The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

“Umm…” Erin quietly murmured as she sat, her eyes resting on the floor rather than on her maternal grandparents. Likewise, Bart and his wife shared the unfamiliarity. Neither knew what to say. They wouldn’t have expected to reunite with their flesh and blood like this in a million years.

I kept silent because I didn’t know how to help. Tilde was at a loss, too. She was far more emotionally intelligent about these situations, so her lead was mine to follow.

Fortunately, Bart soon found his voice. I doubt he knew the conversation topic, but he probably wanted to start somewhere to hopefully find something along the way.

“I…tried to help your mother. I swear I did. Uncountable healers arrived for years to help cure her, but her sickness of the mind never got better. We were at our wits’ end until someone suggested the academy. It was our last choice. We had the Barclay name to look after. As much as we loved our daughter…we had to ensure our family thrived.”

“By giving her away?” I asked. Erin quivered. She quickly sought Sekh’s hand for comfort and courage.

“It seems like that’s what we did. Maybe it’s the truth. Except our daughter was happy,” said Eleanor, her voice unsteady. “A teacher there worked with her. She genuinely seemed like the happiest girl in the world.”

“That’s right,” said Bart. “Her letters had better handwriting. I could feel her radiant positiveness—the kind she had when she was still a child. It was like she had forgotten how to smile, but through reading her messages? I could imagine her penning those with the brightest smile across her face. I still have the letters. They’re safely secured.”

“Karen’s your only daughter. Why didn’t you have more children? You don’t have any heirs, do you?”

“We had her rather late—no. I can’t lie.” Bart uncharacteristically sighed. He adjusted his feet as if what he was about to say would physically harm him. “We wanted more. A large family, even. Except…”

“We were afraid,” said his wife, who continued when her husband couldn’t. “What if I were the cause of Karen’s malady? Would another child suffer similarly? If so, was it right to bring them into this world...knowing that...life...” Her voice trailed to a whisper as silence swallowed the room.

“…”

“To answer your question, my lord.” It was back to Bart. “There’s no one to take over the family business. It was to shutter with our passing. My wife and I… We only have each other. We thought we were the last of our name until…” Erin still couldn’t meet their eyes. My HUD had a spot for her vitals. Her heart rate was almost over 170.

“Did…” Erin’s voice was like that of a mouse. “Did…my mom ever tell you about my dad?”

“I’m afraid not. Your mother returned pregnant. She… The argument lasted well into the night. We didn’t think she would do something like this. And she wouldn’t tell us anything. Eventually—”

“You…disowned her?” finished Erin. Bart nodded. Tears welled in Eleanor’s aged eyes as Tilde handed the frail woman a handkerchief. “Why?” The emotions surged over her like a waterfall. I doubt there’d be a pair of dry eyes within the hour.

“Let me say I regret it more than anything I’ve ever regretted. I should not have done what I did.”

“Why?” repeated Erin. She still struggled to find her voice.

“I want to say it was to protect our family legacy. Or maybe I wanted to impress Lord Gloria. To cut off a disobedient child for the sake of her lordship. There was no better way to show our fealty and how much we desired her success. Except for whatever reasons we—I… Whatever reason I had was not an excuse. After…it happened, I felt empty. The world became grayer.”

“…”

“We tried. We tried, and tried, and tried to get our daughter help. But what else can you do when someone refuses to heal? When they won’t ever get better, no matter how much you try to move the stars?”

“… I met my dad. His name’s Kokan. He taught at the academy. My mom…hurt him really badly. That’s how I was brought into this world. She used me to hurt his family. And…she’s gone, now. But my dad took me in. His wife thinks of me as her daughter. And their daughter thinks of me as her sister. I got these horns from him. They don’t hate me. Even after I was used to ruin their family for a long time… They still forgave me. They accepted me as one of them.”

“She’s gone? Our daughter…”

“I did it,” I said. “She—” I stopped. Erin met my eyes, giving nonverbal permission to acutely summarize the darker parts of those eventful few weeks. Bart learning that Erin was sold by her mother elicited a more visceral reaction than finding out that I killed her.

He and his wife almost seemed…

…relieved?

“She’s finally at peace.” Those tears were genuine. Tris didn’t sense any false expression masquerading their sadness. “The voices won’t torture her anymore. She won’t have to suffer. Our little girl…” Bart embraced his wife.

“It was a mercy. If I’d waited, she would’ve starved to death. It was painless, though. She did not suffer.”

Erin suddenly stood. She edged forward but was stopped because she tightly clung to Sekh’s hand. In a flash, she gently let go and stumbled towards her grandparents. Her tail dangled between her legs—her ears laid flat.

It was subtle. A twitch of the shoulder here-- a glancing expression of the eyes towards Eleanor’s wrinkled hand.

Nonverbal body language reigned supreme as Erin went in for a hug that, beginning timidly, grew into a powerful statement of reunion. The two embraced their only granddaughter and shared a taxing, draining cry for what felt like ten minutes. Tilde wept silently. Sekh had tears beneath her helmet. Neither Tris nor I was spared from the emotional barrage.

My predetermined bias was being pushed to the limit. What I thought would happen, wanted to happen, and what actually happened didn’t sync.

“Would you like to see your mother’s old room? It’s been tidied, but I’ve left everything as it was the day she went to the academy.”

“Uh-huh. I do.” Erin took Eleanor’s hand as they departed, Longtooth following like the ever-vigilant spirit she was.

We remained behind because they desired privacy. Besides, I had more to discuss with Bart. He deduced that by catching me off guard with a sudden question.

“Do you view me in a new point of light?”

“You could say that. Your daughter’s journals weren’t trustworthy, but unfavorable bias was all I had to go on until we met in the flesh.”

“And…?”

“I don’t know what to make of you as a man. I still find myself wanting to dislike you. I can’t help but wonder if you truly tried everything you could to help your daughter. With that said… I’m sure it wasn’t easy. I imagine the stresses kept piling up. With there being no end in sight... Of course, you’d be pushed to the extreme. I know one thing for certain.”

“That is?”

“You did what you genuinely thought was the best for her.”

“… Do you really believe me?”

“I’ll say this: you aren’t lying to save your hide. If you were… Let’s say your business would’ve been shuttered—with you being the final customer. Only you can consider the past a mistake. If you do—if you really, truly do… Then you know what you must do.”

I stood.

“Are you leaving?”

“We are. Erin’s lion is telepathically connected to mine. She knows we’re about to depart.”

“Would you permit me to escort you outside? It’s the least I can do since I didn’t meet you out front.”

I nodded. We departed, going a little slower to account for Bart’s troubled ability to descend stairs. He apologized, but it really didn't bother me. Soon, we were outside. Surtr jumped from the carriage. He stared Bart down, but he didn’t say anything. He transformed into a lion while Sekh hooked him to the carriage.

“Please, be well.”

“We will. It seems the sun’s going to be brighter. The dull overcast I expected probably won’t materialize. But enough of that. Why are you still here? You know what to do, don’t you?” I pointed at the front door. “Someone wants to spend time with her grandfather. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Bart chuckled, flashing a grandfatherly smile for the first time this morning. “I acknowledge your hint, Lord Springfield.”

“Good. Longtooth will assist you at the stairs.”

With that…

We were done. All that was left was to return to the castle. We wouldn't rush Erin's reunion to a swift conclusion.

-----

A [Skyview] window displayed Karen’s childhood bedroom, which sat two people.

“My mom wrote these?” Erin asked, reaching for a thin book. Tris had already analyzed the contents and deduced that these were written before Karen’s sickness overpowered the rest of her mind. They didn’t have any outrageous fantasies or anything like that—except for what a girl her age thought romance would be.

It was like…juvenile smut—maybe something closer to a famous tale of a girl and boy who fell in love despite belonging to opposing families.

“That’s right, dear. Oh, your mother wanted to be an author until she discovered drawing. I recall…” Eleanor opened the walk-in closet as Bart entered. Longtooth, in her Lionfolk form, escorted him gently by the arm. Together, he helped his wife retrieve a series of self-portraits. The brush strokes radiated childlike wonder before a crushing disease set her on a perilous path.

Seeing so much potential thrown away by something out of Karen’s control was upsetting.

“Is this okay?” asked Tilde. “Spying ain’t new to us, but this feels…different.”

“Erin has given us permission via Longtooth,” answered Tris. “She wants us to watch. Although… I’m unsure if I agree with her reasoning... I’d have preferred to set a surveying macro across the area. That way, I can detect danger while not imposing.”

“It’s what she wants,” said Sekh. “Erin either wants us to observe her growth, or she wants to indirectly share this moment. Our feelings aside, I won’t look away from her courage. Doing this wasn’t easy.”

“Doth the lioness harbor a soft spot for the horned cub?”

“She does, winged-maid.”

“Nice one. I knew you’d play along with me. But uhh… Master?”

“Yeah?”

“I know it seems safe right now, but it feels like Requiesta is about to change. And not for the better, either. Bart’s not the most innocent ratchet in the toolbox, but he does care for Erin. So does his wife. He really had no idea she was born. I probably would wager he thought Karen had a miscarriage or something.”

“What are you getting at?”

“We don’t specifically know what’ll happen after Hymn’s gone. Gloria’s not one to act rationally. Remember Ria? The mines? She destroyed a thriving economy. If we push her between a rock and a hard place-- and if she thinks she has nothing to lose but everything to gain… The city’s going to suffer. More than that, once she realizes the connection between Erin and her grandparents, I wouldn’t put it past her to hurt them. In fact, I’d count on it happening…maybe a week or two after we leave?”

“The two are old, my lord. The elderly are more easily wounded. A simple scrape could spell sepsis. A cough could foreshadow cracked ribs if left untreated. Accidents happen.”

“Yep. You have hundreds of ways to kill a geriatric that won’t be suspicious in the slightest. Gloria thinks she can use that to hurt us because that’s her type.”

“So… What? We warp them away? Where to, though? The only option is…Plymoise? It’s not like they won’t have anything. They can take some of their assets, so they’ll have money.”

“Maybe that’s what they need. It’ll be like a total reset. They won’t be as rich as they are, but it’s still a new area with new people to make new connections. Besides, Gretchen owes you a lot. She’s sure to take them in.”

“Gloria won’t let them leave,” said Sekh. “Remember what Bart said about the business? People talk in times of mourning. The secrets he holds may spell the ruin of several influential families if they get out.”

“Like she has any say in the matter,” said Tilde.

“I’ve confirmed she’s unable to sense void fluctuations when a warp is used, so Gloria will be unable to track them if that’s what you desire, my lord. They can vanish without a trace before she knows what’s happening.”

“We can discuss it later because it’s not up to me. Bart and Eleanor may not want to leave. I don’t know if it’s my right to force them to abandon their home. But I hope they do.” I imagined a positive future—a welcoming morning of a black-horned Catfolk walking down for breakfast. She’d arrived at the kitchen, where Mom would greet her. Dad would be working on a fishing rod. Irisa would be tinkering with some clock her grandfather had bought. Maybe they'd talk business with Bart. Eleanor, meanwhile, would swap old recipes with Irisa’s grandmother.

That was the perfect future—the perfect utopia for the girl who once had nothing and now held the world’s happiness in her hand.

It wasn’t just for her, though. It was for me, too.

For Sekh, Tilde, and Tris.

Because we were family. Maybe I didn’t care much for the Barclays because I was still influenced by the initial negative bias, but I wouldn't remain stubborn. If evidence supporting the opposite of my beliefs showed itself—like it did with Team Quella—I’d accept my wrongness. I’d change my line of thinking.

“Hmm? Ah, my lord. We have a guest awaiting our return.”

“Arella?” guessed Tilde.

“Affirmative.”

“Is her presence related to what happened to Thaddeus?”

“Yes. Gloria’s been stressing about it all morning. She’s acting so frantically—like a mouse trapped in a maze—because she has no available path forward. She does not know how to proceed or address Thaddeus's family. They’ve requested her presence, yet every second she stalls is more incremental proof of her leadership failure.”

“God, I bet her blood pressure’s through the roof.”

“That’s an understatement, but we mustn’t underestimate her. Gloria is still a Holy Lord.”

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

“It’s scarce, but she has moments of clear observation. For example, Gloria has noticed a similar composition between the ‘curse’ Niva used and the power emitted by [Conferment].”

“Has she figured it out?”

“Almost. She believes either Sera or my lord is behind the ‘curse.’”

“A broken clock is right twice a day. Shoot for the skies enough times, and you’re bound to strike something. This shouldn’t set us back, right?” Tilde looked at me.

“No. Gloria doesn’t have proof. I won’t admit to it. My [Status Menu] won’t support her claims, either. Sera’s not a Lord, either. So, it’s Gloria’s word against something the world believes cannot be faked. Her insistence, though—if she wants to be stubborn about it, could it be used to mentally break her?”

“It’s possible,” answered Tris.

“She’s mentally vulnerable right now. Everything’s being flipped upside down. I know it feels like she’s losing control. We still have Noelia’s hammer.” I retrieved it from my storage. “As weak as it is, it’s still a gift from a Holy Lord. Gloria didn’t care for her, but if this showed up on her bed? That might push her over the line.”

“She’ll throw the first punch, then? At that point, it’s clear self-defense if she lets anger get the best of her. You can use [Status Cloak] on a clone to give it the responsibility of placing the hammer. That way, it can’t ever be linked to you.”

“Except the hammer really is nothing but circumstantial proof. I mean, it’s heavy proof. We just happened to show up with Noelia’s former slave? Suddenly, a hammer belonging to her pops up after it couldn’t be recovered? Not to mention our grudges against her? It all does point to us, but I don't think we should enact the Hammer Plan. Not until we know more and have accounted for more variables.”

“What about…something like a Dead Noelia Clone Plan? That’d cause some serious damage. Not because Gloria misses her, but because her mind’s already so fried you can scramble eggs on it. I’d have Noelia appear in the shadows. Just a little out of sight. Maybe in the corner of her eye, but with just enough detail to make you double or triple check.”

That was an option—one I had given much thought to. Gloria was so, so, so close to the proverbial edge that a push from something unexpected would force her to cross that gap.

The question was this, though. Was it in our best interest to make Gloria commit that irreversible mistake? Doing so would put us on a path we couldn’t retread. We had to be absolutely, 100% sure we had extracted all use from her before pressing on with something so drastic.

So…

“Maybe eventually. Not now, though.”

“Got it. Well, you’re the Master, Master. Suppose I’ll follow your lead on this one. I’m sure part of Gloria thinks you aren’t serious about exterminating Hymn. You know she’s probably wishing for a miracle and all that. When she realizes it ain’t gonna happen… It’s a matter of when she’ll go off the deep end—not if. We might not have to do anything except what we told her we're gonna do.”

“At this point, the consequences are the results of her actions. She has no one to blame but herself for how things turned out,” I replied, looking out the window.

Our carriage soon arrived at the castle, and I mentally readied myself for what was hopefully something quick, short, and to the point.