I think I'm getting used to these skyglides finally. For the first couple months here I really tried to avoid the things. They feel like flying, but….wrong. Flying without even having my wings manifested feels viscerally wrong. Like the couple times I've been tossed while in my smaller form. But…they're okay, I guess. They are very comfortable, at least. And they're pretty, too, with their sleek, silver bodies and all of the essence runes.

  "So, what's bringin' ya' up ta' the keep, miss?"

  The young man, a knight in the Eternally Vigilant whatevers, looks at me with a beaming smile. By human standards, he barely looks old enough to be out on his own, let alone to be wearing advanced enchanted armor and armed with such pointy-looking implements. Simple straw-blonde hair cut short, the beginnings of what one day might think of becoming facial hair, and a big, toothy smile beneath warm eyes.

  "Oh, I've been hearing about the knights here since I showed up, so I wanted to come see what they were all about. My friend and I visited the Emberguard recently to see their gryphons, so we thought the same thing might be allowed up here. Do you have any cool mounts like gryphons?"

  "Aha, t'at makes good sense. If ya' stop by 'te office of 'te Archivist, she could prob'ly show you the place. Or 'least make sure someone can. But, we don' use mounts. Things 'te Order fights, they're a risk."

  The transport comes to a stop and he graciously gets out first and then offers to take my hand to help me down. Stepping out into the light snow covering the area, I look around.

  The Keep is an enormous, dark stone and darker metal castle that spans a larger area than the church in the city far below. Sitting high on a plateau above Kharbon, looming like a monolith devoted to something long-forgotten god.

  Which, given that this place and these people are devoted to the Watcher, I suppose that's not really wrong. She has been gone and forgotten for over four thousand years…

  Bah, it doesn't matter. Based on everything I've heard they're not really worshipping the Watcher as she was, just like they aren't actually worshipping my father, but instead a sort of idealized version of some of the conceptual aspects of his creation.

  "Can I show ya' to the Archivist, Miss?"

  "They sound like someone who would definitely know about things that are going on! I'm a big fan of anyone with a title like 'Archivist'. Please do!" he turns and sets off, gesturing for me to join. I can't help but notice that he has to awkwardly restrain his stride for me to keep pace — his armor must be giving him serious benefits for it to look so laborious to manage. "What's your name, anyways?"

  "Aha, right, ya. Sorry, Marcis Vigil. And ya?"

  "Lilly! It's nice to meet you Marcis. Can I ask a maybe insensitive question?"

  He turns around to walk backwards with longer, more exaggerated steps. Naturally slowing his stride a bit more and ensuring he can face me. "Fire away. I ain't gonna be offended by much."

  All around us as we walk, I hear people chattering about this, that, and the other thing, but I do hear a few commenting on me, specifically. Recognizing me from shows, speculating about my being here, things like that.

  "Well, I've met another of your order, a Nyssa Vigil," The name sees him abruptly flinch and almost trip, adjusting his stride back to normal to hide a slight blush. "You and her don't really look much like one another, and your order is called the Vigil, so I was curious if it was commonplace to adopt it as a surname or something? Like she would be your sister-in-arms or something."

  "Ach… Well, t'ats a simple one, but not really a happy one. Guessin' you come from real far off?" I nod. Upon hearing the tone in his voice, I'm, admittedly, regretting asking after this topic, because it doesn't sound like it's gonna be good. "So, ya know we exist 'ta fight bad monsters right? Calamities? Well, when one happens, if it ain't stopped, there's not much left, really. But sometimes someone gets out — usually kids 'cuz they're…less appealing in terms of magic. Order takes us in, and because many kids are young, and don't have records or anything on hand and very little little left over of their home, many of us take on the name of the Order. Sort of a found family, yeah? Ain't got anything else, so we got each other."

  He flips back around, reasserting a smile after dispelling his earlier embarrassment. He must have a crush on the girl — not surprising given that she apparently made Ayre's heart sing a bit too. "Well…that's a lot bigger than I was anticipating. Sorry for bringing it up like that to you. I hope I didn't cause you any discomfort talking about it." I do feel quite bad. I just asked an orphan to explain why he's an orphan.

  On the other hand, though, if we can convince these people to leave Olly alone, maybe Nyssa and Ayre could bond over both being orphans…

  "Nah, no prob, ya asked a question a lotta folks do. 'Sides, I don't think I could get mad at someone as pretty as ya for very long anyways. Ya seem too nice for it." He's got a certain sort of inexperienced charm to him that I find myself warming to quickly. Very earnest.

  Which makes it a good bit harder to think of these people as the bad guys. Then again, I suppose that's always based on perspective, surely the Demon King thought she was doing the right thing and acting on side of good, right? It's just unfortunate that the situation will see us surely come to blows.

  But! That's why I'm here to learn. Maybe I can find some things as leverage, or at least learn about how they work. That way if it comes down to it, we won't be blind if it comes to fighting.

  We keep up small talk as he leads me onwards into the big keep, and along the way he gets ribbed over apparently "finally getting a girlfriend", something that I'll all too happily to play into for the fun of it. he looks very cute when he blushes, so it's worth it for that alone.

  "This is where I gotta go. If ya' keep up goin' down t'is hall you'll find Dame Serafina's office; first door on the right. Jus' tell her t'at you wanna know 'bout t'e order." He very delicately takes my hand in his for a moment while giving what I assume has to be a salute. "Watcher guide you where you're needed, Miss Lilly."

  Once he leaves, I'm left to really take in the keep without any distractions. The place is huge. Like really big. The hallways are wide enough for maybe six people to walk abreast; and are generally made of mixed dark stones; gilding; essence channels running in pretty, and probably symbolically important, channels to deliver magic where it's needed around the place.

  Those have become a fascination of mine, admittedly, so I idly trace my hand along one on the wall whenever it's within my reach. It leaves a light tingle on my hand, but doesn't actually push any essence into me because of my natural resistance to such things and my general density of Elysia. Last I was aware, the mortal kyn of the world hadn't really mastered even basic enchanting, let alone this level of what I've heard called "automation" of the whole process. It makes me wonder what else it could be used for.

  But, as I arrive to the proscribed door, I am stunned by the artistry on display. It's what I could only call "impossibly elaborate". Whoever carved this must have worked on it for years as a sort of effigy to whatever aspect of the Watcher that these people follow. It's inset with countless essence-infused gems, allowing the conduits from the wall to trace across its surface without breaking its flow whenever the door is closed. The Watcher's crest, a heavily stylized eye with three notches beneath it, is the main "feature" and has a the largest gem inset into it. A huge amethyst to act as the sclera of the eye.

  Stolen story; please report.

  But as I get up onto my toes to inspect it, the door suddenly swings open away from me to show a human woman with deeply unsettling eyes looking at me with one finely pruned eyebrow quirked in a question. I've seen Sashe’s eyes countless times. All of the Blackthorns have taken on this visual as far as I know, but… hers feel immediately different. I'm hesitant to say they feel wrong, but there's something about them that makes me want to squirm. Like I'm an ant being viewed under a magnifying glass with no regard for the fact the sun is starting to bake me through the lens.

  The feeling ends as quickly as it comes, though, and affords me a bit more freedom to take the rest of her in. She's wearing elaborate robes in black, gold, and amethyst that are broken up with panels of white that manages to be somehow both very conservative and respectful while also showing off a rather impressive figure in a very forward way that certainly leaves very little to the imagination.

  But what stands out most, far and away, is that her eyes are free of color. With the pupil and sclera being a single void of featureless black that have limbal rings of some purple essence that matches the runes on her robes. Nearly identical to Sashe’s eyes.

  She's also like, stupidly pretty. It's, frankly, unfair to most other mortals that she is allowed to look like that.

  I'm definitely prettier, to be abundantly clear.

  "May I help you, Miss…?" Her voice comes across very matronly and patient, but I can just barely make out a slight undercurrent of, maybe not unreasonable, annoyance. I peer beyond her for a moment and see that her office appears to have an altogether unreasonable number of books inside. Every wall is a shelf, every open spot on the floor has piles of tomes. And everywhere inbetween I see sheets of paper of various sizes absolutely coated in scribbles.

  "Maybe! I'm Lilly." I respond bouncily with a hopefully-winning smile. "I was directed here by a nice boy named Marcis because I was keen to learn about your order, and he said that you would be the best person to ask, by far."

  She gives me an appraising look, scanning me up and down before settling in to look directly through me in a way that sends a chill up my spine as I feel some foreign essence trace its way over my skin. After the moment of discomfort, though, she settles on a smile that manages to make me catch a brief hint of a chest flutter despite my not really liking girls all that much. Like that, at least. Usually.

  I hide my momentary swoon behind my own, obviously far more radiant, smile. I even issue just a smidge of essence to make it actually subtly luminous. Yes, it's petty. No, I don't care. "By all means. I'd be happy to run you through our organization. It is one of my family's crowning achievements and this place, in specific, is one of mine and I would gladly spend some time bragging about exactly how great it all is." She fixes me with a small wink and smirk that hits me right in the heart again as she gestures for us to walk together before tucking her arms into her robe sleeves. "What questions do you have? Or should I just start from the dawn of time up until now? You can call me Serafina, by-the-by."

  "I think the first thing I'm curious about — though I'd love to hear the story of this place from the start — is why your title is the Archivist? It seems like an oddly studious title for such a militant order of knights. At least based on what I know of these things from home."

  She chuckles softly, briefly covering her mouth delicately with her wrist. The very perfect picture of a demure noble. It’s, also, one hundred percent a deliberate affectation. As we talk I'm noticing that she is the sort of person that even Sashe has spoken of aspiring to be — the kind of person whom every single act is deliberate. Every single maneuver calculated. I'm jealous. “Well, the older title of the role was the Guide, if we want to talk history. But it later was adapted into the Archivist. And, a small correction. While the Vigil is an order of knights, we are not militant. We are a group of specialists who focus on gathering information and protecting people from things they cannot protect themselves from.

  That is where my role comes in. Our knights collect data on everything they slay or interact with and it is then brought back to me, where I codify and collate it all into usable information that is distributed to the nation and abroad. And, of course, is all in service of arming ourselves as best we can against our main concern: a specific type of chimeric monster known collectively as the Calamity. Do you know of them?"

  The question is…difficult. Of course I know about calamities. I live with someone who is purportedly one. But I opt for generic information and maybe a bit of misdirection. "Only in passing. We don't have them in my homeland, and my first exposure to the concept was the town of Meadowfields."

  She frowns deeply, her face twisting such that I almost want to hug her to comfort her. "I've been personally involved in the Meadowfields incident. It is one of the worst occurrences we've had in a few years. To our knowledge there was only one survivor, and he was recovered weeks after the event — surviving solely on passive essence absorption while stuck in a basement." She composes herself and when I look up, I hear her murmur what has to be a spell incantation, if a brief and quiet one. Immediately following, her eyes start to flutter around like someone who's sleeping and dreaming, but with them open and small wisps of purple essence running around in them.

  For the light of the World, it looks almost identical to what happens to Olly whenever he gets really trapped into a memory. It's something that makes me feel uneasy, even if this woman is obviously in full possession of her faculties. She snaps back to focus and looks at me unbothered. "But, to actually answer the original question. Calamities steal from anything they kill. Experience, essence development, knowledge, spell forms, memories. Because of this unique trait, fighting them requires anyone involved to know everything there is to know about monsters in the area, their abilities, and how they think, as well as the likely essence composition average of a region in terms of the mortal magi in towns.

  Many, many factors that I sit at the nexus of, making training regimens to prepare our people to fight something that is fundamentally impossible to prepare for. A simple task, as I'm sure you can guess.” The full breadth of the threat that these monsters can pose starts to settle in for me. Obviously, I am quite aware of why what Olly does would be dangerous in the hands of an actual monster, but hearing about the resources and preparations puts it into greater context why this order has to exist.

  “I specialize in using a complex essence that my family discovered in order to do the task better than anyone else could. And, preparatorily, no, I cannot share that information."

  "That's all fascinating. It sounds really difficult. I assume it works? Where do they even come from, anyways?" This is actually great. This person can probably answer a lot of questions I have about Olly. I just need to ask them subtly. This woman is absolutely shrewd enough to get suspicious, I think. She's part of the same family as Sashe, after all.

  Maybe I can ask Sashe about her, actually…

  "That's…the very unfortunate thing. Calamities are what remains after one of the mortal kyn of the world are exposed to what we refer to as the 'Calamitous Essence'. We've never been able to isolate any of the stuff from a Calamity, and it proves nearly incapable of interacting with other essence directly — but seems to be able to substitute itself in place of almost any other type in regards to spellcasting. Anything a Calamity absorbs is repurposed into the stuff, and used to great effect, generally. But…more simply. They are once good souls, infested with something awful, and turned into something worse — the only saving grace is that nothing of the host remains past the first few seconds of contact as far as the Order understands."

  It makes me frown. It lines up with all of the stuff Olly knows and has experienced aside from the whole "sense of self" dying first. Olly very clearly retained that. But the other one we met did call him an anomaly, a 'malformed thing', so it stands to reason that he's the exception, not the rule.

  Which consequently means that these people are absolutely in the right and doing their best to help people. They might even, in practice, be demonstrating the purposes of the Court of Guides and Guardians better than the Watcher herself, if I am entirely honest with myself.

  "I know it can be very troubling to hear about — but do know, between us and the more capable forces in the country, we do manage to stop more than ninety percent of these events before they get off the ground, or before they can progress too far. So you needn't worry. At least, not for any logical, statistical, reasons. I would be a fool to say "this isn't scary and you shouldn't fear it." and try to claim it true. But it's around the same likelihood of being struck dead by a bolt from the blue while out picking up groceries."

  I nod, putting on an affectation of concern in accordance to what she is obviously expecting. "I appreciate all of the information. Really. Not being from here, hearing about what happened in that small town was…disheartening to say the least."

  "Of course. As you may or may not know — my family's entire reason for existence is about gaining and disseminating information. Sometimes that means we have to learn about terrible things in detail to shield others from the same. It's something we bear gladly for the land per our charter with the crown.

  Please, let me show you some things that are a bit less depressing. I think you might find peace in knowing what lengths we go to to prepare — some of our people are very impressive to see in action, and I know for a fact that we have a bit of a large-scale training exercise going on that I was planning to sit in on anyways."

  This should be a very enlightening experience, I think. This Serafina woman seems like the sort of earnest soul that I might even be able to approach about Olly maybe. Long down the road, though, and after discussing at length with everyone…