Getting to the Point

Isabelle blazed through the Rider-Waite base, not bothering to stop for any of the security. The automated defenses which would normally stop an intruder remained dormant for her. Exhausted both physically and mentally, she tried to hold back the tide of her mana sense sweeping out over the Astreaen town. She felt the area covered by her extrasensory abilities recede. Slowly Astrea closed in on itself, the capital slipped from view, then the surrounding cities, until only the dock town remained. Even this much was overwhelming, every aura strong enough to leave an individual mark on her mind. She tried to close in further, but unwilling to focus on her own aura and unable to find another significantly distinguishable aura in the town, it was impossible.

The samurai practically dove through the Springfield mirror. Her senses came flooding back, comforted by the mana environment of Earth. Ambient mana was much stronger here, though just the critical mass of mundanes - or those similarly weak in Kingdoms - was comfort enough on its own. She let her mind wander as she took in the sea of souls and individualities. The various organizations and guilds around Springfield stuck out, some like a song playing too loud over a cheap speaker, some more akin to an arrangement of Christmas lights in a sea of dim white.

The crowd emerging from Astrea streamed past the distracted Ace who slowly paced forward; a few people whose lives she had saved paid her no mind as they talked amongst themselves, debating where to have dinner. Isabelle was happy for the inattention, and let out a deep breath thankful to feel her.

Without even realizing it, Adelaide’s aura began to stick out to her in the way that your favorite food might at a buffet, or when you catch a glimpse of your favorite shirt in your closet. She tuned out the rest of Earth and felt Adelaide in her living room, ready to close the roof. She teleported into her penthouse; some Wand had opened the barrier therein to the sky, though she had never asked them to.

What are you doing here? You haven’t earned your rest yet. There are still-

The roof slammed shut above her, cutting off Astra’s voice; Isabelle sensed a growing malcontent within her patron. She walked over to the enormous block of Adamantine gifted to her by The Magician and hacked into it, blitzing into the magic resistant metal with no remorse or apparent effort. On the inside her muscles screamed as she carved through the unyielding block with her katana enchantment dulled, slowly digging in deeper and deeper until it peeled apart before her and she accidentally slashed through her wall to the bedroom she never used. The enchanted metal slowly pieced itself back together as if to spite her, and she slashed it one last time before her swords and belt clattered to the floor.

“I’ve run a hot shower for you, mistress,” Adelaide said, bending down to pick up Isabelle’s weapons. One of her hands glowed blue before soapy bubbles appeared on it. She wiped Isabelle’s katana sheath clean, slinging the swords over her shoulder.

Isabelle practically sprinted to the showering room, slamming open the door and dropping her robe to the floor. Originally it had been a room-sized bath with multiple faucets of scented, soapy water. Frankly, she had no idea what to do with herself under such decadence. At her request and with Adelaide’s direction, it had been converted into a tiled room with three showers. The first a small corner box that she used when she only had moments to spare, it blasted her with soap and water from all directions and wasn’t very comfortable to use, but it was better than nothing. In the middle of the room sat a tub for showering and bathing that she had never used at all. Opposite from the tub and box and by far the largest was her walk-in, separated from the others by a panel of misted glass. All three were running, but the other two shut off as she stepped under the double streams of her walk-in shower.

“Thank fucking god,” Isabelle said as she felt the scalding water wash over her, peeling through the layers of sea salt, sweat, and blood on her skin. Her hair clung to her face, and she saw a figure through the opaque glass.

“Would you like my help this time, mistress?” Adelaide asked, crossing the room to set a few towels on a rack, freshly warmed.

I shouldn’t. Isn’t it kinda fuckin’ weird? “Please.” Isabelle shifted forward, and Adelaide discarded her maid outfit to step into the shower behind her.

“Would you like me to use my magic or the body wash?” Adelaide asked, lowering the temperature a tick to make it bearable. Isabelle had always taken showers as hot as the water could go, but Adelaide would be burned. Still, the swordswoman hardly noticed the drop.

“Whatever you want is fine, I guess.” Isabelle fidgeted in place, wishing she had something to do with her hands. The words had hardly left her mouth before Adelaide had placed her hands on Isabelle’s back. The samurai flinched and almost stepped away, but the maid’s hands roamed over her back, cutting through grime and unknotting her muscles. Isabelle relaxed back into her without thinking about it as Adelaide began to hum.

Still, just standing there felt… wrong. She debated reaching for the body wash to speed the process along, but was surprised by Adelaide pressing her from both sides, forcing her to stand straight and still. Her inhuman strength was subdued by the maid’s sure hands and her own uncertainty.

“When was the last time you stood still, mistress?” Adelaide asked, massaging the dirt and tension out of Isabelle’s shoulders. “You’re very restless today.”

“Don’t ask me questions like that right now,” Isabelle sighed, leaning back into Adelaide’s hands. “Too long.”

“Is there something weighing on your mind, mistress? You’re unusually forthcoming today,” Adelaide said, massaging the muck from Isabelle’s legs.

“Everyone wants to control me. Fucking pin me down and do whatever they tell me. Usually it’s hurting people,” Isabelle said, clutching her fists together. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a good reason. I don’t lose myself in it the way I did back then, but the same blood spills.”

“Isabelle, you do so much more. I’ve seen you comfort children whose parents you saved. You’ve felled terrible monsters, dragons, titans, unbound elementals of pure chaos which would have killed many, if not for you, it’s true. You’ve protected indiscriminately, despite a higher power that feeds you demanding otherwise. Many would not have the strength of will to resist the power Astra offers for total compliance. You do more good than you let yourself see,” Adelaide said, tentatively wrapping her arms around the mostly clean torso of the samurai she admired.

“Maybe… maybe that’s true,” Isabelle admitted, hands clutching her head, hair woven through her fingers. “Sometimes it feels like Astra’s flooding me with information just so I don’t get a chance to think for myself. Gods are probably used to treating people like that. It’s disgusting.”

“What would you do? What would you do differently without her?” Adelaide asked, releasing the other woman from her grasp and resuming her washing. She could tell based on the way her legs shifted and her stance relaxed that Isabelle was coming up with some sort of idea, some action she wanted to take.

“Stop fucking bulldozing people. I don’t know. I’d probably be a shitty guardian without her. It’s easy to lose myself in a fight. She helps tell me when it’s time to end things. It feels like that’s the only thing she does for me instead of to me anymore.” Isabelle’s fists clenched when she began to discuss her patron, but by now a trickle of red mixed in with the water running down her where her nails bit into her palm. “Her powers let me help so many more people. When I first started doing this, it was because I felt bad about what I did in Astrea. I still do. How could I fuckin’ not?”

“But that’s not why you do it anymore, is it?” Adelaide took her superior’s hand in her own, cleaning the sweat and blood from it and sealing the small self-inflicted wound. Adelaide swept her hands over the swordswoman one last time, ensuring she was clean as she recognized Isabelle was ready to leave.

“There’s someone I have to see,” Isabelle said, walking across the black-tiled floor and out of the shower. The knobs squeaked as Adelaide turned off the shower behind her, and the maid rushed over to Isabelle’s side, sweeping a sanitizing spell over her robe before the hasty swordswoman could put it on. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long fucking time. I’ve got some… obligations that I’ve been ignoring.”

“Shall I book a mirror-trip for you?” Adelaide asked, reaching into her maid dress where it hung on the wall next to Isabelle’s clothes. Her already dry hands came out with her phone, navigating to the trip booking section of the Rider-Waite app in a moment.

“Nah. This one’s in house. There’s someone I need to see.” Isabelle crossed the black tile to the door, magical bubbles blasting hot, dry air at her. She slipped her robe onto her shoulders from a white hook on the black tiled wall, the weight increasing manyfold as she tied the knot to close it, the silken robes interior stiffening into flexible enchanted armor. She tied her crimson sword belt around her waist; the lunar blade she typically preferred felt heavy at her hip, but her family petal sword held no such weight. Still, the sight of them together felt somehow reassuring.

Before Adelaide could say any more, Isabelle was already gone. Bubbles blew hot air at where she was for a few moments before shutting off. Isabelle raced through the stairwell of the Springfield base, little more than a blur to the few guild members who didn’t use the elevator. In less than a second, she was at sublevel twenty-five. Those floors restricted above her had such little security that the guild card in her pocket was enough to get her through.

No such luck with this floor. Four layers of security obscured the door to the Springfield base prison. At the front a field of purple reflective magic that faded out as it recognized Isabelle’s aura. Next a blue energy shield projected over the blast door by emitters embedded within. She swiped her card through the reader, and the electrical **** field abruptly cut off like turning off an old television. A metal bulkhead slammed shut over the entryway to the stairs behind her. A wave of antimagic washed over her. Pure, refined, distilled. A new alchemical creation pioneered by a guild associate, it felt unpleasantly viscous. It would dispel any illusion, even lingering alterations. It was used for security in mirror hubs before the guild learned it was wiping away weaker enchantments that travelers openly carried. The omnipresent AI in the Rider-Waite base made a request before she could go further.

“Voice identification required.”

“Isabelle Ardyn - Ace of Swords,” Isabelle said, gazing into a magitech eye scanner that scrutinized the image before it in an almost sentient way.

“Error - Isabelle Ardyn has been promoted to Interim Strength. Processing… You have not accessed your guild messages in… two hundred and thirty three days. Other identifications match. Subject likely unaware of change. Congratulations on the promotion!” The mechanized voice played the soundbyte of a party horn and blasted a hologram of confetti which disappeared as it hit the metal plate floor.

What the fuck?! Without even telling me!? How does this shit get decided without me? Isabelle steamed, fist tightening around her sword as she stepped through the magical disintegration field left in the doorway. It recognized her and willingly let her and her weapons through. I’ll figure that shit out later. I’ve got something better to do now. Nobody can tell me I don’t have credentials anymore.

The magic and forcefield of the door reappeared first, the stairwell behind her opening back up as the metal blast door between them slammed shut. The same protections held strong for the interior door, though each cell had its own security protocols. Not that the uninitiated would know it.

To any who somehow stumbled across this place, it would be a simple metallic hallway not totally unlike the hallways that ran through most floors of the basements in the Springfield base. The cells were in the walls, magically allowed the comfort of sunlight in the same circadian rhythm as mundane Springfield. Cells would only reveal themselves to someone who could open them, and only if they had the intent to. As such, the many occupied cells filled with people Isabelle had brought in herself went ignored. All except one.

As a guild base where many lived and in a largely mundane area, prisoners weren’t often kept there. Only those in need of immediate interrogation, held as a favor to the Golden Rose, or those brought in from Springfield directly and had yet to be released to the Golden Rose or local enforcement in what few cases Detective Lee saw fit. In a way the Rider-Waites had a disposition similar to Isabelle’s when it came to the handling of criminals. The Golden Rose could be overbearing in how it treats the capture and subjugation of dangerous Abyssals, but once they were out of the Rider-Waites hands, the guild didn’t worry about it. The holy organization’s zealousness with those it saw as wrongdoers suited the Rider-Waites well. When it didn’t, their relationship was good enough that the guild could usually stall long enough to get what they wanted out of any given captive before handing them over.

Isabelle delved deeper into the prison. Another staircase, this one incorporated into the locked-away area, led her five floors down before she came to the end of a corridor. She passed through an additional layer of security much like the first, though there were guards in sight at this one for her to ignore. There were guards stationed somewhere at the other too, she was sure, somewhere out of sight.

“Clear the area,” Isabelle said as she stepped into the maximum security wing, holding the door open by a button on the inside. Two guards in high-tech exosuits designed by One Man Armory looked at her askance. Their faces were obscured by the dark metal, but by the way they stood, Isabelle could tell they were considering disobeying her.

“For all intents and purposes, I am a member of the Major Arcana,” Isabelle said, her blessing coursing through her veins as she allowed the weight of her power to seep into her voice, “stick around if you want to find out why.”

Mechanized helmets whirred and shifted as the two guardsmen shot each other uncomfortable looks before exiting behind her. The light spilling out from behind her eyepatch faded away as she drew her far shorter sword. The wakizashi shone from the radiance of the mage light dome overhead, casting a bright light on the small cut off section of the prison wing and the darkened reserve electrical bulbs overhead.

Isabelle considered the blade in her hands. She had drawn it without thinking, hardly even realizing it was in her hands until she could feel it thrumming with life. She had destroyed the other weapon, the companion blade to this sword, months ago. She hated that sword swipe, and felt the weight of what it meant every time she picked up the smaller sword, but it was a necessary good. The Ardyn family blades were known to be picky even among family members, each clinging to some idea that their first wielder held. Her mother had claimed that their ancestor’s spirit still resided in the swords they posthumously passed down, but beneath the weight of the polytheistic deities all around her, the animist origins of her weapon went largely ignored.

The metal blade disintegrated into petals, the same bright pink that she had sliced through a hundred a second to prevent them from peeling the metal and skin off the people she had to protect. The floating flowery blades held no grudge against her as they settled on her body harmlessly. The handle pulsed every second as she approached the northern wall; a strong heartbeat spilled out of the sword. Her own heart thrummed in her ears as she pressed her hand flat against the wall in front of her. “Reveal cell S-I-M-S 03. Passcode: Family Troubles Omega-02.”

“Passcode accepted. Warning, censors show high levels of ambient mana present. Despite maximum security protocols in place, **** caution is advised,” the artificial intelligence warned, but Isabelle stepped forward into the cell’s outer barrier regardless. The heartbeat in her blade grew stronger as she went inside. The petals that had settled on her shoulders were pulled forward toward the cell. They drifted in front of her in an almost apprehensive way before returning to lazily orbit her.

“Dark and silence, off.” The inner barrier the cell was contained within was revealed as a section of the wall facing her turned transparent. The techno-heavy metal blend popular in the Jarako underground blared from the cell ahead, though to the well-traveled samurai it sounded too much like the **** throes of masculine Abyssals ripped apart by lasers.

Asley stood in a far corner from the wall Isabelle had revealed. The other Ardyn redheaded swordswoman stood in a plain white shirt and sweatpants, though she had ripped the front of the shirt open so she could wear it like she did her silk robe. Through it, the champion could see the scar on Asley’s chest where Isabelle had impaled her. One arm curled a weight marked a thousand pounds; the other arm hung at Asley’s side. The previously unmarred alabaster arm of the inferior swordswoman ended in a steel cap. If not for Isabelle’s impossibly tight grip, the sword in her hand might have wrenched itself from her grasp with its pulsing. The remaining handle disintegrated into petals to escape her grasp.

While Isabelle was busy watching, Asley turned toward the now transparent wall and dropped the weight onto the floor of the barrier with a thunderous clang. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever come. Guess family ties still mean something. How long has it been?”

“Few months,” Isabelle replied, looking over the cell and pointedly around Asley as the caged swordswoman paced around the center. She recognized the control panel cells for long-term-imprisonment had in the corner. It saved space and energy, making the cell barriers able to suit the prisoner’s needs. Isabelle wondered if her sister had made use of it at all. Asley looked worse put together than Isabelle had before her shower minutes earlier, and it had been Isabelle’s first in weeks. Asley craned her neck to try to lock eyes with her shifty sibling. “What are you doing here, Asley?”

“And she even remembers my name. I could ask you the same thing. You’ve taken away my freedom, my livelihood, my reputation, and my dignity. I live here now, in case you didn’t notice,” Asley replied, sweeping around the room with her arms, though she dropped her right from the motion when her deformity passed in front of her face. “You had to take my sword too? It should still be mine.” Ashley reached out with her left arm, fingertips outstretched. A shiver ran through the petals on and around Isabelle, but most stayed immobile in the air as if frozen in time. Those around her shoulders rushed together into her palm to form the grip of the blade, its weight comforting in her hand.

“It’s chosen me. If that makes you mad, maybe you should consider why. So I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here. How’d it end up like this, Asley?” Isabelle asked, finally meeting her younger sister’s stare. Asley recoiled when Isabelle finally met her eyes as if she never really wanted her to; the cocksure smirk on the caged samurai’s lips disappeared. A childish pout appeared on her face for a second before she leaned forward, hand against the wall.

“Who are you to ask me a question like that? You left first! Way before I ever did. One night you were there and all of us loved you and wanted to fight against you and improve, and the next morning you were gone!” Asley’s fist clenched, and her other arm wavered in place. She was shouting above the music playing, but her voice turned into a louder growl as she turned it off. “Some of us wanted to go after you, but none of us could. Not for a while at least. A few of our other sisters left before me.”

“By the time I left Blade Moon Isle and our family home behind, you left Astrea altogether. Not too long after though,” Asley was so close now that Isabelle watched her jaw work as she ground her teeth, “a lot of people thought I was you, in the Astreaen underground. You were always quiet and careful back then. I made sure to make a different impression.”

“That’s rough shit to dive into on your own. Anyone I left standing probably didn’t take too kindly to you showing up. Why’d you go to the same places as me?” Isabelle asked, counting the scars on Asley’s body. The champion’s own scars had healed after she got her blessing, most of them reduced to a faint brush stroke on her skin. Asley had no such assistance. Hers had scabbed over, some many times over, leaving deep discolored impressions on her skin, some hidden by her neon Jarako tattoos. The petals that had drifted about Isabelle throughout their conversation pooled above her in a solid circle before floating to the ground around her harmlessly.

“Because I wanted to! I wanted to be like you! I wanted your life! Everybody always talked about how great you were. I was always ten years behind,” Asley slammed her metal-capped stump into the transparent wall of the barrier and winced as the steel thudded against the solid arcane wall. Her eyebrows pulled together and she slammed the cap on the wall again. “Everywhere I went I could always see where you had been. Always walking in your trail. Always living in your shadow. And I thought maybe someday we could work together.”

Isabelle always looked ahead. No matter what was behind her, she always moved toward the next goal, the next mission, the next fight; while she watched her sister idly pace around a prison cell, however, she couldn’t help but wish they had met many more months earlier. Isabelle wished she had spent more time saving people in Jarako, that she had felt Asley’s aura before. I had been under the Jarako sky so many times, why had I never sensed her before?

“Then you became this.” Asley slammed her fist against the wall. Isabelle’s anger began to turn into regret as she stood still, only waiting for Asley to continue, “We could have been so great together. Who could take us down? And instead you became a lapdog to two masters who change you. We’re supposed to look out for each other. You never attack another Ardyn. Well, I don’t, not first anyway, but you FUCKING STABBED ME.”

“You killed people, Asley,” Isabelle’s shoulders slumped as she stared off into the darkness of the outer cell, “and-”

“Oh, so that matters to you now!?”

“It does! There’s so much **** in the Abyss already. So I stopped you from needlessly making more, but I never would have killed you, Asley. Can you say the same?” Isabelle asked, standing taller and leaning forward to elicit the same response from Asley.

“An enemy is an enemy. Once you attack me, anything that happens next is on you.” Asley rolled her eyes at Isabelle’s question, but Isabelle knew she couldn’t bring herself to a definitive answer. Asley recognized the mix of pity, regret, anger, and sympathy on Isabelle’s face as the expression she too wore. “Is this a window or a mirror? Gods below, you disgust me.”

“It never had to be like this, Asley. You copied my fucking mistakes. I’m sorry you made them too because of me, but The Extinction Kings? I’d never have joined them, even back then. Too much heat, not enough fun. Did you really want to kill some tech heiress?”

“And I suppose you believe that we should all be completely lawful, and that this guild’s influence should spread throughout the whole Dream?” Asley retorted, breaking out into snarky laughter before she could even finish her question.

Isabelle took a moment to call the petals back to the blade and sheathed it. Her gaze rested on her champion blade and family blade side by side, and wondered if applying both ideals would be as effective as applying both weapons. No, but I did want to protect the guildmates you tried to kill, Isabelle bit back her retort, One of those doesn’t sound so bad.

Which?

A furious, quiet voice rang out in Isabelle’s head and she looked up to see a crack hanging in the air, letting starlight in. Without noticing she felt stronger, but Astra’s presence had returned. I believe it is time we discussed your attitude once again, Isabelle.

“The weight of the stars wants to pin me down. I’ve just been doing my own thing in this guild.” Isabelle glanced up at the moonlight paradoxically seeping in as if to meet Astra's eyes. “You get to do what you decide is right, it’s fun. Fighting creatures and people stronger than you can believe, and the Waites give better rewards than even the Extinction Kings if you work hard enough. Helping people, having them thank you. Seeing them be grateful. It’s not why I do it anymore, but I hope you get the chance for it someday. It just might convince you.”

Isabelle didn’t want Astra to see any more, so she left the barrier of the cell much to her sister’s chagrin. Maybe. But it’s also time we talked about boundaries.