Posts from ☀️ Arselia and Akonia Auto-translated

I've only written half of it so far.

- I have also encountered various types of robbers, and I will tell you this: it is not so difficult to separate the true degenerates from people who have fallen into a difficult life situation. Anyone capable of speaking out is worthy of being heard. And it is never possible to say in advance—perhaps that is exactly what will help them. In my experience, the most incredible things have happened, things you would never believe.

- You know, Ayano, you look young, but from your speech one might think you are already a life-wise old woman; do not take this as an insult, for it is exclusively a compliment to your silver tongue and the words of wisdom falling from your lips. By any chance, are you a servant of the Church?
- And why her and not me, huh?! - Ordermaid suddenly chimed in. - How am I any worse?
- Calm down, Tom. It was merely a guess; perhaps I was mistaken—I know it's hard to believe, but such things happen.

One should not underestimate either the monsters or the hunters' guild, Queensglory-san.

- I don't attribute imaginary achievements to myself! - Nodding to Pipdorm, he prepared himself for a shot from his bow. - Ha!! - When the arrow was a meter away from him, Katsukoy sliced it exactly in half with his spear. - See, I didn't exaggerate at all?.. With all due respect to my ancestors, they lived in completely different times; back then the culture was different, as were the socio-economic circumstances, so trying to emulate them is a doomed venture. But otherwise, hm, perhaps I should thank you; it's good food for thought, only there is one problem—it's unlikely I'll be accepted back into that same society after everything I've done, and I have no intention of losing my freedom or dangling from a gallows.

Living in the forest, you will never meet either the girl of your dreams—with whom you would not just want to temporarily "experience warmth," but start a family and continue the lineage, which is the most important thing in life—nor a worthy job that would make you feel far more spiritually fulfilled.

- So, uh, now, one moment, - the guy spends some time rummaging through his bag, then brings out an old-looking notebook, - here, I record everything in my diary. Let's see... Five months at a construction site, half a year as a shop clerk, two months as a watchman, seven months as a street cleaner, one month handing out flyers, two months as a loader. And those who rejected me... Anakimusa, we worked together in the store, said I was too short for her; Azeretta, the principal of the school where I worked as a watchman, said I was too young; Aglia, a neighbor and childhood friend, said I'm a good guy but that she has no romantic feelings for me; Arantia, a nurse where I worked as a street cleaner, said I earn too little, even though our pay is roughly the same; Argaya, a former classmate, told me to go kill myself and never approach her... She was a failing student in school, by the way. And Avria, just an acquaintance, said I'm too boring. - Sigh. - A dream?.. I don't even remember anymore... But you say all this, though you likely wouldn't have even noticed me if we had met under normal circumstances, is that not so?

- Ooh! By any chance, are you talking about the Risserlang agency "Let's Be Beautiful" or whatever it's called?.. - she looked at Sonata and the others. - If so, then fate itself has brought us together today! - taking out a Temple notebook and twirling a cherry pencil between her fingers, she opened it to the required page. - I beg you, tell us everything you know about this case! You have no idea how useful information from someone in the guard would be for us. We are going to cut this tumor out of Risserlang, and no red tapes will stand in our way. We already have its former head in custody, and all the officials who may have condoned this await a very unenviable fate, you can be sure. And you know what, Escape-2-san?.. Imperial law enforcement agencies need honest and just people like you more than anyone else. This is not local flattery—I truly believe so. Believe me, I myself have already encountered... let's say... less than worthy representatives in those organizations,

- Is that so?.. That's an unexpected turn. Hm. Ginlimzi now runs this agency, the son of the previous manager, a talentless hack who hasn't worked a single day of honest labor in his life, but there isn't much to tell here. By communicating with witnesses and gathering circumstantial evidence, I managed to determine that the last place the victims headed before their disappearance was this very organization. - The former guardsman hands Ayano the notebook with records, which include, for example, testimonies from Riykumer's classmates, according to which on day X she intended to visit "Let's Be Beautiful". - You can keep it. I have already stained my honor, and there is no way back into the guard anyway.

- whispers to Sonata. - Listen... If we manage to get out of here with little bloodshed, then perhaps we could reinstate him or even promote him?.. Or am I just fantasizing and the train has left the station? A man like that shouldn't be wasting away in this cursed forest. Why do people like him eat reindeer lichen while Victor Losses slaughter civilians? This is absolute nonsense.

- Such questions should be decided by someone like Naria or Draco Mellis; in a legal sense, you and I are powerless.
- Ayano-sama, - Ahuli also spoke in a whisper, - what do you mean by little bloodshed?

- Yes, as an example. In our time, you know, people desperately need this service—with all our low-activity sedentary jobs and so on. And I haven't observed such a niche being filled anywhere I've been, except for one single place that nominally doesn't specialize in it and leans more toward the spiritual aspect. So, perhaps I have just opened up a real gold mine for you, Massage-san.

- Yes, thank you for that, Lady Ayano, however, implementing such a plan will certainly require money, connections, and other resources which I do not yet have. Moreover, if I am recognized, they might hold me accountable for my time as a robber. You know, it's a paradox of our cultural-legal system—even if you are ready to leave the dark path and return to the light, the laws still force you to remain in the shadows.

- I see... - Ayano nodded. - Yes, I heard something like that in the news. But listen, Managerovich-san, not everything has to be limited to dracoblocks. If you really worked very successfully in this profile, then with your experience, you could become a manager of a hotel, a ryokan, a dormitory, or anyone else. Do not think that you "lost your favorite job," even if that is factually true. Better consider the thought that your favorite job evolved into a new quality, which will both develop you in this same field and bring you new interesting experience. Do you understand what I mean? Life does not end after dismissal. And being here in the forest, you clearly cannot regain even a microgram of the previous life you loved so much.

- Oh! And do you think they'd take me as a manager of a student dormitory, preferably a women's one? Girls are more tidy after all, and male strength in household matters will be useful to them more often than to men themselves, even young ones. I had never even thought about such a prospect before. I think such a job would bring me pleasure every day, a-ha-ha-ha-ha!

But allow me to ask, do you sincerely believe that Arselia would approve of her prodigal son going all out like some default robber? Of course, we cannot pretentiously put words in her mouth and pretend that's how it should be, but think with your own heart—would Arselia have done something similar if she were in your place?

- But I'm not doing any such thing! I repeat—I am not! I only heal these people and help them in every possible magical way; I don't hurt anyone myself! I don't even touch women! Therefore, I am guilty of nothing! Not guilty!

Pure love is a wonderful feeling, one of the highest; however, everything in moderation. By taking medicine beyond measure, you harm your own body, and perhaps the same applies to your situation. Have you considered such an option? True love—it is inside you, and you have no need at all to bring it before public judgment, that's what I mean. Quite the opposite—a quiet love is capable of nourishing the heart of its object and other involved people far more fully than one spoken vulgarly.

- Allow me to add to my dear friend's words that a spiritual rank is only the official side of faith; no one can forbid you from bringing love to and from Arselia into the world, regardless of where or in what status you are.
Ayano and Sonata's words made the wannabe-priest mutter something unintelligible, first lowering his eyes, and then his head, making it impossible to read the emotions on his face any longer.

- Ladies, ladies! - Melty Sambrosia drew the travelers' attention back to himself. - And would you not tell us what fates brought you here? After all, you make a most unusual quartet.

I see, this guy just has a fetish for female names starting with A. If I were you, I'd be worried about Locken.

Erephir: Ah, if only Carneol would be expanded someday...
Aiyano: hold my ofuda

He simply didn't care, so he went through all the people around him in alphabetical order, but at some point he gave up and didn't continue to the letter B.

🎪🤸‍♀️: Why are you looking at me so strangely?

Boarding the train to Margel, the second part of the team soon learned about what had happened in Margel and Kridear. These news distressed Kanchan and Anpan the most. Although Gnilomud was not known for his caring nature, he decided to inquire about the latter's condition.
- Hey, little brother, you okay?
"Why Kridear, and not any other region of the empire? We have nothing there, just forests and mountains with family farms. Why not Luencia or Minjin? Not Subin or Lauria? And where was the imperial family all this time? What was the point of becoming part of the empire if they couldn't even fulfill their direct obligations to us. It turns out we were used as a bargaining chip. It's easy enough to suck taxes out of us, but when it comes to protecting us from their own enemy—that's suddenly beyond their power. So much for the great Welfern, the mighty empire, the dynasty of heroes. Does it mean that if I hadn't left my homeland in search of my own individual meaning of life, I would have also fallen victim to this madness? On one hand, one can lament the bad luck that the homeland became a target for weapons of mass destruction, but on the other, am I supposed to thank luck that this didn't happen while I was at home? Splendid, simply splendid. I would love to look into the eyes of those who first annexed and then held Kridear within the empire all this time. I wonder if they have a conscience, or is that a completely alien concept? There were so many people there, women and children, old folks. So much unrealized potential, so many shattered dreams, and for what? So that on the world map, Kridear would be in the colors of Welfern. So here it is, the meaning of life—the strong eat the weak, and that's it. In the shadow of this indisputable and horrific fact, any ideals and philosophical reflections are shattered to pieces. There was a country—and then it was gone. And what about its history and culture? They survived only in the minds of the few survivors like me, and a tiny bit in imperial textbooks and perhaps in the product assortment of some shops, but what of it? The victims can no longer be helped. The dead cannot be brought back to life. Families cannot be reunited. Familiar homes cannot be restored. Everything is gone, Kridear is no more. Only a void remains between Margel, Helm, Elysia, and Renn. Will anyone answer for this? Unlikely. You can be treated like an animal for a minor offense, while those who ruin the lives of thousands never bear responsibility. How can one believe in justice after this? At least there is Sonata. She is good. Beautiful, kind, smart, sweet, caring, educated, mysterious. I believe that if her face did not warm my heart right now, I would probably lie down under the rails or commit some rash act. But I didn't, for which I am grateful to her with all my heart. It's just a pity that she doesn't know how to choose friends as worthy as herself. Although, there is a certain poetic irony in this—against the backdrop of a low, hypocritical and slightly insane pseudo-priestess, the flawless Sonata Reim looks only more beautiful. It's strange that the priestess herself doesn't turn to ash like a vampire in the presence of the radiant Sonata. I only hope that she won't lie to her about me, otherwise it will end badly. But what if she does say something like that? That I'm some kind of scoundrel. I probably shouldn't worry about it, because unlike some, Sonata is wise and understanding. She and I are even somewhat similar in character, although I lack the life experience to approach her level, but that's alright. There is still time, and I will put all my strength into reaching the same heights where she dwells".
- Bro, hello!
- Ah, Hein, what do you want?
- Yeah, just forget it.
- "He's strange." - Anpan thought, watching his departing comrade. - "Although it's not surprising, he seems to get along well with the fallen priestess. Two peas in a pod, probably. If you think about it, of all of us, she communicated with him the most. They probably sleep together. I remember when I went to the toilet during the trip to Risserland, some strange sounds were coming from her compartment. They were definitely doing 'that'. I wouldn't be surprised if she does it with her parishioners too. And for money, no less. A terrible, mercenary, lustful woman; how can she not be ashamed to look at her reflection in the mirror or on the surface of the water? How do her ancestors feel, watching her nightly—and not only nightly—adventures? I hope that Sonata eventually stops associating with her. Otherwise, God forbid, Anuzish might be infected by her filth. That would be truly tragic. By the way, the fake priestess also apparently works part-time at a modeling agency. Well, it's all clear. She enjoys corrupting innocent minds and, at the same time, that various people of low morality use her to satisfy their animal needs. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Perhaps it's time for humanity to stop using the name of Akonia as a swear word and instead say Ayano. Ayano take you! Oh, go to Ayano! Ayano be with you! Ayano knows! You're such an Ayano! Uh-huh, sounds not bad. As if the name was given to her specifically for this purpose. Although, maybe it's better not to give her extra popularity. Nymphomaniacs obsessed with other people's attention like her would only profit from that. I should think about it".

Anpan uses 7560 exp to increase charisma by 24 (CHA: 440).

Kanchan, meanwhile, trying to distract himself from anxious thoughts, completely immersed himself in studying the mysterious Manuals for neophytes. He spends 3000 exp on studying Hardening and 1000 exp on the Mysterious White Liquid Shot.

So that’s why Ples discouraged Beata from studying the manual, but not Gion...

That silly Anpan invented a technique against mind-reading that is even more effective than the one Alaria came up with. 😡

But we still read them.

🤔

- Guillosh, oh Guillosh...
- Hm?
- And I'm such a fool...
- .........
- No, not about that circus story. I was a fool there too, of course, but I've come to my senses a bit now. It's hard to believe half our performers died, but... shit happens to us constantly. The main thing is we are safe.
- Glad to hear it. What are you talking about then?
- About this swill! - Beata waved toward the coffee mugs. - I thought we'd be hacking away at essays until morning, and I snapped. Now I want to sleep, but I don't want to sleep.
- Same here... Guess we'll just have to stay awake.
- Ha-a-ave to... I'm wondering if I want to punish you for me being such a fool, or if I don't.
- You don't. Save your strength for the coronation.
- Logical... What should we do then?
- I don't know...
- Maybe help Alaria write her essay? She seems to be stuck on it.
- Let her write. We won't distract her. You know how grueling that thought process is.
- Uh-huh... Then let's just sit quietly and think about something.
- I even know what my thoughts will be about.
- Lower Lunaria, right?
- Her, the dear... She won't leave me in peace.
- You can always vent to me.
- You always say you don't want to know.
- I don't. But you survived it. And I'll just listen. You'll feel better, and I'll manage somehow.
- Fine, but if anything—use the safe word.
- Deal...
- I can't stop thinking about that mistress of mine who summoned monsters, - Giyyon lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper so only Beata could hear.
- The one with five multi-meter tentacles and aphrodisiac lubricant? - she replied in the same whisper.
- Yeah, her. The tentacles, for the record, belonged to the monsters, not her...
- I'll bet they didn't.
- Do you know what her favorite pastime was?
- ...well?
- She would gather her friends, colleagues, female relatives, good acquaintances—depending on her mood. But a fair number of people would show up, no fewer than ten to fifteen Lunarians. They drank wine, ate treats, gossiped. And they admired how those monsters... entertained themselves with me, - Giyyon shuddered. - They sat and discussed what interesting position I was twisted into or how deep those tentacles... - he didn't dare finish the sentence, but Beata understood.
- That's f***ing insane, Guillosh, - she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. - But all that is in the past.
- And that night when I... was taken into slavery, - he sighed. - The whole fort came to watch, and many—to take part. I lost count somewhere around the second dozen... of participants, and I think at some point I just lost consciousness, while a crowd surrounded me, watching closely what they were doing to me, and everyone felt the need to comment on my state...
- ...
- And another mistress of mine loved public punishments. She'd put me by her doorstep—there were even special stocks there—and invite neighbors or random passersby to come up with how to punish me using the tools laid out nearby...
- Sh*t...
- It's just that when that spy leaked info about me today... I felt like I was back in one of those moments, only our Carneolians were among the other spectators. Erephir and Alaria are very sweet, of course, but would they still hold their opinion if they saw how I was... - he shuddered again.
- I can't speak for them. But first and foremost, I'd think poorly of those who subjected you to such treatment. You know yourself how much I love interesting horizontal activities. But to get maximum pleasure from them, everyone involved must enjoy the process. When your partner feels good, you feel good too; but if your partner is suffering, why continue? Safe words were invented for a reason.
- Because of your approach, I don't have problems with... horizontal activities now, although at one point I caught myself thinking that I could never consider this process pleasant.
- Well, I did push you at first.
- I'm grateful to you for that. I don't know when I would have matured on my own to solve the problem, or if I ever would have. This way...
- ...hero-lover, - Beata smiled warmly. - I always said you were very strong, having gone through all that shit and still living life to the fullest.
- Th-thank you.
- And again, I can't speak for them, but the more I learn about what they did to you, the more I respect you. I would have lost my mind halfway through.
- I hadn't thought of it that way. I thought about how everyone was watching me be used in the most unnatural and humiliating way, and I could do nothing about it...
- Well, you tried to fight back against the bandits, though it didn't lead anywhere good, and you were one person against a whole crowd. And your mistresses broke your will because of that damn curse; you couldn't even resist them.
- Yes, but...
- You proved strong enough physically and spiritually to survive all this and become who you are now. Even if tomorrow all those bandits and Lunarians show up in Carneol and start describing in vivid detail what, how, in what positions and how deep they did it to you, they won't change my mind. Moreover, I will personally spit in the face of every one of those sick bastards.
- Sometimes I'm afraid something like that will happen. That some... particularly spicy details of my past will become public knowledge. It's one thing just to know I was a slave, and quite another—to have a detailed idea of exactly how I was used.
- Pff, first of all, as I said, I'll personally spit in the face of anyone who dares talk such filth about you. Maybe not literally, but I will absolutely condemn them! Secondly, let them try to prove it; without proof, these are just vile, dirty rumors.
- Well, they... As far as I know, they didn't take photos. Although I wasn't in a state to remember that.
- They likely wouldn't have. Photography was invented not so long ago; it's a new thing, it doesn't just fall into anyone's hands. And even if there are photos, it's unlikely you can see clearly that it's you—there are plenty of people in the world who look like you.
- I don't want to think about it. You know, you accept me, but many people... are far from so accepting. For them, this will be proof of my weakness, not strength.
- Then those people are idiots and their opinion isn't worth a broken penny.
- ...and still, I might have difficulties with my career and life in general...
- Well, then we either move or you retrain as a househusband.
- You've thought of everything.
- Of course
- That's why I love you, - Giyyon smiled, leaning into Beata.

Someone is knocking on Carneol’s door again. When the Carneolians open the door, they find only a rather plump envelope on the doorstep. The envelope contains very detailed, high-resolution photos, clearly showing Guyon being subjected to mysterious attacks by tentacled monsters, mysterious actions by bandits, and mysterious devices being used on him.

On a day like today, all sorts of paradoxical events could occur. Time seemed to flow in a different dimension than it did for ordinary people, and the night was as long as the day, merging with it into a single, continuous band of shadow that gradually and inexorably consumed the light. The idea of a circus performance, which sparkled brightly in the sun and faded with the onset of darkness. A friendly gathering, questions and answers, plans for the future. Repeated knocks on the door, strange visitors, and disturbing news. Stacks of read books. When was this? Maybe just an hour or two ago. But of course, that's not true. Still, the thickening darkness outside the window made it clear that time, however slowly, was passing. It was so dark there... So, dawn was still far away. But it would definitely come, wouldn't it? It seemed that a heavy rain was falling, and the muffled echoes of a storm and thunder could barely be heard from behind the tightly closed and curtained windows. Or maybe it was just another night visitor knocking at the dying hearth? At this point, it didn't matter much anymore. Everyone had left, and there was no one to check – Carneol had departed for the realm of dreams. Only a deserted corridor yawned with the open doors of rooms that one couldn't look into, as if these locations had turned into cut scenes from a happy dream about heroes. Although he had definitely looked into them before, and probably saw something. Or maybe he didn't, he couldn't remember now. Perhaps, in the end, that wasn't particularly important either. Going down, the creaking, rotten steps groaned mournfully. Everything was almost the same as he remembered it last time. A rickety table was piled with forgotten tests of Wrathbone and books about emperors, yellowed and tattered. On the peeling wall, a memorial plaque – the portraits were so covered in dust that the faces were indistinguishable. The flickering lights of dying candles shone dimly and coldly – who lit them? Only he could have done it, because no one had lived here for a long time. But why, since their pale, ephemeral warmth and light could not warm the lost souls. Unless, perhaps, to manifest them for a fleeting moment – if they were truly still here, if they hadn't left this world when they had the chance. Forward, there, to the threshold, where the November draft lurks behind the front door, eager to burst inside the empty abode. Who knows, maybe this time he will be able to catch it and feel it? Here, the door of the old house opens, and behind it... A storm and thunder? No, no, everything is quiet. Very quiet, not a breath of wind, not a single night sound, as if all of Margel had died along with Carneol. In the starless sky, the outlines of buildings across the street can be vaguely seen – against its background, even in the night darkness, they look unnaturally black, as if dipped in tar, reliably hiding the motionless inhabitants and non-inhabitants inside with their gloomy facades. All that remains is to close the door and return to the table, where, in better times, there were lively discussions and epic stories about heroes and their exploits. To keep silent watch until morning, guarding only the memory, indifferently watching in the deathly silence as thin wisps of smoke from the dying embers dance, scattering the ashes of torn pages of unwritten works. They swirl, swirl in a non-existent gust of wind. Beneath them, some shadows move, flickering erratically at the edge of vision, moving silently from place to place. Lifeless, but very familiar, like scraps of fabric from the upholstery of a favorite armchair, fallen like autumn leaves. They cannot be seen, one cannot lower one's gaze any further – the tired head is already bowed under the waves of oblivion. How I want to sleep... ... ... ... ... Garrick wakes up, opens his eyes, and finds himself with his nose pressed against his unfinished essay. He yawns deeply, and his stiff joints creak. He looks with sleepy confusion at the text. An essay? It sounds so pompous and pretentious, who even came up with this? The minister didn't even say anything like that, she just suggested evaluating the rulers in a convenient format. A simple list of numbers with brief explanations would have been enough. But the commander turned it into almost an official assignment, a real job for Carneol. Does she really want to curry favor with the bureaucrats in the government? Well, what can you do, one must find something to occupy oneself with in this endless night. He crumples the sheet of paper that served as his pillow and wipes the remaining ink from his face, and the aster begins to recall his mostly concise thoughts about the Margel monarchs and transfers them to paper: I - V, VI, VII - X, XI - XII, XIII - XVIII And below, he writes the ratings also in the form of numbers.

I - Torvik the Founder - 10/10
II - Arual es Diestra - 9/10
III - Lanigiros es Diestra Arual - 6/10
IV - Delsahid es Diestra Arual - 8/10
V - Hatea es Diestra Arual - 8/10
VI - Floris es Diestra Arual - 7/10
VII - Saikam es Diestra Arual - 7/10
VIII - Sillion es Diestra Arual - 10/10
IX - Flanaravi es Diestra Arual - 5/10
X - Welfern es Diestra Arual - 7/10
XI - Raidark es Diestra Arual - 9/10
XII - Sellun es Diestra Arual - 3/10
XIII - Shinalun es Diestra Arual - 7/10
XIV - Kermaria es Diestra Arual - 10/10
XV - Shen es Diestra Arual - 1/10
XVI - Naer es Diestra Arual - 8/10
XVII - Abeas es Diestra Arual - 2/10
XVIII - Hartrain es Diestra Arual - 10/10

Having considered his last task for today completed, he submits everything for sending and goes back, hoping to fall asleep where he will no longer be disturbed by visions of distorted time and space.

It makes me so happy to see how Frag, every few days, suddenly bursts into the thread like a salmon in a blueberry bush, with amazing literary posts, and then disappears back into read-only mode.