Private Tales Consequence

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen sat in the infirmary of the Academy. Her arms she had held together, helplessly staring at their symmetry. Symmetry, that was, until it came to the wrist of her right arm, where the hand above was no more. Bandages concealed the stump. Yet underneath, she knew, there lay a most horrid mess of flesh, muscle, and bone.

The Canal Campaign under Lord Walter Banick had not gone well—at least not for the Initiates involved. The massive hit to her marks for their failure was the least of it.

Gods...Raf. Raf. It had been her. She had asked him to help her step in-between Kalix and Alistair. And in so doing, he...he...

* * * * *​

Kristen sat in the infirmary of the Academy. Still. Staring with a hollow gaze through the space where her right hand used to be, her face ashen.

The healer should be coming soon.

In the correspondence she received from Mother and Father, they were as aghast as could be communicated via the written word. They assured her that money was no object, that they would secure for her only the best they could possibly find.

* * * * *​

Kristen sat in the infirmary of the Academy, and at last the healer arrived. A man, middle-aged, with groomed brown hair and beard. A friendly, capable look to him. And, as well, something about him struck Kristen as familiar.

The healer placed his bag down beside the bed in which Kristen was sat. He offered her a warm smile. Placed his hands on his hips in consideration. "Lady Kristen Pirian. Here you are, all grown up now. It's...astonishing how time passes." In his voice a slight—and fading—accent.

Kristen was brought out her despondence and her worries by confusion. "I'm...I'm sorry, do I...know you?"

He placed a hand to his chest and offered a small bow. "Owen Mason. I was there in the Battle of the Blades. I caught a few glimpses of you after we rescued you, but, well, never really got the chance for introductions then. Funny how it's come 'round seven years later. It's just a pity that it's under..." he gave a grim look to her lack of a hand, trying still to offer a smile, "...regrettable circumstances."

"O-Oh," Kristen said. Then, agreeing morosely with his estimation of said circumstances, "Yeah."

"Well. Let's have a look, then."

It didn't take Owen all that long to examine Kristen's wound. He asked her some questions as he did so, as gently as he could given the nature of them. Do you still have your severed hand? No. Do you have any pieces at all of your severed hand? No. What type of magic inflicted the wound? Arcane. Are there any more wounds on your body? No, not at this present time. Were you then, or are you now, afflicted with any kind of curse? No, not to my knowledge. Were you then, or are you now, afflicted with any kind of illness? No.

Other than feeling sick over what happened with Raf, but this she did not say. Not with words, at any rate. Her eyes, her colorless expression, likely betrayed her inner feelings of the matter.

Owen sat down heavily on the bed beside Kristen. Said by way of preamble to his forthcoming conclusion, "Healing is a means of reconstituting what has been lost. The body does this naturally, as you well know. Magical healing can go beyond what is natural, but it is not without its limits. Typical battlefield wounds—things like slashing injuries, puncturing—are a relatively simple matter. Consider a garment, a shirt if you will, that has been slashed with a knife, or punctured with the same; mending such damage is easy, because the vast majority of the material in proximity is still present and in its normal condition. Yet if that shirt were obliterated in some fashion?"

"Oh gods..." Kristen said.

Owen raised his hand. "No, no. I don't mean to say that it is hopeless. I meant only for you to understand how difficult this will be." A minor pause. "You have a formal education in mathematics, is that right?"

Kristen nodded hesitantly, as if somehow giving the "wrong" answer might doom her to being shed of her hand forever. "Y-Yes. Yes, I do."

"Okay, this will be easy for you to understand then. In most arts of healing, the greater the wound—which is to say, the greater the extent of the damage or volume of bodily material lost—the more the cost in time and magic to fully heal it, and this is exponential. Your entire right hand is missing; it isn't just flesh and muscle that has been torn and can be mended, like that shirt example."

"You...must create a shirt, wholly new, from nothing."

"Correct," Owen said. "Well. Mostly. Not exactly from nothing, since we still got the base of your wrist. We'll be working up from there."

"How long will this take? A few weeks? A month?"

Owen grew a little gloomy then, and before he even said anything she knew it would be bad news. "Kristen...this is going to require daily sessions of healing, completely draining my magic for each day. At best we're looking at a year of constant treatment, at worst two, so realistically I would put it at a year and a half—and this does not include interruptions to the schedule from, as I understand it, the missions you will be frequently sent out on."

"Two years...??" Kristen's voice was tiny and tipped with alarm. "I will be maimed for two years?"

"Better two years than the rest of your life." Owen took in a breath. Suggested gently, "I would look into solutions for the interim time."

* * * * *​

The idea for prosthetics was presented, of course. Kristen imagined a peg leg at the mention of the word, some similar baton of wood affixed to her wrist, and initially balked at the suggestion. Owen assured her that options did exist that were much more sophisticated than that.

Kristen thought to write (struggling again with her left hand to do so) to her parents again, to make another plea for their help.

But, as it so happened, another idea presented itself. There were very adept crafters here at the Academy. Mayhap some missive didn't need to be sent all the way to Belgrath for master dwarven craftsmen if she could somehow beseech a peer here for their aid. Three names came to her attention: Tinker, the reclusive boy who was Everleigh's friend and who practically lived inside the workshop; Ralene, she who spent much of her spare time at the forge.

And, of course, Alistair. Who was there when it happened. Who Kristen likewise failed, for if only she had been stronger...if only she could have stopped him and Kalix...separated them...maybe...

She had to put it aside for now. Bottle her emotions.

In search of Alistair she went. Two places were likely: his room, or the forge.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The return to the Academy after their failure of a mission had gone about as well as could be expected...That was to say, horrible.

Alistair and Kristen were the only ones that could actually get chewed out at the time, but Kristen had a powerful family and a missing hand, so she spent more time in the infirmary than getting reprimanded.

It was different for Alistair, his injuries were aggressive keeping him from moving to suddenly, but he could still move around. His right arm had been placed in a sling since he had not managed to move it since the explosion. Hopefully, it would return to normal at a later date.

He had no clue where Kalix was. They had taken him off away from them. The last time he had saw him, he was in chains looking rough.

And Raf...Raf was dead. That had been difficult to comprehend when he came to, as a small part of him felt that his explosion might have been the reason. Even after he was told what happened.

---

The single interaction they had with Lord Banick was pretty simple. He told them to leave before they did any more damage. Alistair was sure his review probably left something to be desired. The part that really made him angry was that Banick had looked at the situation and also maybe Kalix with anger. However, when he looked at Alistair it felt like more disappointment.

It was like he was saying Ah, I thought you weren't incompetent, never mind.

That was likely the last politically delicate mission Alistair would see for some time. It was funny. Any chance for social mobility that he had worked on his entire had gone up in smoke in a matter of moments. All because one child with the powers of the arcane had snapped.

---

Alistair could not do many physical tasks, but that did not mean he could do nothing. For the next few days, Alistair locked himself inside his room. He still wasn't strong enough to operate the forges at the moment, so he settled on reading.

He read anything he could get from the library, into the late hours of the night. He read up on runes, the elven language, gravity magic, arcane empowerment, and the history of noble families. Anything to keep his mind off of it all.

---

The day finally came when Alistair's arm was removed from his sling. He could move the limb around and his fingers were slowly gaining back their dexterity.

He had just returned from a check-up, and he was planning on trying some simple runic enchantments to test out his fingers when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Who he saw at the door, might have been the last person he wanted to see. It was the only others 'survivor' from the incident. Unlike, Raf, her injuries had been entirely his fault. Alistair kept his face emotionless as he looked to Kristen and then down at the stub where her hand should.

"I was wondering when you would show up."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"Oh? You were expecting me," she said, trying for a cordial smile. It felt false on her features, and so she let it fade. Mother's oft said advice was 'Sunshine is never more than a day away,' and yet, ever since the return trip to the Academy after the disastrous Canal Campaign...that sunshine was proving more and more elusive.

"May I come in?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"I figured you would show up at some point to yell at me."

At first, Alistair turned back to focus on his work and to have the conversation without having to look at Kristen. Alistair would have preferred to focus on his engraving, but it was quickly clear that it was still too early. His hand was constantly shaking, which for runic engraving might as well have been playing with a live bomb. With a sigh, Alastair dropped the carving tool and turned around to see Kristen.

"Yes, where would my manners be if I turned away House Pirian."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

In perhaps any other set of circumstances, Kristen would have politely laughed. But not here. Not now. Speaking in a higher register, as she often did in times of anxious uncertainty, she said, "Oh no, there shan't be any yelling. Our present laments could not be ameliorated with such."

At his permission she stepped inside of his room. The door she shut gently, careful, perhaps in some superstitious way, for it to not make much of any disturbing sound. Upon looking back to him, the work he was presently engaged in, the trembling of Alistair's hand was all to plain to see. She made no forward mention of it yet, if only for the sake of her ingrained politeness.

Genuine concern painted Kristen's tone. "How do you fare, Alistair?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair moved his right arm around before attempting to move some of his fingers, but they moved with a shakiness that went directly against the usual fluid motions that Alistair could often perform.

"Better, maybe I will lose the title of cripple soon."

He said it with a lighthearted tone, but his inflection and word choice displayed how he really felt about the whole situation. He would never admit it, but it scared him.

Alistair's entire magical capabilities relied on his ability to engrave and craft his runes. If he lost that, then he would be better mixed in at Elbion than here in Vel Anir.

He had to look away from his hand in irritation choosing to focus on something else.

"So, you are back walking around the Academy? Does that mean you are doing better?"

Alistair had secretly been keeping up on Kristen and knew that she had been relatively unharmed besides her hand. Yes, he hand. That was the injury that it all boiled down to.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Shame like a dagger slipped through her ribcage. What right had she to come to him, to ask of him so grand a task, while his own injury still plagued him? She tried to ignore it, this shame. Their injuries were of two different kinds.

Kristen held her hands demurely in front of herself. Or would, rather, if she'd the both of them—instead her left hand gripped the bandages at her diminished wrist. Her posture was prim. Unconsciously so. But in preparation to ask what she was going to ask she stood with her ankles together, back straight, chin level. Mother's model of dignity and politeness.

"I have spoken with the healer that my family has sought out for this task," she said. "It is not impossible, he said, but it will take time. His estimation is essentially two years for my hand to be reconstituted."

Kristen hesitated. Her lips were pressed together anxiously.

"May I be so bold as to ask something of you, Alistair?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair's face portrayed a mix of emotions at the news. At first, he had almost felt joy when he realized that there was still a chance for Kristen to regain her hand back, but then the rest of the information hit him.

Two years.

He had stolen two years of Kristen's life with his mistake. She would be graduated and well into her life before she got her hand back.

His hand clenched into a fist to stop it from shaking as he tried his best to offer a soft smile.

"If anyone can ask something of me then it is you...What do you need?"

He did not have much to offer to her right now. It would be some time before he was offered a real mission, and he could not even go and practice his swordsmanship, right now.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

She saw in her peripheral vision his hand ball into a fist. Her gaze flicked toward it. Back up, quickly, to his own, hoping that it would be barely noticed, if at all.

"I am inexpert in matters of this kind, so do forgive me if what I propose is ultimately inane."

That said, she began.

"Two years with, as you have elegantly described it, the 'title of cripple' is two years too long in this environment. I have not even the capacity to compensate for it, as does Sieglilly. The challenge of the Academy is unforgiving, and I..." There was no point in not saying the plain truth, was there? "...struggle enough with it as it is. Or, rather, as it was with two hands."

Her eyes dropped for a moment. Then she lifted her gaze and met his. No, banish that girlish gesture, Kristen. This is no place for children, and what child you were exists on the other side of the Battle of the Blades. Be the woman you aspire to become. Look him in the eye for what you will ask.

"You are a crafter of more than runes. I entreat you now for an answer to my vexation, a solution to bridge the gap of two years' time, if such a thing is possible. Alistair...can you craft for me a working artificial hand?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Kristen was starting out by trying to dodge whatever she was actually getting at. The way she spoke, it always made Alistair want to chuckle, but the situation only made him anxious.

It all felt wrong. She was here to ask him for something when she should be yelling at him. He would have been angrier than anyone about this entire situation.

Then came the most messed up part, she was asking for a hand from him. Something that he would more than happily do, but his own hand would make it incredibly difficult. The one thing she could ask of him, that he was not in the position to give back to her.

"I..."

It felt like that shakiness in his hand was all the more prevalent as he looked at her. He finally had to turn away, but he turned towards his desk. Alistair rummaged around for several seconds before he finally pulled out a leather-bound notebook.

"I can try. I have some plans for things like that, but I won't be able to make it until I get more feeling back in my hand...Though, it should take a week or two just to draw up the plan and gather materials."

He started writing out a few ideas...He couldn't help but notice his writing looked a lot sloppier. Still, he continued his rough drafts.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

There was a supreme terror in that lingering moment between her asking and his answering where Kristen thought mightily his response would be a flat no. A fear without sound roots, but a fear whose presence was tangibly felt all the same.

I can try.

And at this Kristen let out a silent sigh. It was no resounding yes, but the potential for a solution remained as of yet unshattered, and that was enough.

She stepped forward, a touch urgently in her subdued excitement. Upon the corner of his desk she placed her sole hand and leaned over some. She had a mild curiosity about what he was already jotting down, but she didn't let it detract from what she intended to ask.

"What materials do you anticipate needing? My family is prepared to spare no expense."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"I...uh..."

In truth, Alistair's brain was still trying to catch up with everything as he stared at the subpar drawing he was creating. The mechanics of the hand would be simple enough, but the real question would come from the material they used for the outer casing. It would determine the hand's dexterity and durability. It would need to have both if it was actually going to be useful for Kristen in her role as a Dreadlord.

"I'm not sure. How are you going to use this hand? Finesse work, or...more punch a whole through a wall type stuff?"

He was sure the Pirian family could get their hand on most materials that he could think to make this out of, so it really just came down to what she wanted.

Alistair paused as he realized he was getting lost in the possibilities before him, as his mind thought of so many different ways to make and model this hand. He would not lie, it felt nice to have a project to solely focus on again.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"G-Goodness, no!" was Kristen's immediate, knee-jerk response to the extreme end of the scale presented to her. Punching a hole through a wall? Why that was just...well...now that she thought about it, such an idea had a certain allure...no, no, Kristen, it's too brutish, leave it be.

"I would say finesse work, then, if that is the measure." A touch wistful, she said further, "I know that an artificial hand cannot be a true replacement for the original, but...if it is close, then it will be sufficient enough."

Then came a thought, and its practicality politely brushed away that small dose of longing distress.

"Oh. Should you measure my left hand? That you might make its counterpart the appropriate size?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"Yes, that would certainly help."

Alistair put his notebook away and began to look around for measuring tape. Where had he put it? He remembered using it when he made his last cloak.

"Actually, an artificial hand could arguably be more dexterous than a normal hand. The area you will mainly be missing is your sense of touch. I can probably make it so you can still channel magic through it, but it will be limited to simple spells are spells engraved on the hand...Think of it like a wand that-"

He stopped mid-sentence as he successfully found his measuring tape.

"Alright, found it. Please come and take a seat. It should not take long."

He wanted to keep moving, to keep letting his mind focus on this new project. As soon as he stopped, his mind would go back to all of the mistakes he made during the last mission.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

And there in the middle of his explanation, Alistair spoke aloud the one silent, dismaying fact that Kristen had been dreading: the loss of touch. Perhaps to other Initiates such a loss would be a nuisance at best, some annoying impediment to practicality and nothing more, but Kristen knew already that it was going to be devastating to her. Touch, simple touch, was so intrinsic to the human condition, the bridge by which real connections between people were solidified. From the laying of a hand onto a shoulder in one's time of need to a heartfelt embrace which contained emotions so sublime that words could not properly capture them, touch was so fundamentally important.

For two years with her right hand, she would be able to neither give nor receive.

She couldn't hide her sadness at this, even though she did try. The upward curling of her brows betrayed her.

Kristen sat down, laying her arm on the desk and presenting her left hand for Alistair's inspection. She spoke not on her dismay, but focused, in said attempt to hide it, on the practical capabilities of the hand, "That will pose no great problem. The motions of my hands are not required for my spells, even if they do help me focus and direct."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"That's good then..."

Kristen was a horrible liar, so Alistair realized very quickly that he had said something wrong. It wasn't difficult to figure out what. He felt like an idiot for running so quickly into that just because he had gotten a little excited about a project.

He began the process of measuring out her left hand in silence before trying to reassure her.

"You will still have the other hand...and your sense of touch won't be completely gone. You will still be able to feel the weight in that hand...It's just more like this new hand won't feel pain...I can't do much to fix that, but I will try to make this hand good enough that these next years will go by without you even noticing it."

As he said, he knew that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but he was going to do everything he could. With the material from the Pirians it might actually be possible to get closer to his statement than he realized.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen smiled. It was but a small tug at the corner of her mouth, yet it was a smile nonetheless. Some tactile sensation in her artificial hand was better than nothing at all. Her imagination, captured previously by the weight of Owen's diagnosis, had been running amok with all kinds of unreasonably woeful predictions about what her replacement would be like.

"I will be in your debt," Kristen said. "Truly, I mean that. I do not expect you to do this for me without proper recompense. 'Tis only right."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was quick to shake his head in the negative. He did not stop the task of measuring her hand, but he was adamant about this next part.

"No, and I mean no without anyone wiggle room. It was partially my fault that this happened in the first place. This is the least I can do as recompense, and that is the end of that. No more discussion. I'm going to make you an amazing hand, that's it."

In what world could Alistair possibly accept anything from Kristen, at this point? Her family would already have to front all of the costs for the materials. He wasn't even sure just how could he could make this hand with his own injuries.

No, this would all be done pro bono.

"So, let's get started on some ideas. Any specific color?"

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Though Kristen was a bit dejected that Alistair so firmly turned down her offer, his decisiveness was quite admirable. She couldn't help but to be more endeared to him because of it. When first she arrived at the Academy, Kristen had certainly chosen the wrong set of Initiates to look up to and attempt to model herself after; the strength of Alistair's character, this decisiveness being just a part of that greater whole, truly deserved that recognition.

"Then...I shall say a heartfelt thank you, and there will be no more of it."

Her smile this time was more than just a small tug.

A few more measurements, and Alistair asked what was likely the first of a series of questions.

"Oh. I suppose...as close to my natural skin tone as you can feasibly make it? If such is possible?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was thankful that she readily accepted his insistence as most initiates would argue tooth and nail. Why? For the sake of fighting, it most often felt like. He did not know if he had the energy or the necessary anger to argue about this topic.

"Thank you."

Switching back to the topic at hand, pun intended made Alistair narrow his eyes as he wrote some of the measurements down on the hand.

"Of course, most materials can be changed to fit the desired appearance...maybe a magically reinforced porcelain...or some form of hardened wood or stone. It needs to be tough enough for a fight."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"Porcelain sounds..."

Lovely, was the word that poised on the tip of her tongue. Yet, in light of what Alistair had said (and, of course, the naked truth of it), yes, it did need to be tough enough for a fight. Lovely seemed to be a somewhat improper descriptor, given this.

Awkwardly, she finished: "...g-good. Though I would defer to your expertise."

Then, in a more confessional tone which all but said Sorry for my girlish notions, she added, "I understand that this is not some fashion accessory to wear to a gala."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair smirked at Kristen's antics but quickly explained to put her at ease.

"Porcelain can still work it is just a matter of where the gold will go. The family will just have to pay for the really good stuff, the type that can hold a lot of magical energy. Then it is just a matter of filling the material with reinforcement magic. While it is true that is not commonly what you enchant porcelain to do, it could still work the same way."

If Alistair was making a normal prosthetic hand then it might be different, as they would have to focus on the material's durability, but in this case, with a family like the Pirians. The question wasn't how tough was the material, but actually how conductive the material was for arcane energies.

"We can weave gold or silver lining throughout the hand which will also serve to improve the ability of the enchantments to stick. Gold and silver work well. Of course, if your family wishes to use other rarer arcane metals then those will also work."

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen nodded eagerly throughout Alistair's elaboration on the viability of porcelain—splendid! The explanation did as well help set her down the path of coming to terms with everything. Despite her worries, such was her position in life to be blessed with a solution to her woe. She ought never to forget her gratitude: for her family, for Owen, and for Alistair.

Yes. Count your blessings, be grateful, and a better person you shall become.

"I...well, I must say you truly are well-versed in your craft. I've not yet reached classes even broadly covering such properties of magic and materials."

Kristen considered for a moment his last few statements.

"Both gold and silver can be sourced readily." And with a curious tilt of her head she inquired, "What are those rarer arcane metals you've mentioned? I am vastly unfamiliar with the scope of all this, but...mayhap you've one in mind? I might have at least heard mention of it before."

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"Neither have I."

Alistair explained as he got up from his seat and moved over to a bookshelf filled with various books that seemed to have no rhyme or reason for what genres the shelves contained.

He took a moment as his eyes trailed over the titles before finding the one he was looking for. The book he pulled out was a well-kept red leather-bound book with gold lettering on the front.

"The Academy does not teach such advanced craftsman skills, instead they may leave you more free time to do your own personal studies. If you really need a mentor and ask nicely, they may try to connect you with alumni from the Academy...most initiates that practice rune magic at the Academy is given this free time to practice their own specialties, or to experiment."

When opened, the book contained an encyclopedia of information materials. Most of the information seemed to pertain to the materials' interaction with magical enchantments.

"Some of the rare metals are famously known like orichalcum, mithril, adamantine. Then you have lesser-known metals like quicksilver, Deep Iron, star steel, and the like."

Some of those metals were fairly rare to the point that only minimal research had actually been conducted on some of the substances. So, while all the information might not be there, one thing was clear, they conducted magic like no other.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Oh.

Well, perhaps they were very much in a similar boat then. Doubtless there would be a dearth of classes at the Academy covering topics of Celestialism or Divine Magic. Alistair, Ralene, Tinker, at least those whose magic involved elements of crafting were given time to do so; Kristen had to fit in her prayers into an already tight morning schedule.

"Goodness. Mithril, of course, I know. Adamantine, as well—I'll confess to having a keen interest in dwarven innovations, though I've only had occasion to read of them."

She gave it another moment's thought. All the metals mentioned were options, but she mustn't forget practicality.

"Gold, though, would be the easiest and fastest to procure. Were this hand to be...permanent, then a deeper investment would be more sensible."

Then, as if she were on the verge of second-guessing herself, she said, "Will using gold be sufficient for two years' time?"

Alistair Krixus