For the son of a duke, Khan is in terrible shape. As the north does not have prisons or dungeons, the traitor is simple room devoid of any furniture. He’s dressed in the same clothes we found him in, the smell telling me they haven’t even allowed him to bathe. His wrists and ankles are chained to the floor near the left wall with barely any slack. Just enough to comfortably use the chamber pot beside him, I suppose.
He looks up as I enter with Geneva, his dark eyes showing no reaction. “I didn’t think my father would send you as an executioner. Does he not want to stain his hands?”
“I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to heal you. Or at least give it a try.”
“I don’t need to be healed. My condition is of my own design.”
“Something someone who has had their mind tampered with cannot say,” I mutter. The lack of furniture is a problem as I find myself without a seat, forcing me to sit cross-legged in front of Khan. He jumps as Geneva moves to his side. “How are you feeling today?”
“Well as I can be while lamenting the inevitable struggles facing my family.” He flinches as Geneva places a hand on his head but keeps his eyes on me. “You attempted this already, didn’t you? Why waste your time?”
“It’s your lucky day, Khan. What is very likely the most accomplished mental caster in all of Harvest is in this room. If anyone can restore your memories, and more importantly your father’s trust in you, it’s my pet. And all you have to do is sit there. Maybe have a conversation with me to pass the time.”
“Are you watching your creature? Afraid what it will do unsupervised?”
I scoff. “Afraid? No.” Geneva’s schemes aren’t to hurt me. The worst she’s done so far is attempt to use my relationships to manipulate me, which I expect, and be too competent. Whatever else she is doing, she is making sure it doesn’t intrude in my daily life and that is all I ask for. “You may want to be afraid. If she can’t heal you, well. The future doesn’t look good.”
“I prepared myself for this when I returned.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t know why you’re willing to die?”
“A James son must always be prepared to die. It is enough that I know it’s for a good reason.”
“That’s the crux of the matter. You don’t know. The estrazi could be hideous, disgusting creatures that let Victory march its little campaigns because they think man flesh is a delicacy. This fort could be their human farm and you’re protecting them thinking they’re, what, blue saints? Don’t you see the problem? Because if you don’t, that’s another problem.”
“I don’t know what they are. All I know is that they are good. Whether that knowledge is truth or fabrication doesn’t matter.”
I frown. Is he an idiot? “No, it does.”
“What do we really know about anyone? All we know is how those around us present themselves but that could be just as much pretense as my supposedly false impressions of the estrazi. We act on our impressions of people and causes. I believe the estrazi to be good. I believe they work in service of a greater good. There is no point in doubting that conviction, especially when the consequences of Victory acting recklessly are too dire to think about.”
…yeah, he’s an idiot. Geneva, how does it look?
[May I have silence, my summoner? This is delicate work.]
Oh, she’s working hard. First time she’s taken that tone.
“Looks like we have some time.” I stretch out on my side. I’m sticking around, both because there’s not much else to do and I want to be here in case Geneva makes progress. The first day is important. She may not be able to solve the problem but I’m hoping she can tell me whether she can or not. If not, then we need another plan. “Want to tell me some stories?”
“I would rather you leave me in peace,” he grumps.
“Don’t be like that, brother-in-law. Tell me some stories about Alana.”
He sighs. “They aren’t very entertaining. Are you going to share stories as well? Like how the two of you became involved, as I find it very hard to imagine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Alana’s perfectly charming.”
“She didn’t used to be.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
-
“So?” Several hours later, I am lying in Kierra’s arms on Alana’s bed while she stands beside it with crossed arms. Her stern frown says she’s preparing herself for bad news. I wish I could tell her something different. “How is Khan’s situation?”
“I best let the expert explain it.”
Geneva is perched on the end of the bed, stroking her tail with a hand while seemingly deep in thought. She looks up as I call her name and smiles. “My apologies, Lou. You have presented me with quite the problem.”
Alana’s shoulders sag but she manages to keep the disappointment off her face. “There’s no hope, then.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She immediately perks up. “Then—"
“Allow her to explain, little star,” Kierra interrupts. “Or this may take all night.”
“You’re right.” Alana takes a deep breath before taking a seat on the bed. I hear the slightest rumble of displeasure from my elf as the dirty clothes touch the sheets. Alana hears it too because she huffs and quickly kicks off her pants. She raises an eyebrow at Kierra, who smiles in response. “Continue.”
“Your brother’s case is quite interesting. I knew at first glance that it was not the work of an amateur, but I underestimated the mastery of the one responsible.” She turns toward us. “Hm. Imagine Khan’s mind as a vase. The average mental caster who wants to obscure someone’s memories wields their magic like a blunt instrument. They smash the vase, leaving the mind a field of broken pieces.
“Viewing them is like observing a painting where most of it has been obscured by black. Crude, but effective. Also fairly easy to repair. The pieces may be scattered but someone skilled can see how they fit back together or infer the rest of the painting from the small pieces they can see.
“Someone more skilled doesn’t simply shatter the vase. They take the broken pieces and put them together in a new way. The mind appears whole, which makes it much harder to determine what is out of place. Before the mind can be repaired, it has to be shattered again. If done incorrectly, the healer can do irreparable damage. Difficult, but not impossible. If that were all, I would still be confident.
“What has been done to Khan is on an entirely different level. The vase wasn’t simply shattered. The pieces were ground into dust, poured into a mold, and fashioned into a new shape. There is nowhere I can find fault in the work to begin unraveling it because his mind has not been broken. It has been completely reformed.”
I let out a slow breath. “I think I understand. This isn’t a question of power. It’s more that there isn’t a problem to fix.”
“Essentially. To make things as clear as I can, this is the method I would use to accomplish the same goal if I thought someone of my skill would be examining him.”
“Which further supports the current theory that the enemy has a seer working on their behalf,” Alana mutters. “They knew about you.”
“Maybe. I hope so. What they did to him, it had to have taken weeks. Maybe months. Maybe years. I would prefer they took action knowing about me in advance. If not, that means they are incredibly cautious and paranoid. They would have laid the groundwork for the spell, refreshing it again and again as Khan learned more compromising information, ready to take drastic action at any moment. A terrible opponent that would make.”
I agree, that would be a terrible mind to face but is it worse than a seer that can accurately see months or years into the future?
“You said there was hope?” Alana asked.
“Another reason why I would prefer to face a seer, as they appear to be quite lacking. If they truly understood my capabilities, they would have killed him rather than risk giving him to me. Stay with me as I continue the metaphor. Wood has grain, yes? It always moves one way. Similarly, the mind has a pattern. It is subtle. The work done to him has made Khan’s specific pattern even more subtle. But if I can discern it, I may, may, be able to replicate the process and put his mind back to its original state.”
“Say it directly,” Alana urges. “What does may mean?”
“It means the chances are slim, but not impossible. Saying anything else would be misleading. I can tell you something definitively. The process will take longer than a week. At least three if I work non-stop and I will be useless otherwise. Maybe longer. A much more pressing problem, I think.”
Oh, definitely. We’re supposed to be leaving in a few days and if we go without healing Khan, his father will kill him. I turn to a deeply frowning Alana. “What do we do?”
For the son of a duke, Khan is in terrible shape. As the north does not have prisons or dungeons, the traitor is simple room devoid of any furniture. He’s dressed in the same clothes we found him in, the smell telling me they haven’t even allowed him to bathe. His wrists and ankles are chained to the floor near the left wall with barely any slack. Just enough to comfortably use the chamber pot beside him, I suppose.
He looks up as I enter with Geneva, his dark eyes showing no reaction. “I didn’t think my father would send you as an executioner. Does he not want to stain his hands?”
“I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to heal you. Or at least give it a try.”
“I don’t need to be healed. My condition is of my own design.”
“Something someone who has had their mind tampered with cannot say,” I mutter. The lack of furniture is a problem as I find myself without a seat, forcing me to sit cross-legged in front of Khan. He jumps as Geneva moves to his side. “How are you feeling today?”
“Well as I can be while lamenting the inevitable struggles facing my family.” He flinches as Geneva places a hand on his head but keeps his eyes on me. “You attempted this already, didn’t you? Why waste your time?”
“It’s your lucky day, Khan. What is very likely the most accomplished mental caster in all of Harvest is in this room. If anyone can restore your memories, and more importantly your father’s trust in you, it’s my pet. And all you have to do is sit there. Maybe have a conversation with me to pass the time.”
“Are you watching your creature? Afraid what it will do unsupervised?”
I scoff. “Afraid? No.” Geneva’s schemes aren’t to hurt me. The worst she’s done so far is attempt to use my relationships to manipulate me, which I expect, and be too competent. Whatever else she is doing, she is making sure it doesn’t intrude in my daily life and that is all I ask for. “You may want to be afraid. If she can’t heal you, well. The future doesn’t look good.”
“I prepared myself for this when I returned.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t know why you’re willing to die?”
“A James son must always be prepared to die. It is enough that I know it’s for a good reason.”
“That’s the crux of the matter. You don’t know. The estrazi could be hideous, disgusting creatures that let Victory march its little campaigns because they think man flesh is a delicacy. This fort could be their human farm and you’re protecting them thinking they’re, what, blue saints? Don’t you see the problem? Because if you don’t, that’s another problem.”
“I don’t know what they are. All I know is that they are good. Whether that knowledge is truth or fabrication doesn’t matter.”
I frown. Is he an idiot? “No, it does.”
“What do we really know about anyone? All we know is how those around us present themselves but that could be just as much pretense as my supposedly false impressions of the estrazi. We act on our impressions of people and causes. I believe the estrazi to be good. I believe they work in service of a greater good. There is no point in doubting that conviction, especially when the consequences of Victory acting recklessly are too dire to think about.”
…yeah, he’s an idiot. Geneva, how does it look?
[May I have silence, my summoner? This is delicate work.]
Oh, she’s working hard. First time she’s taken that tone.
“Looks like we have some time.” I stretch out on my side. I’m sticking around, both because there’s not much else to do and I want to be here in case Geneva makes progress. The first day is important. She may not be able to solve the problem but I’m hoping she can tell me whether she can or not. If not, then we need another plan. “Want to tell me some stories?”
“I would rather you leave me in peace,” he grumps.
“Don’t be like that, brother-in-law. Tell me some stories about Alana.”
He sighs. “They aren’t very entertaining. Are you going to share stories as well? Like how the two of you became involved, as I find it very hard to imagine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Alana’s perfectly charming.”
“She didn’t used to be.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
-
“So?” Several hours later, I am lying in Kierra’s arms on Alana’s bed while she stands beside it with crossed arms. Her stern frown says she’s preparing herself for bad news. I wish I could tell her something different. “How is Khan’s situation?”
“I best let the expert explain it.”
Geneva is perched on the end of the bed, stroking her tail with a hand while seemingly deep in thought. She looks up as I call her name and smiles. “My apologies, Lou. You have presented me with quite the problem.”
Alana’s shoulders sag but she manages to keep the disappointment off her face. “There’s no hope, then.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She immediately perks up. “Then—"
“Allow her to explain, little star,” Kierra interrupts. “Or this may take all night.”
“You’re right.” Alana takes a deep breath before taking a seat on the bed. I hear the slightest rumble of displeasure from my elf as the dirty clothes touch the sheets. Alana hears it too because she huffs and quickly kicks off her pants. She raises an eyebrow at Kierra, who smiles in response. “Continue.”
“Your brother’s case is quite interesting. I knew at first glance that it was not the work of an amateur, but I underestimated the mastery of the one responsible.” She turns toward us. “Hm. Imagine Khan’s mind as a vase. The average mental caster who wants to obscure someone’s memories wields their magic like a blunt instrument. They smash the vase, leaving the mind a field of broken pieces.
“Viewing them is like observing a painting where most of it has been obscured by black. Crude, but effective. Also fairly easy to repair. The pieces may be scattered but someone skilled can see how they fit back together or infer the rest of the painting from the small pieces they can see.
“Someone more skilled doesn’t simply shatter the vase. They take the broken pieces and put them together in a new way. The mind appears whole, which makes it much harder to determine what is out of place. Before the mind can be repaired, it has to be shattered again. If done incorrectly, the healer can do irreparable damage. Difficult, but not impossible. If that were all, I would still be confident.
“What has been done to Khan is on an entirely different level. The vase wasn’t simply shattered. The pieces were ground into dust, poured into a mold, and fashioned into a new shape. There is nowhere I can find fault in the work to begin unraveling it because his mind has not been broken. It has been completely reformed.”
I let out a slow breath. “I think I understand. This isn’t a question of power. It’s more that there isn’t a problem to fix.”
“Essentially. To make things as clear as I can, this is the method I would use to accomplish the same goal if I thought someone of my skill would be examining him.”
“Which further supports the current theory that the enemy has a seer working on their behalf,” Alana mutters. “They knew about you.”
“Maybe. I hope so. What they did to him, it had to have taken weeks. Maybe months. Maybe years. I would prefer they took action knowing about me in advance. If not, that means they are incredibly cautious and paranoid. They would have laid the groundwork for the spell, refreshing it again and again as Khan learned more compromising information, ready to take drastic action at any moment. A terrible opponent that would make.”
I agree, that would be a terrible mind to face but is it worse than a seer that can accurately see months or years into the future?
“You said there was hope?” Alana asked.
“Another reason why I would prefer to face a seer, as they appear to be quite lacking. If they truly understood my capabilities, they would have killed him rather than risk giving him to me. Stay with me as I continue the metaphor. Wood has grain, yes? It always moves one way. Similarly, the mind has a pattern. It is subtle. The work done to him has made Khan’s specific pattern even more subtle. But if I can discern it, I may, may, be able to replicate the process and put his mind back to its original state.”
“Say it directly,” Alana urges. “What does may mean?”
“It means the chances are slim, but not impossible. Saying anything else would be misleading. I can tell you something definitively. The process will take longer than a week. At least three if I work non-stop and I will be useless otherwise. Maybe longer. A much more pressing problem, I think.”
Oh, definitely. We’re supposed to be leaving in a few days and if we go without healing Khan, his father will kill him. I turn to a deeply frowning Alana. “What do we do?”
