#december 1613

"Were they... I mean... are they... no... did... did they come back? Not to be rude or anything I just-" 

She stopped herself before she dug an even bigger hole for herself, cursing her clumsy words. And yet, if only the bard had glanced up from staring into the fire, she might have been relieved to see Dawn smile softly before she answered. 

“Yes, they came back the next morning and I was lucky enough to only have to patch up a few scars.” There was a crunch of frozen grass as Dawn settled back to watch the fire beside the bard. "But not everyone was so lucky." 

"No..." echoed Emily in a sing-songy tone that faded off as she got lost in thought for a moment. Something about Dawn’s tone had begun to set her at ease; the nurse probably wouldn’t get upset if she pushed a bit further, right?

And if she was being honest with herself… ever since The Enemy had sent that message… she had needed someone to talk to for a while now. Wasn’t that the whole point of this trip, anyway? Getting her out of the garrison, out of her own head… at least, that was what Dawn had seemed to imply when she suggested that the bard come along on her trip to House Schneeplestein. 

Besides, it’s not like Emily had ever been shy about opening up to random people before, anyway. May as well keep burying herself the hole she had started to dig for herself.

"It's all very strange, being here right now. When I was a kid, the enemy was just... I dunno, a scary bedtime story or something. Like, he was real, and you heard about him all the time, but as a kid you were always protected and distanced from it. Like some invisible window separated him from reality in my mind. Even after I joined The Watch, he still felt that way. To see what's happening now... it's like a bedtime story come to life." 

Once she began, the bard found it hard to stop talking, simultaneously aware of how strange she must sound and relieved at finally being able to articulate everything that had been on her mind since the holiday celebrations had begun. "It changes your entire worldview."

"It does," Dawn agreed, pulling the stick from the fire and staring at the embers on the tip. "Things can change in an instant. One minute, all is calm and the next… the next it's...funerals and...family members vanishing in the night.”

"All is calm... all is bright..." She couldn’t help it, the haunting melody slipping from the bard’s lips and sending a shiver down her spine. For a moment, the notes just hung in the air, taunting them among the crackling of the fire.

Finally, Emily broke the silence. "So strange… that such a peaceful song could cause so much fear. It was once supposed to be about the time of waiting and preparation before a beacon of hope appeared to save the world... now it's the opposite. Waiting and preparation for a war that will never end, against an enemy we cannot beat."

"That's the kind of thoughts he wants." Dawn looked at the younger woman, the red glow of the fire illuminating a quiet sadness behind her eyes. "Admitting he is undefeatable makes him so, but deep down he can still..." She falters, taking a shaky breath. "He can still bleed."

Emily made an unexpected snort of laughter. "Well yeah, his neck probably has been infected for years!" With the melodramatics benefiting the more extroverted members of her guild, the bard rose onto her knees, miming a slashing motion at her throat. "If the rumors are to be believed, he still hasn’t gotten the sense to get that wound cleaned since The Overnight Defense!" 

The concept seemed incredibly funny to the young bard, who had collapsed to the ground once again, giggling uncontrollably. She took a deep breath, trying to get herself under control, but only managed to laugh harder. 

"God, I'm a twenty-year old," she finally choked out. "A few decades ago, I’d have been having a million giggling children by now, not giggling myself!"

Dawn stifled her own laugh. "A little sense of humor never hurt anyone!"

"Well, since I'm probably never gonna have kids- since I'm probably never gonna get married- I need to make up for the amount of giggles I'll hear in my life." With a final sigh of laughter, the bard rolled over and kicked her legs into the air, using the momentum to propel herself back into a seated position. Smiling, she finally dared to dart a glance at the nurse beside her- 

Only to see Dawn suddenly looking crestfallen. With a sigh, the nurse shrugged sadly in response to the bard’s concerned expression. "It’s nothing… I only wish I could have made that decision."

"Oh... I'm sorry." Emily sat in awkward silence for a moment, shoving her hands under her legs in an attempt to still her nervous fidgeting. "But that means you have the time and opportunities to help kids who don't have moms, right? So that's kinda cool. Not everyone gets the opportunity to make a difference like that."

"And I love every bit of it." Dawn smiled. "We all have our place I suppose."

Emily pounced happily upon that small smile, relieved and thrilled to have assuaged the sadness caused by her careless words. "Exactly! If everyone was the same, that would be... I dunno... not good. Imagine if that sameness was based on The Enemy! Everyone being like The Enemy would be even worse than not good." 

The bard laughed a bit to herself at that, clearly enjoying the natural way the words tumbled out of her mind, heedless of the grammar and form that dictated her role as a bard in The Watch. 

"It's nice, being able to just… be myself for a bit. Not that I'm not myself in the garrison... but it's a different self. The gotta-do-my-job self that knows it has people depending on me, especially when there's an emergency to take care of. Whereas here, when I don't really have any jobs to do, I get to be my goofball self that laughs at everything and says really deep or just random stuff for no good reason."

"You can always come talk if you need  to. I know the barracks are kind of stuffy."

"Eh, I don't mind that. I like the routine. It's just... I dunno. Sometimes you need a break from being an adult in the way everyone else wants you to be an adult. You have to meet in the middle when you're working on a team effort, like in The Watch, so I try to act a bit more like most people expect an adult to act, but sometimes that just gets tiring.”

Emily glanced at Dawn again, worried she was talking too much, but the nurse didn’t seem to mind. Thank goodness; she hadn’t realized just how much she needed to talk to someone until she finally had the chance to begin.  

“That's why I ended up leaving House Schneeplestein; everything is always a group effort of adults trying to be mature and rational all the time, and sometimes it's just too much to keep track of. In House Jameson, no one bats an eye if you're a bit of a ditz who sometimes needs to take an hour or two of alone time in random mountain alcoves to collect her thoughts. House Schneeplestein expected my thoughts to already be collected 24/7. So now, I collect my thoughts when I'm delivering messages to other outposts or when I'm alone in my room working on maps and such. It helps me meet everyone else in the middle when they expect to see an adult-adult announcing these horrible things about the war."

Suddenly out of breath, the bard finally fell silent.

"If I may,” asked Dawn, carefully returning her stick into the fire, “Why did you decide to document all this? Surely you could have left it to someone else and focus on other things?"

Emily shrugged. "No one else was doing it. Everyone else was too busy worrying about what was happening and what we needed to do about it.”

“And that’s all?”

“Well, there’s more to it than that. I’ve always been fascinated with history, so… it just felt right, I guess. After all, this kingdom's only about three decades old, and everyone still assumes that most of our history lives in recent memory. It’s only once we start to forget that the historians will start scrambling for whatever letters, records, and remnants of the past we’ve left behind. So I figured... why not start now? It's not like I'm very good at any actual fighting stuff, and who knows? Maybe offering everyone else a long-term perspective will help them figure out something we've missed. Our past has a lot of mysteries, especially for such a short period of time."

"That's a very noble reason. And it seems you are settling in just fine here."

"Well, it's not like I'm new. I joined... oh gosh... seven years ago? I couldn't help much until a few years back, but even then, I've never taken such an active role within The Watch before this point." The bard laughed, a cross between genuine humor and morbid irony. "How funny that, the moment I start to do so, The Enemy decides to make his next move."

"There's always something."

"I swear, it's like he was waiting for me or something, and then decided to screw with my every effort to do so. I know it's probably all just a coincidence, and heaven knows I'm not the most alert person in the world, but still..."

"Sometimes timing isn't ideal, but I admire your perseverance. You do your House proud, I think." 

Somehow, those few words were enough to render the bard absolutely speechless, processing the compliment she had just received as Dawn leaned back to look up at the sky. 

After a long moment, it was the nurse’s turn to break the silence. "Some say our fates are predestined, written by the stars. Do you believe that?"

Simultaneously startled and relieved by the change of subject, Emily stared back into the fire. She knew what she wanted to say… but how to say it? Finally, after a fruitless moment of searching the flames for her answer, the bard slowly began to speak.

"I think there's some greater power up there, watching out for us. He knows what will happen, and makes it so according to his plans for us, but that doesn't mean we don't have the power to change our fates for ourselves. It's like..." 

She paused, then continued slowly, as if she was trying to order her words one by one. 

"I kinda see it like whoever's up there... He's an author. Like me. Like a lot of us. And when you're an author, you build these beautiful worlds and these beautiful characters. You love them lots and lots, but at the same time, you aren't content to just leave them in their happy peaceful worlds. They won't grow that way. It wouldn’t be a meaningful story. So you orchestrate these grand conflicts for them to struggle against and make them face their personal flaws and trials, and through all that, the characters grow and mature and the happy ending at the end is so much more meaningful because of it. Only…” 

She hesitated, stealing a glance at Dawn but unable to read the look on her face. Ah well, no point in stopping now. 

“Only… once you make a character, they almost seem to take on a life of their own. You want to allow these characters to say in character, even though it means that entire plot points might get completely derailed by their actions. And you, the author, see this, do a little loving sigh, because of course they did that and you never really expected them to do otherwise, and then pick back up the plot point, dust it off, and find a way to make it still happen without making those characters break character. You know what's going to happen, and your characters cannot change that, but they can change the course of their own lives in ways that you might not always condone but are still beautiful and unique and wholly them." 

A deep breath. A nervous laugh. Why wasn’t Dawn saying anything? Why was she still talking?

"So… yeah. I guess that's how I view whatever being is up there, watching over us. He knows what's gonna happen, guides us in ways we don't always understand, and sometimes throws us a little deus ex machina moment to help us along, and we call those miracles... but he doesn't ever stop us from choosing the paths that we will take ourselves. Discourage us from them, maybe. But never stop us. And the whole time, no matter what trials we face, He's up there orchestrating them- not just for the finale of some grand, noble story of growth, redemption, and victory at the end of it all- but for our own personal growth into the best versions of ourselves that we might eventually become, if we strive to let that version of ourselves shine through." 

Emily flopped back onto her cloak on the ground, looking up at the starry sky that had Dawn so captivated. "I'm not sure if that answers your question or not... but yeah. That's what I believe." 

The silence stretched on into the night, until finally, it was too much for the bard. "Was that too much? Sometimes I get lost in my own head and say too much and then people get uncomfortable."

Dawn shook herself slightly, seemingly pulling herself out of some deep thought, and smiled softly. "On the contrary. That was lovely."

"Heh, thanks." Emily smiled back, her gaze returning to the night sky. "I guess I'm just used to most people just... spending so much time arguing over fate or destiny or deities or whatever and blaming something else for their problems that they don't stop to ask themselves what they can do about it. How they can help. 

"Some people make things far too complicated...so they don't see what's right in front of their face."

“Exactly.” Emily rolled over to face Dawn, like two adolescents sharing secrets under the stars. “That's the heart of why I started all this, I guess. I looked at a problem, realized that I had these skills, and said, 'okay, so this is how I can help.' And then I did that. No dramatic heroics or anything like that. Just… finding a way to help. ”

“Sometimes, the little things are all you can do.”

"Yeah… in a way, that strange simplicity of it all, it’s almost a comfort. Things might be hectic and war-torn and terrifying right now, but heaven knows, that's nothing new. We look back on the good times, but the truth is, there were bad times then too. And if we can find the good parts now, we can get through the bad parts that may come later… whatever they may be."

"It's almost a new year, I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

"Whatever the future holds, I think we're all gonna see our fair share of both before the end. Good friends and bad enemies and who knows what else." Absentmindedly, the bard scratched at a scab on her forehead, a remnant of her harried ride through the brittle shrubbery of House Jackie a few weeks prior. "I feel ready to face it. Maybe not ready to win. But ready to start trying."

"That's all we can ask for." Pensively, Dawn rubbed some soot off the stick and onto her fingers, tracing idle shapes on her skin as she stared up at the sky. 

“And what about you? What do you think? About fate and our chances in this war and all that. You've been here longer than I have, after all.”

“The enemy keeps evolving every day, and while I do believe we have a chance, it only comes when we ourselves evolve and grow.” Stabbing the stick into the ground, an edge of frustration crept into Dawn’s voice. “The time for blind attacks is over....we lose too much doing that in the first place."

The bard nodded solemnly. "I agree. The Enemy has always been patient and cunning first and foremost, and in response, we rush to conclusions and answers. He is slow and silent, we are loud and constantly active. The Watch has always been extremely reactive rather than preventative, simply because we can't predict what we don't understand. The Enemy knows this, and I think he's trying to trick us into not reacting. But if we can't prevent things and we refuse to react... we would be doing nothing. We need to find a way to react with clear intent, not blindly shouting in the dark."

"He's always been a...bit of an attention seeker. But looking away only invites him to do more."

"Exactly.” Emily’s eyes shone; clearly, she had been mulling over this for some time, waiting for someone to ask her opinion. “Personally, I think we need to aim for an easier game. He's trying to win, and we probably can't beat him. But if we might be able to force a stalemate. That's an easier goal and that might give us enough of an advantage to succeed."

Dawn smiled, laughing silently at the bard’s youthful enthusiasm. "One thing at a time." She looked up at the sky, breathing the winter air for a moment and collecting her thoughts. "Someone...close to me once said that the enemy thrives on fear, and the attention he gets from that fear. We just have to show them we are not afraid."

Emily snorted humorlessly. "Easier said than done."

Dawn glanced sharply at the watcher beside her. "That's what I just said." She chuckles, a sad undertone lurking beneath her amusement.

"Haha, well you know me; my short term memory isn't the best. The gremlins got my brain as a kid and have set up camp there ever since."

Dawn laughs, a bittersweet sound of both hope and memory. "You sound like....someone I knew."

"I get that a lot," Emily laughed, noticing the funny little pause in Dawn's voice but not registering it as anything of note. "Apparently I've got a very... I dunno. A specific quirky personality. Simultaneously too young yet too old, too focused yet not focused enough, too quiet yet too intense, all at the same time. Everyone's complicated, but it seems most people are all complicated in a way that doesn't contradict itself. It makes people like me and your friend much more noticeable. I think. I don't actually know. But that's what I guess." 

Emily took a deep breath; she had said all of that very quickly. "My mom used to scold me for saying things that I think are true as if I know they are true, so I’m trying to correct myself."

Dawn nodded absently, yawning as the fire began to wane. "You're very...strong in your beliefs."

"Well, if you don't know how the world works, how are you gonna know what the right choices and answers are?" Emily shrugged, completely ignorant of the tangent she had just jumped upon. "Even if I don't actually know if my understanding is entirely true or not, I need to have some sort of certainty. Otherwise, I'm constantly immobilized by indecision and the pressure to get things right. I suppose that's still the House Schneeplestein in me, needing answers and all, but the nice thing about being in House Jameson is that no one cares so much if your understanding isn't quite perfect. You can have your own unique perspective on the world and, so long as it doesn't hurt anyone, no one minds. It's nice. Most of the pressure on me to get things right comes from myself now, not the culture I live in. I guess that my tendency to jump to conclusions and act all certain about them comes from a sort of anxious desire for an impossible sense of perfect certainty. Can't get that, so sometimes I subconsciously pretend that I have it."

Dawn found herself nodding again, somehow parsing the meaning behind the bard’s rambles despite her eyelids slowly beginning to droop. "I think that mindset is very common, even among those you'd never expect."

Emily chuckled. "I guess. I dunno. Seems like I'm worse about it than others. That, and a lot of other things. But it's okay. I'm learning and growing and right now the Watch seems to be a good spot for me to do that. So here I am. Learning and growing and being an adult."

“We… we’re all still doing that,” Dawn yawned. “Don’t worry.”

The young bard pondered that for a moment. “Thanks. For bringing me out here… and listening. I needed that.”

The quiet snore in response brought a small giggle to Emily’s lips as she sat up and poked the fire. “Fair enough,” she whispered, “first watch is on me.” For the first time months, she actually didn’t mind the idea of sitting quietly with her thoughts for a few hours. 

In fact, the bard rather looked forward to it. 

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