Knights of Tezoth

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Alaria Doran, Knight of Catharsis

Eons of torment and torture. One life gives way to another, and the brief periods of peace and happiness are pitifully fleeting, serving but a single purpose — to plunge you into the depths of despair. Time and again, cycle after cycle, history repeats itself over and over. Past memories fade, and emotions give way to one another. Burning hatred for the one whose doing brought you here, and for your tormentors. Self-pity for being doomed to such suffering. Worry for those who were close to you, and silent questions as to whether the same fate has befallen them. Many souls break under such an existence, becoming no more than ghosts of their former selves. Others find themselves an anchor to hold onto their sense of self. They cling to their identity. Past emotions and worries burn out, and oceans of tears are dried up by the merciless sun of the Dawn Raven. The tortures arranged become the norm and everyday routine. Existence continues. Unable to even move one's body or influence one's fate in any way, all that remains is to indulge in reflection. Sometimes in attempts to understand the mysterious motives of one's captor: "Was this semblance of enlightenment his goal?". Sometimes in thoughts about one's own self. And sometimes in tangled memories of the past. And so it goes until...

***

Alaria woke up at the edge of a forest clearing. Birds hopping from branch to branch chirped their little songs. An ever-busy brook babbled somewhere in the distance. Only the rays of sunlight breaking through the tree crowns spoiled the serene atmosphere. For some reason, the girl had a persistent feeling that someone was watching her very displeasedly and intently. At first, the warrior thought it was another mirage. Another torture, and any moment a monster would come running from afar, ready to tear her into the tiniest pieces. Or that the clearing would turn out to be a long-forgotten cemetery, and tenacious hands of the living dead would reach out from the earth. Having stood up and looked around, however, she came to a different conclusion. In contrast to the mocking delusions, what was happening felt real. Almost too real. Long-forgotten tactile sensations were returning to her, and even the pain in her back, which could have used some extra training, felt familiar and welcome.

Having done a brief warm-up — an attempt to test her new body — she came to the disheartening conclusion that it was in no way comparable to the memories of her former days, but even this was better than having no physical form at all. And the rest she would restore, sooner or later, through diligent exercise. All that remained was to verify one more thing, but Alaria could not do that in the clearing, so she slowly made her way toward the sound of the brook — to the mirror-like surface of the water. And soon she arrived at the spot, trying to get a better look at her reflection in the water. The answer that came back to her was the image of a young woman — somewhat younger than Alaria remembered herself — gazing back at her with undisguised curiosity. The same pale, almost porcelain, skin. The same piercing eyes. And the same raven-black hair, currently in complete disarray.

She was not allowed to admire herself to her heart's content. After a moment, heavy footsteps began to shake the ground, sending ripples through her image on the water's surface. Once. Twice. Then, as if catching her scent, the unknown creature let out a wild roar and charged straight at her from the thicket. Instinctively — the fruits of training not forgotten even after countless years of torment — she thrust her hand out before her, and the beast's claws struck an invisible barrier. Alaria even thought she saw the monstrous face contort in a mixture of shock and surprise, which the warrior did not fail to exploit, darting to the nearest tree. She had no weapon on her. No armor either. But fleeing on foot from such a creature was out of the question. All that remained was to fight, but with what?

Casting her eyes around the area, hoping to find anything suitable, she settled her gaze on a small but sharp stone. Snatching it up quickly, Alaria clenched her palm, and the stone, glowing hot from the energy flooding into it, burst into bright flames. Time was measured in seconds; the loud footsteps of the recovering beast were drawing closer and closer, but at the last moment, she sprang out from behind the tree herself, hurled her only weapon into its hideous maw, and hastily retreated a few meters.

This time, a different roar shook the surroundings — one full of pain and suffering — but even that was not enough for the abomination. Overcoming the pain, it bounded after its offender, trying to slash her apart with its claws. At times, she managed to deftly take cover behind a boulder or one of the trees. At others, she once again relied on her abilities, unwilling to test her new body's durability. And so it went until the monster, exhausted, collapsed at the feet of the breathless girl. If anything now disturbed the harmony of this place, it was the mixture of smells of singed fur and flesh. Though her life was still with her, Alaria had no strength left to move here and now — she slowly slid to the ground, leaning against a tree stump behind her. A measure of pride in her victory was undercut by a single question: "What sadist threw her right into the lair of this thing?". But the girl knew full well she would get no answer.

***

After resting a while and regaining her strength, Alaria set off on her way. She did not know where to go. She did not know where she was. It could well be that she was the very last human on the planet, and the rest of its inhabitants were monsters like the one she had slain. She had to act on instinct and trust in luck.

In the end, fate smiled upon the warrior. After several days, though tired and worn out, she came upon a hearth of civilization — a small farm on the border of Miku and Kabochi, where a married couple, Marta and Valdis, lived. They quickly took in the exhausted traveler and, showing rare hospitality, provided her with food and shelter.

Once she came to her senses, Alaria could not believe her luck. Compared to the rough grass, the simple bed linen felt like royal silks, and there was nothing tastier to her empty stomach than the most ordinary stew. Behold — the luxury of civilization.

The Tanarsian had no intention of remaining in their debt. Not only had these people taken her in, but they had done so during harvest season. The least she could do to help Valdis and Marta in return for saving her life was to lend a hand, however modest, with household chores and farmwork.

***

Pulling his straw hat down over his nose and chewing on a blade of grass, Valdis squinted at the sun. Alaria sat in the shade nearby, catching her breath after working in the fields.

— I've seen all sorts of things in my life, but city folk working the land like that — never in my life, — the man's lips spread into a good-natured grin, — what a wonder that came out of the woods!

The answer was a light chuckle from the girl.

— I work like that precisely because I'm not city folk — I'm forest folk!

She smiled.

— But, jokes aside, I spent my whole childhood on a farm — so I know which end of the plow to grab. Though it feels like I did this a whole eternity ago...

— And yet you talk like you came straight out of the city!

Loud male laughter rang out across the surroundings.

— Couldn't stay home? Your parents must miss such a helper, and you're off roaming the woods...

The question was expected, though not quite in that form. Alaria even paused to think about how to answer Valdis. She could tell the truth — he would surely take it for a joke. She was about to open her mouth when a loud female voice rang out from the house:

— Dear, are you pestering our guest again?

— Oh, come on, pestering? Just curious...

— De-ear!

— Alright, alright!

Puffing up, the man pulled his hat even lower than usual and headed back to the fields.

— Hey, — before leaving, he turned back to the warrior, — if you've got a dozen or two of friends like you out in the woods, give us a call, eh?

In response, she burst into ringing laughter.

— Will do!

***

The girl had no intention of lingering at the farm too long — she was a guest here and understood her position perfectly well. She did not want to abuse others' kindness either. Besides, although Marta and Valdis treated her condescendingly and kindly, given her appearance, Alaria was well aware that she was older than both of them. Perhaps even older than the two of them combined. And so, having learned more about the surrounding area, she set off on her further journey.

The main stumbling block on her path was the immovably banal question of finances — no matter what world you find yourself in, and no matter whose radiant visage adorns the coins, without metal circles you could count only on the kindness of those around you. The fastest way for Alaria to earn money also proved unavailable: hunting monsters without a sword was a sure path to the grave, and the warrior was in no hurry to die again. All that remained was to recall the good old days of being a Reimian odd-jobber and rely on side work with cooking and singing, for the time being.

During this time, she also learned much of interest about the new world she had ended up in. For example, that this world, by all appearances, was not new at all. Despite different kingdoms, geography, and even religious practices, some of the names seemed painfully familiar to her, as if she had found herself in some kind of alternate reality. Doubts were raised by the fact that Anuzish had once also borne a number of similarities to her native world. And yet, Alaria's mind at first refused to accept the fact that Margel was not the heart of a continental empire, but a mythical city in the skies, and that Akonia had transformed from a void singularity into a goddess of the sun. With such discoveries, the Tanarsian desperately wanted to bury herself in a pile of historical books to understand just how much everything had changed and, most importantly, why. Alas, everything again ran into the eternal problem of money.

***

The shift was coming to an end, and the tired Mikuyans were heading home. Leaning against a wall, Alaria stood in the shade, thoughtfully gazing at the unfinished structure. There was still plenty of work ahead, but they were already ahead of schedule. The reason was her fire abilities, which had found a far more mundane application in brick production. Not quite the practice the former inquisitor had originally planned, but definitely one that suited her spirit. Admiring the work of her hands, she did not immediately notice another worker approaching her.

— You know what I don't get, — he said thoughtfully, standing beside her, — why do you love resting in the shade so much? Cooling off after your fire tricks?

Turning at the voice, she gave a slight smirk and shook her head.

— Not quite, Dirk. It just soothes me, and under the sun I sometimes get the feeling that someone is trying to burn a hole in my back with their gaze.

He smirked in response.

— Guess you must have angered the goddess in a past life — no other explanation.

— Perhaps, — squinting, Alaria looked at the sun slowly setting beyond the horizon, — but no one has incinerated me on the spot yet.

She smiled.

— And what am I supposed to do? Go out only at night? Move underground? No way, I won't let it dictate my life! And whoever wants to stare — let them stare.

Nearly choking, Dirk laughed at his companion's remark.

— Well... let's say someone really is watching, — he let out a stifled giggle, — just not the sun, and not at your back...

— Ah, well, those can stare too.

— And the underground, by the way, isn't such a bad option, — averting his gaze, the laborer decided to change the subject, — they say that in Ikazkan everything is free, and there's no money or nobles to speak of — everyone is equal, living a measured life at their own pace. Sounds like a fairy tale. Too good to be true. Probably life is better in Margel...

Alaria remembered Margel. And if anything, the city from her memories did not resemble a utopia; it had plenty of its own dangers. Then again, that was the Margel of the past, not the present. Far from being a city-state floating in the skies. Still, it was hard not to be skeptical about it as well.

— Well, monsters from the crater certainly aren't a threat to them, but nothing lasts forever. Aconite doesn't grow on trees, you know — it's chipped off the island itself. And life there is cramped, most likely. The population grows, they need somewhere to live, — one by one, the warrior began counting off on her fingers, — and they need land for agriculture to feed the growing population. Sooner or later, they'll either have to land or introduce population control. Of course, unless they've solved these problems some other way.

— Oh, I've even heard about that! I read somewhere that they have magic pigs there: you slaughter one in the evening and serve it at the table, and by morning it's running around the barn squealing again. Though I don't know if that's true...

— What a cruel cycle of reincarnation.

— Can't argue with that...

— Perhaps we'll find out someday. But I'll take note of what you said about Ikazkan, — Alaria patted Dirk on the shoulder, — even if it's all tall tales, it would still be curious to see an underground civilization.

***

In the end, hard work bore its jingling fruits: Alaria's purse grew heavier, a two-handed sword now hung on her back, and even some armor and gear for long travels had appeared. She set off wandering again, this time earning her bread by the familiar method — putting bandits and dangerous monsters to the sword. Dangerous and hard work, but so well known to her.

At first, she had no real end goal — the girl simply wanted to see with her own eyes what Tezoth was like. To understand what drove its people and at what level of development the kingdom's society stood. To her considerable surprise, that very level of technology turned out to be closest not to Margel or Reim, but to her native Tanarsis. Here and there, echoes of more advanced civilizations of bygone eras flickered by, but acquiring even one such relic was beyond her means — they were priced for wealthy enthusiasts, not common mercenaries.

Only after getting somewhat accustomed to the new old world did Alaria set herself two clear goals. The first goal was to restore and organize her own memories, ridding herself of all manner of blank spots. The second was an attempt to understand the history of Tezoth and how the world had come to such a state. If this truly was Anuzish, and not some strange twin planet. To some extent, both could be characterized by a single phrase — the search for truth. And to begin that search, there was no better place, in the Tanarsian's understanding, than Silverdan — the beacon of Tezothian science.

However, the girl's first destination was not the capital, but a city of tragic fate — Lamente. The constant monster attacks and the destruction that accompanied them were the perfect sphere for applying Alaria's wide range of skills. But there was another reason for this choice — the warrior felt a certain degree of kinship with the fortress-city and its inhabitants. Just as she had to piece herself back together time and again and start from scratch, so too had the Lamentians once had to raise their long-suffering homeland from the ashes. They knew who they were and stubbornly clung to their identity, not seeking a new home. It was precisely this attitude of the inhabitants, with such an inspiring history, that made her, over time, fall in love with the place.

Over time, she also visited the province's other cities, of which Tasanika and Cortina held the greatest interest for her, directly correlating with both of Alaria's goals. The methods of the first city, she believed, could help her restore her memories. Cortina, with its libraries rich in books, could lift the veil of mystery about the world itself. Visits to the latter city only became more frequent when word of the young foreigner's deeds spread, and an invitation letter arrived from the local military academy.

Over time, the rumors spread even further and reached the ears of Lord Cartridge, who, after his brother's fiasco, was in need of competent knights, and the Tanarsian turned out to be one of the candidates. After brief hesitation, Alaria accepted the offer and became known in Silverdan as the Knight of Catharsis. Though she had no desire to swear fealty to anyone again, and she still viewed the aristocracy with skepticism, the warrior could hardly deny that such a title would help her not only achieve her personal goals, but also better protect the city that had become dear to her heart. Moreover, her new liege reminded her somewhat of Delirius Belring — one of the few aristocrats who had earned the Tanarsian's genuine respect.

The newly minted Knight of Catharsis personally lent a hand in the construction of her residence in Lamente, unwilling to stand aside. The greatest treasure of Alaria's new home, as befits the estate of a Silverdan knight, is rightfully the library full of books, whose shelves hold volumes of the most varied subjects. Predominant among them, however, are historical treatises and works of an esoteric nature. The second notable feature is the so-called "hall of swords" — a room whose walls display both the owner's past weapons and trophies taken from dangerous foes. There are also a large kitchen, a bedroom and bathroom, several additional bedrooms for guests or servants, as well as Alaria's private study and a training area, but they lack the excesses typical of the wealthy — the Tanarsian's dwelling matches her new status, but no more. Besides that, only a small garden located on the estate grounds deserves attention.

Her home cannot boast an abundance of servants either: apart from a small but vigilant guard detachment, the house is looked after by a lone maid, Donna Figgs, and her husband Grendel, who serves as the local gardener. Once veterans of the war against the fiends of Terra Nullis, they had met Alaria before she became a knight — when she was still a simple mercenary defending Lamente from monsters for jingling coin. But the years passed, and gradually age made itself known louder and louder, which forced the couple to seek a more measured life, as much as local standards allowed.

In her free time away from duties, the Knight of Catharsis devoted herself to many things, not the least of which was the same search for answers. Sometimes, when the opportunity arose, she would again visit the academy that had once given her work — now in the capacity of an instructor. She did not abandon her old hobbies and even managed to pick up a new one, which she had contemplated many millennia ago — writing. As befits a resident of Lamentia, Alaria did not limit herself to just one thing and managed to publish books on various topics: among them were collections of her favorite recipes, manuals on the military craft, advice on fighting the spawn of the crater, but there was room for creativity as well — the Tanarsian used her rich experience to write prose. Despite the often grim themes they touched upon, these stories by the contemplative knight managed to find their audience.

Over time, being an erudite man, the Tanarsian's new liege began to guess at her true nature, and she did not hide her origins from him. She had much to tell, and Kaleido Cartridge, with his thirst for knowledge, was the best possible listener. Under the terms of an anonymous source, she told him of the now-dead Calcitic language and the records from the walls of the Temple of Baldr. She also spoke of her native Tanarsis, with its customs. She even lifted the veil of the past, telling of the heroic stand of the "Carneol" against Hopelessness, as well as encounters with the singularities of fire and earth. But personal and private matters — told in secret or learned by chance — she did not mention. She had not a shred of doubt that all these stories would be preserved in the lord's records. Therefore, even if she herself fell in battle, all this knowledge, all the memory of past deeds and the heroes of a dead world, would not perish with her.

Gender: Women of Tezoth

+1 to learning

Height: 188 cm

Date of birth: 23.03.270

Marital status: No

Region: Silverdan, Lamente

+1 to learning, access to the "Multitasking" skill

Conviction: Raven of Dawn

Access to the skills Path of Air, Inquisitor, and Classical Weapons. Mandatory skill: Fear of the Sun.

Attributes:

Mind: 15

Body: 13