"So you're the new Archmagus?" I said, sitting on Remi's comfy couch in the fancy new apartment the Church offered him. I never cared much about politics but if it means I can stay somewhere that's not above that noodleshop with all the memories than I'm happy about it.
"Apparently," Remi replied, still looking deep in thought but I've gotten used to it.
"Does your title come with that stupid looking robe?" I prodded.
"Yeah. I have to wear it now. I lost my clothes after I changed somehow, I don't know where they went. I must have misplaced them somewhere."
"Soooo what does that mean? You're going to wage war?" I asked.
"I really hope not," and after that, he went totally silent. He wore the face again but something's different about it. He seems tense, even more than usual. His shoulders and legs are withdrawn and he's hunched over, like he's trying to disappear from the world. I feel pained just looking at him.
"I learned a little more about shapeshifting. Wanna know?" I brought up, trying to get his attention off whatever difficult thing he's thinking about, and it worked. He loosened up almost immediately and his he dropped his typical face.
"Wait, what is it? Did you learn about what happened to Chloe's soul?" he seemed so excited and my stomach felt a little tight and I felt guilty.
"No, I'm sorry," and I added quickly before he got disappointed, "but I left Cali's body and she woke up on her own, without a soul."
"Really?" he asked as he visibly lit up, just a little bit, and I felt a little less guilty.
"Yeah," I said, continuing to watch his face, "she got up and did her daily routine. Except, she noticed a problem with her mana and she went to a soul doc."
"Hmm," he paused for a minute with that face again, and I worried for a second that he would bring back that tension, but he added, "she's a literal p-zombie."
"Huh? What do zombies have to do with this?" I asked.
"You have zombies here?" he asked with a stunned face, and now I'm even more confused than before.
"Yeah, isn't that what we're talking about?" I asked.
"Okay, we're coming back to that later. But no, I mean a 'philosophical zombie'. It's a theoretical person who can react as if they feel pain or have emotions, but they don't actually feel or experience anything," he droned on.
"That's completely different," I said and Remi looked a bit confused too, "when I shifted back into her, I had all the memories of her routine that day, including emotions, but she didn't have any of mine. She didn't have any thoughts at all."
"Well, if memories are stored in the brain while the conscious experience is stored in the soul," Remi continued, "then, really, what's the difference between a soulless body and an inhabited body if they identically perform the same person?"
"Um, I don't know," I replied, "but I don't think it's right to leave her soulless. It seems sad to me."
"Why is it sad if they're the same person?" he asked, genuinely clueless.
"She can't use mana because her soul is gone. And even if she had a soul, it still feels wrong if it's not hers," I replied with furrowed brows.
"But that's what you're doing, isn't it?" he said and I felt ill, like there's a tornado spinning in my head that I can't force out. I thought about Cali's memories of Skips and how she maintained and tended to his altar every morning, and even even if I kept up the habit for her, then I've done nothing but steal her grief away from her, the emotions that she deserved to have, because those emotions are beautiful and they prove just how important he was to her, and he was, and now she has nothing left because I took everything away from her and even if I leave her right now, she won't have them back.
"I don't want to talk about this, can we talk about something else?" I choked out while holding back tears because these tears belong to Cali and I've already taken everything from her and I don't want to take her tears away too.
"I just think..." and he trailed off as I failed to hold them back and they flowed without my permission so I closed my eyes and tried to keep quiet because this is her voice too. And now, I something warm enveloping me with hot air blowing past my neck.
"I'm, um, sorry," Remi said quietly past my ear, "I'm really bad at this kind of thing. I think I said something hurtful. I don't know if this is appropriate--" but I wrapped my arms around him back and let the tears assault my cheeks as they wet the nape of his neck and wailed loud enough to startle him. This is nice. Calming. But I don't know why. I've hugged people before and they were hugs that the bodies already knew so I've hugged and kissed and sometimes more but it always for the sake of my body. This feels different, somehow.
"Remi," I started, after the tears stopped, "you're terrible at giving speeches."
"Hey Chlowe!"
"Hey."
"Aww, hey, what's the matter? You look glum."
"I'm just too tired to think today."
"Nothing a smile can't fix!"
"..."
"No, not like that. That's not a smile, I don't even know what that is."
"Damn."
"Well, congrats on the promotion! I know you've been struggling lately so I bet that's a big relief."
"What?"
"Huh?"
"A promotion?"
"You didn't know? How the Hells did I find out before you did?"
"I don't know, the Church hasn't been great at hiding information lately."
"Ooooo gossip!"
"Is that all you receptionists care about?"
"Whooaaa, hey! We care about other stuff."
"What, like paper?"
"Ha! Hey, there's your smile.
"Whatever."
"And there it goes, like it was never even there. Well then, I got some gossip for you instead. We had a case of POSS yesterday."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah! Isn't that crazy? Two cases in just a few days?"
"Who was the other one?"
"Duh it was you, Chlowe."
"I wasn't diagnosed with POSS. My soul is perfectly healthy."
"Yeah, I saw your chart, but your self-reported symptoms align with the POSS diagnostic criteria precisely."
"Alright, well, what about the new patient?"
"Ooooo so you do like gossip after all! Well, I don't want to name names, y'know, for like privacy."
"Like you care."
"You caught me! Well, she's blonde and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous--"
"Deckard don't be gross."
"Just sayin'. Anyways, she looked like she had the soul sucked out of her. And she did! According to Dr. Illvys, at least. But Alyse checked her out after, and apparently she had a uniquely rare soul. She wrote "speculation: multiple centuries old soul" on her chart. Isn't that insane?"
"Huh. Interesting."
"That's all you got?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure I trust the med staff here anymore. Just seems like incompetence."
"Chlowe, Dr. Illvys has been practicing here for over forty years and Alyse graduated summa cum laude at Hope and Praise. She's no Mana Mage but she's extremely detail oriented. Like, to an annoying degree. I almost hate taking care of her charts it drives me insane."
"Hmm. Maybe there's something to it. I don't know. I'm still skeptical."
"And that's a good thing! Elkae would be proud of your skepticism. I'm sure Deacon is as annoyed about your reports as I am about Alyse's charts."
"That's sweet of you Deckard, thanks. Out of curiosity, what's her name? The patient."
"Whoa. Really, you want to know? You've always seemed so, I don't know. Respectful of the rules or precepts or whatever."
"Yeah you're right. I don't know, I'm sorry. I've been out of it lately."
"It's alright, Chlowe. If it means anything, you'll probably see her around. She's a friend of the Archmagus."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah, it was kind of a big deal. The Archmagus was very clear about keeping the medical ward from examining her without permission. She's a member of the Cabinet now. Off limits."
"Remi..."
"Who?"
"It's nothing."
"Mmm. Okay, if you say so. Bishop Sirrus wants to see you, by the way."
"Again? Ugh."
"If it means anything, it's probably about that promotion you didn't know about!"
"I hope it's that. Just that. Thanks for the chat Deckard."
"Of course, that's what friends are for! Oh, and, how's Opie? Did she mention, uh, anything?"
"Oh my Gods just ask her yourself. Bye."
...
"Hello, Chloe."
"Hello Bishop. It's nice to see you again."
"Fymner informed me you were part of yesterday's subjugation. He spoke highly of you."
"Thank you Bishop."
"I have a new mission for you, courtesy of the Archmagus himself. After tomorrow's commencement ceremony, he will be sent on a public relations liaison with the city of Ionia and he will be accompanied by two Priests. Fymner, and you."
"What?"
"Yes, a promotion, for the both of you. Pray and be grateful to Elkae and our glorius Archmagus, for they have foreseen the future, and have woven you into Her grand Narrative Thread. It is a blessing."
...
"Oh! Chloe! It's, um, really nice to see you again."
"Hey Fymner."
"Are you okay? You look, well, worse than after the subjugation. Were you able to sleep at all?"
"Eh, not until late. We stayed up a little too late drinking. We're lucky we found a carriage ride at all at that hour."
"It's a blessing that intercity travel is so efficient."
"Ugh, don't say that word."
"Oh, sorry. 'Efficient'?"
"No, blessing, but even if it was 'efficient' you would have failed. Boo."
"Ehhehe, yeah, I suppose I would have. Did you receive your mission from Bishop Sirrus?"
"Yes, I did. Congrats on your promotion."
"Thanks. I would say 'you too' but you don't seem all that thrilled."
"No, it's a 'blessing'. I'm just worried that this next mission will turn out to be another subjugation-type disaster.
"I suppose, but the Archmagus and Elkae will be guiding us. We have nothing to worry about."
"The subjugation was terrible. We barely made it out alive."
"But we did. And that's a blessing."
"There's that word again. Boo."
"Right, right. Sorry."
"No, it's not you. Nevermind me. I'm actually looking forward to working with you again."
"Oh! Uh, mhm. Um, yes, me too. Anyways, anyways, uh, the man you delivered to the Church, you think he's the Archmagus?"
"I know he is."
"What kind of person is he?"
"A little awkward, clueless, bad with girls, a pretty terrible conversationalist, probably an even worst orator."
"Wow, that's a poor first impression. I thought he was confident and level headed. He felt like a real leader."
"Really? Are you sure you're doing Link Magic right?"
"I'm certain, for both."
"Hm. If you say so."
"You still seem out of sorts. Would you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know, I feel like a broken clock. I've talked to everybody I know about everything and I've talked to myself multiple times. Just, repeating. And nothing's been fixed."
"Some things need to be fixed and some things don't, and we spend so much time looking for what we can fix, that we assign fixable to what isn't and ignore what we have."
"Which can't be fixed? My broken soul, my wavering faith, or my perpetual exhaustion?"
"I don't know Chloe, I think you have to determine that for yourself. What has been fixed?"
"With this promotion, probably my poverty. I'm being offered room and board somewhere in the Church apartments upstairs."
"Oh! You too, huh? What do you think, are you going to take it?"
"Yeah. I can't live in squalor anymore. It's dehumanizing."
"You know, I have had so many awful experiences and I always try to find the silver lining, and I always fail but the one I've always kept around is that awful experiences help me empathize and understand other people who are going through the same struggles. I'm having that right now, with you. I just want you to know that you're not alone."
"Huh. That's actually a very helpful perspective. Thanks Fymner."
"Any time, Chloe. And uh, hey, if you're not busy tonight, would you like to go out for dinner? With me, I mean."
"I would really, really like that. I think you're very sweet," I said, and I blushed.
...
My night out with Fymner was really helpful. He's kind and attentive and awkward in a really sweet and endearing way, and for the first time that entire day, I felt like I was relaxed. The drinks helped, I'm sure, but the mood was genuinely pleasant and I ended up staying the night at his place. In the morning, I said my goodbyes and went back to my apartment to pack. Not like I had much to take back with me, but still. I sent a handwritten letter to my landlord, thanking him for his years of patience with my late payments, and walked into the new apartment the Church had prepared for me. Not that I'll be here for long, anyways. Ugh, I can barely think. I feel like I slept through the entire day. I fell face first into my bed. It's so, soft. Soft and plush. I'll never suffer from stiff shoulders sleeping in this bed. And it's spacious in here. Pre-furnished. A little too much like the Church but the interior design is, whatever, I just can't help but think about Remi and Cali.
I knew from the beginning that Remi was hiding something, but I didn't expect it to be this. But if Remi is the Archmagus, then why does he always seem so, I don't know, clueless? He's able to view all possible futures, and the future he foresaw as "the ideal outcome" was one in which he pretends to be awkward? No, that's not right. Maybe that's just the way he is and his social behavior doesn't affect the future in any meaningful way.
But his choice to elect Cali into his Cabinet is an interesting one. Deckard said she was at once soulless, and another, with a centuries old maturity. How do we both have POSS if the conditions of our souls are so different? There's too many questions that can't be answered alone. We'll be together for our mission soon. Maybe I should just, ask.
...
I stood in a crowd of what must be hundreds of thousands, at least, in the blistering heat. The Divine Amphitheatre was never known for it's shade or comfort, and I felt the hot breath and sweaty moisture from everyone in the crowd, who were loud and yelling and pushing each other around. It was a bad idea to come here. I read about the recent civil unrest, but I didn't expect it to be like this. I was worried that it would quickly turn violent, until a booming voice sounded from the stage, and the crowd quickly quieted down.
"People of Locria," he started. It really is Remi. But he seems so, different. "Blessed are we, who take only of what we need and sacrifice of what we have for those who need more." He doesn't sound like Remi at all. He's like a different person. "From Phrygia to Lydia, delivered have we, the noble people of continental Aeolia, an age of great health and prosperity, and weakened have we the savages who threaten peace for the meek, the righteous, the merciful, the pure of heart, and the peacemakers, for it is ordained by Elkae, Goddess of Narrative and Prophesy; Leeka, Goddess of Conflict and Resolution; Aekel, Goddess of Survival and Conquest, and above only them, the Goddess of Goddesses, that we, the great people of Locria, shall be the one to save them. So pray. Pray unlike those who pray for salvation but as those who shall deliver it for those who cannot. And thus we do. Ordained has been the right of Locria, the Great Capital of Magic, to usher unto Aeolia, and the greater world beyond, the Golden Age of Peace. Amen."
And like that, he was gone, leaving only a screaming crowd of support and derision.
"I have been informed of what you are now permitted to know: you are not the only Archmagus of your kind," she said to me, my subordinate in name alone.
Other people like me, from my own era, and the previous one had arrived only one year before I had. If the previous Archmagus arrived a year ago and died a week ago, how long was he actually here? Dead in just a year? (and if so, for him, it might have been far more) Or does time dilation create a discrepancy between Earth years and Aeolian years? (in which case he may have lived many, many years here and few on Earth) And, importantly, what were they like? I need to know. Were they educated post-grads, or hikki NEETs, or famous on some level? And they all came here, lost and confused, dying and living the same two hours over and over until they, too, got used to it. Or maybe, it never really bothered them. How much are they really like me? And shit. If any of that is true, then it's entirely possible that this world really wasn't made for me. Paper Magic using radio buttons, drop-downs, and texfields; the noodlehouse serving ramen in a mixed zoning district; high-rise corporate buildings accompanied by hyper efficient bullet trains? All of it could be explained by a lineage of Archmaguses from Earth importing their regional culture into Locrian society. Then why do I still feel like, one some level, I'm being fucked with? Why is my life structured like an author's narrative? And if I'm going to be forced to wage war on innocent people... am I really the protagonist of my own story?
"Regardless, thank you, sir, for what will be your continuous service and devotion to Locria. The people are outside ready for your speech-- a speech that will be communicate across the City and to every City in Aeolia, as is your divine right as the new Archmagus, leader of Locria and, eventually, all of Aeolia, as ordained by Goddess Elkae herself."
"You never gave me a script," I said, confused.
"You don't need one," she replied, and shot me one time to prove a point.