Ple-Sen
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Trying to fall asleep tonight, Alaria was lost in thought. She simply couldn't help herself when a name familiar from Aria's words flickered before her—"Carneol." Partly, of course, it was the desire to finally put her culinary skills to use, but it would be foolish to attribute everything to that. The Tanarsian understood perfectly well that somewhere behind the scenes, the fates of the world were being decided. Having once been one of the pieces on the princess's board, she had already influenced things to some extent. But had it been enough? It is difficult to sit idly by when you realize that something is looming. This way, she could at least continue to make some contribution, however modest it might be.
At times, the warrior couldn't shake the feeling that in some ways she was like a homeless stray—if a person showed her even a little kindness, she felt indebted to them for life. Perhaps in the case of Naria, who had given her a second life, such behavior was somewhat justified; however, she had to face the facts—she knew vanishingly little about the princess's plans. And she didn't particularly want to play the role of a simple pawn. Perhaps, if she had the opportunity to pore over theological treatises, her understanding of the matter would deepen, but without proper access to the archives, this seemed impossible.
Furthermore, the former inquisitor would have been happy to deepen her knowledge out of banal curiosity. This world, Anuzish, differed strikingly from her own, despite all the superficial similarities. It also differed from Kenshiro's home world or Baldr's world, as far as could be judged from fragmented information. Only this planet experienced the problem of a constant influx of "green-aura" outsiders, as if someone had punched a hole into all other worlds at once. Someone might object that outsiders also visited Rheime... but those were demons, not ordinary people. And even in the case of the latter, some learned men and theologians agreed that the spawns of the abyss were not something that arrived from outside. Some even believed that they were the original inhabitants of this world, imprisoned on another plane of existence.
What options, then, remained for the essence of outsiders like her? Perhaps they too were demons who had merely imagined themselves to be human? Absorbed the wrong soul, took someone else's memories for their own, and even changed their nature by this act, becoming something third—not quite a demon and not fully mortal. Perhaps they were simulacra, crooked reflections of existing people from other worlds? Somewhere, a "real" Alaria might be wandering right now, carrying out her dark deeds while her simulacrum tormented herself with pangs of conscience. Such things happened in Baldr's world, if one believed that fragmented information. Although usually, copies of great heroes and villains from that same world were summoned. Or it could be that no "prototype" ever existed—she, Kenshiro, and others like them were nothing more than the fruits of someone's sick imagination, longing for places that did not exist in any reality.
However, all these theories crashed against the book on the principles of Miss Cosmos's operation, assuming that the information specified there was true. In that case, another explanation came to Alaria's mind—despite the dislike the Anuzites and Arselians felt for "outsiders," it was this specific world that attracted them for one reason or another. Perhaps it was created by a fugitive from another world as a refuge? An Asylum for other souls wishing to start their lives anew in a new place and far from pain? Perhaps even by someone who sought to build their own ideal society. And the guests were colored green so that the creator would have personal leverage over them—either they played by the rules, or they were sent into the void. But even with such precautions, human nature inevitably took its toll. And then it all became overgrown with priestly rituals, and the original reason for the wariness toward outsiders was somehow forgotten, although it found its reflection in someone like Evgeniy.
Another possible option was that the original fugitive didn't so much want to bring "guests" here as he had left a very strong trail. So strong that someone could have followed him in a one-way trip. And the dislike for other outsiders grew out of a desire to present oneself as a primordial deity, rather than one who had ascended, and to shield one's ideal world from the "bad influence" of outsiders who had already seen all this in their home worlds and might blab too much to the wrong person. For example, that the Lunarians turned out "defective" compared to the elves of other worlds, given the specifics of their longevity. It's strange how they even survived until today—any major conflict, natural disaster, or even a banal epidemic would have put a cross on the fate of their people. However, contrary to common sense, they somehow even managed to survive. Perhaps Anuzish truly protected her children.
One could speculate for as long as one liked, but it was unlikely that Alaria would ever be able to satisfy her curiosity. Even if there existed a being in the world who knew the answers to all these questions, what were the chances that their paths would cross? What were the chances that the being would want to share the answers? Alas, mortals like her were left only to build their own assumptions, or to take dubious sources of information on faith. No other paths were given.
At times, the warrior couldn't shake the feeling that in some ways she was like a homeless stray—if a person showed her even a little kindness, she felt indebted to them for life. Perhaps in the case of Naria, who had given her a second life, such behavior was somewhat justified; however, she had to face the facts—she knew vanishingly little about the princess's plans. And she didn't particularly want to play the role of a simple pawn. Perhaps, if she had the opportunity to pore over theological treatises, her understanding of the matter would deepen, but without proper access to the archives, this seemed impossible.
Furthermore, the former inquisitor would have been happy to deepen her knowledge out of banal curiosity. This world, Anuzish, differed strikingly from her own, despite all the superficial similarities. It also differed from Kenshiro's home world or Baldr's world, as far as could be judged from fragmented information. Only this planet experienced the problem of a constant influx of "green-aura" outsiders, as if someone had punched a hole into all other worlds at once. Someone might object that outsiders also visited Rheime... but those were demons, not ordinary people. And even in the case of the latter, some learned men and theologians agreed that the spawns of the abyss were not something that arrived from outside. Some even believed that they were the original inhabitants of this world, imprisoned on another plane of existence.
What options, then, remained for the essence of outsiders like her? Perhaps they too were demons who had merely imagined themselves to be human? Absorbed the wrong soul, took someone else's memories for their own, and even changed their nature by this act, becoming something third—not quite a demon and not fully mortal. Perhaps they were simulacra, crooked reflections of existing people from other worlds? Somewhere, a "real" Alaria might be wandering right now, carrying out her dark deeds while her simulacrum tormented herself with pangs of conscience. Such things happened in Baldr's world, if one believed that fragmented information. Although usually, copies of great heroes and villains from that same world were summoned. Or it could be that no "prototype" ever existed—she, Kenshiro, and others like them were nothing more than the fruits of someone's sick imagination, longing for places that did not exist in any reality.
However, all these theories crashed against the book on the principles of Miss Cosmos's operation, assuming that the information specified there was true. In that case, another explanation came to Alaria's mind—despite the dislike the Anuzites and Arselians felt for "outsiders," it was this specific world that attracted them for one reason or another. Perhaps it was created by a fugitive from another world as a refuge? An Asylum for other souls wishing to start their lives anew in a new place and far from pain? Perhaps even by someone who sought to build their own ideal society. And the guests were colored green so that the creator would have personal leverage over them—either they played by the rules, or they were sent into the void. But even with such precautions, human nature inevitably took its toll. And then it all became overgrown with priestly rituals, and the original reason for the wariness toward outsiders was somehow forgotten, although it found its reflection in someone like Evgeniy.
Another possible option was that the original fugitive didn't so much want to bring "guests" here as he had left a very strong trail. So strong that someone could have followed him in a one-way trip. And the dislike for other outsiders grew out of a desire to present oneself as a primordial deity, rather than one who had ascended, and to shield one's ideal world from the "bad influence" of outsiders who had already seen all this in their home worlds and might blab too much to the wrong person. For example, that the Lunarians turned out "defective" compared to the elves of other worlds, given the specifics of their longevity. It's strange how they even survived until today—any major conflict, natural disaster, or even a banal epidemic would have put a cross on the fate of their people. However, contrary to common sense, they somehow even managed to survive. Perhaps Anuzish truly protected her children.
One could speculate for as long as one liked, but it was unlikely that Alaria would ever be able to satisfy her curiosity. Even if there existed a being in the world who knew the answers to all these questions, what were the chances that their paths would cross? What were the chances that the being would want to share the answers? Alas, mortals like her were left only to build their own assumptions, or to take dubious sources of information on faith. No other paths were given.