Edge Cases - 137 - Book 3: Chapter 3: A Role to Play
“Me?” Sev asked, a little incredulously. “I’ve never met you guys in my life.”
“No, but you’re under the same effect we are. Or you were. It’s mostly faded now.” Clyde glanced at him, his eyes glowing that faint off-yellow again before changing back to white.
Sev stared at him, then into the air, presumably at a system window; he tore his eyes away after a moment. “I didn’t know what it was,” he said softly. “I just knew I couldn’t talk about it. I still don’t know why it was there.”
“You’ll probably find out soon, if the effect is starting to wear off,” Clyde said. “Though ‘soon’ is relative here. The point is, that’s what we are — elementals bound in much the same way you were.”
“It’s the reason it doesn’t matter much to us that we’re in an echo,” Belle said with a slight shrug. “We are created to play a role, it can be said. We’re allowed to have our own lives, as long as we also play that role. Clyde has to be an innkeeper. I have to be a scientist. Elliot has to be a historian.”
“I’m one of the lucky ones,” Clyde said. “Innkeeper is vague. I can do whatever I want, as long as I’m being hospitable to my guests, and luckily for me I enjoy being hospitable.”
“We represent roles,” Belle explained. She stirred her own glass of what looked like tea — Derivan didn’t remember when she’d even found a cup of tea, but it was there, right in front of her. “Sometimes more than one role. It’s… a conceptual template for the mana, you could say. Helps it know how to recreate things, especially people. It has a hard time with people. Knowing what they do isn’t the same thing as knowing who they are. So we help by playing our little roles in this makeshift little society, cooking food we don’t need to eat and keeping an inn without any guests, because it helps the mana keep things together overall.”
“And if this echo ends, we don’t really die,” Clyde said. “That’s true for all elementals, really. We’re different in different echoes, but we’re also all the same creature. If you meet me again in your reality, I’ll be different, but if you play the right sort of trick, I might be able to remember you.”
“Like Irvis,” Vex muttered underr his breath.
“What was that?” Clyde glanced at Vex.
“Nothing,” Vex said quickly.
“Is it working?” Sev asked, changing the subject. “Putting all this aside — everything the mana is doing to keep the universe alive. Is it— a lot of the paths we saw up there were… worrying. The mana’s trying to keep the universe alive, but is it succeeding?”
“No,” Clyde said bluntly. “Maybe for a given definition of success, but… ultimately, no. It’s slowing down an inevitable doom. Maybe your reality is having better luck; that would explain why it’s the ‘main’ one.”
“I don’t think it is,” Vex said quietly.
They were silent for a moment. It did answer some questions — it made it clear what the system was for, at least, even if it wasn’t clear what the purpose of each part was. Stats and levels still didn’t make sense, nor did the existence of monsters, although the picture for dungeons and reality anchors were beginning to become clear.
“What am I?” Derivan asked after a moment.
Clyde glanced at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I was told I was the same sort of creature as… an enemy of ours. Someone from the mana.” Vex tensed a little beside him, and Derivan tried not to react to that. “I do not know what that means.”
“…I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” Clyde frowned, glancing him over. “You’re not bound the same way we are, or the same way your friend is. But the nature of your existence is different. I don’t really have any answers for you there. Sorry.”
He would just have to continue that search on his own, then. Vex reached out for him, this time, squeezing his hand perhaps in apology; Derivan squeezed it in turn. There was a lot they needed to talk about, but this wasn’t the place for that.
Perhaps later, when they had more privacy. Misa had gotten each of them separate rooms, after all.
“Are you okay?” Sev asked after a minute. “Do we need to free you, or something?”
“Not at all,” Clyde laughed. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m being made to. We have our lives; this isn’t slavery. It’s just that being an innkeeper is a part of me, and even then, if I wanted to stop, I could. I suppose in your case it’s a little different… but it looks like it’s something you chose, too.”
“I saw that part of it,” Sev admitted. “I didn’t know what it meant.”
“You probably aren’t allowed to remember,” Clyde said with a gentle smile. “It’s happened before to some of us; the ones that have to play important enough roles. They can’t know what they’re supposed to do ahead of time. If they did, it wouldn’t be real.”
“That’s…” Sev hesitated. “Maybe?”
He’d also lost a lot of memories just because of his skills. He wasn’t sure that was the answer; Derivan saw it in the way his shoulders hunched in slightly. He was worried, and maybe a little bit scared…
…and maybe they all just needed a break, after everything that had happened.
Knowing the universe had ended — was ending? — was a terrifying revelation. But they weren’t yet in a position to stop it. So first, they had to figure out how to get there.
“I believe my companions are exhausted,” Derivan said softly. “We require some rest. But it was a pleasure to meet you three — truly. You have all been kinder than you needed to be.”
“We treat you the way you treat others,” Clyde said with a small smile. “Would you look at that. Turns out you’re good people. I hope you knew that already.”
Elliot laughed at that. “You’re a cheesy dork.”
“But a good one.” Belle smiled a serene smile. “Don’t let us keep you. Do what you have to do. We often have our breakfasts together here, so this likely won’t be the last time you see us. Say hi every now and then, won’t you? You’re free to stay as long as you need.”
“Hey, I’m supposed to say that,” Clyde complained, and Belle just smiled mischievously.
Derivan chuckled softly, then took Vex by the hand and—
He paused before he could grab Sev by the shoulder, looking at his stump of an arm. Sev noticed, but didn’t say anything; Vex hadn’t been watching him at the time. Instead, he was bouncing anxiously on his feet. Derivan decided not to bring it up. Instead, he guided the two of them up the stairs, gesturing for Sev to follow.
The keys were labeled, so it took him not long at all to find their rooms.
“I think I need some time to myself, too,” Sev said awkwardly when they arrived at his door. “This is a lot. Let’s figure out a plan tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Derivan said. Sev closed the door behind him, and Vex let out a sigh, crumpling slightly into Derivan.
“I actually don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Vex mumbled. “Can I hang out in your room? Let’s just… talk. Not about this, or fighting, or what happened in the dungeon. I want to talk about literally anything else.”
“You are always welcome in my room, my friend,” Derivan said, and then paused. “Boyfriend? Though the word does not fit as well into the sentence.”
“Oh my gods,” Vex said, and he managed a laugh, although it was happy and sad all at once. It was the first real laugh he’d had in a while, and Derivan found that he had missed the sound. “Let’s just go in, you big goof.”
“As far as affectionate nicknames go, I feel you could do better,” Derivan mused, and chuckled when Vex made an indignant, huffing noise in the back of his throat.
Things had gone badly, and what they had learned had been — for lack of a better word — awful.
But they were alive, and as long as they were alive, things would not be over. Now was the time to make sure they stayed alive, and that… probably meant a great deal of training.
Before all that, though, it was time for a great deal of talking.
“Can you tell me more about Elyra?” Derivan asked.
The bed in their rooms were, it turned out, enormous — and made of some magically enchanted material that didn’t rip apart when Derivan tried lying down on it, too. Vex had been the one to notice the enchantment, or Derivan wouldn’t even have tried. This way, they could both lie on the bed, although that durability enchantment didn’t exactly translate into a weight distribution enchantment.
Which was to say that there had been a lot of rolling around before Derivan had eventually discovered that he could forcibly reinforce the bed somewhat with the Slime stat by infusing it into the bed, which was not comfortable, but it was workable, and Vex seemed happier when they could share the bed. He’d looked terribly guilty when Derivan had tried to sit on the floor, even though Derivan insisted he couldn’t actually take advantage of the comfort the bed offered.
“What do you want to know?” Vex asked, glancing over at him. “You’ve been there now.”
“We did not get a chance to explore the aspects of Elyra that you seemed most proud of,” Derivan said. “We only saw the worst of it.”
“I don’t know if there are any parts of Elyra I could say that I’m proud of,” Vex muttered, staring up at the ceiling, and then he sighed. “No, that’s a lie. I mean, I don’t know if pride is the right word; I’m not the one that made any of those things. But… I loved the libraries. Not even for the books on magic, although I loved those. They had so many books, and all of them were interesting.”
“I have not had the chance to read much,” Derivan commented. “Also, it is remarkably easy to tear the pages of a book.”
“Yeah, well,” Vex laughed. “That’s one of the reasons I refused to put any points into Strength, actually. I’ve been told that you get all the fine control you need as part of the stat when you put points into it, but I don’t actually want to risk it.”
“I feel like I should apologize for the book that I accidentally tore…”
“It was an empty notebook,” Vex said dismissively. “And the pages were easy enough to put back together. If anything, I’m sorry I enchanted it to explode.”
“Why did you enchant it to explode?”
“I didn’t want anyone to touch my stuff, and then I sort of forgot about it after I joined your team.” Vex sounded vaguely embarrassed, and Derivan chuckled. “But the libraries were great. It’s where I felt most at home, even, which I guess might be weird. I made friends with all the librarians I met… You met one of them.”
“She seemed like a good person,” Derivan agreed. “Did you have any favorite books?”
“Mystery books,” Vex said, his eyes gleaming a bit. Derivan glanced over at him in surprise. “I mean, the magic books were my favorite, but you already knew that. So my second favorite was mystery books — well written ones, the kind where you can put the puzzle together yourself, if you notice all the right details. I could lose myself for hours—” he laughed. “I told the librarians to mark the page where they solved the mystery for me, did you know that? I did that so I could read and reread before they found the answer, and see if I could figure it out myself.”
“Did you?” Derivan asked. He enjoyed listening to Vex — seeing the lizardkin smile as he lost himself in his memories. How long had it been since he’d last read a book like this, even?
“I did,” Vex smiled. “Well, most of the time. Not all of the time. I wish I had more time to read now, but I spend so much time adventuring, and there’s so much to discover…”
Vex went silent for a moment, and Derivan sensed there was more he wanted to say. The armor waited patiently.
“I guess I can read faster now,” Vex said. “I found out my Sign lets me do that. I don’t know how I feel about that, though. I want to experience a book for myself, not have all the knowledge just… poured into my head. I’m not just a bucket to be filled.”
“Indeed not,” Derivan agreed. Vex glanced at him, his gaze surprisingly unreadable, even with Physical Empathy.
“…I know I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Vex said after the moment passed. “But I think maybe I do want to tell you about what happened back there. I don’t know if I’m ready to tell the others yet… but I want you to know.”
“Irvis made me fight my dad. Or… an echo of him, I suppose. We know what those are now.”
“Oh,” Derivan said. He didn’t know what else to say — but he held his only arm out, and Vex rolled over into him, burying his face into the crook of his neck. There was more he wanted to say, Derivan could tell.
But Vex couldn’t find the words. He hugged him tight instead, trying and failing to find all the words he needed to say.
Words could come later. Derivan wished he had both of his hands, but he did not; all he could do was use his remaining hand to rub gentle circles on Vex’s back, and wish he could do more.