Quaestor

"Oh.  Uh.  Nice catch!  And... thanks?"  Akira's face flushed vermillion given where his hand had managed to catch her.  Quaestor was a little slower on the uptake, having just reacted without thinking. His eyes had been on hers as she spoke, but drifted downward with every widening realization at her words.

"Oh. AH!"  Any awkward motion or force might prove painful, leaving him with the solitary options of matching her shade of blush.  

"Just, don't move for a sec," her laughter broke the tension between them as she propped her arms against his and lifted herself back up to a balanced stance.  "Huh.  Would you look at that."  From her higher vantage, looking back across the kitchen over his head, she instantly spotted both of the items she'd been looking for.  Offering Quaestor a giddy, awkward smile, she held his hand to stabilize her descent and wandered back around the island.

Akira's silent hopes were dashed by his response, but she hid them well enough for him not to notice.  Instead, she pasted a practiced smile on her face and wandered to search other nearby cabinets.  Thankfully, it also enabled her to turn her face away.  Her loneliness wasn't Quaestor fault or responsibility, but the sudden prospect of regular companionship had kindled something within that she'd not felt in ages.  A sigh escaped her lips before she could prevent it.

"Is everything alright?"  He felt awkward just standing there, not being able to help in any way.

"Oh, it's fine.  I just can't seem to remember where I put the stuff."  A false laugh sought to cover her slip.  "Don't you just hate it when that happens?"  Moving to the right of the stepstool on which she'd climbed, her footing slipped and gravity asserted itself in a perilous manner.  Fortunately, it was a simple step for him to brace and steady her while his boot wedge the stool tight to the wall to prevent a full flip.

"Are you truly on your own?"  It seemed an unfair burden, and he felt selfish for not having known or offered to do more sooner.

"Not truly or entirely.  Many of the other players who found these children and brought them here continue to contribute in some way.  Until they vanish, that is."  Their eyes met, confirming that more than a few had met their own ends by whatever means.  Quaestor's mustache quivered and sniffed. 

"You have my word that I will do whatever I can to help.  I set up shop on Floor thirteen, but it's just a short crystal hop away from here. I could come visit anytime and bring Miri along?"

"Your daughter?"  He just laughed.

"No.  My wife.  We've only just rediscovered each other.  It's a very long story that would best be saved for my next visit, when I can properly bring some treats of my own to share."

"Yes, I think so," Akira replied, mouthing a 'thank you' in his direction before chasing both girls out of the kitchen.

"How many are there," he asked, without thinking.  

"Eight.  Too many for such a place as this, but parents will let their kids do anything these days, or are just too busy or tired to properly care."  Regret was heavy in her voice.  It had never dawned on Quaestor that families had been separated by Kayaba's trapped - not in this way, at least. He'd lost Miri early on, but that was different.  They'd never had kids, and the Madrigal had become their family.  Everyone they knew closely was already in here.  

"I'm so sorry.  Is there anything I can do to help?"

Akira paused, then answered.

"Finish your quest, then help me feed them.  It's getting to be too much for me to do on my own."

Quaestor nodded his agreement without hesitation.

Two young girls suddenly came bursting into the kitchen, one cradling a small makeshift doll and desperately trying to keep it away from the other.  Whirling round the corner, they could never hope to see Akira stooped behind the island and both tripped over her legs, eliciting a yelp of surprise and heavy thud.  Acting swiftly, Quaestor managed to catch both girls before anything worse happened, but tears were fully flowing by the time Akira withdrew from her cupboard cave, rubbing the new goose egg on her forehead.

"It's alright dear," Quaestor offered, his voice quiet and calm despite his size.  Setting both girls back on their feet, upright, he picked up the doll and returned it to its owner, raising an eyebrow to the one who'd been doing the chasing.  She blushed and avoided his gaze, bringing a smile to his lips and mirthful twinkle to his eyes.  "You alright there?"

"Ah hah!  Oh, no... that won't do at all."  Thinking she had found a vial of leftover vanilla, it turned out to be some licorice kept in water for too long.  Pulling the stopper off to verify was a mistake and nearly disintegrated her nose with its pungent odour.  "The kids have a habit of re-organizing whenever I'm not looking.  I just hope that Hoji didn't over-sample when he last participated.  There is usually some re-stocking required in the aftermath."  Still laughing, she placed that particular crate aside and delved half her torso under the counter.

"How deep does that place go?"  Bending low, he honestly wondered whether there might be a whole other world under there.  "Can I help in any way?  This seems like far too much trouble."

Muffled scraping of wood against wood, and the clinking of glass, was all that he could hear in response, any words being muted by the rest.  

Akira led him into her kitchen.  It was quaint and cozy, though a little on the small side for what she had to contend with.  A bowl of batter and another full of dough were sitting off to the side, likely as treats and snacks for later in the day.  The hearth was worn and well-loved, assorted pots and pans hanging from it, weening the heat to dry themselves after certain, frequent use.  Herbs hung from every rafter, giving the entire room a fragrant and welcoming atmosphere.  Quaestor removed his helm, lest the added height knock everything off their respective hangers.  Bright eyes marveled at the homeliness of the place.  It had the feel of his place, but clearly personalized to Akira's touch.

"You really don't need to do this," he offered, tripping over his own words.

"It's no bother," she replied, rummaging beneath counters, pulling up crates stuffed with spices and other goods, searching for what might help him.

"No, no.  It's fine."  It clearly wasn't.  Quaestor didn't want to pry and stood shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other, when a leather ball struck the side of his horse-hair plume and set his helmet askew on his head.  Eyes wide, it took him a moment to realize that had happened.  Giggling, infectious laughter came from a dozen tiny voices in the yard, soon spreading to the adults.  Pulling the strap at his chin, he removed the wayward helm and tucked it under his arm, sweeping a thick tangled mess of hair back with his free hand.  Akira had covered her mouth in a vain attempt to conceal her laughter, but at least her tears had turned to those of joy.

"Come with me," she said, smiling again and warmed by the frivolous nature of youth.  "I might have a bit of that stuff left to help you out.  You can have it for keeping Hoji out of trouble." 

"Yes.  Strangest thing.  I'd finished that quest ages ago and had the profession completely ranked up.  Even had a lovely little shop in an out of the way corner of an upper floor, but when I went down to open up this morning the whole thing was locked down."  Irked though he might be, Quaestor's good-hearted nature shone through and he sounded like was telling a neighbour about some oddity that he'd found in his yard.

"It's no big deal, really, and probably has something to do with that weird shadow-flood thing that happened a while back.  It's like the system is still sorting out a bunch of things, you know?"

Akari's face dropped at his mention of the incident, clearly traumatized by it in some fashion.

"I...oh, dear.  I'm sorry, lass.  Didn't mean to bring up any bad memories.  I'm kinda clumsy with that sort of thing.  Mind nothing of it."

Akari was in her early thirties, but the looks of her.  Black hair neatly cut at shoulder length and dressed in a humble outfit that blended in well with the locals, despite their particular colour penchant.  He guessed that she was probably someone's mom, signed up to participate in the game without having the slightest idea what she was in for.  Dark brown eyes looked careworn, but otherwise content.  She'd found purpose inside the game.  The children found a protector and some sense of normalcy.  If they remained on the first floor they would likely be safe from the pervasive perils to be found elsewhere.

"I...oh... err... I came looking for vanilla and eggs.  Hoji mentioned that there was someone around here who might have a stock."

Akira laughed, filling the air with a sound that could rival songbirds with its sense of carefree bliss.

"Oh, you must be working on Maggie's quest.  We get people coming around all the time, looking for those things."

Their trek led them to a humble cottage on the outskirts of the unusual village, where a dozen children were playing around the yard.  Quaestor couldn't believe that kids so young had even been allowed to sign into this game.  What were their parents even thinking?!  They weren't, clearly, and were likely playing the price for their poor choices, even as their children suffered in here.  

"Hoji, you little rascal, who have you snared and collected now?"

"I dunno.  What's your name mister?"  The child's attention was already waning, drawn to one of the ball games going on without him.

"Go on," Quaestor offered, taking his leave to introduce himself to the matron.  "He's a good kid.  And it's very good of you to keep watch over them, miss?"

"Akari.  And thank you.  It makes me feel like I'm giving something back.  I was never much for fighting, but I can help with this."

"So what's the deal, Super... I'm just gonna stick with Hoji, if that's okay.  How come you're hanging around here?  And are you really as young as you look?"

The kid turned and gave him a 'you know that everyone asks me the same question kind of look.'

"Yes, I really am how young I look, except that enough years have passed that it's tough to say that anyone is really a child anymore.  Too much to un-see, you know?  Innocence doesn't hold up well under these conditions."

"I'm so sorry," Quaestor offered, unable to fathom what that sort of thing could do to someone so young.  "Do you have anyone here, to help you?"

Hoji smiled up at him.

"I like you.  You're nice.  And yes, some of the local players help keep an eye out for me.  They're good people too."

Quaestor followed the kid with a goofy grin splashed across his face.  He couldn't help but like him too.

"Hmm?  Oh, yes.  I'm sorry.  Drifted away a bit there.  What's your name kid?"

"Hoji.  But everyone around here calls me Super Kendo Master-man!"

Quaestor's bushy eye brows both rose in doubt and surprise.

"Really?" he asked, skeptically.

"Oh, yeah.  Totally!  Look at this place!  It's all about outrageous.  Hoji's just too plain to live here."  The boy's initially bubbly energy floundered as he spoke of his home and surroundings.  Dreams were bigger than reality here - even fake reality.

"Alight, Super Kendo Master... uh... man?"  The boy's eyes perked up at his efforts to play along.  "What is there to see around here?  And do you know anyone who sells eggs and vanilla around here?  I need some of each."

Running a sleeve across his dripping nose, as if to wipe away disappointment, Hoji just nodded and ran deeper into town, calling on Quaestor to follow him.  The centurion followed, eager to entertain and forgetting his own troubles for a time, in the process.

"They certainly did, didn't they?"  Looking down at the scrawny boy-child, Quaestor's countenance softened, along with his voice.  He remembered the flood that had swept over the floor, drowning out everything it touched, lapping at the walls of Angel's Point while a sea of floating zombies writhed viciously beyond.  He joined the defense, such as it was, but the odds were hopeless. Nothing held back the inky waters for long.  All anyone could do was cling to each other and try to reach higher ground, until there was none left.  

He remembered clutching Miri and trying desperately to save her - or even just to not lose her again after such a recent reunion.  Pangs filled his chest, threatening to overwhelm him with grief once more until a tiny hand tugged at his sleeve.

"Are you okay, mister?"  The kid's gapped and toothy grin gaped up at him, trying to figure out why he was being so weird. 

"I wonder if they're such a place for cooks somewhere on this floor," he mused, drinking in the excessive decor.  If there was, why wasn't Maggie's shop there instead of where it was?  Maybe that meant there wasn't?  Doubt prompted a quick check of his HUD.

"Not even halfway?  Damn.  Either this quest got harder or even my gathering skills got rusty."

"They call it foraging now."

"Whut?"  It took him a moment to even realize who had spoken to him, let alone realize that he'd been musing aloud.  "Oh, uh, hello.  Didn't see you there.  Sorry about that."

The skinny young boy looked like a child standing next to Quaestor, especially while the latter was still in his armor.  Not that he really had any need for it out here, but it gave him a sense of comfort and security while away from his shop.

"That skill you say you forgot.  They call it foraging.  Used to be gathering, but things changed."

Approaching the edge of town, the dark, crimson red of his centurion's uniform clashed harshly against the more predominant pink.  Some random woman in an elegant sari simply fainted as he approached, aghast at the very notion that he would dare enter their pristine village.  

"Oh, uh?  Is she gonna be okay?"  He asked innocently, eyes wide that people could take fashion so seriously.  Who was he kidding?  His youngest sister had always been just as dramatic about fashion, which made the whole thing more dismissible.  Only the dedicated illuminati of the craft could possibly understand, right?  Pfft.  Quaestor didn't even realize that he was laughing, let alone how loudly until a trio of young kids stopped and stared.

"Umm...  just remembering my favourite joke.  It's about these three sailors and aquatic iguana..."

The kids vanished before he could carry own, already savvy and wary of the long-winded tales told by strangers.

"Right.  Nevermind, then."

Putting his back to the past, Quaestor resumed his walkabout, searching long the shores of a nearby creek and through the thin foliage and underbrush of the first floor's mostly cultivated landscape.  All the recipes he'd developed remained in his menus, he simply couldn't reach or activate any of them.  Frustrating as it might be, he'd hardly allowed himself passage beyond the threshold of his shop and home until more recent days.  He'd moved there to hide away from the world and found his hopes rekindled instead.  Maybe there was something to be said for faith, after all.

Tolbana fell behind and soon he neared another, smaller village.  Fuchsia, wasn't it?  The town names after the colour?  Tailors who visited his shop went on and on about it, like some sort of clothier's nirvana. 

"The food must be unbelievably drab," he mumbled, a wry but mirthful smile partially hidden beneath his beard.

Setting aside the demands of his quest, for but a moment, Quaestor scoured the ruined woodlot in the area that once was the great hall of the Madrigal.  

"It might still be here.  And if it is..."  A small depression in the corner, filled with water and overgrown with weeds.  The position was about right.  Pulling back the fronds and reaching down, he drew forth a badly worn crest, most of its colour faded to gone.  Not much remained of the sculptural relief, but there was enough.  Just as its members had faded, and few now remained, they too would regain their standing and clarity.  The voices of the Madrigal would sing again.

The worn stone faded at his touch, dismissed to storage in some distant elsewhere until it was needed.  The others would need to see this - know that their legacy remains, and that it could be rebuilt.  It would serve as a reminder and momento of things lost.  So much loss, all for the sake of a game.

Gripping the stone, he swore his oath to the legacy of those who fell in this place.  Such an act would mean nothing to the digital overlord that governed this place, but it meant something to him.  It would mean something to his family and any others who might have survived the brutal purge.  Likewise, he'd find who did this and made sure they paid for their predatory ways.  

The lone centurion sat in silence a while, pondering the meaning of everything he'd just promised and how he could possibly made good on his words.  The guild would have to be reforged, for sure.  The others were already on board for that.  They'd asked Freyd to join them, hoping to thank him for his efforts, but the man already had commitments.  It was a fair and forthright refusal.  No shame in it.  If they could somehow make a mark for themselves, maybe others would sign on.  It worked before. 

"It could work again."

"How could I have let this happen?!"  He knew the truth.  Miri's loss had ruined him and any good he might have offered to his fallen guild mates.  Despite all past efforts, his strength had left him in the aftermath of her disappearance.  It had left them all.  Seating himself on a stack of broken blocks near where the main hearth once stood, his mailed hand patted it softly, as if soothing a child.  "Sorry, chums.  I let you down, and I'm going to have to live with that."

Looking about, memories filled in most of what reality was missing, at least to the extent that this place was ever real in the first place.  Jeeves and Tashi would scheme in the corner.  Miri would rally weary souls with a song or two in the central table while Tython likely set himself on fire, again.  It brought a smile to his lips and steeled determination in his soul.  The Madrigal would stand again.  He'd see to it.

"We'll bring it all back," he swore to himself.  "The Madrigal can rise again, and be even better than before."  Brass plates creaked and squealed as Quaestor clenched his armored fist, the gauntlet long overdue for a bit of oil and attention.  A tug at the horse-haired plume on his helm turned his head, like some sort of strange destiny-driven weather vane.  Bits of shaped stone poked out from the edge of a nearby copse of trees, supporting timbers long since burnt were barely visible in the thick underbrush.  A few quick cutting slashes from his axe.  

"Is this... home?"  

Rooting through the bits of broken detritus, Quaestor found his breath gone and heart stilled. Here were the last traces of his former guild's hall. It was like walking through a mausoleum and discovering that those buried within were your friends.

"Raskar.  Trivallaine.  Kesko."  Name spilled from his lips while an addled mind struggled with the magnitude of grief that swept over him.  He hadn't come back, and they paid the price.

"I'll need to make peace with Jeeves," he admitted aloud, scolding himself while kicking a few stray pebbles along the dusty road.  He'd already punted that apology too far along.  The man had lost his sister, and all Quaestor could manage was to shut him out.  It wasn't like him, and he owed better - especially to family. 

"When I get back."  A sailor's promise made, and debt owed.  Such things were not taken lightly.  

The burbling of water caught his attention.  Ahead, a shallow stream crossed his path, its stony bed having seen ample traffic over the years.  Nearby outcrops of granite brought back memories of a long-lost picnic.

"Could this have been the place?"  It would have been one of their last gatherings before fate unfurled its foul designs.  Time would have scoured away details, in the real world, but not here.  Every tree, branch, blade of grass and fallen log was just as it was years ago - the immortal mark of a digital reality.  

Skirting the edges of the sleepy village, Quaestor waved to a few fellow players as they went about their business.  A light breeze swept over the landscape, setting the grassy plains aflutter.  It reminded him of the sea, where he'd spent so much of his life.  News had reached him that some of the upper floors had wide expanses of water, and even sailing vessels, but they were unlocked long after he'd retired from the adventuring life.  Perhaps, with things changing, he might drag Miri up there - not that he would likely have to do so.  She'd just as soon race him and take a dive off the first available cliff.  A soft chuckle rumbled deep in the man's chest.  She was the brazen risk-taker in their group, and he'd not have it any other way.  The spark that blazed behind her ever-mischievous eyes had carried him across the globe, and driven him to carry on in this crazy place.  Part safe harbour, part bewitching siren and kindled with child-like wonder, he'd never met anyone else quite like her.

A few shimmering fronds on the edge of a nearby brook caught his attention.  Herbs line the dazzling water's edge, commanding his attention.  They would serve Maggie well.  Bending low, Quaestor observed a group of players walking and talking nearby: three men and one woman, laughing and playing as they went.  It brought a smile to his mustached lips to see that such bonds still survived.

Retreating to Angel's Point had been a deliberate withdrawal from the world and people still left in it.  Granted, it provided the space and time he'd needed to recover from Miri's disappearance, he'd also allowed himself to disengage too much from everything and everyone.  Miri had always been the tether that tied their group together and to those that gathered around them.  It wasn't a talent he possessed, at least not so overtly.  Perhaps now, with his heart rekindled and passions restored, he might find his way back to his old self.  She would expect it, after all.

Reaching the outskirts of Tolbana, Quaestor recalled its walls in flames, assaulted by seemingly endless hordes of ravenous kobolds.  Jeeves mocked them, at first, 'til one nearly bit his nose off.  The mental scene drew forth a hearty chuckle as the elder warrior wandered through farmers' fields, savouring the scents and scenery laid out before him.  It had been so long since wanderlust had last claimed him.

"Damn!  This quest doesn't have a time limit, does it?!"  Summoning the details in his UI afforded a sigh of relief.  Expecting to be winded for wandering so long in his heavy bronze plate, it was good to know that not all had been lost.  Fatigue failed to claim him, though his regalia felt severely dated by comparison to some of the newer toys he'd seen players bringing into his shop.

"I'll need to do something about that, eventually.  First, let's get me back into my shop.  The rest can follow."