Chapter 73: Book 4 Chapter 7: Then vs Now

Joan lightly rolled the small red orb around on her lap, frowning at it. It had to mean something, didn’t it?

But she’d tried every spell she knew and was capable of doing on the orb to see if it would react. While, admittedly, that was an incredibly small list, nothing seemed to do anything. It didn’t alert her to anything being wrong. It didn’t so much as sparkle at her. There was certainly some kind of magic in it, but she had no idea what kind. She was going to need Korgron to figure it out.

Joan let out another annoyed growl and barely resisted the urge to punt the orb across the room. She wondered if there was anything more frustrating than knowing all the right solutions to a problem and being unable to actually perform any of them.

“Is this what it’s like to be a seer?” Qakog asked.

“What?” Joan asked, snapping out of her annoyance to look at him. “Is what?”

“This entire tomb,” Qakog said. “Everything in it.”

“I don’t follow,” Joan said.

“It never felt like there was any threats or danger,” Qakog said.

“Of course not,” Joan said. If there had been any real dangers she wouldn’t have been here. The chosen would have freaked out when she told them about it if there had been.

“Did you know everything that was coming?” Qakog asked. “Every threat? All of it?”

“Well, no, not all of it,” Joan said quickly. “My powers don’t allow me to see everything. Just most things. Like I knew about the poles and where the entrance was, but I didn’t know how it was protected or the secret answer to the riddle. What does it matter, though?”

“It’s boring,” Qakog said.

“Boring?” Joan asked. “It’s an old, ancient tomb. There were traps and--”

“Did you find it exciting?” Qakog asked. “You seemed so rushed. Like you just wanted to get it over with.”

Joan sighed. Of course she wanted to get it over with, she’d been here a thousand times already, what was one more? She was absolutely giddy that there was something new, but she didn’t see why he…

Oh.

He had never been here before. To her it had just been a small excursion. A minor adventure. To him, though? It was an ancient tomb filled with adventure and danger. Exploring what had once belonged to one of the most pivotal people in all of existence to the demons. The person who had, in many ways, shaped who they were and would become. She supposed the first time it had been that to her as well, filled with such wonder. She’d been frustrated and annoyed, of course. But there had, for a while, been that excitement.

But when you had walked through the halls of long dead gods, picked through the tombs of ancient fey, walked along the spine of the world embodied? A tomb like this, a place that had turned out to have so few traps and dangers? It felt almost mundane in comparison. Even as she was now it felt simple. Joan then glanced back at the orb. No, she was pretty excited about one thing. This was new, this had been a discovery. It might be something that would help her in some way.

But he couldn’t see that, could he? All he could see how she had realized everything before it happened. How she always had every answer. How she knew what was coming before it happened.

Joan wondered how excited he had been to come here and be the one to discover all of this. To be the one who found the tomb. How much it hurt to know that when he looked back on this moment all he would likely remember was that she had known all the answers. Yes, he had helped her figure out that one riddle, but to him it likely felt as if she had just done everything herself. Worse, it wasn’t even than she had figured it all out on her own. It was just that she had done it all so many times and had others to help her figure it out.

That didn’t matter, did it? It was just a bit of enjoyment. Excitement. The journey of discovery. So what if Joan ruined a bit of his excitement and fun? The world was damned. Everything in the world would burn if she didn’t stop it. He wouldn’t have even been here if not for her. If anything, he should be thanking her. She brought him when she didn’t have to. She could have done this herself.

So why did she bring him? Why did she want him to come if she could have done this herself? She didn’t even like him. He was at best an acquaintance. At worst an enemy. Another source of trauma. Of pain. Of suffering. So why care? Why not make him stay in the city where he belonged? Why bring him along at all? Because he wanted to do it? Because he had been there? Was that it? Arrogance? Had she wanted him to be there to watch her succeed? Did she need an audience?

That hit her like a punch in the gut, almost knocking the air out of her. That was it, wasn’t it? Joan didn’t want to just succeed. She wanted someone to watch her be better. She wanted him to see her be that amazing person who had all of the answers, all of the solutions. Who didn’t fail. Who didn’t mess up. After so many failures was that wrong? Was it really so arrogant to, just this once, want to be amazing? Korgron and the others got to be amazing all the time, wasn’t it her turn?

By the gods she was a miserable, terrible hero. How could anyone ever even think she was anything but a greedy, selfish monster she never knew.

“I’m sorry,” Joan said gently.

“Why are you sorry?” Qakog asked.

“I took away your enjoyment,” Joan said. “Because I--”

“What are you talking about?” Qakog asked. “I didn’t ask about mine. I asked about yours. Is that what it is like to be a seer? How do you find any enjoyment in this?”

“I knew there would be some useful stuff here and it would be important. It wouldn’t be very dangerous,” Joan said. “I didn’t want to stay in the palace all day. I--”

“If you already know the result, doesn’t that get boring?” Qakog asked.

“No,” Joan said. “I mean, I guess sometimes it feels a bit repetitive. But the results are the same. And just because I know how something can go doesn’t mean it always goes that way. I mean, I didn’t know about this,” she said before holding up the orb. “I wouldn’t have known about this if not for you.”

“Really?” Qakog asked, his voice filled with skepticism. “What is it?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Joan said with a smile. “But it’s important, I can feel it. I’m going to have Korgron look at it when she gets back.”

“Are you the reason the chosen keep leaving the city?” Qakog asked.

Joan cringed, mentally kicking herself. She really needed to learn to keep her mouth shut. “Not entirely. I mean, kind of. But I am mostly just giving them some direction. A little guidance. That’s all. Don’t tell anyone, please.”

“Then why didn’t you guide them here?” Qakog asked. “Is this not important enough?”

Joan sighed and shook her head. “No. They just wouldn’t have let me come if I did,” she said softly. “They think I’m helpless.”

Qakog stared at her for a long moment, his head cocked to the side. Then, finally, he gave a rather cocky smile before stepping closer. A little too close, to be honest. His hand reached out to grip her chin, making her look up at him. “No. Not helpless. Valuable. One does not risk their most valuable treasures on--”

“I will literally smash this orb on your face if you do not let me go,” Joan said. “I don’t think it will break, but I will take that risk.”

“Uhhhh…” Qakog said, his cheeks going a little redder. Her own eyes narrowed when he looked down at the orb, then back up at her. She could almost see the way his brain was operating. Heck, when she was the Hero she’d tried that move a few times herself. The key difference being that the Hero had been… actually. No. It was probably the same. Sure enough, after a moment he leaned in and she followed through with her threat, slamming the orb into his face and making him stumble back before falling on his butt. To her surprise, he then started to laugh.

Joan rolled her eyes. “I did warn you.”

“I know,” Qakog said with a grin. “But I felt it was a worthy risk to take for my future bride.”

“It’s not a risk if it’s a guarantee. It’s just idiocy then,” Joan said. “Also, not marrying you. You said you wouldn’t talk about that if I came with you.”

“Everything worth doing has risks,” Qakog said. “Even if you know the result. Besides, I am Qakog, Piercer of Bark! I cannot allow a mere orb to stop my quest.”

Joan gave another sigh. The worst part was that it reminded her of how she had been as the Hero. She hoped he hadn’t looked like that much of an idiot. “Whatever you say, Piercer of Bark.” She pulled off her own bag and shoved the orb inside. “I’m taking this, by the way. Consider it my share.”

Qakog paused before looking around. “Truly? That is all you desire? I thought you said you didn’t know about it?”

“I didn’t,” Joan said.

“But there was nothing else you desired?” Qakog asked.

“Not rea--” Joan then stopped. Wait. There was something else. She paused before walking back towards the small things lining the wall. “Actually, yes. I want this.” She picked it up for a moment before pausing.

All of these things had been here in her previous visits. All except for the orb. While in those lives these little ‘treasures’ had been of minor use, the kinds of things that they had ended up selling or quickly giving to others with simpler duties. But she had never even second guessed that they had missed anything because of them. Had these small trinkets been a distraction, to make them think that there was nothing else they had missed? She glanced back towards the coffin. In her past lives it had been filled with nothing more than bone dust and ancient, corroded armor. Was it the same now? If she managed to get the stone covering off, would it be the same? It was the only other thing in the room that she hadn’t seen yet. “Can you help me remove the lid?”

“What?” Qakog asked. “On the coffin?”

“Yes,” Joan said before walking towards it. She stared at the stonework, her heart pounding so hard it felt it might almost burst out of her chest. Was it possible? Had there been something else she missed? “Just for a second.”

Qakog nodded. “If you wish. But…”

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“I won’t touch them,” Joan said quickly. “That, at least, isn’t a part of the tradition.” Also, she supposed, why most tombs she knew of tended to have their dead buried in nothing more than their personal armor and weapons, with the more valuable things outside of the coffin. Better not to tempt those who were too greedy.

Qakog nodded and moved over besides her, staring down at the stone. Slowly they both gripped the edge of the coffin’s lid and began to lift, lightly pulling it up. Joan had to expend some of her magic to get her strength up enough to move it but, grudgingly, the lid slowly began to move. Soon it was moved just enough that the light could see inside.

Revealing nothing but dust and old, corroded armor. She let out a soft sigh before shaking her head. So it was just the orb, then. “Thank you,” she said before pulling away. “Let’s head back.”

“Okay,” Qakog said, though the confusion was evident in his voice. Not that she could blame him. She didn’t know what was going on half the time and she was doing it, how could she expect him to? “Why that pouch?”

“Huh?” Joan asked. “Oh, right. I’ll show you.” She knelt down and strapped the pouch to her thigh, over her breeches. She then pulled out the throwing knife she’d taken from him earlier, before sliding it inside the pouch and tightly closing it back up. “Like so, and…” She then flicked out her right hand.

A duplicate of the throwing knife appeared in the hand. She flicked her hand twice more and two more knives appeared, each one a perfect replica of the original. She then tossed them, one by one they lodged into the wall of the chamber before disappearing. “Cool, right?”

Qakog, to her annoyance, looked less than impressed. “Can you put other things in it? Will it make duplicates?”

“No, just knives,” Joan said.

“Why not arrows? Wouldn’t a bow be more effective?” Qakog asked.

Joan’s cheeks turned red and she shook her head. “I ummm… I’m… not really… that good with a bow,” she said. She was passable, she supposed. Better than she should have been for her age. But for all the skills she’d mastered as the Hero, the bow had been one that she had just always been fairly pathetic at. Throwing knives had always been more effective for her.

“I’m surprised that’s it. We have things like that in the city,” Qakog said. “Knife jugglers use them all the time.”

“They do?” Joan asked, her cheeks getting redder.

“You didn’t know?” Qakog asked.

Joan just turned and started walking away. “Just grab what you want to take with you, I’ll wait by the ladder.” Of all the things she had come here for, did it really turn out that she had wanted something that was an ancient performer tool? She felt like an idiot. She’d actually wasted her time on something she could have just gotten in the city. She knew throwing knives weren’t the most effective of weapons, but she was a thousand times better with them than arrows. Chase would have appreciated them, he used to have little knife throwing contests with the Hero all the time. Besides, it was easier to throw a magical knife than it was to make a tiny little shard of ice in the air, so she could spend more of her energy enhancing her body.

Joan stopped once she made it to the ladder, sitting down by it and hugging her knees to her chest. Of all the things she could have spent her time on, she got a magic toy. A trinket. She couldn’t believe she was so stupid. No wonder they kept bringing her magical things to keep her safe. It wasn’t like she’d actually be useful in a real dangerous situation. She was helpless.

Even worse, when she had been the Hero she tossed the pouch aside quickly, as her magic was far more effective. She hadn’t needed such a silly thing. She shook her head and lightly tapped her cheeks. “No. Stop that. You’re pouting. You don’t have time to pout,” she said. “You found the orb. This wasn’t a waste of time. You’re not an idiot. So what if you could have gotten it an easier way? The orb wasn’t in the city. So stop acting like a child.”

Joan gave a soft sigh before resting her chin on her knees. She hoped Qakog would hurry up. She just wanted to go back to the palace and wait. Who knew, maybe Searle and Bauteut would be back in a few days and she could finally be allowed to go on a real adventure again. Maybe one where she might actually be useful.

Joan flicked her wrist and a knife appeared in her hand once more. She held it until it disappeared. She did have fun, though. It hadn’t been dangerous. In fact, it had been simple and easy. The kind of thing that the Hero wouldn’t have worried about in the slightest even if he didn’t have any information about it beforehand. But even if she had done it before, she had uncovered something new. That and she missed doing these. Probably the most fun the Hero ever had was exploring old, lost tombs like this and making his way through the traps and dangers within.

There were probably countless other lost tombs and dungeons in the world. Ones she’d never even heard of. Filled with lost history, old artifacts, even silly trinkets. Just waiting for people to explore them. People like her. Not the chosen, not the Hero. Just normal people. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Nothing wrong with wanting that.

Joan flicked her wrist again, throwing the knife the moment it was in her grip. Maybe, once all of this was over, she’d just do that. Once the world didn’t need her to direct the chosen anymore. She could live a life like that. It’d probably be far safer in comparison. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about ancient evils accidentally being awoken because she opened some ancient fancy door keeping it sealed.

She paused and then shrugged. Eh. She’d worry about it when the time came. For now, it wasn’t even the top ten of most dangerous things she still had to deal with. The Inferno God and his forces made up at least half of that particular list. She heard footsteps coming towards her and glanced up to see Qakog. He looked nervous, his bag slung over his back all but bulging with things he intended to take back to the city. If nothing else at least he would probably get a new title out of it.

Speaking of new titles. “Hey, Qakog?”

“Yes?” he asked.

“You called yourself Piercer of Bark. Didn’t you say before that it was an insult?” Joan asked.

“It is,” Qakog said, puffing out his chest slightly. “But you said it wasn’t, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Joan said. “I’m just not sure what it means. Why are you Piercer of Bark?”

That made him deflate slightly and his gaze lowered. “Oh. Well, it’s not really that important. I just… I…”

“Come on, tell me,” Joan said with a small smile. “I’ve seen what you’ll become. You telling me one story isn’t going to make me think all the other stuff you’ll do is less impressive.”

Qakog gave another sigh. “And what if I don’t achieve those things? Does it mean anything if it’s guaranteed to happen?”

“It will mean you stopped trying,” Joan said. “All my visions tell me is that you’re capable of them. That you can do them, that you have the ability. If you work at it. It’s not guaranteed if you stop trying. I can’t even say what you have to do to become what I’ve seen. I just know that you probably will. You’re certainly capable enough of it. But it’ll mean the same either way. Just because you succeed at something you CAN do doesn’t make it any less impressive that you did it.”

“I see,” Qakog said. “Well, I suppose I should give you your answer, then. When I was younger, still a child.”

“Because you’re totally not one now,” Joan said in a teasing tone.

“No more than you,” Qakog said back.

Joan opened her mouth to object to that, but stopped. As much as she hated to admit it, he did have a point. He was, technically, about her age. Even though she was millennia older than him. “Fair enough,” she finally said. “So, carry on?”

“When I began learning the rapier, I attempted to pierce an ironcoat tree. Are you familiar with them?” Qakog asked.

“Yeah,” Joan said. “The red trees with bark harder than iron? Very rare, but not unheard of. So you pierced it?”

“Not quite,” Qakog said. He then sighed and reached down to grip the bottom of his tunic and lifted it up. Across his right side from just below his chest all the way down was a thick, white scar. “I failed, spectacularly. I almost died.”

Joan stared, the color drained from her face. “How?”

“My weapon shattered and I threw more into it than I should have,” Qakog said. “A shard lodged into my side and… well, as you can see, it left an impression.” He lowered his shirt, hiding the scar away. “I failed to pierce the bark and, ever since then, they have called me ‘Piercer of Bark’.”

Joan nodded, though she couldn’t help feeling a little remorse for him. She remembered the time she threw a bit too much into her own attack and her sword shattered in her grip. Thankfully nobody called her ‘Troll Splattered’ or gave her some other nickname for her folly. She only had a really obnoxious song sung about it. She then shook her head. “Well, for what it’s worth? I think Piercer of Bark sounds pretty intimidating. Besides, I’m sure one day you will pierce the bark of an ironcoat tree. Without breaking your weapon. And who knows? Maybe I can help you.”

Qakog eyed her for a few moments. “Really? You would?”

“Why not?” Joan asked. “We’re friends.”

“And once I defeat--”

“Friends,” Joan said firmly. “We’re gonna leave it there for now. Assuming you want my help?”

“Of course,” Qakog said.

“Good. Not like I have anything else I can do until the chosen get back, anyway,” Joan said before climbing to her feet. “Speaking of getting back, we should head back. You know, I bet Frisk is going to be furious when he finds out we discovered this after he sent me out.”

Qakog just laughed before following behind her.

Once they stepped out of the small doorway in the stone, once more the cold, wet air of the swamp hit her.

She also learned there was another spell over the entrance, not just one that dried things out. But also one that blocked out sound. Because off in the distance she could hear angry roars. Powerful thudding.

But, most important of all?

Joan heard someone screaming. She turned towards it and ran.