Ple-Sen
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After spending a long time in meditation, but apparently gaining no insight, Alaria went to sleep. Perhaps she was looking in the wrong place, or maybe she should try appealing to some entity, be it Rufus or one of the fiery singularities, with this question. But the girl still hoped to understand it herself. Sometimes, appealing to higher powers was unavoidable, as she knew from the example of Despair, but she still believed that people should strive for self-sufficiency, and not rely on some celestial Arcelia to solve all their problems.
The night was peaceful, without any demonic nightmares. Instead, she dreamed of a memory of a boy from her neighborhood who loved to burn grasshoppers and pretended they were heretics. She remembered that he was the one who once gave her advice about her now-familiar hairstyle. He was a strange kid. And then his family moved away, and Alaria gradually forgot about this acquaintance. Even in her dream, his face remained just a blurry silhouette. I wonder where he is now?
However, all of this was not so important now. After a good night's sleep and performing the necessary procedures again, the Tanarian returned to her routine. At first, she thought about replacing her morning meditation with something like yesterday's evening meditation, but soon decided that it was not worth breaking the established habit. Besides, there was a chance that learning familiar inquisitorial techniques could bring her closer to that very goal.
The new memory was not pleasant. She and her comrades-in-arms were sent to hunt down a gang of Imps terrorizing a remote village. Small and weak, no bigger than a cat, these creatures were not considered a serious threat to an experienced warrior by many ordinary people. What danger could a creature pose that could be dealt with by a single, well-aimed kick from a steel boot? This misconception was so common that sometimes even some Inquisitors repeated it.
But it was not worth underestimating these mischievous creatures. Spending the night in places infested with Imps was a very risky undertaking and required extreme vigilance from the patrols. If they were lucky, the little pests would simply steal food and perhaps someone's weapon from the camp. If not, they would try to set fire to the tent or put some poison in the pot. At the same time, they themselves are agile and skillfully hide in dark corners, so often the Inquisitors had to catch Imps "using bait." But even in battle, the little demons were much more dangerous than one might think. Yes, a single Imp did not pose a threat, but an Imp never walks alone. And not every warrior will have time to react when a dozen spawn of the Void knock him to the ground. Some simply serve as a distraction or bite at the ear, while the most bloodthirsty bite into the throat.
That's exactly what happened in Alaria's memory. They completed the mission successfully, but several of her comrades overestimated their strength and lay on the ground, bleeding. While she cauterized the wounds of one of them, stopping the bleeding and saving him from certain death, it was already too late for the others. This was the first time the girl faced death in combat. She experienced that familiar feeling of helplessness, caused by her inability to save everyone. And these were the creatures that were supposed to be "defeated with one kick."
The warrior opened her eyes. Now she firmly understood that there were no mistakes on her part. She did everything she could. She saved one of her comrades and protected the villagers from the threat. But she did not see this behind the illusory feeling of her own powerlessness. If she had been so powerless, she would not have survived. Unfortunately, not every mission goes perfectly. After spending some more time training, the girl headed first to Carnelian (where she could meet someone if necessary) to feed her comrades breakfast, and then to the SRI to find out if she would be feeding the sick breakfast (as well as lunch and dinner) today.
The night was peaceful, without any demonic nightmares. Instead, she dreamed of a memory of a boy from her neighborhood who loved to burn grasshoppers and pretended they were heretics. She remembered that he was the one who once gave her advice about her now-familiar hairstyle. He was a strange kid. And then his family moved away, and Alaria gradually forgot about this acquaintance. Even in her dream, his face remained just a blurry silhouette. I wonder where he is now?
However, all of this was not so important now. After a good night's sleep and performing the necessary procedures again, the Tanarian returned to her routine. At first, she thought about replacing her morning meditation with something like yesterday's evening meditation, but soon decided that it was not worth breaking the established habit. Besides, there was a chance that learning familiar inquisitorial techniques could bring her closer to that very goal.
The new memory was not pleasant. She and her comrades-in-arms were sent to hunt down a gang of Imps terrorizing a remote village. Small and weak, no bigger than a cat, these creatures were not considered a serious threat to an experienced warrior by many ordinary people. What danger could a creature pose that could be dealt with by a single, well-aimed kick from a steel boot? This misconception was so common that sometimes even some Inquisitors repeated it.
But it was not worth underestimating these mischievous creatures. Spending the night in places infested with Imps was a very risky undertaking and required extreme vigilance from the patrols. If they were lucky, the little pests would simply steal food and perhaps someone's weapon from the camp. If not, they would try to set fire to the tent or put some poison in the pot. At the same time, they themselves are agile and skillfully hide in dark corners, so often the Inquisitors had to catch Imps "using bait." But even in battle, the little demons were much more dangerous than one might think. Yes, a single Imp did not pose a threat, but an Imp never walks alone. And not every warrior will have time to react when a dozen spawn of the Void knock him to the ground. Some simply serve as a distraction or bite at the ear, while the most bloodthirsty bite into the throat.
That's exactly what happened in Alaria's memory. They completed the mission successfully, but several of her comrades overestimated their strength and lay on the ground, bleeding. While she cauterized the wounds of one of them, stopping the bleeding and saving him from certain death, it was already too late for the others. This was the first time the girl faced death in combat. She experienced that familiar feeling of helplessness, caused by her inability to save everyone. And these were the creatures that were supposed to be "defeated with one kick."
The warrior opened her eyes. Now she firmly understood that there were no mistakes on her part. She did everything she could. She saved one of her comrades and protected the villagers from the threat. But she did not see this behind the illusory feeling of her own powerlessness. If she had been so powerless, she would not have survived. Unfortunately, not every mission goes perfectly. After spending some more time training, the girl headed first to Carnelian (where she could meet someone if necessary) to feed her comrades breakfast, and then to the SRI to find out if she would be feeding the sick breakfast (as well as lunch and dinner) today.