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Schneider isn’t one to feel like she’d miss out on things when assigned a “Timewarden Task”; separating her from her Lord and her family. She’s of the opinion that having the occasional space gives relationships room to flourish and never stagnate. As much as she loves to always be by Vertin’s side, it’ll do the Timekeeper good to practice some exposure therapy to avoid any relapses of time gone by. And so that way, she can always prove to them that no matter what, she’ll always come back.
But there are times when things might’ve gone smoother with her presence around.
“Her name’s Erick, 12 years old. Her mother served a great deal in helping the Foundation’s Norwegian branch for a time until…” Having this conversation now with Vertin–who couldn’t bear to meet her eyes–in front of the viewing window peering into the hospital room containing a comatose girl far too small for the bed surrounded by tubes and machines. Schneider can feel the weight of that statement heavy in her mind. But the events have passed with or without her. And her Lord took the time to seek her counsel after the consequences of their actions showed itself. “I made a promise, Schneider. She’s too young to… She doesn’t need to grow up too fast.”
She doesn’t need to be like us.
The words left unspoken, but palpable in Vertin’s choice to lie and fabricate with Sonetto’s help. The orange haired arcanist stood dejectedly in a corner as if she were banished there instead of willingly keeping a distance. Schneider sighs quietly, uncrossing her arms. No need to actually look like a parent waiting for the children to fess up on who broke the vase. They’re all adults that need to consider the situation carefully.
Even when they’re just young ones with heavy responsibilities to bear.
“Your decision is your own. I think it’s good you hold off on telling her at the time, My Lord. Both of you did good.” At moments like this, Schneider felt the gap between them. Not in the sense of age, but experience. It reminded her that–although brief–she was blessed with a childhood, blessed with a family; unlike Vertin and Sonetto. To judge them for their actions is to be inconsiderate of their upbringing. Her mother taught her not to be so prejudiced. The world helped her understand why. “To withhold the truth means to reveal it in time. Were you going to tell her eventually?”
It’s silent in the hall. It was a rhetorical question, she knew. Vertin is her other half, a reflection of herself both similar yet different. They know how to avoid bringing up topics when not asked. But they can lie still when prompted to answer. Unlike Schneider. She wonders how long the two would’ve kept up the charade if they weren’t found out. Her guess is until she came back or until Erick figured it out herself. It wouldn’t be far fetched to think they were hoping for the former to happen before the latter. Fate always has other plans.
“Then here is my counsel, My Lord.” She doesn’t judge, she doesn’t pry. They did their best for the child and now her Lord asks her to do the same. Offer something they couldn’t. She’ll do her best for her family. “Tell her the truth when she wakes up. She’ll appreciate it more hearing it from you, who has done her the disservice.
Kids are brilliant, wonderfully smart people. From what you told me, Erick sounds like one who’d catch on quickly. If she can tell you’re lying, she’ll be able to tell that you’re lying for a reason.”
“But…” Sonetto finally spoke up, hesitant to continue further. Schneider nods encouragingly. “Timekeeper promised to not tell her what happened.”
“They also promised to keep her safe. So, we’ve reached a unique situation.” The brunette offers an example. “Tell me, if you promise someone to keep a secret for the other’s safety, but in doing so that causes the person to be harmed, is it worth keeping that secret?”
“I don’t…understand.”
“What she’s saying is–” Vertin supplies an answer to Schneider’s satisfaction. “If you make two promises that conflict with each other, which one should you honor more; her safety or the secret?”
“Precisely, My Lord. The answer to that, well, will be decided by you individually.” Seeing their thoughtful expressions, Schneider nods to them both. “Once you make your choice, see it through. I’ll do my part and…see if I can put a good word in for you two.”
With a playful wink, she turns and enters the room. The white, sterile environment is something she won’t ever get used to as she approaches the small figure in the bed. Erick’s deathly pale face mostly covered by an oxygen mask too big for her was heartbreaking. Schneider checks the clipboard to assess the situation.
Self-induced comatose due to triggering traumatic memories or high frequency emotional distress. Parasites in the bloodstream. Hereditary arcane illness. High risk of brain failure.
Schneider recalls the condition in books and research on arcane diseases. A lot of factors from an underdeveloped Gnosis to an additional hereditary birth defect conflicting with the condition are possible theories that triggers it out of dormancy. But the illness itself ties to their inability to break out of the coma caused by stress and trauma–leading to severe brain damage until death.
In a sense, it’s almost similar to–
If it is, then it truly will be a test of strength and willpower for her. And if such a child were to have a slim chance of survival, then proper aid must be provided. She knows what to do.
“Hello, there. Erick is your name, yes?” The brunette spoke clearly, looking over the sleeping arcanist with care. “I am Schneider, it is nice to meet you. I wish we could’ve met during better circumstances, but we’ll make due. I’ve heard many valiant tales of your ventures. Shall you regale me with a few?”
She’s met with silence as expected, but she takes it in stride as she walks around the bed to sit on the guest couch by the window.
“It’s alright if you are in no mood to do so today. Would it be alright if I keep you company and share some of my own adventures? From one drifting soul to another. Let’s see…
How about a tale of a quaint little family living in an orange orchard…”
———————————————————————————————
Schneider would visit everyday and keep Erick company. She’d tell stories of her adventures, full of thrills, excitement, horrors, and sadness. There’s not a moment between her visits where she doesn’t offer an anecdote or two with the rare joke in between. Vertin and Sonetto would occasionally come along as much as their busy schedules would allow. Perhaps it’s their fortune that the brunette is allowed a week off after every month/s long solo task to rest and get checked up in Laplace, giving her the opportunity to watch over the child.
One of those days, Vertin came to check up on both her and Erick. They were still reserved and avoidant of her gaze. It pains her to see her Lord weighed heavily by conscience and guilt over something they both know had a lot of complicated pieces for it to ever work smoothly. As they sat on the couch together, they’d rest their head on her shoulder with their hat obscuring their face, quietly listening to Schneider’s story about a venture in the Alps and the discovery of a displaced yeti.
“What would you have done?” Vertin broke the silence once the story ended. “If you’re told to–”
“Even the slumbering can hear words of the wakeful, My Lord.”
They immediately grow quiet.
Maybe they didn’t know or maybe they chose to think Schneider’s gentle storytelling was mainly to fill the gap of silence instead of offering tales to the comatose child. And maybe they think telling the truth now would save them the struggle of doing it later. It was far easier to face a daunting task with a filter between them after all. But that’s not what Erick needed. That’s not what she deserves.
“You made the choice you think is right for everyone. You’re doing your best, My Lord.” Schneider whispers tenderly into their grey locks. “I’m proud of you.”
Vertin nestles deeper into the crook of her neck and she begins another tale about her adventures just as her shoulder starts to get damp.
———————————————————————————————
By the middle of the week, Sonetto brought along some visitors.
“I thought that maybe it’ll help her recover better if her friends are around.”
Schneider smiles, watching the two kids fuss over Erick, unsure if it’s safe to climb onto the bed or not. They’re a rambunctious pair that felt like they suit the comatosed arcanist’s personality from her understanding. It relieves her to know that Erick made friends in her short time in SPDM. She deserves to know that there’s people out there that care about her.
Letting the children be, the brunette focuses on the orange haired arcanist awkwardly standing in place. The moment their eyes meet she gestures for her to take a seat. Sonetto remained hesitant even as she went and sat at the other end of the couch. Schneider rolled her eyes before reaching over to wrap her arm around the other’s shoulder and pulled her close.
“I will not bite, Old Woman. At least come closer so I can speak to you without the kids overhearing.” Schneider practically mouths the words into her ear, grinning in satisfaction at Sonetto’s shudder and instantaneous bristling. As much as she wants to keep teasing her, there’s far more important things to talk to her about. “Have you made your choice yet?”
“Pardon?”
She places a finger against her mouth to shut her up, eyeing the children cautiously. Sonetto catches on and nods in understanding. When she lowered her hand, the orange haired girl spoke more quietly.
“What exactly do you mean by that, Timewarden?”
“My words of advice weren't only directed at My Lord, you know.”
The guilt was evident in the way she couldn’t meet her eyes. It must be a trait she picked up from Vertin. In a sense she still strives to find commonalities to share with her Lord that she loses sight of what makes her so unique in the first place.
“If Timekeeper sees fit to–”
“I’m not asking you about My Lord’s decision, Old Woman.” Schneider lays it down for her. “I’m asking what your choice is in this matter. You, after all, have a part to play too.”
The two of them sat side by side in silence with the only noise being two children talking to their unconscious friend about anything and everything. Stories of the school, words of encouragement, and the occasional tearful plea. To stay strong at such a difficult time. Truly children don’t deserve to face suffering so young, but if it were to happen against their choice, one can only hope they don’t have to go through it alone.
Schneider felt a weight on her shoulder and she didn’t hesitate to rest her head against it. Words of wisdom, a shoulder to cry on, a friend, a foe, a lover, and a home. She’ll be what others need her to be. Under her own conditions. She hopes that someday the Old Woman finds that path of clarity for herself.
For now, they’ll wait.
———————————————————————————————
It’s the last day of Schneider’s one week rest and Madam Z has already sent in the next task. A solo mission again, an escort instead of the usual survey. Her time with Erick is peaceful and insightful for her. The kid has gotten her whole life thrown for a loop and if she were to awaken from her coma–which she will–then a massive storm will be awaiting her.
The truth.
“Will you brave it like the rest of us, Mighty Jarl?” She mutters under her breath, standing before the child’s bed.
Day by day, she looks weaker. Yet there’s a soul in there fighting to survive. She has faith she’ll prevail. The brunette reaches out, carefully brushing strands of hair away from Erick’s pale face. She feels cold. Schneider frowns.
“You know, I learned a lot about your “exploits” in SPDM from your friends. Or, rather, shall I call them your “sailors”? Quite the loyal crew they are.” She breathes evenly despite the weight in her chest. Don’t hesitate. Don’t waver. Have faith in the people for they are all blessed with the gift of life. “Even that “witch” has some choice words to say. But the one that most intrigued me is your tale of the beasts known as Vanity and Emptiness.
Shall I tell you a secret?”
Schneider looks around playfully, making sure no one hears or sees before leaning in close. She cups her hand against the girl’s ear and whispers a truth only she can provide.
“I’ve seen them.”
Indeed she has. In a dream long ago. Everyone encounters them once, maybe twice, in their life. Some meet them sooner, others later. But everyone will meet one or both someday. It’s something they’re all destined to face one way or another.
“They’re truly the beasts you’ve been told, ferocious and daunting. Shall I tell you what Emptiness looks like?” Schneider waits a beat. Then continues.
“It looks like your mother. It looks like your father. It looks like your grandparents, your friends, and your partner. It makes the sounds of nostalgia and smells of your happiest memories. It lures you in, begs for your attention and care. It clings to your back like dozens of animal pelts; warm yet suffocating. It’s the thing you hold dear and are afraid to let go. But you must know, to let go isn't to give up. It’s to honor the people who still struggle when it’s all meaningless. Emptiness is the love and care you have for all those pointless acts. Because it matters that you did it anyway.
Emptiness is your everything. Lost to time.”
She straightens up, looking at Erick with a light smile. In order for her to wake up, she’ll be facing a creature similar to it, but different at the same time. Perfectly curated to the amount of loss she’ll feel and see. It’s a creature that will surely make or break her.
Just like Schneider.
“Brave little jarl, oh you that will face it so valiantly.” She takes the girl’s limp hand, so cold to the touch, so small in her palm. “Be strong, be brave. For the trials you’ll face once you return to the realm of the living will be far more dangerous than any adventure has ever been before.
And maybe by then, I’ll introduce myself properly to you.”
Schneider leans down one more time and gives Erick a soft kiss on the forehead. For strength, for blessings, and for good luck. She has faith. That she will meet the morning sun once more. At the corner of her eye, she almost believes she saw the girl’s hand twitch. She could only smile warily.
And if Schneider receives a letter from her Lord a week later about a spry little jarl and her rowdy pair of sailors causing Matilda trouble by running around campus on a galavakus, then she could only laugh joyfully.