” He realised something about what she’d said. “...Your aura vision doesn’t work right? What do you mean?”

“Well, usually, aura vision gives off blobs of colours, sort of? They’re sharper or vaguer depending on the amount of power the person has, but they’re not really clearly defined. The Order’s seers have yet another type, I think.” She cocked her head to the side, and John felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. “A-anyway! For me, I don’t really see that? We couldn’t work out why. I, uh, I still see those colours, but they’re not vague. I actually see the magic itself.” A pale blush began to fill her cheeks. “I-it’s why, when I saw y-”

She was cut off by the rumble of engines from a fairly large procession of SUVs and similar large people carriers entering the field, followed by the various noises and murmuring of a crowd of armoured knights that streamed out of them gathering in a crowd of twos and threes. Then, a man in armour that was distinctly decorated addressed them, though John could only make out one word in three.

“Ah, I see my father has returned. Excellent. I’ll wave him over when he comes this way.” Moira had spoken from behind the pair, and watched with barely concealed amusement the way even Velvet jumped slightly, disengaging her arm from John’s. He’d forgotten that she’d been linked to him. It was… disappointing, when she stopped, John could admit to himself.

John watched the man in question. He had finished speaking, and was joined with the crowd making their way into the manor house. What stood out to John was the comradely way the normal knights responded to him, almost as if he were a friend rather than a boss. The man glanced around at one point, and, seeing Moira wave at him, appeared to say his goodbyes to the knights.

Moira’s father was, in a word, imposing. Taller than John by half a foot or so, Lord Brighton stopped before them and pulled his helmet off, freeing deep red locks, almost brown in their depth of colour, that fell down to the back of his neck, still slightly damp from their time trapped within the silver-winged helmet. The rest of his armour was similarly decorated, primarily made of some kind of silver metal, with golden accenting, and covered in designs that were just shy of appearing ornate. The armour sat upon a barrel-chested torso that spoke of thickly corded muscle rather than fat. His eyes were hard and steely, and yet the feeling he gave John was a strange contradiction. It felt to John as if the man was somehow much younger than he actually was, whilst simultaneously much older, no, much more mature than he actually was. And somehow, despite all his appearance, he seemed, if not approachable, at least friendly. John remembered to cast Observe on him.

…Friendly he might seem, and good-willed he might be, but this just reminded John that he had to be very careful. Eion’s advice took on a new level of meaning when John realised it was applied to this man. If games, anime, and fantasy books were at all accurate, then deals made with powerful people were always dangerous, no matter how innocent they seemed.

“Father, welcome home.” Moira smiled genuinely at the man, and his eyes turned to her and softened, a small gentle smile appearing on his face. “You mentioned you wanted to see John and Velvet, the pair rescued from the mana factory incident in the old warehouse district, which sits just without our shared boundary with the Peacekeepers.”

The man nodded, reminded of where he recalled the names, and turned to face the named pair, noting John’s tensed posture. “Please, don’t worry. I have a couple curiosities I wish answered, nothing that could cause you harm.” John relaxed slightly, yet the Lord-Protector noticed he remained tense, and then caught the way he unconsciously flicked his eyes to Velvet. “Nothing that could cause any one of us harm. Let us have this discussion in more comfortable quarters. I think my study will do. And, please, excuse my poor manners as a host, but I must go and disarm myself and put on something a little more appropriate for home attire.”

With that, he smiled at them again, and strode off once more, leaving John uncertain whether he should be afraid, comfortable,