[PP-F4] To Greater Glory (Lessa)

[Ashrah 0]

It was the first time Arc had ever seen the fourth floor.

Snow was an anomaly where he came from, and the cold annoyed him more than anything, but snow was a welcome sight. Back home, it meant time off from school when he was young, and days spent indoors. Warm fires and the occasional stew, and at times even not getting out of bed.

On Aincrad, the land of eternal winter simply offered new sights and challenges. While he felt less than ready to seize the day and meet the adventure head on, Arc decided it would be good to learn the floor and perhaps meet a few new people. It was hard to survive in a game filled with other people when you didn't know any of them.

He remained quiet and leaned up against a lamp post, still burning low as the moon glowed down overhead. Nighttime, he had learned, was not ideal for fighting enemies. It was better spent indoors, planning, and resting. The snow nestled on the bridge of his nose as he stared intently out into the elemental darkness of the floor, brooding in silence about things he had learned in recent days.

Alkor... no, Thom, was dead. He was in this game, and Arc never knew it. He left behind a brutal legacy, players wanting to avenge him and some even still in mourning. Tobias quietly smiled, glad to know that his best friend did not die alone, and that he even made some friends before the time came.

With his arms crossed, Arc finally let his head droop and his eyelids follow suit. A few minutes rest wouldn't hurt, he decided.

[Lessa 1]

"Alright, now just bend you knees a bit more."

The boy frowned. "They are bent."

"More," came the woman's terse reply. When her pupil refused to follow her order, she shook her head, sending her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. "You chose a heavy weapon," she reminded him, struggling to keep her mounting frustration from seeping into her voice. "If you want to continue to use the two-handed sword, you're going to need to better understand the balance it requires."

He turned to face her, and she again felt her chest tighten at his youth. His chubby cheeks flushed crimson from the work and the cold, and his shimmering green eyes bore into her expectantly. It was his young age that had caught her attention from the start, and she had immediately taken pity on him. Why, he couldn't be older than twelve years old.

His high-pitched voice tore her from her thoughts. "My balance is great!"

Her retort was quick and merciless. "Tell that to the wolf you couldn't hit." Even middle schoolers could push the girl too far, and she had been battling with that particular player all day. But she immediately caught herself. "Look, let's stop for the day. It's getting late, and the temperature is dropping."

The boy's lips, tinted blue by the cold, quivered. Briefly, the woman wondered if he meant to argue or burst into tears. He surprised her by doing neither. "Alright," he replied with a slight nod, letting the tip of the heavy claymore he clutched rest on the snow-covered ground. Then, suddenly, "do you know why I wanted to use this floor?"

"No," she replied honestly. "Why?"

"It reminds me of Christmas."

The innocence in his answer was a dagger twisting in her heart. A forced smile split her otherwise solemn expression. "There are a lot of memories here," she agreed softly, and began to walk away before the boy could ask further questions.

It did not take her long to return the boy to his room in the inn. In a few days, she would bring him back to the orphanage he had escaped from, but until then, she would do her best to prepare him. No doubt, he would continue to sneak off; better he be well-prepared before doing so. After checking in with the innkeeper, she slipped back into the chilly night air.

It was a strange shadow that she noticed first, interrupting the short walk she took every evening. It stretched eerily through the soft, cream light of the nearest lamp, and her gaze followed it to the feet of a figure resting against the post.

A quick glance at his cursor revealed he was not a player killer. That, coupled with the safe zone they were stationed in, was enough to prompt her into action.

"You may not die from it," she began, "but it still gets mighty cold out here. You may want to head inside before it gets much later."

[Ashrah 0]

"Don't doubt it," he replied in a half yawn when he heard her speak. "But it ain't so bad, really." In reality, it probably bothered him more than he let on. Arc wasn't one to back down from a challenge, even a challenge issued by the temperature. "Shouldn't you be going back in, if it's so cold?" he asked, his eyes slipping open slightly.

He saw her there, a heavily armored woman with a large blade at her back. Strange, to see a warrior like this one on a floor covered in frost. It reminded him of the ancient Norse, tales of Viking warriors and Valkyries, the watchers of the dead. She was a battle-maiden, something few in Aincrad could truly say.

And to Arc, it was interesting to see such a somber scene. Her voice lulled low, like her thoughts were sad and distant. He wondered who she was for a half moment, then dismissed the thought with the notion that she would tell him herself. "Nice sword," he commented, "though I'm more of a Blue or Gold guy than red. Still, cool touch."

It gave them something to talk about other than the weather, and it broke the proverbial ice. The actual ice notwithstanding. "I'm Arc," he told her, "and I'm mostly scouting floors right now. Night time isn't particularly good for fighting, I've learned."

It was one of the first newbie mistakes he made, and Mari had been quick to correct him. Mari, the woman who fell in love with Alkor. How very interesting, all these things coming together like they had. Arc smirked at the thought.

"I'm not trying to hurry myself up floors too quickly, though."

[Lessa 1]

The challenge in his tone was not lost on the woman. The beginnings of a mischievous grin cracked her chapped lips as she answered simply, "you don't need to bother worrying about me. I've spent most of my time on this damned floor. Guess you might say I've gotten used to it."

"You, on the other hand," her voice trailed, a small cloud of vapor that hung on her lips for only seconds before cooling into the inky blackness of night. Her first instinct was to call him out on his low level. While she had no way to judge his acquired skills, his starter gear screamed newcomer, and she wanted nothing more than to teach him just what he was getting himself into. To warn him of the dangers that lurked outside the walls of the Town of Beginnings; some came in the form of various mobs, but most did not.

But would good would her threats do? The man who stood before her, staring expectantly down his snow-speckled nose, was no twelve year-old boy. Was it her place to strike fear of the unknown deep into his heart? Did she have any right to plague this man with the paranoia that gripped her, the terrors that warped her dreams?

No, she would remain alone in her darkness.

"I haven't seen you around here," she finished.

Without providing time for a reply, she drew her claymore. Its familiar glow lit the pair's faces as they both leaned closer. "This is Hell Rose," she explained, allowing the swelling pride her sword ignited to beat back the lingering negativity. "A good friend crafted her for me." Her blue eyes climbed to meet his gaze as she added, "I imagine it would look alright in blue or gold. And my name is Lessa."

[Ashrah 0]

"Cold as the floor, aren't you," Arc murmured as she seemed to recede into the recesses of her mind for several long moments. Something troubled this woman on a deeper level than the psyche-damaging fact they were trapped in a video game. Arc would not pry, of course- he had only just let her. "Can't say I blame you," he muttered, "I'm no warmer."

The thought of traveling beyond the walls of this town never passed his mind. Arc knew immediately that this part of his world was beyond him. The ability to see new things enhanced his capabilities within the world, though, so he would adapt and discover whenever the opportunity presented itself. "Lessa," he repeated her name in a hollow voice, "and Hell Rose. Interesting pair."

While he remained in his beginner clothes, Arc merely suffered from a lack of funds. It was difficult to amass a fortune with all the resources quickly sucked up by farmers. His financial situation left him with just enough for food and low level potions, but little else. It made him look ridiculous to onlookers, and it hampered his reputation.

"I'm doing small time recon," he finally said, "what towns are like, and the people I meet. I guess I have a weird fascination with this world, being stuck here and all." He was the first to admit it. Very few people were so comfortable with their newfound prison. "I don't have any designs on going out there and fighting, tonight."

He watched her for a moment before adding, "but you look burdened."

[Lessa 1]

"Burdened."

The word felt dry and rough against her tongue, but try as she may, she could not bring herself to argue with him. She gave a short, humorless laugh that slipped past her lips like a soft sigh. "Something like that. But in a world like this, you're incredibly lucky if you're not."

"You're fortunate," she told him, "to still be so fascinated by this place. I am too, occasionally. I catch an especially pretty sunset, or the smell of a particular flower, and I find myself appreciating the beauty of it all the way I did on my first day." She watched the snowflakes glisten in the light cast by her blade, her voice strangely detached from her body as she continued to speak. "It reminds me of home. And that reminds me of what I've left behind. What none of us can get back to, unless we fight for it. And then the sun and the roses don't mean much to me anymore."

Lessa took a small step back from Arc, providing her the room necessary to sheath her enormous weapon. She watched him, and he watched her, and neither spoke for a brief moment. The midnight hour was approaching, and many of the players had retired to their beds. The night held nothing for the people of Aincrad, and few dared to venture out, even in the safe zones. Once, the silence had suffocated the blonde, but now she appreciated the rare peace that her nightly walks allowed her. Even as she stood there, sharing the ring of light with a player she had only met, she was not bothered by the quiet.

It was something he had said a moment before that caused her to finally speak. "Cold, huh?" The faint traces of her first genuine smile adorned her lips. "No one has called me that before."

[Ashrah 0]

Arc stared for a long time into the dull streetlamp as she spoke. It must have been so easy for some of them, getting strewn in every direction by the flow of things in Aincrad. Lessa spoke of how the sunsets and flowers seemed lessened in beauty by their implications, and Arc felt genuinely sad for her.

If you lose appreciation for any amount of that beauty, aren't you slowly losing a part of yourself? He wanted to ask her that, but she seemed content to remain in silence. He appreciated that. His small circle of friends outside the game were always quiet, and it helped them to remain in a relative peace.

His fingers played through dirty blonde hair and azure eyes studied the stronger player thoughtfully. "I wouldn't say that," he responded brusquely. "Fortune favors the bold, not the inexperienced."

Arc tilted his head when she said no one ever called her cold; maybe times had changed her, but he could not say. Before this moment, they had never met. She seemed more closed off than like a people person.

[Lessa 1]

"Fortune favors the prepared." The sound of her own voice startled her, as did the strength with which she delivered the words. "The bold? The bold throw themselves into battles that they're nowhere near ready for." In the dim light, her blue eyes grew far more icy than anything the fourth floor had to offer. "The bold fight for some ridiculous, warped sense of glory, all the while forgetting the desires of the people they claim to be protecting. The bold get themselves killed."

Lessa felt the stranger's gaze on her, and when she turned to stare off down the empty road, it seemed to burn even hotter. Her skin crawled beneath it. Where had that come from? "Jesus," she whispered. "I'm sorry." She didn't look at him. She couldn't. "Look, that wasn't meant for you, okay?"

Her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Burdened," she repeated a second time. Then she laughed. It was haunting sound, betraying the multitude of emotions that lurked just below her cold, hard exterior. "Everyone's burdened. But the real secret is how to use that baggage to get stronger. To keep pushing. We owe that to them."

[Ashrah 0]

"If no one takes a risk, no one reaps the rewards."

Arc shrugged off her brazen disapproval of his words and recalled a friend who died valiantly in battle against a boss. Alkor no doubt contributed something in that fight. Arc wouldn't believe anything else. "Can't dishonor the fallen by trivializing their sacrifice."

His words came from a place of mourning deep within himself, though she obviously meant someone rlse. He doubted seriously if anyone had known Thom beyond Mari, though it was not unlikely others knew of Alkor.

"Sometimes people are meant to do things others won't. And that's alright. What we lack in bravery, they trade in their lives for. You can't hold it against them. Fear is fine for some people, but not others."

Arc spoke quietly as he considered his own stance. "I'm not afraid, either, Thom."

[Lessa 1]

Thom. Somehow, she knew that his words were not meant for her. Arc spoke as if reassuring himself of something, and his use of a name unfamiliar to her only made her feel like more of an outsider. At that moment, she was alright with it. She was foolish to assume that she was the only one hurting; perhaps his inner demons were not unlike her own.

A few practiced hand motions called up her HUD, and unequipped her gauntlets. Her fingers, now bare against the cold, raked through her long hair. "Sometimes, it isn't all about fear," she replied softly. "Even the bravest person can choose to stand down. Admit he's not ready, or that the time isn't right. Or even that, maybe, what he's trading his life for isn't worth it in the end. Not to the people he's walking away from."

Finally, she turned back to Arc. Her features had softened, but her eyes revealed that she had retreated back into her distant memories. "It's been six months since I've fought on the front lines." She spoke plainly, merely a stream of consciousness rather than any sort of bragging. "I've spent that time training players, teaching them how to survive. It has never been a matter of passion, or bravery. The same courage that leads players to the front lines can be found in the men and women who venture outside Starting City for the first time."

"But courage alone does not determine your success," Lessa continued, with a small shrug of her shoulders. "That's what I've come to learn." She eyed him wearily. No doubt, her exhaustion was to blame for the ease with which she spoke to him. "I'm certainly not questioning your bravery, Arc." And I never questioned his. "I only hope that the need to be brave isn't the only thing that fuels you."

[Ashrah 0]

"Maybe," Arc said sternly, "he believes what he dies for is the most just cause." He believed that of Alkor, to be sure. Thom may have been quiet, but he was always convicted. "I think if someone died like that, they would die without regret."

She spoke of leaving the front lines and teaching young, weak players to survive. Arc did not fault her for leaving, but he would never have left if he were there. "And someone died," he guessed. "I won't ask questions. I know that happens in this world and you don't owe me any answers."

He turned his gaze from her again and shrugged. "I'm just doing what I feel I need to do. That's what matters." He flicked his wrist casually, almost dismissively. "Same as what you're doing.

"And as long as I do that, I'm not afraid of what comes."

[Lessa 1]

"Maybe your Thom believed that," she replied as gently as she could, though she struggled to cover the bite that threatened to accompany the words. "And you know, I hope he did. It's always easier when I tell myself the people I've lost are happy now." A pause, and then, "why wouldn't they be, free from this Hell-hole?"

Silence enveloped the pair, broken only by the soft sounds of snow settling nearby. The fourth floor was truly a place of mixed emotions for the blue-eyed swordswoman. She was haunted by the memories of the better days. Life had been easier back then. Trips to the Starglade with Alkor, ice skating with Daeron, guild meetings with the people she had loved the most. Now all were gone from her life, mere ghosts for the past half-year. She felt their presence always, and while she often used it as motivation to train harder, she still spent many a restless night staring out the window at the swirling snow. So why do I stay here?

"I don't intend to stand out here in the cold and argue with you all night," she admitted finally. "I can see that you and I are very different people. Maybe we were destined to butt heads. But if this life is as fragile as it is proving to be, I don't really care to go on spending it like this."

[Ashrah 0]

"Argue," the word came accompanied with a chuckle as he repeated it softly beneath his breath. "Ah, you've gotten tired of conflict, I see." Arc turned and smiled gently with a bright smile. "That's alright. It was nice to meet you, Lessa, and I hope you get whatever you're looking for out of this game."

He opened his menu and browsed over his status and experience bar, like it had just become part of his routine. "It's probably good that you decided to back off of the front lines," he told her finally, "lots of conflict, thereabouts."

Arc closed the window and reached up to scratch his head. He turned his attention toward the inn and debated a night of sleep. It might be good to rest before heading back to work in the morning. The day ahead held new adventures and the quest to improve himself, and that excited him greatly.

His lips moved in silent recital of an old quote, something he recalled from a History lesson. "One finds life through conquering the fear of death within one's mind. Empty the mind of all forms of attachment, make a go-for-broke charge and conquer the opponent with one decisive slash." He shared that philosophy, if only because it made the most sense. It had probably killed Alkor, it might kill him, but it gave him treat solace.

Some people could not take that step, and it did not mean they were lesser people. That just made people who could invaluable in the war effort. "Maybe I'll see you again, on the Front lines."

[Lessa 1]

His broad smile came from nowhere, and caught the young woman entirely off guard. She regarded him in silence for a moment, her gaze searching his for some clue as to his thoughts. He spoke with an ease that made her slightly uncomfortable, but after some thought, she attributed his nonchalaunce to his inexperience. Perhaps I should have warned him afterall.

"Fine," she said simply, shrugging. "It was nice meeting you too, Arc." She delivered her farewell without emotion, her voice almost robotic in nature. Then, as she turned away, she added, "good luck on the front lines."

She left him standing alone, bathed in the soft light. Had she hoped he might be different? That he might proceed with a bit more caution, rather than barrelling headfirst into whatever challenge he concocted for himself? Sure. But as the creeping apathy that she had experienced for the past few months began fester in the pit of her stomach, Lessa decided she would not spare him another thought. She would sleep, and in the morning, she would forget all about him.

Much to her surprise, things did not go as planned. As she sat at the bar the following morning, cupping a steaming mug of hot chocolate between her palms, she caught him decending the steps. His gaze immediately found hers. "Fancy seeing you here," she commented as he approached the bar, her gentle tone a far cry from what he had heard the night before.

[Ashrah 0]

"Maybe so," he laughed as he tossed a few Col on the bar and the barkeep slid a frothy ale across to him. "Then again, it is an inn, and we all have to sleep." He almost choked on the booze as he laughed at himself. "Or stay awake and drink, failing sleep."

The flagon touched down gently on the bar as he glanced two seats over to Lessa and studied her for a moment. Her voice had changed since their last meeting, clearly some time and hot drink had warmed her demeanor. It was interesting to see how people lived daily in Aincrad, some devoid of their inner strength after watching others deteriorate and fade away.

"I'm thinking of heading back down to the second floor tomorrow. I need to gain more strength." The admission might have struck her as odd, but Arc knew his limits for the forseeable future. "I saw a few of the mobs lurking outside here. It wouldn't be good for my health to try fighting them as I am right now."

[Lessa 1]

The cup slid across the wood with a dull hiss, and as Lessa glanced toward it, she was surprised to see ale in the man's hand. She eyed him for a moment, then gave a goodnatured shrug. Why not start when the sun rises? It wasn't like there were laws against it, and just about every social norm had been thrown out the window with the announcement of the death game. Lifting her own mug, she nodded toward him. "Five o'clock somewhere," she quipped.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" She took another long sip from her mug, imagining the warm, sweet liquid warming every bit of her body. Though Lessa rarely ventured outside without her full armor, she had not yet prepared for the day. The woman lounged in loose fitting black pants and a flowing blue top, the sleepwear that she often wore as she milled about the inn. The place had become a home for her, and she spent nearly every night in the same room. "Luckily for both of us, I could." She figured that she did not have to explain what she meant by that.

When he mentioned the second floor, she nodded slightly. "Fair," she replied. "But a lot of people train on the second floor. It's a nice, pleasant place, with good weather and easy mobs, so you're probably going to run into a lot of other players. I like to train up here. If you can get past the cold, you won't be bothered by anyone else. Most people see this as a pretty place for a second date, but that's about it. The mobs here aren't too bad either, if you know what you're doing, or have someone with you who does."

[Ashrah 0]

"I like to handle things on my own," he drawled, "and I'm not ready to do that on this floor, yet." With a shrug, Arc took another sip of his ale. He considered her words about a second date and his lips split into a wide grin. "Got brought up here by some starry eyed suitor, did you?"

He straightened and held his drink tightly in hand. "I don't think I could fall in love with someone in a game," he said seriously. "And I don't really think I could make many friends. I'm pretty preoccupied with trying to get stronger. With quests, and battles, and..."

He sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling anyone this. It isn't important to anyone but me. A friend of mine- he died in this game. I didn't even know he was in it, but I found out from a player I met randomly. She told me that they were close, but...

"It's kind of hard to believe, you know?" he smiled sadly. "To think, your best friend who never really got along with most people came into a game and met someone who got through that shell and loved him? It's such a foreign idea to me."

Arc brushed the ale aside and the bartender swept it hurriedly away. "Sorry," he muttered. "I guess I'm mostly glad to hear he opened up before he died." His eyes looked hollow. "I don't sleep much any more."

"Anyway, just for now, and I'll move up a few floors."

[Lessa 1]

Unfortunately, she was mid-sip when he made his wisecrack about being brought by a suitor. She sputtered into her drink, drops of hot chocolate dotting her cheeks before she slammed the cup down on the counter. She smiled as she wiped the drink away with the back of her hand, but she could not stop her cheeks from warming. "Me?" She countered, then she shook her head. "Not quite. I used to run a guild, and this inn was our meeting place. I've spent most of my time up here, which means I've spent a lot of time watching people come and go. Most are too busy staring longingly into each others' eyes to take the mobs up here seriously." Of course, her evenings with Alkor and Daeron were of no great importance at that moment, and so she would refrain from sharing them to avoid confirming Arc's suspicions.

As the conversation grew serious, her smile faded."It's not so hard to make friends here," she replied, skirting the issue of love entirely. "You find people that you come to care for, be it your friends or your guildmates. You might fight beside them, or find comfort in talking to them when the day is done. Relationships will come out of nowhere." She thought briefly of the many people she had met who had also swore off relationships. They had had no problem at all finding love, despite their big talk.

"See, it looks like your friend found someone," she continued, her own sad smile mirroring his. It was a delicate topic, and though she did not know the player, she understood. "I'm really happy for him."

He apologized, and she shook her head slightly. "No," she answered softly, glancing down at her mug. Her thumbnail picked at a chip in the porcelain. "Don't say sorry for stuff like this." Her voice grew quieter still. "I know the importance of getting someone to open up."

"Sorry about your friend," she announced suddenly, unsure of when else to say it. Nothing felt quite appropriate.

[Ashrah 0]

"He was a good guy," Arc said softly. "Died too young, but don't we all. It's going to suck telling his grandmom." The distance in his eyes might have spanned the rift between worlds. "May not have been a people person, but he gave everything he had in anything he did."

He smirked. "Died fighting a boss, he did. Not a drip of fear in him, to hear it told."

Silently, Arc hoped that if he had to die in this world, it would rival Alkor's own death. "But I won't die," he said with a newfound tenacity in his voice. "No, Thom deserves my best effort. That's what I'm going to give."

He sat back quietly and stared up at the ceiling. "Lessa," he said, "I think you should think about leaving this floor. It might become a crutch to you if you stay too long. Not that it's my business.

"Wise friend once told me that we can't run forever."

[Lessa 1]

Lessa nodded knowingly, but remained silent until Arc had told his entire story. Then, softly, "a lot of people have died here. A lot of good people. People who never deserved the end they were given." Memories of her previous boss fight played out in her mind yet again, as it often did when she closed her eyes to sleep. Her face paled. "And a boss fight is no joke," she added. "But if he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, maybe that was just right for him."

His sudden declaration drew her attention back to him. He swore he would not die, a statement that Lessa might have pegged as foolish or brazen. Arc was headstrong, just as so many other important people in her life had been. She hated to watch him meet the same fate. But in that moment, still high off the memory of his lost friend, Arc did not seem quite so crazy. He hoped to avenge the death of someone who he had held dear, a notion that Lessa could not entirely disagree with. He lived for his friend, as she had once did. As she still did, from time to time, when she found herself at her weakest.

"You're right," she answered suddenly, not surprised to see that her easy agreement was not at all what the boy expected. "This floor is a crutch. And I'll leave it when I'm ready. But I'm not. Not yet."