The Fell War - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Alfre sat in the lounge’s most comfortable leather chair, staring unseeingly at the fire that crackled before her. She absentmindedly swirled the scotch in her glass. She hadn’t taken a sip in almost ten minutes, to focused on all the thoughts spinning about her head. She couldn’t quiet her mind, not with everything that was going on. The Sweet Summer Children guild was busy clearing out spaces for the refugees from Ahmar. The Knights of the Burning Oak and the Fell of Duty were busy training for a war Alfre honestly hoped wouldn’t come but had no doubts that it would. Ludovico Volpe’s Ouroboros guild and Maldrom’s Wall Street Spade were working round the clock to finish the steam engine before it was too late (though what was meant by ‘too late’ no one could be sure at this point). And Alfre…

Alfre was sitting on her ass, unable to really contribute anything. She’d been named leader of the rescue efforts, and supposedly as general of whatever army they’d need to amass when it came time to fight, but in all honestly she’d done nothing of any real merit. Everything truly meaningful was already being done by someone with far more skill and experience than her.

She sighed aloud, catching the attention of Abital as he ghosted through the room. The ruler of the underworld frowned – though he was always frowning so that was nothing really new – and moved closer. Feeling bold, he reached down to brush some of Alfre’s snowy white hair away from her face, catching her attention.

“What’s wrong, Alfre?” he asked, voice soft in the near silence of the room.

“I feel…unhelpful,” she answered, having some difficulty finding the proper words. “I am supposed to be the leader, and yet all I do is walk around telling others what a good job they’re doing. The only thing I’m good at is fighting, and even that is already being taken care of by people who have far more skill and experience than I do. I can’t help but feel useless.”

Abital stared at her with deep, red eyes. Alfre could understand how some would find such a gaze unnerving, but there was something comforting in Abital’s eyes. Some strange empathy that Alfre wasn’t sure a human being was capable of.

“Your time to be of use will come,” Abital assured. “You are more than just a fighter, Alfre. You are kind, and empathetic, and worth more than you give yourself credit for even if you were never able to contribute to this endeavor you Fell have set yourself on.”

Icy blue met garnet red, and Alfre smiled. “Thank you, Abital. I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

There was a sadness that passed through Abital’s eyes that she couldn’t quite understand. But in mere seconds it was gone, replaced with a smile that didn’t quite seem as genuine as the god hoped. “And I am lucky to have a friend like you.”

There was a heaviness to his words that concerned her. She reached out to grasp his arm through far too many layers of clothing.

“Abital?”

He smiled again, and if felt a little more real. “I am fine, Alfre.”

She swallowed thickly, unsure of whether to press the issue or not. It had been a long while since she’d seen Abital so sad…not since she’d first met him all those months ago, sat atop his lonely throne deep in the mountains.

“You’ll tell me when you’re not, right?” she pleaded. “I hate to see you so sad.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he swept more hair behind her ear in a gesture that felt strangely intimate. He smiled once more, fondness and sorrow mixing in a way that broke her heart, before slipping away.

“Abital,” she called after him as he opened a portal of smoke and shadow, “I mean it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his smile falling away. “I know.”

She watched him disappear, a heaviness in her heart that she couldn’t quite explain. Footsteps caught her attention, and she turned to see Spica enter the room, a half-empty glass of reddish-purple wine in her hand.

“You, my dear, are painfully naïve,” the assassin said plainly.

Alfre glared at her friend. “The bloody hell does that mean?”

Spica rolled her eyes, draping herself over the couch – somehow doing it with a strange grace that Alfre had never seen in anyone else – never spilling a drop of her wine. “There’s a reason we call them your boyfriends.”

Alfre frowned in confusion. Spica had been calling Abital, Canus, and Wallace her ‘boyfriends’ for a while now, somehow convincing others like June and Doremi and Cherry to join her. She’d never quiet understood why. Yes, the three Wonderlanders were fond of her, and were kind to her, but that didn’t make someone romantically invested in you.

Did it?

“You think they’re actually in love with me?” Alfre asked cautiously.

“Abital and Canus, most certainly,” Spica agreed. “Wally’s is more of an infatuation, like a crush, but I’m sure he’d say he’s in love with you if asked.”

“I don’t know why,” Alfre admitted. “It’s not like I’ve done anything to deserve it.”

Spica’s eyes glowed with fondness. “Oh, darling, no one ever deserves love. It just happens to them.”

“You were kind to them, Alfre.” The two women turned to see Elias slip into the room. He settled beside Spica on the couch, letting her settle her legs across his lap without fuss. “You helped Canus find his vengeance. You saved Wally from a horde of goblins when no one else was around to help. You showed Abital mercy when any other player would have ignored everything you saw and killed him anyway. I wouldn’t say you’ve done nothing.”

Alfre said nothing to that, her eyes settling on the amber color of her scotch as if it were the most interesting thing in the world at that moment. It was…strange to know you were the object of affection for someone. Even more so when it was three someones.

“So, I suppose the only question now,” Spica mused, taking a sip of her wine, “is which one you have feelings for.”

Alfre’s gaze snapped to her two friends, brows furrowed in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, surely you have feelings for at least one of them,” Spica reasoned. “The question is which one.”

Alfre frowned thoughtfully. Did she have to have feelings for them? She leaned back in her chair, her eyes shifting to stare at the low fire. She certainly liked each of them. Wally was down-to-earth and hardworking and eager to please. Canus was wild and affectionate and loyal. Abital was quiet and thoughtful and listened carefully to everyone. And Alfre would be lying if she didn’t love their smiles. Wally’s sweet grin, Canus’ crooked smirk full of confidence and the promise of adventure, Abital’s sweet, shy smile that he only ever seemed to show her. There was something to love about each of them.

“Do I have to choose?” she asked, more of the universe than anyone in the room.

Spica and Elias blinked at her owlishly. They shared a look, Spica clearly amused and Elias more than a little curious.

“I suppose not?” Elias said cautiously. “I mean, if they’re all okay with it. This is a new society. Who says we necessarily have to follow the same rules of romance and courting as we did back in the Real World?”

“Darling, you do whatever makes you happy,” Spica said, a knowing smile on her face. “But that is most certainly a discussion you should be having with your boys, and not with us.”

Alfre glared at her. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.”