Vigor Mortis

Chapter 163: Duty and Station

“Really?” Talanika asks with surprise. “You’re full?”

“I am so terribly sorry, Princesses,” the restaurant’s greeter says, meaning every word of it. “I believe the recent play is to blame for the abnormally high traffic.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Tala mutters. “All the Queens must have gotten the same idea we had. Well, shoot.”

“We can just come back later,” I point out.

“I-if it would please you, Princesses,” one of the men behind us stutters. “We would be honored to give you our seats, if eating on the lower floor is acceptable to you!”

I turn around to face the happy-looking pair behind me, both men clearly overjoyed to have an opportunity to help us. Which is… kind of scary, considering what I remember about how things work here.

Bafflingly, money is not a thing here in Liriope. As an Athanatos, I can more or less go anywhere and get any service I want for free… but what’s really wild is that the men can do that too. Any and all of them. The only real difference is that, due to how many men there are, they have to schedule in advance with the busier places like the restaurant Tala is taking me to eat. Likely months in advance, at least. The two of them have their arms linked together, standing with an intimate closeness that signifies they’re a couple. They planned this date a long, long time ago, yet the idea of using that reservation to help us, who can probably just come back the moment the next Queen finishes their meal and get right in, makes them happier than actually getting to eat at this fancy restaurant does.

My sister glances at me, silently asking how I want to proceed. I start to shake my head, remember that’s not a thing with Athanatos, and signal a negative with my eyes instead. Tala turns to them both and grabs one of each of their hands in a thankful gesture, and I worm ever so slightly out of my soul-tunnel so I can catch the feeling of the utter, radiant joy which fills them at the touch. It’s not just something they’re projecting. It’s real. I slither back into my hiding place, lost in my own thoughts.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” Tala says happily. “Your kindness and loyalty does you credit. However, it would bring my sister and I the most joy to wait for a seat on the upper floors. Please have a lovely time here, and enjoy the food.”

“Yes, Princess!” one of the men barks while the other says “Thank you, Princess!” My eyes adjust into the Athanatos equivalent of a grin, Talanika and I departing for now. The grin quickly falls.

Is this what I want my society to look like? Just with undead instead of bug men? I don’t know if I ever really thought much about it. I don’t know if this is right or wrong. The questions bubble in the back of my mind and I don’t know what to do about them. I probably shouldn’t be doing anything about them, because I need to figure out how to stop a war without getting killed by a cabal of super-powerful immortal mages. Once again, I peek slightly out of my mana tunnel to taste the power in the air. It chills me to my core.

I can feel the Progenitor with my soul sense, of course. She’s rather hard to miss, being the single most obscenely powerful soul I’ve ever felt before, bar the Mistwatcher itself I guess. Her soul is an impossibly beautiful layered maze: artistic, functional, mighty, and cold. So, so cold. Her spirit is nearly the size of a small room, and I can’t even imagine what sort of absurd power she wields. I know with certainty that if the Progenitor moves against me… against anyone, she will win.

I suspect she could obliterate an entire island, if she was truly motivated to.

Suffice to say, being discovered by her isn’t likely to go well for me. My only saving grace here is that she rarely seems to do anything, nowadays. Her age makes her apathetic, and while I have memories of her looking kindly upon me like a grumpy old grandmother, that only makes the kind of fundamental change I’ve made to Malrosa’s soul all the less forgivable. Just thinking about her fills me with unparalleled fear. I slink back into my mana tunnel, shivering as I hide from the chill.

“Mal-Mal?” Tala says, causing me to jolt slightly as she unexpectedly puts a hand on my arm. “You okay?”

Ah! Shit. I… I’m shaking physically as well. I’m hugging myself with my arms, hands gripping deep into the dragonscale armor. My stress is obvious. Stupid of me. I should have better self-control than this. I’m not used to emoting without thinking about it.

“Let’s take a walk while we wait,” I suggest.

“Sure,” she agrees. “Where to?”

“The center district,” I suggest.

The men’s district. The part of the city for the lowest class. It’s funny; Liriope and Skyhope are both mostly-circular cities, and they both have obvious social stratification based on distance from the center, but they’re totally reversed. Here, the lowest class is in the center, while the highest class resides in the outer few rings. I mean, I guess the center of Skyhope has been a giant hole in the island for over two years now, but I was only in Skyhope for… maybe a month of that? Less?

Anyway, I want to see it. I need to see it. Show me the dregs and the outcasts. Show me the orphans and the diseased. Show me those with nothing, barely surviving the day-to-day. That’s what I need to know to decide what kind of city this is. Who here has it the worst? What’s their life like?

“Um, sure I guess,” Talanika agrees. “If you want to.”

So we walk there together, and it feels… wrong. Not because of the suffering, but because of the absence of it. Just like the rest of Liriope, it’s beautiful here. It’s lush and green. The homes are clean and well-maintained. They are, of course, much less fancy than the part of the city where the Queens live. The homes each hold many men who share a common space, far more compact than the ridiculous opulence of the Queens. But they have homes. Many men wander the streets, usually in pairs or groups, but it’s obvious that none of them live on the streets. Once again, I take the risk of peeking out of my mana tunnel to stretch out my senses, searching for the emotion that, for my entire life, has always hung in the background of any city: hunger.

But it isn’t there. Sure, some people are hungry because they simply haven’t eaten, but no one is truly hungry. No one’s stomach gnaws at them from the inside, weakens them and wastes them away because the only energy their body has to keep going is their own blood, muscle, and sinew. No one scrambles for discarded crumbs, no one bleeds out in the street after losing a fight for a slice of bread. No one. Not in my entire sensory radius.

If I could cry, I would.

“Hey, Mal-Mal?” Talanika says hesitantly. “Is it okay if I ask what’s on your mind?”

I turn to my sister. My family. The girl who tried to kill Lark and Penelope. The girl who so happily helped me hunt the savages. The girl who loves a Malrosa that no longer exists.

“Just give me a moment to figure out what that is,” I answer.

She gives a light half-laugh and waits politely as we wander around the city. This feels so impossible. It’s still not what I came here to find, though. Who is the most miserable person in my radius? That’s who I want to meet.

“…I am a Queen,” I eventually say. “I have been a Queen my entire life.”

“Well, technically not until you’re a hundred years old, but yeah,” Tala agrees amicably. “What of it?”

“There are a lot of different kinds of Queens,” I continue. “I never really thought about what kind I wanted to be. How I wanted to rule. I mean, I guess I didn’t want to rule. Not really. I just wanted to be safe and happy.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Tala remarks. “Everyone wants to be safe and happy.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Everyone does. And everyone here is. It’s… it’s incredible.”

“The Progenitor had a plan,” Tala says. “She enacted it. And now we all get to reap the benefits. I definitely have to agree, life is pretty good.”

Yeah. Before the Progenitor, there were no Athanatos. Queens were as mortal as their offspring. She changed that, and many more things besides. She forged our people’s bodies anew, into something greater. She created a society where some live forever, ruling happily above, and others die young, working happily below. That is what she thought was right, because that is what her people, to some extent, already were. Now we’re just… perfected.

This is what Penelope wants to be, I realize. The Progenitor of the humans. But she will make no distinction between male or female, worker or Queen. She will raise them all to be Athanatos, give them all an eternity without decreed purpose. For better or worse, they will be free. Will her society of immortals collapse as the workers try to be Queens and the Queens are betrayed by their servants? Or will she find a way to give everyone a place without quashing the human instinct to seek above one’s station? Either way, I can see her goal more clearly now than ever before, and it’s beautiful.

I should try to be a part of it.

“What kind of Queen do you want to be, Tala?” I ask her.

“I dunno,” she answers easily. “I never thought about it either. Does it really matter? Most of the actual rulership is done by the Progenitor. We’re all given our own little knowledge bases and areas of expertise, we make the men who actually do those things, and then our time is mostly spent on hobbies and stuff. I’m not really worried about being a Queen as much as I’m worried about getting bored. Great great grandma is a little, uh, off, you know?”

“A little, yeah,” I agree. “What about other islands? Do you ever want to visit them? There’s so many I doubt we’d ever get bored traveling between them.”

Tala laughs.

“What, you almost die the first time you step out of Liriope, and you already want to go back?”

I hunch my shoulders a bit. Yeah. Of course. I ‘almost’ died. Tala doesn’t pick up on the human body language, though.

“I didn’t mean to fight,” I clarify. “Just to like… hang out and explore.”

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Tala muses. “Well… we could go visit the colony on the Tear Basin? We’ll pass close enough to teleport in a tenday or so.”

I look at her with a mix of confusion and surprise.

“Oh, uh, do you not remember…?” Tala asks hesitantly. “Um, no worries. The Tear Basin is where we get most of our water. Queen Dalakana manages it. The whole island has been cleared of savages and dangerous animal life, so it should be totally safe.”

Huh. The end product of what Hiverock wants to turn Verdantop into. Could be useful to see.

“Sure,” I say. “I’d like that, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s ‘okay,’ you can do whatever you want,” Tala chuckles. “But if that was your way of inviting me along, sure! I feel like it’ll probably be boring, but I guess I can keep you company.”

“Thanks, Tala,” I say.

“No problem! We’re sisters, right?”

I swallow. Don’t ask me a painful question like that.

“What if… we’re not?” I ask hesitantly.

“Huh?”

“What if I’m not Malrosa?” I ask. “Or… not the same Malrosa.”

She chuckles.

“What are you saying, you dork? Of course you’re the same Malrosa.”

I stare at her seriously.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I feel her emotions play out one after the other. Confusion, at first. Understanding. Worry. She only thinks I’ve lost memories, not that I’ve taken an entirely different identity inside me. And as much as I want to tell her, it would be foolish to do so here. No, I just want to know. I need to know. What makes us sisters, really?

“Do you still love me?” Talanika asks.

“I… yes,” I answer honestly. “Of course I do.”

“Then we’re sisters in every way that matters,” Tala insists. “As long as you remember that, it’s enough for me.”

Damn it. I start shaking again. I wish this body could cry.

“You promise?” I press.

“I promise,” Tala confirms. “No matter what.”

My breath catches in my valves.

“I… you… what did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Aww,” Tala says, pulling me into a hug. “You didn’t have to do anything, silly. You just lucked out.”

“I don’t believe that,” I choke. “I am not a lucky person.”

“Then I’m the natural balance of the universe paying you back for all your shit luck!” Tala preens. “I’m simply worth every bad thing that has ever or will ever happen to you! Dang, I’m good.”

My choking approximation of sobs turn into laughter. Tala, a bit confused, surreptitiously pats my sides during the hug to try and make sure nothing is caught in my airways.

“I… guess you are acting pretty strange,” Tala admits. “Younger. I have to admit, it’s weird suddenly being the big sister.”

“I-It’s weird suddenly having one,” I admit. “I’ve never had a big sister before.”

“Then I guess I’m guaranteed to be your favorite, aren’t I?” Tala jokes. “It’ll be okay, Mal-Mal. We’ll get through this. And I’ll only laugh at you a little bit when I become a Queen first.”

Ah, but I am a Queen. I have sovereign subjects. They’re just down on an island my people are trying to slaughter. …As is the rest of my family, living and dead. But I have time. There won’t be another Hiverock Night for months. I will figure something out.

“So, um, do you want to head back?” Talanika asks as I get my shaking body under control. “There’s probably space for us by now.”

“Oh,” I say. “No. We’re not there yet.”

“Wait, were we going somewhere in particular?” Tala asks.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “Follow me.”

We pad through the streets, no part of them looking any less pristine than any other. Even as we approach the source of the misery I feel, there is no outward sign of it. Instead, we wander through the streets to a minor business district that caters to men more than women. A small stall sits utterly devoid of traffic, the walls lined with paintings. A single, grumpy worker… no, a soldier? A soldier sits before a canvas, his strong arms holding a brush rather than a weapon. He looks up when we get close, and the sight of two Athanatos approaching his shop fills him with a bubbling cocktail mix of awe, gratitude, fear, suspicion, and bitterness.

Interesting.

“Welcome,” the man says guardedly. “What could two honored Athanatos want with me?”

“I’m wondering the same thing myself,” Tala admits. “Malrosa?”

I glance around at the paintings on offer, curious as to their contents. I find them… difficult to understand. Most of them seem to feature figures that seem similarly shaped to people, but are sparsely detailed and outlined in a thin coating of black. The surreal, unrealistic quality to it all wars with my already-limited ability to pick up on visual cues, even counting how much being Malrosa has improved that.

“Does this make sense to you?” I ask Tala, pointing at one of the paintings.

“Yes?” she confirms. “Why wouldn’t it?”

I hesitate only for a moment, but she is my sister. It’s okay to show weakness.

“…Could you explain them to me?”

She does, using a clawed finger to point out the way the art style simplifies life into a caricature, focusing on exaggerations and emotions over realism. It all clicks when she makes the comparison to stylized automations, particularly the small ones with warped proportions I frequently take apart and put back together. Most of the pictures seem to depict men in various states of disrepair, while the others depict the battles which injured them. It’s all very grim, and the better I get at interpreting them the more I like them.

“The expressions are well-done,” Tala admits as she finishes up her explanations. “But the style itself is so amateurish it distracts from that. It’s like the scrawling of someone completely untaught.”

“I am untaught,” the soldier painting them grunts irritably.

Tala seems displeased to hear that.

“What is your name?” she asks in that imperious manner I know is also an order.

“To-Scour-The-Land-Of-Savages,” the soldier answers.

“Ah,” Tala says with a clipped tone. “I see.”

“So you were born to be a soldier,” I note happily. “These paintings are based on your experiences in combat, then. Where did you fight?”

The soldier hesitates at my question, but not answering isn’t really on the table for him. Even as one who rebels against his purpose, obedience is too ingrained in what he is. Just like my Revenants.

“I have returned recently from my prior station at The Broken Web.”

“The front at The Broken Web was never recalled,” Tala notes. “What caused you to deny your duty and station?”

“Grief,” the man answers simply.

“Makes sense to me,” I say nonchalantly, though Tala clearly disapproves.

Looking between the various paintings, I find a truly chaotic one that portrays a bloody battle between soldiers and a group of strange, four-tentacled orb-like creatures that I’ve never seen before. They seem to be intelligent, though, since they’re drawn with armor and weapons. Both sides have victims of slaughter, people that are currently dying or dead. Blood and offal scatters the area. It is gruesome, brutal, and painfully raw.

“I like this one,” I declare. “May I have it?”

To-Scour is surprised for some reason. These are on display because he’s offering them, aren’t they? I assume this isn’t just a gallery area, since he works here.

“…You want a painting,” he says with apparent disbelief.

“That is what I said, yes,” I confirm.

“Nothing else?”

“…Um, I mean, I suppose I might come back to see your new paintings from time to time? In case there are any more that I like.”

“What do you intend to do with this painting,” he asks flatly.

“Uh, hang it up somewhere and… look at it? What else would I do with a painting?”

The man stares at me. I stare back.

“I am honored,” he eventually says, and he means it.

“So I can have it, then?”

“Of course, oh great Athanatos. I am pleased you find worth in me.”

So I nod, collect my new painting, and just… walk off with it. Ha! This is so weird. I own things, and I can choose to own more things whenever I want! I feel like I’m stealing something except that I’m not stealing something, this is just how their society works!

I mean, our society. This is how our society works. My society.

“Well that was strange,” Tala mutters. “Nice of you to do that for the lost one, I guess, but… are you sure you’re okay, Mal-Mal?”

“Of course I’m not okay,” I answer giddily. “I probably won’t be okay for a long time, things are really messed up right now. But I’m not just being nice, I like the painting.”

“Well that’s just extra weird,” Tala declares. “I thought you couldn’t even figure out what was what!”

“Not at first, no,” I agree. “But I just needed a little nudge, that’s all. Thanks for explaining everything. I should ask people to explain things more often.”

“No problem, sis,” Tala says. “I guess there’s no accounting for taste. And speaking of taste, you finally ready to go eat?”

“Absolutely!” I confirm, practically shaking with excitement.

I can’t believe it. There’s no poverty. There’s no hunger! Even with Tala—and I assume most of the Athanatos—immediately reacting with disdain towards the ‘lost one,’ he still lives a better life than anyone on the street back home! This place is insane! But in a great way!

It’s not perfect, sure. I mean, it’s perfect for everyone here, but most people aren’t here and the soldiers still suffer in horrific wars that the Athanatos order, and of course their victims suffer in those wars, and also there’s a ton of animancy going into making sure everyone is happy, but I honestly can’t say that isn’t worth it. I can’t. I lived too long in poverty to claim I’d rather be hungry and free.

“Alright you dork, but we’re getting one of the men to take your weird new art back to your house. I’m not letting you lug it around all day. Even if it makes you weirdly giggly.”

“I’m not weirdly giggly,” I giggle.

“You’re even happier than that time Queen Falrinta lent you her clockwork craftsman for a month,” Tala protests. “If you weren’t armored up to the nines I’d be forced to tickle you into submission.”

“Wh…! Tala! We’re in the middle of the street! It would be undignified.”

“You don’t look like you’re terribly worried about your dignity right now, sister.”

I chuckle at that. She laughs in response, and soon the both of us are howling with joy for no real reason in particular. Once our riotous display quiets down, Tala snaps her fingers twice and the quickest, most eager man runs up and happily volunteers to take my new painting home. Then we enter the fancy restaurant, get ourselves a seat, and are immediately asked for our order.

Which flummoxes me, because I have absolutely no idea what to answer. I didn’t think this was how restaurants worked? I mean, I don’t know much about restaurants, but don’t they normally have like… menus or something? Oh Progenitor I bet there’s no menu because I can order whatever I want. Or because I’m expected to have it memorized! Fuck. Uh.

“Pick for me,” I whisper at Tala.

She does so, ordering on my behalf. As the waiter departs, Tala gives me a concerned look.

“…Do you not remember your own favorite food?” she hisses.

“Do I have a favorite food?” I hesitantly ask back.

She looks me up and down.

“Are things worse than you’ve been letting on?” she whispers.

“I… maybe a little?”

Our conversation is interrupted before she can respond, however, by a uniformed soldier. Which is particularly notable because most men don’t wear anything at all. This one is unmistakable, though. He is part of the Progenitor’s guard.

“Princess Malrosa,” he intones. “The Great Mother requests your attendance at your earliest convenience.”

And then he departs, my mouth going dry with fear. That’s another name for her. The Progenitor. Is she on to me already? This is way too soon, I barely have myself figured out, let alone my plan for the Progenitor! What should I do? Attend her, or run?

“Just a little, huh?” Tala hisses at me. “Just a little!?”

“I love you, Tala,” I say simply, standing up. “It was nice getting to know you.”

“What does that mean?” she yelps. “Mal-Mal? Hey!”

I don’t answer, though. Retreating deep, deep into my mana tunnel out of fear and shame, I walk swiftly out of the restaurant, glancing up at the imposing castle where the Progenitor lives. On one hand, there’s a high chance she knows nothing about me. There are plenty of reasons she might wish to see Malrosa right now. Running when it isn’t necessary would be the kind of suspicious action that gets me investigated where I might otherwise be perfectly safe. On the other hand, she is one of the few people in the world who could probably kill not just my body, but my soul with contemptuous ease. Simply being near her puts me at serious risk. She is death itself. So do I face death, or flee it? Face it or flee it?

It wouldn’t be enough to flee the meeting. I’d likely have to flee the island. I don’t want to do that. Besides, what kind of queen of death would I be to run from my own?

To the palace it is, then. Even if I’m not totally prepared, well… I’m far from helpless. I may have died recently, but this death only made me stronger. Now I am a Queen in soul and body, and I have plenty of tricks up my dragon-scaled sleeves. It’s time to meet the oldest immortal I know, the most powerful soul I’ve ever felt bar god itself.

I’ll try not to fantasize too much about eating her.