Of Musings and Music

The axe hummed in her hands, the familiar sensation of flowing mana in the metal beneath her fingertips.

Taking a deep breath, Ela raised the weapon in front of her, holding it up cautiously with both hands. The blonde brought its head to level with her eyes, gauging the steadiness in her arms. With a single, deep breath, she let go with her right hand, cautiously withdrawing it back to her side. She tensed, her shield arm wobbling uncertainly as it tried to support the full weight of her armament.

For a brief moment, she regretted testing herself, a nervous pain creeping up her bicep.

But then, it passed.

The axe stabilized, her strength holding firm.

Biting back a faint, nervous smile, she raised the weapon high, above her head. With all her might, she brought it down in a wide arc, focused intently on every little tingle in her arm. The blonde leaned in to the swipe, following its momentum through a full spin that would have leveled the room, if she wasn’t alone. She paused at the end, waiting a second before standing back up in a neutral position.

Reaching down, Ela passed her weapon back to her strong arm, looking down at the other as she curled it upwards, flexing and tensing her muscles. No pain… no shakes… none of the ever-present itching that had tormented her for years. Relief washed over the knight’s sharp features.

’It is not quite what it once was,’ she thought, looking down at her clenched fist, ’but it is so much better than before.’

The Bookworm Knight knew that trying to push herself just to get a feeling for her arm was probably not the best decision for her own health, but she hadn’t been able to resist taking a minute to feel out the changes to her injuries. That was how she’d found herself swinging her axe around her living room, wasting away the time until Reginald returned to bring her to the Order.

She unclenched her hand and let go of a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Ela had long made peace with the fact that she wouldn’t ever be fully healed. A part of her took pride in just how far she'd managed to push herself, even with those scars. It was part of why she'd wanted so badly to try John's dungeon in the first place. As curious as she’d been about what leveling up would mean in real life, she’d also wanted to prove to herself that she could still fight.

Sighing deeply, she set her weapon down, carefully leaning it up against the couch where its blade wouldn’t damage anything. Then, she turned and sat down next to it, letting those thoughts float away. She’d been given what was all but a miracle, even in the Abyss. Now she had to make the most of it.

As she sank into the cushions, she found her hand idly moving to her side, where John’s hand would have been, if she were still on his couch an hour ago. Ela smiled. It had been so nice to get to take a morning off, to act like someone normal her age for the first time in years.

The food had been good - better than she’d hoped. It was always a joy to try something new, and John’s suggestion of a “chicken biscuit” had been wonderful - the salty and buttery flavors mixing so well as a treat to start the morning with. The pastries that had followed were equally delicious, kept fresh by the magic of John’s powers.

She pulled out her phone, opening up an old note page.

Ela had been trying to write down all the different places that she’d had food since moving to Springfield - a list of restaurants, bakeries, and small holes in the wall that she could go to frequently or for a treat or even a few to avoid. At first, she moved to add the bakery to the second group. The food was wonderful, but she did not need to eat so much sugar all the time, even with an Abyssal workout routine. Still, it would be a fine place to remember when she did want something more to sate her sweet tooth.

As she went to type it in, she hesitated. The blonde bit her lip, then moved to make a new section.

“Places to go with John - Sweet & Savoury”

Her smile widened, taking on a wistful curl. It was another small miracle to be thankful for that John’s powers had led him to her. He was a kind, sweet man - someone she’d have loved to meet whether or not he’d ever awakened any magic of his own. They’d have been great friends, and perhaps more, no matter what. At least, she wanted to believe that. The nature of the Abyss and its veil might have forever kept them apart, in a world where Lady Gaia hadn’t chosen to bless him.

That thought soured her mood immediately, though a sharp knock on the door cast even those feelings aside. She’d burned more time than she thought.

Pocketing her phone, Ela stood and grabbed her magic duffel, packed with all the neatly-kept folders she had of her last official medical reports. As she passed it, she picked up her axe, stuffing it into her bag and making her way outside to greet the Order’s most trusted butler.

With John

Vaguely, at some point in the past, John recalled hearing that music was good for small children and babies. He figured it probably didn’t mean heavy metal or anything like that, but a search online wasn’t very specific.

Which was how he and the egg ended up listening to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack while he finished his reading.

At some point during his reading, he’d pulled the basket over next to him, both so he could prop his phone up on it and so that he could peek over at the swaddled sphere on occasion. He’d debated trying to read to it, but didn’t think that reading a textbook would count as mental stimulation.

Still, the glowing orb was a much happier red color now, pulsing with brighter colors on occasion. John could have sworn that those were sometimes speeding up or slowing down with the music, but he might have been imagining things, too. It was hard to stare at the egg for very long to really check.

John idly hummed along to the Shire’s music, lost in thought as he finished another chapter of the history book. ’I feel like I’ve been reading for hours at this point; how is there still so much left?’

The Gamer peeked forward, finding nearly another hundred pages of history ahead of him. He’d way overestimated both his own reading speed and the time he had to do it in. Unfortunately, it had also cost him most of that time to learn that lesson. He probably only had ten or fifteen minutes left at this point until Reginald arrived.

He’d gotten through a few hundred years of the Order’s history, but it seemed like the further forward in history he got, the longer every section became. He supposed that better, more modern record keeping probably led to more detail being preserved. That density would definitely be nice if he had the time to read it all, but, right now, he really needed a tl;dr to get him up to speed quickly.

It didn’t help that the Order had split into three distinct historical threads by that point, with each branch now in a different country.

Still, even just in what he’d read, he’d begun to put together a much clearer picture of what the Order was. The biggest positive, to him, was that they really were singularly focused on their mission of protecting the light - as a “religious organization,” that was essentially their entire belief system. It seemed more like an oath from new edition D&D paladins than a full-on religion, to him, at least. On paper, that was a goal he could get behind.

The biggest downside was fundamental to their structure - a flaw inherent to how strongly they believed in their mission. The Wardens were the ones who had been given that task, and so they were basically always given sole authority to carry out that duty. Some Wardens sounded like reasonable enough leaders, while others took their fervor to the ****, going on grand crusades to spread their authority.

That all was only magnified by the fact that the Blessing of the Golden Rose was apparently inherited. The exact mechanics of it were unexplained in the book, but somehow the Shield’s Blessing at least had managed to snake its way down the family tree for the entire millennium, all the way to Moira.

The Wardens had advisors and seers and such, sure, but it was on their whims alone that the Order had done many things, good and bad. Which really meant that the best way to judge the Order was to judge its Warden.

That was… more doable.

He doubted he’d ever forget the look in Moira’s eyes as she bled out on the tiles after they’d crashed, the pain in her voice as she’d tried to tell him to run away. Just like Ela had told him earlier, he didn’t know a lot about Moira, but he knew enough to know who she was. She was a good person, at her core. He believed that much.

The last wrinkle being that she wasn’t actually in charge yet - her father was, at least until she finished training. And he knew precious little about Lord Brighton.

’I guess I can always skip to the end,’ he thought, flipping over to the index. ’There ought to be at least a bit about him somewhere in here.’

That was what he did, then, letting most of a millennium fly past in the pages until, in the final chapter, a portrait caught his eye. It was the same one that he’d seen hanging just outside Lord Brighton’s study, a near perfect image of what he imagined Moira would look like in a decade - her mother. He quickly made a judgment call to append that to his reading as well.

Surprisingly, there was remarkably little written on either of Moira’s parents. That seemed more than a little strange to him, but he surmised that there might be less solid information because of how recent those things were. Ela had also mentioned a war in Europe, so maybe that was a factor, too.

He could at least get a general feeling though.

Moira’s mother, it seemed, had been a relatively well-liked and popular Warden, despite having inherited a war against demon cults from her own father. She’d presided over many decisive victories, and an era of relative prosperity for the Golden Rose. Her husband did not receive the same praise in his time.

Apparently, Lord William Brighton had been a knight of exceptional standing before he and the Warden had been wed. That strictness had carried over to his time as Warden-Lord, leading to a reputation for harsh enforcement of the Order’s laws. Unfortunately, he’d also presided over the worst years of the still ongoing war, as fatigue from decades of fighting finally set in.

That was as far as he got before a sharp knock on his front door pulled him from his thoughts. Quickly glancing at his phone, he realized that he’d lost track of time again. He hoped that he hadn’t kept Reginald and Ela waiting.

He threw the napkin back in the book, then stored it away in his inventory for later.

Much more carefully, he picked up the basket that held the precious phoenix egg, pausing its music for the time being and heading to the front of his house. Before he got to the door, he shifted the blankets within, making sure that the glowing orb was completely covered from any mundanes that might peek in.

Reginald greeted him, just outside, with a silent nod, his hands clasped behind his back in impeccable posture. The butler raised an eyebrow just a hair at the woven basket, but inquired no further, leading John to the plain black vehicle that he’d left running in the driveway. The older man opened the door for him, and The Gamer slid in, right next to Ela.

“Thank you,” John said, receiving another nod in reply before the door clicked shut behind him.

As quickly as he’d come, the butler was gone, appearing back in the driver’s seat nearly as quickly. Thus, they departed the Newman house, on their way to Brighton Manor.

“Hello,” Ela sang, pulling his attention entirely away from that. “Long time no see, as they say.”

“Yeah, heh, something like that.” He grinned, shifting so that the basket could rest comfortably on his lap.

The blonde raised an eyebrow, tilting her head with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Oh, um, the phoenix egg,” John explained, pulling back the blankets to reveal the edge of the radiant crimson sphere. “I got a suggestion from, uh, Lady Gaia that it might not be the best idea to keep it in my inventory, so I’ve got it all wrapped up in here so I can keep an eye on it.”

“Interesting,” Ela all but whispered, the reds and oranges of the egg reflecting gold in her green eyes. “May I?”

She reached out, gesturing at the egg.

“Oh, sure. Just, uh, obviously be careful. It’s a little hot, but it doesn’t seem to be able to burn or anything.”

He handed the basket to her, and she took it with both hands, gingerly moving it to her own lap. She placed a single hand upon the surface of the orb, her eyes widening at the warmth it gave off. It rippled with darker colors in response, its glow shifting to incorporate more gold-orange hues.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I’m a little concerned that it might be, uh, hatching soon?” John smiled, scratching the back of his neck. ’Is that actually the right term if it's not an egg?’

Considering this is not its first life, I think rebirth is what applies.

’Yeah, I guess that makes sense,’ The Gamer thought back before turning his attention to Ela again. “I’m just hoping that, um, Cornelius managed to find something that has information on what to do if it does hatch. My quest to take care of it didn’t exactly come with a tutorial.”

Ela giggled at first, but a serious look crept into her eyes. Silence passed for a moment. Her hand snuck over to squeeze his, though her eyes did not leave the egg.

“If he has not… I know someone who can help you with that.”