March 26, 2019. 7:12 pm.

I wake twelve hours later, my throat so sore it’s tough to breathe. My pillow shifts and Rufka strokes my head. “Lexi, are you okay?”

My wheezing throat prevents me from articulating an answer. Which I’m pretty sure counts as a no.

Rufka makes hushing noises at me, holding a crystal bowl that’s likely worth more than everything I owned back on earth to my lips. A sweet, cool juice coats my throat and the pain eases slightly. Sitting up, I take the bowl from Rufka with a weary smile. My thanks are little more than another wheeze, followed by another sip of the juice. Rufka ruffles my hair, taking the now empty bowl with her as I reflect on what happened.

Memories of the night(day?) before are hazy. Even using Facet doesn’t restore the clarity. I remember something about a woman with brown hair. But the face is blank. When I turn my attention inward, I’m reminded of what else happened. Amazingly one of my System skills remains intact. Somehow, I still have the full hundred ranks in Cleaning. The rest of my unconverted skills are gone, but everything feels stable. Working my way through my mentalscape, I discover that I still have some memories of my lost skills.

Experimentally, I lift my chakram while focusing on how to throw it. I remember everything I learned about holding it, but there’s no more guide to improve it. Which means I’m not bereft of the skill. When I test my control over lightning, I’m surprised to find it’s more responsive than it used to be, adapting to changes with little need to prompt it.

“Well, you’re feeling better,” Rufka says from the doorway where she stands with a pitcher of juice. Or maybe it’s just water. Either way, I feel foolish for not using water-manipulation to help my sore throat. Still, since Rufka’s back I accept another crystal bowl of juice.

When I move to get up, Rufka holds me in place with a single hand. It’s more effective than usual, which causes me to panic. Did I lose my strength in addition to my skills? Then I remember she’s Copper-rank too now. “You-” I choke out, taking another sip of the juice, “You spent points? Already?”

Rufka’s grin is almost as wide as the moment before she’s about to prank someone. “Nope. All those ‘lost’ dungeon bonuses.”

Huh. I lean against Rufka’s arm, testing the resistance. Which leads to Rufka pulling her hand out of the way while giving me a light push towards the bed. When I attempt to catch myself with wind-magic, I barely summon enough to send my hair fluttering before I crash into the soft cushions. So… that was damaged, apparently.

This time I don’t rise, deciding maybe I should finish my internal inspection. Seems my attempt to preserve the memories associated with Ice busted some of my innate ability with Wind. At least I retained some measure of wind-manipulation, even if it’s negligible. Good for keeping my hair in place if nothing else. Instead of focusing on the section of my mentalscape that contains my skills, I shift my focus to the portion that reports my Attributes.

Thanks to Wyonna’s in-depth analysis, I know these have nothing to do with my Attributes themselves. They’re just the System’s way of interacting with entire subsets of my body. And thanks to my recent work with Twilight, I’m able to trace how the System organizes everything. Like, my Intellect includes my nervous system, mana-soul and most parts of my brain. Yet, Spirit is linked to all these in nearly identical locations, but using different connections. It’s an interconnected mess. But it’s a mess that hasn’t been changed by the recent implosion of my skills.

As I’m inspecting my mentalscape, teasing out my current Status, my attention turns to the remaining Class Advancement Crest.

If I’m able to create skills without using the System, could I have advanced my class without the System? If I attempted to advance my class now, would the System even recognize my existing skills? Would it limit them? Or be upset that I didn’t meet the prerequisite skill levels?

“Hey, you’re not mad, are you?” Rufka asks, pulling me back from my mentalscape as she lays down beside me.

“What? No. Why would I be- gleh,” I sit up, reaching for the bowl she’s carefully cradling.

Rufka gives me a sad smile, her eyes turned down at the edges. “Feels like you’re keeping things to yourself. Not talking to me.”

“Oh. Oh, no. It’s not you. It’s… we should go back to the city. I’ll tell you everything.”

“You don’t have-”

“Doesn’t matter. I will,” I reassure her.

Rufka’s smile returns in full force. “Well then, what say we leave. I’m sure Thinnesq will understand given your ‘extremely adverse’ reaction to her hospitality.”

“Wait, did she say that? I need to apologize.” I sit up with a start. I hadn’t even considered how she might react to having me collapse in her home. Honestly, I haven’t been considering a lot of things since my Skills started going wonky.

“Nah. She doesn’t talk to us. It was that creepy guy. Atla. Tipan probably knows more, she’s been going out.”

Unintentionally elbowing her as I roll away, I attempt to get to my feet but again I try to use wind-manipulation to help me and end up further buried amongst the bedding instead.

I let Rufka pull me to my feet, working together to disentangle me from the bedspread. Then I step around her, slipping out of the room with her under my direction instead. The lounge is empty when we emerge.

“We can ring the bell for service. One of the servants will find Tipan for us,” Rufka explains, indicating a brass bell on a counter next to the entrance. I watch as Rufka rings the bell, her back straight as a K’tharn servant enters from a hidden side entrance.

Managing to keep a straight face, Rufka says, “My queen requires the presence of Tipan of clan Pelwerd.”

“Of course, my lady,” the servant responds, rushing away. I watch the hidden door swing closed silently, inspecting the joints. It’s a clever design with minimal enchantments, relying on the excellent quality achievable with Stone-sculpting to create near-frictionless hinges and a seamless edge.

“I love that,” Rufka says, leading me to a table laden with food, causing my stomach to grumble ferociously.

“The door is pretty cool,” I agree as I select a leg of some unidentified bird. Hmm, tastes a bit like duck.

“Heh, knew you’d get a kick out of that. But no. I was talking about having a servant.”

“Oh. Feels weird to have servants.”

Rufka pauses as she’s picking up the matching drumstick to mine. “You’re kidding?”

“No?”

“You do realize you’re a queen now? Having servants is part of that.”

“But not a part I want. No servants for me.”

“What do you call Wyonna?”

“A friend. A friend who chooses to do things for me despite me telling her she doesn’t have to.” I chew viciously on my drumstick.

“Doesn’t that just mean she’s choosing to be a servant?” Rufka says, dipping her drumstick into a red sauce, her eyebrows raised at me.

Grumbling to myself, I lean against the table while staring out the window.

Rufka leans next to me as we each finish our drumsticks. “There’s nothing wrong with serving someone else you know. Or having people serve you.”

“I know. It just… feels archaic. For something as advanced as the System, you’d think it would have more advanced forms of government available.”

“Well, the M’tari use a different System. Maybe you could use theirs?” Rufka suggests.

“They still have servants,” I point out. “And their Lords and Ladies seem to be limited to the original M’tari.”

“Hmm. But it’s different. So, maybe there’s a better option. Just need to find it.” Rufka punctuates her sentence by tossing me a blue fruit the size of my hand. “Should go well with the bird.”

“Thanks. At least I know Wyonna’s being paid. Wonder what she spends it on.”

“Entertainment, probably.”

Nodding, I rinse the cloying juices of the blue fruit in an enchanted handsink. I’m playing with the auto-temperature enchantment when Tipan emerges from the main stairway. After a brief exchange we’re walking down the stairs to the landing platform where Atla is waiting for us.

While Tipan exchanges a formal greeting with him, I address my inability to fly. Since I can’t use wind-manipulation and I don’t have enough metal on hand, I begin forming a throne out of ice. By the time Tipan’s finished, I’m seated on what’s become my standard form for my throne. For some unfathomable reason, my ice-throne is more comfortable than my steel throne. Maybe cause it’s… nope, don’t know why. But it definitely is. Feels more natural.

The thought is accompanied by a crack that resounds through my mentalscape. I manage to follow Tipan and Rufka toward Pelwerd as the memory I’d recovered the night before snaps into place. Beth was following my papa. Before the accident.

She’d said she was watching me for years. But was she there the day papa crashed? Did she see what happened?

There are no answer to my questions. At least, not in the memories I’m able to sift through before we return to the city.

Thankfully, there are no cheers or crowds as we cross the invisible boundary. Wyonna directs me to a temple that’s been raised near the central spire. In addition to the shrines to Vaus and Astra, there’s a shrine for Smoulder in a place of prominence set against the back wall. As we move inside, I discover it’s not to Smoulder. It’s to the Rabbit-Queen. The temple is mostly empty, only the pair of K’tharn that insisted on spreading my ‘great feats’ are present when we arrive.

Thankfully, they’re not why Wyonna brought us here.

“Through here,” Wyonna says, gesturing at a staircase near the back. At the bottom of the stairs are the first recruits for Pelwerd’s new defence team. While Rufka will be handling their training, including distributing Quests for Integration points granted by the System, Wyonna insists I need to see them personally.

Honestly, I’m surprised we have recruits, never mind the eighteen K’tharn experimenting with enchanted staves below. When I mention this, Wyonna says, “These are only the best of the volunteers. Once their training is complete, we’re hoping to have each of them train their own squads.”

“Wait. How many people volunteered?”

“22,613. Though I disqualified seven since they refused to become subjects.”

“Yep. That was fun,” Rufka grins. Why do I get the feeling their disqualification wasn’t a simple no.

“Twenty-two- thousand and… That’s a fourth of our people?”

“Yep. They’re super-excited.” Wyonna displays eighteen sets of graphs, charts and profile pictures. It’s easy to match them up with the K’tharn below, iridescent lines leading from their profiles to the K’tharn. It’s weird seeing other people’s attributes quantified like this.

“Do they know they’re being tracked like this?” I ask, gesturing to the charts.

“Yep. It’s one of the perks.”

“Perk? We’re selling this as a perk?”

Wyonna sticks out her tongue at me before saying, “It is a perk. It allows for increased Attribute gains during the training program.”

“How does that work?”

“The System rewards thoroughness. We’re kind of exploiting it here. Normally an AI wouldn’t have the scanning fidelity of a Sanctuary at their disposal. The System’s assigned us resources as if we’re a Gold-rank civilization.”

Neither Rufka nor Tipan seems sufficiently shocked at this news, so clearly, I’m the last to know. “What does that mean for us, personally?”

At this Wyonna pouts, her neon pink mohawk flashing like a cheap pop-up ad. “Nothing unless we can convince Genitha or another Silver rank to become a citizen of Pelwerd. Our recruits are benefiting from having Rufka train them though.”

“Cause I’m copper-rank,” Rufka crows, completely oblivious to my eyeroll. Until I elbow her discretely.

“Yep. Now, the reason I wanted you to see this,” Wyonna states, bringing up my scan next to theirs. “When you came back, I noticed there'd been massive changes to your System. According to my readings, you’re in danger of losing your class.”

Wyonna has two sets of my vitals on display, showing the old version where I was still mostly intact next to the current mess. There’s a layer that shows the connections with my class, each of which is severed. With a single exception.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the connection apparently keeping me intact.

“Your cleaning skill.”

“Wait. What does my cleaning skill have to do with my class?”

“Honestly? No clue. But it’s keeping your System from collapsing.”

Tipan steps forward, tapping the screen with all the red connections. “This is what you were dealing with? I thought you were better?”

“I mean, I thought I’d stabilized things. But obviously I’ve only started.”

Wyonna creates an overlay of my damaged profile with several of the scans from the people below. She also introduces two new profiles. Tipan and Rufka’s. She keeps flipping between images until coming to a halt on an image of my mana-sphere that’s completely different.

“Uh. What’s that?” I ask.

“I can rebuild your System interface using theirs as an example. But I can’t guarantee it’ll be perfect.”

“So, I’ve actually been thinking,”

“Yes?” Wyonna asks, flipping through more screens.

“I’ve been thinking I might let the System go. Delete it even.”

“What?!” Tipan and Rufka say in near perfect synchronicity.

Wyonna flickers, appearing directly in front of me. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I got a new quest.”

“You got a quest to get rid of the System?” Wyonna presses, her eyes flickering so fast I can’t tell where she’s looking.

“No, I got a quest warning me that there’s a System Agent on their way to erase me.”

Tipan gasps. “A System Agent. For you specifically? Why would they warn you?”

“I don’t know. But that’s not all. The teleportation lockdown? It’s System imposed. Without the System, I might be able to teleport freely.”

“But you’d lose… everything,” Rufka objects.

“I don’t think I will. I’ll lose most of the parts that are automatic. But… I’ve already managed to copy skills, removing them from the System. And… there’s something about my Seed… Deleting my System might make things harder… But if I keep the System as it is…”

“The Agent will know where you are as soon as it arrives,” Wyonna agrees, flashing the status screens away.

“I just… I don’t know what this means for being queen,” I admit, slumping my shoulders as I move over to sit on a leather and bone folding chair someone left in the room.

Rufka laughs, “Now there’s a reason to do it. Easy way for you to get out of ruling over people.”

Wyonna taps her chin, her hair flickering in time to the taps. “It might work. But you’d want to set up your succession first. Through the System.”

“Right. So, obviously, Tipan should be my successor.”

Tipan gasps, staring at me as Wyonna and Rufka nod in agreement. Wyonna’s visage goes blank for a second before popping back into normal motion as she brings up a screen and slides it in front of me. “Agreed. Focus on this. Hopefully this doesn’t prove too stressful for your System. But I suppose if it does, that’s what you want anyway.”

Concentrating, I imbue the screen with my Focus and two System prompts appear.

“Quest updated: Escape! A System Agent, one of the Seraphim has decided you’re worthy of their personal attention. Find a way to evade their notice 1/1. Keep the process clean 0/1. Reward: Citizen Pandora’s existence. The Seed must grow.”

“Update your succession so that Citizen Tipan will maintain the role of Sovereign in the case of your inevitable demise. Y/N”

The first notice is a relief. It seems the System is confirming that getting rid of it is the best way to evade the Seraph. It almost doesn’t feel right to call the Seraph a System’s Agent at this point. Not with the System helping me avoid its attention.

Not letting myself drift for long, I confirm the succession details. Which causes the interface to shake. There are scattered words as the window disappears.

“Did it work?” I ask, trying to decipher what happened.

Tipan nods, her voice barely audible despite my enhanced perception, “I received a notification informing me I am now the successor to Pelwerd.”

“Good. That’s good,” I say, sitting back down in the leather seat hard enough to make the frame crack, my vision wavering.

“Lexi?” Rufka asks, kneeling next to me.

I grasp at her blindly, grabbing her hand. “Kinda took more out of me than it should’ve. I think. But I’m getting better.”

“We need to get you to Roberts,” Tipan declares. She says some more, but it’s directed at Wyonna, so I tune it out, rubbing the back of Rufka’s hand instead.

Hands are nice.