Ment
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Dedicated to Alessia, the only one for whom no epilogue is expected.
Ever since the railway was brought to Baldur, traveling had indeed become easier. Gulveig, returning from another foray, gazed thoughtfully out the window and observed a multitude of people, cities, constructions and more constructions. Enterprises, factories, and trading posts were springing up in the midst of nature that had been pristine until recently. Life was bustling.
All this, however, brought no joy. It was as if the entire country—previously not without its flaws, but free, wealthy, and beautiful by nature and with Mother's help—was turning into some kind of ugly hunchback, whether for the sake of an experiment or due to the curse of a wicked wizard (or sorceress?)...
Veggy opened her bag and checked to see if the bottle had broken. Her heart tightened again with the same old force, and memories flooded back. Then, during the events in the mine, Gulveig had considered herself a seasoned adventurer for whom the worst had already happened, and naively believed that she was ready for even the worst outcome. But her actions, when the party emerged from the secret passage and haltingly recounted what had happened, showed the complete opposite. Contrary to all common sense, the Arterian rushed to the fallen and did nothing but try to heal them one by one... And that hunchback too. At that moment, she felt as clear as day that she did not want to lose this strange holy fool from the forest any more than she wanted to lose her brothers and sisters. After all, she had felt a unity with him during the battle, no more and no less than with the others... She saw that the hunchback resembled her sister in build, if one forgot the deformities but judged by physical capabilities. She saw that his skills were fully consistent as well. Her head refused to understand and admit all this, but her heart had always felt something was amiss...
Later there was the burial, which the Arterian decided to lead herself, firmly resolving that from now and forevermore, she would take upon herself everything that was morally heaviest. And the deceased's belongings, laid out in a row on the cold ground, only confirmed her worst fears.
By general agreement and according to some intuition, Gulveig had then taken for herself a small bottle of an unclear potion that the deceased possessed. Someone had noted anxiously then that it would be better not to drink it without identification, lest it be poison... To which Veggy only thought in response, "Yes, that would be nice." However, later, in Baldur, the potion was identified by Emilia as an elixir of incredible power, a cure for all diseases, congenital defects, and injuries that could not be healed otherwise.
It was strange news... It felt somehow ill-timed. Had Veggy possessed such an elixir back when her teacher was still in Baldur, how would everything have turned out then? Or if they had known about the elixir there, in Ilia, and given it to Rutger on the condition that he cease his mad plans, how would everything have unfolded? The unexpected acquisition of such an artifact gave the girl certain possibilities; now she knew that, if necessary, she could cure her teacher at least of his physical ailments, but given how everything had turned out, how everything had piled up... Given that her teacher now suffered the least from his back and far more from her, Gulveig's, thoughtless actions, it was clear that even the potion of the ancient alchemist Sylphida changed nothing fundamentally, nor did it justify the death of her sister—so terrible, and in such an ugly body, which must have been hateful to her in the final days of her life... No, no gifts of fate could justify that death.
Oh, if only... Mother, please let there be fewer "if onlys" in life...
Gulveig closed her eyes and prayed for the afterlife happiness of her sister. So caustic, yet always dissatisfied, but ready to help her brothers and sisters at any smallest request. Knowing her own value, and a very high value at that. A charismatic and artistic girl who could have had a great career in the theater had life turned out slightly differently. Or become a craftswoman. Perhaps, with Alessia and under her leadership, they could have started their own business and forgotten about any strange Rutgers—they would have clearly divided the duties between them and done their work, whatever it may be, forgetting about surprises, excessive risks, and the necessity of fighting for those who did not share their ideals. In the worst case, they would have fought for those whose ideals they were ready to respect.
Thoughts drifted, and the train rolled on as if nothing were happening. The machine did not know what people it carried or why, did not know the destination or even the stop schedule. It did not know what hidden functions were built into its infrastructure, or how many people it would indirectly help to corrupt, embitter, or kill... The train simply rolled, wherever the rails led it, steered by its engineer. The machine knew only how to turn the commands of the levers into power, and it knew how to do this well, and it did what it knew, without thinking about anything else.
Ever since the railway was brought to Baldur, traveling had indeed become easier. Gulveig, returning from another foray, gazed thoughtfully out the window and observed a multitude of people, cities, constructions and more constructions. Enterprises, factories, and trading posts were springing up in the midst of nature that had been pristine until recently. Life was bustling.
All this, however, brought no joy. It was as if the entire country—previously not without its flaws, but free, wealthy, and beautiful by nature and with Mother's help—was turning into some kind of ugly hunchback, whether for the sake of an experiment or due to the curse of a wicked wizard (or sorceress?)...
Veggy opened her bag and checked to see if the bottle had broken. Her heart tightened again with the same old force, and memories flooded back. Then, during the events in the mine, Gulveig had considered herself a seasoned adventurer for whom the worst had already happened, and naively believed that she was ready for even the worst outcome. But her actions, when the party emerged from the secret passage and haltingly recounted what had happened, showed the complete opposite. Contrary to all common sense, the Arterian rushed to the fallen and did nothing but try to heal them one by one... And that hunchback too. At that moment, she felt as clear as day that she did not want to lose this strange holy fool from the forest any more than she wanted to lose her brothers and sisters. After all, she had felt a unity with him during the battle, no more and no less than with the others... She saw that the hunchback resembled her sister in build, if one forgot the deformities but judged by physical capabilities. She saw that his skills were fully consistent as well. Her head refused to understand and admit all this, but her heart had always felt something was amiss...
Later there was the burial, which the Arterian decided to lead herself, firmly resolving that from now and forevermore, she would take upon herself everything that was morally heaviest. And the deceased's belongings, laid out in a row on the cold ground, only confirmed her worst fears.
By general agreement and according to some intuition, Gulveig had then taken for herself a small bottle of an unclear potion that the deceased possessed. Someone had noted anxiously then that it would be better not to drink it without identification, lest it be poison... To which Veggy only thought in response, "Yes, that would be nice." However, later, in Baldur, the potion was identified by Emilia as an elixir of incredible power, a cure for all diseases, congenital defects, and injuries that could not be healed otherwise.
It was strange news... It felt somehow ill-timed. Had Veggy possessed such an elixir back when her teacher was still in Baldur, how would everything have turned out then? Or if they had known about the elixir there, in Ilia, and given it to Rutger on the condition that he cease his mad plans, how would everything have unfolded? The unexpected acquisition of such an artifact gave the girl certain possibilities; now she knew that, if necessary, she could cure her teacher at least of his physical ailments, but given how everything had turned out, how everything had piled up... Given that her teacher now suffered the least from his back and far more from her, Gulveig's, thoughtless actions, it was clear that even the potion of the ancient alchemist Sylphida changed nothing fundamentally, nor did it justify the death of her sister—so terrible, and in such an ugly body, which must have been hateful to her in the final days of her life... No, no gifts of fate could justify that death.
Oh, if only... Mother, please let there be fewer "if onlys" in life...
Gulveig closed her eyes and prayed for the afterlife happiness of her sister. So caustic, yet always dissatisfied, but ready to help her brothers and sisters at any smallest request. Knowing her own value, and a very high value at that. A charismatic and artistic girl who could have had a great career in the theater had life turned out slightly differently. Or become a craftswoman. Perhaps, with Alessia and under her leadership, they could have started their own business and forgotten about any strange Rutgers—they would have clearly divided the duties between them and done their work, whatever it may be, forgetting about surprises, excessive risks, and the necessity of fighting for those who did not share their ideals. In the worst case, they would have fought for those whose ideals they were ready to respect.
Thoughts drifted, and the train rolled on as if nothing were happening. The machine did not know what people it carried or why, did not know the destination or even the stop schedule. It did not know what hidden functions were built into its infrastructure, or how many people it would indirectly help to corrupt, embitter, or kill... The train simply rolled, wherever the rails led it, steered by its engineer. The machine knew only how to turn the commands of the levers into power, and it knew how to do this well, and it did what it knew, without thinking about anything else.