Ep. 60- A Confession

My goodness, is it really already the end of November?

It’s been over a month since we last spoke. But not a week has passed where I haven’t thought of you. I’ve wanted to write if only to defy the expectation that this thing of ours wouldn’t last. But defiance isn’t enough to overcome the fatigue of…well, living. Not to say my troubles are any worse than anyone else’s. And I’d be doing the world a discredit to not counter with the good that has followed in turn. But the past month has been challenging.

We experienced a loss in the home- an animal, but a loss nonetheless. It’s the first time I’ve stood by and watched something pass away in quite some time. Maybe since my my pre-teen years. It was a painful experience, but also a surprising one. I was not expecting to feel what I think I felt- a distinct sensation of spiritual transit- of something tangibly leaving the body. The immense absence that would fill the immediate moments afterward was…jarring.

It has become easier to live with the memory. I still remember the warmth and tension of our dear friend before she left us. That’s the hardest part, I think- the knowledge of how brightly a living thing can shine even in the moments before it passes on. It’s the hardest thing in the world to accept, that life can so arbitrarily cease despite every indication that it should not.

In quiet moments alone I still feel the weight of the loss. I remember the horrible weeks leading up to it- the declines in health and the struggles to provide care and empathy. I feel it worst when I bring home sushi and have one less creature to share a roll with. I leave a piece now in front of a small altar we set aside. I’m not a superstitious man, but I do believe our memories are all we can count upon as it relates to those who have passed. The best honor we can grant them is to simply remember.

Besides, I’ve never had a big enough appetite for a full order of sushi.

There have been other troubles besides, but they aren’t worth going into, be it physical illness or emotional. Over the past month I’ve been deep in my hobbies but also putting in the work elsewhere with the hopes of coming out of all of this in a better state. I see multiple therapists. I’ve been out in the world seeing people and events. And while it is true that I haven’t been writing much for Alice, I have been writing. I’ve done short blogs for takes on video games. I’ve written several short dungeons and dragons adventures. I’ve participated in a few film blogs with friends. I was promoted to moderator in a community that is very dear to my heart. I’ve even put my back (quite literally) into putting up immense light displays for Halloween and Christmas. Despite the expense it has been rewarding to see something I create make people in the neighborhood smile for a bit.

I did not mean to take so much time away from this project. I know I’ve said before I’ll stop apologizing for it, and I will. I have so much more of Alice to share and we are so close to the end of the Queen’s Arc. This story means so much to me and I want to be sure to see it through. But I only want to do that when I’m at my best and have the drive to do so. I’ll never force myself to write. It’s not in my nature anymore. But I’d like to see out the rest of the year with you, if you don’t mind. So we’ll do what little we can week by week and see where it leads us. Sound fair?

I think so too.

-The Author

int. chambers night

A chamber room within the fortress. It is a squire’s chamber, its corners filled with books stacked high, a few swords here and there and a lone bed. In the bed is the Young Knight of Swords. She lies on her stomach as she reads a hefty tome bound in red leather. The pages are illustrated with images of flaming swords and illustrious, unreadable script.

The Young Knight holds up her right hand, her palm forward, fingers spread. She closes her eyes.

YOUNG KNIGHT
Fajro.

A lone flame flickers from her pointer finger. It is a precarious flame, hardly strong. The Young Knight opens her eyes and watches the flame, a smile forming. The flame flickers and then dies.

The Young Knight, frustrated, snaps her book shut. She smacks it with a closed fist.

A knock at the door.

YOUNG KNIGHT
Enter.

The door opens- it is the Young Queen of Swords.

YOUNG KNIGHT
Oh. You.

The Young Queen stops at this, measuring the remark. She chooses to disregard it, instead focusing on the Young Knight’s tome.

YOUNG QUEEN
Still trying your hand at the Arcane secrets, I see. And how is it coming?

YOUNG KNIGHT
Same as anything else I put my mind to.

She holds up a hand.

YOUNG KNIGHT
I can hardly summon a lone flame.
(lying)
In fact, I have yet to summon anything at all.

Why would the Young Knight lie? What could she have to gain? Even in this moment she is not certain, yet she does lie. Call it a lie of intuition, the falsehood we speak not because we wish to but because some unknowable voice in the dark corner booth of our mind whispers that we ought to- not because it knows what is coming- but because we must protect ourselves from what could be coming.

The Young Queen pulls up a small wooden stool and sits down next to the bed.

YOUNG QUEEN
Sometimes failure can be a blessing. We learn out limitations and dedicate our energy to better causes. Some people learn the Arcane as natural as breathing. Others just…can’t.

The Young Queen picks up the book and vacantly pages through it.

YOUNG QUEEN
At least, that is how I’ve heard it told. I’ve never….had to read anything like this. It just came to me.

YOUNG KNIGHT
(bitterly)
How lucky for you.

The Young Queen places the book on a nearby nightstand.

YOUNG QUEEN
Things have been troubled between us, lately.

YOUNG KNIGHT
It is the way of a master and teacher. Tension is a necessary element of our relationship. It isn’t worth examining.

YOUNG QUEEN
(bemused)
You speak like a sage. For all I might teach you of the blade, you might yet teach me more of life.

An awkward pause.

YOUNG KNIGHT
Small talk isn’t your strong suit. Lets just get to the point of your visit.

YOUNG QUEEN
(a sigh, a pause- she doesn’t wish to look her squire in the eye)
…I don’t wish to go into battle with a blemished conscience.