During most of her complicated life, Claudette Beigon felt like she was sitting at the bottom of a pool, looking upward at the rest of the world. Sounds were muffled and the light was elusive. Everything was modulated and absorbed by the lapping waves of āothernessā that swaddled her; even if she were to struggle and thrash, she couldnāt shake the surface of herself. She was powerless underneath the weight of her identity, but she could observe.
At least partially, through the strange and distorting substance of expectation around her. And so she watched, staring up at the warped shafts of light that made it down through the surface of her being to the observant core.
The first thought she remembered having was the realization that the reason the other kids were treating her so nicely was due to her father. Don Beigon cast such a long shadow that she was constantly swimming in it. His one-half influence over the coveted Alymian was a ubiquitous topic for everyone she encountered. They all complimented his management style. Everything that Claudette experience had to pass through his heavy existence to reach her.
Compared to her father, Claudette was very small in her own life.
As she grew, sent to the finest private schools in the Nexus and always excelling in tough conditions, Claudette did her best to escape that shadow. She threw herself into other things, desperate to be able to define herself. She forced herself to study and memorize until she was heralded as a genius. She strained her muscles and bled herself until she could thrash her instructors, earning praise as a combat maniac.
By sheer luck, puberty was kind to her. So for a while, she lost herself in the admiring eyes of her peers. She had become beautiful and everyone couldnāt stop talking bout it. They couldnāt stop talking about her, or looking at her, or squeezing and pinching her, or breathing heavily into her ear.
Yet she quickly discovered how hollow all these labels were, for two reasons. First, no matter how much of any one thing she was, she never escaped that first otherness that smothered her: fatherās shadow. And secondā¦ these labels were just as ephemeral, meaningless, and numbing as being related to her father. All of them were pools, steadily allowing her āselfā to sink even deeper into obscurity.
At some point, Claudette wasnāt even sure why she struggled; she could no longer answer the question of āwhatā her self truly was. It was a surprise to wake up each day and discover that she hadnāt drowned underneath all of it.
And yetā¦
And yet-!
Claudetteās whirring mind paused as it took note of the changing expression on the face of the man opposite her. The expression was one she didnāt recognize. From the bottom of the overlapping pools of her identities, her
self
peered upward in interest. Very rarely did an existence like this appear, one she couldnāt understand. ā...why are you making that face?ā
The man called Randidly Ghosthound, the enigmatic Head Drill Sergeant with a knack for weaving Nether, closed his eyes and shook his head. There was something incredibly gentle about the movement. There was a considered ease to him now that Claudette hadnāt had the time to notice in the hectic battle in the Fifth Cohort. And weirdly, she couldnāt help but observe how long and lovely his eyelashes were.
Even more than his face, what truly surprised Claudette was his words. ā...your father is selling you for his own benefit? Iāmā¦ sorry. I sorta also havenāt hadā¦ a great relationship with my father either, soā¦ I get how rough that can be. I get the way it makes you feel. That you donāt matter, not really, not compared to what he wants until you are at all useful to him. Then heās suddenly back and telling you that youāre being too sensitiveā¦ but of course you arenāt. Youāre being abused.ā
āOh.ā That self at the bottom of the pool suddenly felt quite seen. She lifted her hands but forget what she had meant to do with them. The feeling of being pulled apart and examined was uncomfortable. Claudette tried to recover by tucking her hair behind her ears, but her hair was already tucked behind her ears. She quickly hid her fingers beneath the table, hoping that Randidly hadnāt seen the mistake.
What the hell is wrong with meā¦? People talk about my father all the time. Get it together, girl.
Claudette urged herself.
Claudette then cleared her throat and tried to get the conversation back on track. Some sort of childish fantasy of being seen was
definitely
not why she had come here. Even if it was the scent of a miracle that she was following. āItās just the way my life has always been; I donāt really think about it. But what I was saying is thatā¦ the person who bought me is probably quite an influential individual in their own right. So youād be offending them too.ā
Randidly nodded slowly, still moving with such incredible control of his own body that Claudette was reminded of the gentle way that an animal would nudge her young awake to feed them.
āThen letās talk benefits,ā Randidly said, and Claudette flashed a genuine smile.
Benefits is my first and most proficient language
. Claudette leaned forward, but she still kept her suddenly clumsy fingers beneath the table. āWell, given that you are the Head Drill Sergeant for this emergency draft and have so many connections with Military High Commandā¦ I can guess that money wonāt tempt you. But, should you manage to successfully assist me to the point that I can defend myself, I will be your life-long friend and confidant-ā
Randidly Ghosthound quirked an eyebrow at her, seeming to ask,
Really, thatās all youāve got?
Claudette couldnāt help but chuckle. With his talent, he truly had the standing not to be tempted by any sort of goodwill from her. ā-but it doesnāt seem like you are particularly hurting for friends either. Well, the timing might be strange, but I do have something quite valuable I can offer you: at least a hundred year-long passes to Alymian. Redeemable at any time.ā
Claudette watched Randidlyās expression for the typical greed or sense of shock. But he just frowned and shrugged, his long and elegant eyelashes swishing through the air as he blinked. āAlymianā¦? Thatās like the vacation spot for the Nexus, right? The land that was created when the second person reached the Pinnacle? I donāt think thatās very useful to me right now.ā
āAhā¦ā Claudette was genuinely stumped by the obvious sincerity in Randidlyās expression. And she was kept from trying to articulate the strange sense of confusion she felt by the floppy-eared goblin kicking open the door to the kitchen and walking out with two more trays of food. Claudette once more shifted deeper into the booth, allowing the small goblin to sit next to her.
Then she sat there and watched the two devouring the piled and skewered meat and vegetables in front of them. Her small sense of self at the bottom of the pool frantically tried to figure out the situation. It swam worriedly in circles, its small movements, barely disturbing the currents around it. Claudette couldnāt figure out if there was something that she was missing in this situation.
Heā¦ truly doesnāt want themā¦? But even if he just traded them away for favorsā¦ The grudge the Engraving Guild holds toward him would be so easy to solve...
Even though the chef was there too, Claudetteās confusion eventually pushed her to speak. āAlymianā¦ isnāt just a vacation destination. It is truly another plane of existence. Separate, outside of the System. A break fromā¦ everything that the Nexus forces upon usā¦ Obviously, it wonāt help you earn Skill Levels, but many people find the experience quite invigorating.ā
Claudette was somewhat speechless as her explanation didnāt earn a glance from either of them. She started to feel the smallest bit of irritation as she watched Randidly rip half a chunk of some indeterminate meat from the skewer. Claudette schooled herself and turned to the goblin. āExcuse me sirā¦ but please help me prove a point. If I offered you a pass to Alymian-ā
āToo expensive,ā The goblin grunted. Small bits of chewed onion were flung out by the noise, hitting the table in front of him. He waved the skewer, as though to shoo her away.
Claudette pulled her arms back and kept them tight at her sides to avoid any further mouth debris. She tried to keep her smile friendly, even as her jaw tightened. āNo, sir, you misunderstand. Iām offering you a free-ā
āWell, itās free now,ā The goblin set down his cleaned skewer and tugged on one of his floppy ears. āBut you seem like the type to come back years later and call in a favor. And Iām an upstanding chap, so could I refuse? Of course I could, but you are also pretty. And can I refuse that? Probably; you arenāt really my type. A bit tall. But youāve told everyone I know, and suddenly everyone is complaining and driving away business from my restaurantā¦ ah, Iām exhausted just thinking about it. No need; keep your pass or whatever.ā
Claudette clenched her hands into fists.
What customers are there to scare away in this abandoned placeā¦!
She was still fuming when both finished their meal in peace and the goblin took away the trays. Randidly turned to her and tilted his head to the side. His green eyes studied her. āSomething wrong?ā
Claudette did her best to calm herself. She wasnāt like this; she didnāt have strong emotional reactions to peopleās idiosyncrasies. She was an observer, a small creature beneath the waves that avoided being crushed by the true monstrosities swimming around her. By keeping herself small, she wouldnāt be crushed by their identities. So she schooled her face into a smile and tried to make her bitterness sound like wry humor. āIt feels like Iām not doing a very good job with this sales pitchā¦ā
Randidly raised a hand. āLet me make this easier for you. There are a few things I want. If you can help me with themā¦ Iāll consider your offer. First, Iād like all the information you have about Nether Cores, specifically about both the methods that the Engraving Guild and Neshamah Rex use to form them. Ideally, without them knowing you are providing me with that information. Secondā¦ Iād like access to firsthand accounts of the Nexus. Historical accounts, concerning the First and Second Cohorts. I only ask because the information Iām searching forā¦ likely wonāt be available in the publicly available version of history.
āThirdā¦ I want to buy some planets. Specific ones, but I donātā¦ Iām a bit worried that some groups that already have a problem with me will notice what Iām doing and try and interfere if Iām open about it. So I hope you can purchase them for me, and then not ask any questions about what Iām doing with those planets.ā
Suddenly, Claudette felt a cool prickling on her skin. Her observing self stilled. She looked at the man in front of her and felt the strangest combination of relief and disappointment. Relief because this man finally made sense. The miracles that he accomplished were definitely impressive feats. But Claudette could begin to understand how he had been able to accomplish them.
And disappointmentā¦ ignoring that strange coincidence earlier where she had felt briefly seen, suddenly she could see Randidly Ghosthound. Setting aside the weird second request, his first and third requests laid bare that he was just as two-faced and monstrous as all the other people Claudette had encountered. He was just as ambitious and merciless. His straightforward rejection of authority was a breath of fresh air, but just like everyone else, Randidly Ghosthound had walked the same bloody path to get here.
He wanted planets filled with people so he could advance his twisted experiments with Nether and improve his own power. It made sense. Why wouldnāt he?
Claudetteās smile was cool. The pool of numbness around her felt deeper than ever. āThat can be arranged.ā