Chapter 34

Parting Revelations

The air was thick with the smell of native forestry, tinge with the crisping aroma of someone I once knew. Teka, my friend. Marcus arrived first at the scene, battle-ready and blood sworn to face the retreating backs of the goblins escaping. He halted at the residue of carnage my mecha and Teka had rendered amongst the dead and fleeing, specifically at the troll, who had laid beside the prone form of my knight Amelia.

Realizing that my mecha wasn’t answering his calls, he had approached. Marcus' eyes had widened when he noticed a weird sight below him. It was a fair man kneeling next to the burnt crisp of another, frozen and numb to the stifling air around. Judging it peculiar, the human had turned to the opened visor of my kneeling mecha. His jaw had dropped, when no disfigured human face greeted him. Peb on the other hand did, popping his head out from the helm’s platform, to look eye to eye to the gobsmacked Marcus. Awkward at the situation, the Stoneman had waved, like admitting the end of the charade was just an inevitable greeting amongst the big and the small.

Marcus stiffly stood up in horrified comprehension that had sliced through his jumbled thoughts. Dumbfounded amazement made him sag erect to the diminished bustle of the end of the battle. Towns guards and militia went to greet him and my mecha, also bloodied by their flanked assault, when suddenly he had stopped their approach with a command. “Halt.”

“Sir? We have won?”

“Continue with the pursuit, I want them off the plains of Ebenfurth before sundown.” He grunted, his tongue touching the back top of his teeth at the prone image of me below.

“Yes sir!”

With no human witnesses around besides Marcus, he spoke. “You’re not a knight, you’re not even human. What are you?” He questioned, his voice tired and hoarse from the battle and the enigma that was me.

I did not speak, for I had nothing to give him---I had nothing to give anyone then, for my heart was heavy and clenched by a weighty vice. An accidental strum of a lute sounded when Merrywind the bard had entered the scene, his face blanching when he had noticed Marcus than me. Sera and Wink had jumped off his shoulder, to land with a thud, sprinting towards the two grass folk amongst the varied tapestry of grass.

With a shrieking cry of losing one so dear, Sera sprinted to the corpse of my friend Teka. She had slowed her blistering pace, to skid her knees into the soil as she gently touched his crisped flesh. She gripped him then, in her now besmirching arms. “Teka, please...” She crooned, her face sobbing large droplets to land generously atop the half charred face of Teka.

Teka had his eyes closed, with a deep frown embedded across his scalded expression. It was as if, Teka, did not appreciate the end of his fate, but grudgingly had accepted it like the duties of a towering sentinel. Sera didn’t even give her grass scarf a glance, too preoccupied with clutching the last remaining tether of Teka from this world.

I witnessed it all, a silent participant, no... More like the cruel instigator of this entire series of unfortunate events. It was me, wasn’t it? The cause and effect of my involvement in this world, cutting the strings of a peaceful couple who once had only loved one another. And through their trust of me, they followed me, into torment and now death.

When the battle was over, Peb opted to collect the lost plate and gear that was arrayed around the battlefield, whilst Wink helped, with Suzie by his side. Marcus had directed his men to be aways from here, judging prudently that the secret of the Grass Knight should be kept muted from the consternation and fear of others.

Sera had clutched Teka, whilst I dug his grave, metaphorically and physically. Gan and his fair troubadour, moaned their hum of the death of a fair folk. It was an uncommon song, rarely sung amongst the grove, for it was seldom to be in the presence of the abrupt death of a fair folk. It was a great tragedy amongst our kind, for when our kind past, they volunteer so, giving their last life essence, into the soil and the grass that gave birth to them.

Sera did not look at me throughout her ongoing process of mourning, she didn’t even consider the grave I dug for Teka, too enamored with clutching his lifeless body. The guilt within me had crescendo every time I glanced over to the couple; too sadden and ashamed to give voice to my apology built inside.

I did this. My moralizing, my hypocritical values, and my fear for regrets led me to this furrow in my life. I could have done so much more to avoid this situation. If I had killed that dragon, I would’ve gained the boon to give fire resistance to everyone. If I had been more circumspect in my planning, I would have figured that my mecha’s armor needed heat resistance. But like a hasty fool, I rushed into the battle, that could have been fought within the walls, amongst the humans. I was so apprehensive to see the red blood of humans, spilling in my sights, that I thought myself clever to take the whole brunt of the army besieging them.

I thought myself, brave and heroic, but I was a coward in all my decisions and paths that had led me here. Too scared and hesitant to kill, too weak and ill-advised to comprehend, and too prideful and reckless to lead. I was the walking epitome of the pompous and pretentious.

Everyone had gathered when Sera finally unfastened herself off the motionless form of Teka. She moved Teka to lay his back across the burnt soil, closing his hands together like a prayer for better times.

She stood then, resolved, and adamant to carry the weight of the ages that had laid their tremendous burden on her. For she was alone in her world, her face once apparent with grief, now formed into tremendous determination. She had clenched her fist onto her grass scarf that was burnt across the edges. She swirled her head to inspect the ditch I had dug for Teka, then shrugged it off as unnecessary.

“His spear,” Sera commanded. I was about to retrieve it when Wink had the forethought to retrieve the small grass spear that was stored inside the unarmoured Amelia. Handing it to her, she placed the spear between Teka’s hands, not lying atop him, but sticking out into the twilight sky. Wiping the shed tears dripping down her stoic features, she stood up again.

Sera then sang her song, her once innocent and serene voice, matured into compassion and experience throughout her melancholic melody. No other Grass Singer sang that night, only her, and her sorrowful melody. The stubborn canopy of tall grass around and above them, unflattened by the weight of the troll began to droop down to bow to the epic that was Teka the Grass Soldier. By the shifting seasons of the grassroots buried deep inside the soil of the earth, Teka began to sink into the ground.

When he was completely buried, the grass spear that was still protruding out from the soil, began to flex than soften, to then bloom into a small and thick grass leaf with the likeness of Teka’s strong frame. When Sera’s song finally had ended, we stood around in silent mourning, sober at the knowledge we will never see the likeness of Teka in this giant world.

Marcus was first to depart, his face somber in understanding the cost that was reaped from my small party of folks. Suzie along with a tearful Wink, followed close by, not wanting to catch the cold winds of the night. The bard, Merrywind, gave the sight where Teka was buried, a bow. The wizened old Gan gave me a nod of assent, then left with the bard and the rest of his troubadour. Peb went by me to pat me on the back, then turned off to my mecha Amelia to reattach and repair.

Sera stood there, watching the small grass leaf above Teka’s grave flicker by the sounding currents of the wind. She then spun, not looking at me. “I’m going to check on Art.” She said.

“We will leave tomorrow.”

I gave her a nod at her command and charge. She rigidly stood tall, to then walk off unflinching against the wintry breeze towards the town and her charge. I watched her go, with no words leaving my lips. Enough of my words have already been spoken today. I turned my head back to the grave of my scout and my soldier, who I led into the bleakness of death.

I spun away to walk off somewhere dark and alone, in the forestry of tall grass, aways from the sentients and the scrutiny. It was my cross to bear, and no moral reasoning or confounding dogma will phase me back from my remorse and shame.

As I sat onto the wooden shaft of a goblin spear at the lateness of the night, I ruminated about the disaster that was myself. My decisions had led to this, my hypocrisy, my moral compass. I was what I perceived myself as human, in an inhumane world. Mired by the complacent past of my past life and too presumptuous to adapt and change. This was an inevitable end, from sagas and songs to the brave who think they can fight the storm. You can scream your rage, your hate, your pleas against the turbulent wind, you can even convince yourself that you are strong, but the storm is just the storm, unhurried or unbothered by the wishes of the small.

I opened up my Status page.

Name: Thomas Rendfield

Age: 16 years old.

Race: Grass People.

Classification: Grass Singer.

Level: 29.

Strength: 29

Constitution: 29

Dexterity: 30

Intelligence: 42

Wisdom: 38 + 9

Charisma: 50 + 10

Stat Points to Spend: 7 + Stat points

I put all the extra stats points I had accumulated during the battle into my Dexterity, reasoning that that time dilation I naturally acquired for my race will increase when I next fight, for I will next fight there is no doubt of that.

Dexterity: 37

I decided to spend my skill points on my Passive Skill Cognition, having an idea of what the future of that ability could bring, maxing into the Apprentice Level. The rest, I spent on my Active Skill Craft Song, for I needed more premade commands, too specific when conveyed. I had reasoned that If I can create more complex premade songs for the grass to mimic, I’d have an edge on any plant I grasp in my hands. For the grass is just a plant, and plants are everywhere.

Spoiler: Spoiler Classification: Grass Singer

Passive Skills:

Vocalization - Apprentice Level: 1 / 5

Description: Sounds that are vocalised by the Individual will now be apparent to the Nature of the Grass and other varied Plants.

Area Of Effect - [ CHA stat x ( 5 + 2 Centimetre) = Centimetres ]

Vibrations - Novice Level: 5 / 5

Description: Vibrations that are sounded by the individual will now be apparent to the Nature of the Grass.

Area Of Effect - [ CHA stat x 5 Centimetre = Centimetres ]

Cognition - Apprentice Level: 1 / 5

Description: The Individual will now be able to telepathically transmite feeling with the Nature of the Grass, vice versa.

Area Of Effect - [ (CHA stat + INT Stat / 2) x 6 Centimetre = Centimetres ]

Active Skills:

Craft Song - Apprentice Level: 3 / 5

Description: The Individual will now be able to craft sounds with premade commands in a set amount of time, intended by the Individual on a specific Grass Plant. The Grass Plant will be able mimick the noise by a hum.

Crafting - [ (INT Stat + WIS Stat / 2) x 8 second = seconds ] The Grass Network Mimick volume [ (Wis / 2 ) x 1 centimetres = centimeres ]

Invoke Song - Apprentice Level: 1 / 5

Description: The Individual will now be able to add intentions into sound and melody by audio sounds, chord, verse, bridge and chorus which will then transmit into multiple targeted networked plants conveying to following the commands in the song.

Targeted Area of Effect - [ (CHA stat + INT Stat / 2) x 1 Centimetre = Centimetres ]

Resonance - Novice Level: 2 / 5

Description: The Individual will now be able to include multiple sounds concurrent with another in the same tempo into a melody. The active melody will increase the distant effect depending on the amount of sound added into its Resonance.

Area Of Effect - [ (CHA stat + INT Stat / 2) x 2 Centimetre x ( Max Sounds ) = Centimetres ] Max Sounds - [ Sound + ( Novice Level ) = Sounds ]

My hatred for the System was justified, not wanting to be a puppet in its strings. But I can no longer think that way anymore, for I am just a small man, and I cannot scream at the world and the storm, to stop.

I heard the fluttering of wings nearby. ‘Oona.’ She wasn’t there when we had buried Teka---she wasn’t even there for the battle, granted, I did task her with a supporting role. Maybe she could have made a difference If I had instructed her otherwise. I peered up from my Classification musings at Oona who was Unclassed from the System. She fluttered down in front of me, a huge leather bag with the golden crest of Art’s Royal family intricately stitched on it, which was a sword within a crown atop a shield.

“Why weren’t you at the funeral?”

“I don’t suffer fools.” She offhandedly said. Throwing gold coins out from the laden bag.

“What? What Did you say?”

She accidentally threw out a gold signet ring with an intricately woven etching carved on its red ruby stone. Annoyed, she ran to where she had chucked it, then put it back into the bag.

“I don’t suffer fools.” She repeated. Oona then lifted her head up when she was done with lightening the leather bag she carried.

A simmering rage began to build inside me, at her repeated off-handed comment. I stood up, my fist clenched as I glared at her. She glared back, with an older rage, one burnt out, than lit again by the toils and struggles of her mysterious life before.

“You are the fool, and the people that follow you are also fools, because they follow you.”

“Take that back!” I snarled.

“Take that back? You say? You, of all people, led them into this mess. Humans and their greed. You involved yourself into the business of humans, willingly at that.”

I stepped back at her vitriol, as she snarled with a hatred of a race so defining her characteristic.

“You are a small man, too hesistant to kill for levels, too just or moral to understand that this isn’t how the world works. Your world doesn’t work here, oh Sink, the Grassless. You are nothing but a weakness to all your friends around. I thought you were smart, but what a fool am I to continue on with your stupid fantasy.”

I stood still as her words cut me into a stern silence. She was right...with all of it. The path I had chosen for my friends and my charge, had led one to die for my stupid fantasy.

“You rescued a human child, that will likely grow up into another blight to this world. You led your party from the safety of the forest, into the madness of the world of humans and giants.” She pointed, her face disgusted at my silence.

“You, and your otherworldly compassion will bring death to all the companions you lead into this mayhem.”

‘Otherworldly?’ My somber mind blanked from that specific word. ‘Did she know about my true origins?’

“How did-?” I was about to continue my inquiry when I realized where she learned that. Oona had probably eavesdrop with my conversation of the dying Amelia. Was that the reason she had came with us? But If she had heard, then why didn’t she help Amelia?

Then it came to me, a niggling thought that prompted a memory in my mind. Amelia had been betrayed, she talked about all her friends who came with her that died. Then who was the traitor?

“No…”

“---I hope your companions realize how much of a fool you are---before the end.”

“You---you’re the traitor? ”My voice unsteady at the revelation.

It hit me again, a recent memory that carped inside my thoughts from last night. Those brigands, when they were planning to gas us, it didn’t make sense when I first heard it; but if they knew that there weren't any humans in that room we had rented, then it all made sense. Oona had suggested she’d keep an eye over Wink with the barmaid Suzie, but when Suzie came along with Wink to our room, Oona wasn’t there.

‘Could that have been when she told them about us?’

“You’re no knight!” The echoing voices of the boss of the bolt five recalled to me. “You’re not even human!”

‘It all made sense.’

“Bravo, you figured it out. Maybe there are hopes for you yet?” Oona sneered, then tsked, as fairies usually do.

With my teeth gritting, I ask. “Why?”

Oona then blew the green fringe that was annoying her face, misplaced, when she had ridiculed me. “Why? You ask? Welcome to the real world toots. I don’t answer fools of my intentions.”

I was just ready to tackle her, to get the answer from her and maybe strangle her, when suddenly she spoke.

“You’re going to attack me? Even kill me? Yeah...You’re not even a Fae Folk, but some otherworldly abomination. I bet Teka’s life didn’t matter much compared to your human Amelia.” She jeered.

I froze still at the notion she prompted. ‘No...that isn’t right. Did I care more for Amelia’s death than Teka?’

She turned away from me then, her face red from her recent tirade. “I guess it’s my time to depart. It was fun while it lasted.”

She swirled her head to me, my mind still puzzling on how I view the lives of my companions. “This is farewell, Sink, or Thomas. I hope we never meet again, for I fear what you’ll become after this world is done with you.”

She fluttered her black translucent wings, then flew into the dark shades of the gloom, leaving the aroma of alcohol and sweet flowers tasting bitter on my tongue. My face had crumpled down in anguish and despair, at her parting words.