Amelia Thornheart

While nibbling on a bland training ball—an Eastern training tradition Serena refused to deviate from—Amelia wandered over to the group's resident mistwalker. Noburu stood, his clothes damp with sweat, taking swigs from a glass bottle of water. He didn’t notice Amelia approach; his attention was focused on Mel, who continued sitting in a meditative silence while refining her aura.

By now, Amelia’s friend had rebuilt her orange and was busy trickling in more and more aether into her internal convection while keeping the aetherflow from breaking down from the additional pressure.

“What’s up?” Amelia asked, peeking at Noburu’s troubled expression.

“What’s…” Noburu frowned, confusion splattered on his face. “What’s up?”

“It’s a super casual, Karligard way of asking what’s the matter,” Amelia said, grinning at the demon’s frown. Her official, Empire-stamped backstory of being a wayward Karligard healer was extremely convenient in explaining any slips of modern, otherworldly idioms in her speech. The human nation was more than five thousand kilometres away, so it wasn’t easy to double-check.

Last she heard, the Karligard authorities hadn’t denied Amelia’s origins. Of course, they would have no record of her, but that mattered little to disprove the story. There were plenty of travelling aether users with undocumented backgrounds from small, barely-named rural communities. They may have wanted to announce publicly that Amelia’s background was a fabrication, but, as Serena put it, they would be under extreme political pressure not to.

After all, if Amelia’s Karligard story wasn’t true, then the only other logical explanation was that Christdom had lost control of a Vatican-sanctioned and Golden-Cathedral-trained Aseco healer who had turned traitor. Christdom must be breathing down Karligard’s neck to take the political hit and international scrutiny.

“So, what’s the matter?” Amelia asked Noburu. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Penny…?” The demon’s frown deepened.

“I mean, denari for your thoughts,” Amelia corrected, adapting the idiom to the Empire’s currency. “Or tak for your thoughts. Or chit?” Now Amelia was getting confused.

“You want to pay me for my thoughts?” Noburu asked, looking at her like she was an alien.

“Just”—Amelia rolled her eyes—“tell me why you’re looking troubled.” She gestured to Mel. “Or are you simply mesmerised by how good-looking Mel is? I don’t blame you. She’s a very charming demon.” Amelia leaned in to Noburu in a mock whisper, saying, “But I don’t know if she’s ready for that kind of commitment yet, Noburu.”

Mel’s eyebrows twitched, and her aura flared heavily. For some reason, she’d chosen to blossom her orange around her face more than the rest of her body.

“You’re teasing me,” Noburu said flatly, giving her a long look.

“Mmm!” Amelia nodded, giving him a wink.

Noburu looked back at Mel, saying quietly, “I was just thinking. I mean, I was just…” he trailed off, took a breath, and continued, “I was feeling envious, Miss Liona. Being part of this group, where everyone boasts so much ability, so much command over aether…” Noburu met Amelia’s eyes. “In the lowlands, even a weak red would be more than enough to send you upper-sky and towards a comfortable life in the city.”

“Did people try to train?” Amelia asked. “To become a warrior or mage and move upwards?”

“Plenty try,” Noburu said, “but no one succeeds. It takes resources and talent to manifest red, years of effort. Back then, we were all so focused on survival and enduring the next winter, we couldn’t waste energy swinging a sword and training.” Noburu hesitated before adding quickly, “Not that we had swords. Some of the kids would play with sticks. Riki, Chiho, Reo…” Noburu listed off the remainder of the orphanage’s children, explaining how they would all claim boastfully that they would train hard and earn enough to save everything. “We, me and Kiku that is, would let them,” Noburu said. “It’s a harmless dream, and it gave hope to them. But eventually… eventually everyone gives up.”

“Did you?” Amelia asked. “Give up?”

“On becoming a warrior or a mage? Yes,” Noburu said quietly. “But I didn’t give up on improving our lives. I only changed… my methods.” Noburu glanced awkwardly at the remainder of the group, who were gathered a little way away, receiving advice from Serena. “You know how that went, of course…”

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “But it paid off, in the end, didn’t it? Now Kiku and the children aren’t just living in upper-sky, but they’re under my”—Amelia jabbed herself with a thumb—“protection. Don’t worry, I told Johan he was to spoil them before I left. I especially emphasised how I would be very angry if he didn’t let them have the childhood they missed out on.”

“Thank you,” Noburu said, his voice laden with heavy emotion. “You did what I couldn’t.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Amelia said. “I only did what was right.”

“You did what was right when no one else did,” Noburu said. “Even those who had the power to act didn’t. Instead, they just… just… took.” The demon squeezed his fists, whitening the knuckles. “If only I had aura, even a weak one. I could have protected them.”

“You did,” Amelia pointed out. “You protected them exactly as much as was needed, until I could come in and lend a helping hand.” She said the words to ease Noburu’s burden. Only now did she realise just how much Noburu blamed himself for not doing enough.

What a hard life he’s had, Amelia thought. I might have been bedbound for years, but I was cared for in a safe environment. Would I have coped if I were in his situation? Without my magic? I don’t think so…

“Were there a lot of aether users in the—” Amelia caught herself before she could say slums. “In the lowlands?” she finished.

“Before the war, each guard squad was captained by a warrior or mage,” Noburu explained. “But they weren’t like the people here, who can keep their aura or wards running all day. After a few years of the conflict, after the fanatics were pushed out of Northern lands, they all started to leave. Better money in the military or as a mercenary. By the time you came, I had only seen magic or aura in person a handful of times. Now…” The demon waved a hand at the squad. “I see it every day.”

They watched Mel in silence for half a dozen seconds.

“You have time now,” Amelia said. “Time to train.” She locked eyes with Noburu, saying, “You could become a mage, Noburu. Or a warrior, I suppose, but you feel more like a mage.”

“I…” Noburu swallowed. “I’m too old to start. I don’t have the talent to—”

“Nonsense!” Amelia raised a dramatic finger in front of the demon’s face. “Firstly, no one’s too old to better themselves, whether that’s something physical, mental, or magical!” Amelia raised a second finger, and Noburu’s eyes went cross-eyed tracking it. “And secondly, who cares about talent? Isn’t it worth picking up a brush, even though you won’t become a world-famous artist? Isn’t it worth picking up a pen, even though you won’t write a bestseller?”

“What’s a bestseller?” Noburu asked.

“The point is,” Amelia emphasised, pushing past the demon’s question. “Is that there’s satisfaction in learning a new skill, in undertaking a new journey. And of all of the journeys you could take, some of the most enjoyable ones are those where you use magic. Now, I’m a mage of an acceptable quality.” Amelia spun on the spot to emphasise how perfectly acceptable she was. “But I enjoy learning the sword and how to use aura every bit as much as I do casting a spell. Maybe you’ll never Speak a Word, or reach third-circle, or second-circle. Maybe you’ll only learn a single spell. Who cares? It’s the journey that matters, and for you”—Amelia pointed at Noburu—“I reckon you could learn more than a few spells, given how fluid your aetherflow is already!”

“My aetherflow”—Noburu frowned—“is fluid?”

“Mmm!” Amelia gave the demon a reassuring nod. “Everyone breathes aether in and out. Most people can’t do anything with it and feel nothing as they inhale and exhale. But mages cycle and warriors convect. They control the process to manifest aura or construct formations. While you’ll have a lot of work to do, your body is already naturally moving some of the aether you breathe in a manner similar to cycling.” Amelia shrugged, saying, “I guess it’s a consequence of using your blessing?”

“Noburu has a blessing!?” a voice yelled out.

Amelia turned to see Finella gaping at them with wide-eyes. Behind her, Serena stood tall, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, Officer Bright,” Serena intoned, clicking her tongue for some mysterious reason. “And I was going to discuss it with all of you in a short moment, but it seems Miss Liona”—Serena’s voice, for some strange reason, sounded disapproving, so Amelia naturally assumed her girlfriend must be talking about another, troublesome Miss Liona—“has forgotten the importance of keeping such things under wraps.”

“I knew there was more to you,” Finella said, approaching Noburu and jabbing him in the stomach. Everyone watched as the Northerner examined him up and down in a manner some might see as leering, were it coming from someone else. Even Mel stopped her aura refinement and was appraising Noburu. “I knew there was a deeper meaning to you being on the squad. I knew it!” Finella turned and asked Seonmi, “What about you? Gods given you their attention, too?”

“Uh,” Seonmi scratched the back of her head. “Not that I know of, Officer Bright.”

Finella spun around to face Noburu again. “So what is it?” she asked. “What can you do?”

“Umm,” Noburu began, looking uneasy.

“Hold off, Officer Bright,” Serena said idly. “I’ll be informing the group shortly.”

“I knew it,” Finella said again, peering in close as if she could decipher his blessing from Noburu’s eyes. “I knew it,” she said a final time before returning to the main group, her chest held high as if she’d single-handedly solved a murder mystery.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It took a few minutes for people to stop throwing Noburu glances and for Mel to resume her aura refinement. The only thing that changed was that Seonmi had joined them, saying, “I wondered when your talent would be shared, Noburu.” The half-Manwese half-Ainese demon eyed Amelia appraisingly. “I suppose you’ll be attempting to replicate it?”

“Replicate what!?” Finella cried out.

“Stop eavesdropping!” Amelia shouted back.

“No!” came the response. “As the squad commander, I have a duty to keep myself informed of the squad's capabilities!”

Well, that was one way of putting it.

Unable to stop herself from grinning in amusement, Amelia turned to Seonmi and said, “That’s right. I wasn’t able to even begin learning it in the Passage due to the environment, and because it’s such a special and unbelievable blessing, I have to be extra careful to be on solid ground to learn its unique and never-before-seen ways.” She tapped her foot against the floor just as a despairing wail sounded from a dozen metres away.

“That makes sense,” Seonmi said, nodding seriously. “If it became common knowledge, Noburu’s blessing would be fighting for broadsheet headlines as much as a certain healer’s sainthood.” The demon sighed dramatically. “To be one of the few people in the Empire to know such a blessing exists.” Seonmi shook her head. “It’s quite the burden, Miss Liona.”

“Unburden yourself, now!” a frantic voice shouted. “That’s an order from your superior. I—” A sound rang out that was oddly similar to the noise that a head made when it was cuffed by Serena’s fist, and soon the frantic voice was mumbling an apology to her captain.

With barely concealed laughter, Seonmi turned to Amelia and asked, “While I don’t have a blessing. I have always wondered…” The demon slowly gestured to herself, starting at her head and dropping her hand almost seductively to her hip. “Do I have any innate talent for wielding aether? Miss Liona?”

Amelia blinked her vision into the Shimmer, focusing on the flow of aether in the sepia-world. She watched as Seonmi’s breathing naturally pulled in atmospheric aether, where it gathered, directionless, around the glowing light of her soul before being exhaled. “Sorry,” Amelia said. “There’s no movement within you like Noburu has. N-Not that it’s impossible.” She waved her hands apologetically. “Just... it would be difficult, I think.”

Seonmi didn’t appear to mind. “No matter,” she said. “I have other talents.” The demon winked at Amelia. “I’ve been ordered by the captain to give you advice.”

“Advice?”

“On how to lie,” Seonmi said. “And how to fake being someone else.” Seonmi gestured at Amelia’s magically-manifested horns. “The appearance might be flawless, at least to me, a non-aether user, but appearance is only one part of the equation. I’ve been told you're honest to a fault, and if you’re going to continue going around raiding gambling dens on a whim, that you’ll need a few lessons in not letting things slip should your backstory be questioned.”

“I know Miss Liona’s backstory perfectly,” Amelia said, folding her arms. “Ask me anything.”

Seonmi shook her head. “Knowledge is another part, but there are layers to this. If I were to ask you where Miss Liona received her training, and in what discipline, what would you say?”

“Lia Liona trained at the Asamaywa Academy in ‘42,” Amelia rattled off. “Specialised in ice magic, receiving a commendation from Lunaria Inoue and a glowing commendation from Instructor Kawas.” Amelia had been informed that the paperwork would all check out, even if someone were to break into the academy and raid their records office. Even Lunaria and Instructor Kawas knew what to say should a request for information fall upon their desk. “She never graduated for personal reasons,” Amelia continued. “Which is why she became a freelancer instead of an officer.”

“It’s not enough,” Seonmi said. “And at the same time, it’s too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“People don’t sound like they’re reading from a book when recounting their memories,” Seonmi explained. “Someone who knows what to look for will know you’re recalling a list of learned facts, as opposed to personal experiences. When people talk, their faces create micro-expressions that betray their emotions. The way they pause, what information they choose, what information they leave out… all of this comes together to create a real persona, as opposed to someone masquerading as someone else.”

“...Show me,” Amelia said.

“I will.” Seonmi nodded. “Do you remember the personas that we took on during our last job?”

“Restorationists,” Amelia said, remembering the confidence trick the two pulled off at the Asamaywa Academy. They used a real company to back their fake identity, all to get access to the storage rooms within the academy to steal an artefact. Once they’d located the object, Noburu had used his blessing to mistwalk into the academy at night and steal it. He probably would have gotten away with it if one of Chesterfield’s agents hadn’t been in the Shimmer at the same time.

“Yes.” Seonmi nodded. “Ask me anything about it. About me.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Why’d you become a restorationist?” Amelia asked.

Seonmi immediately smiled. It was a slight curling of her lips, a subtle warmth that filled her eyes. “I didn’t intend to, not at first anyway. I wanted to be an archaeologist, you see. My father took me to one of the digs as a child. They’d found something when expanding the rail out of Fengra. They let me dig and I found a skull, it was”—Seonmi placed her hands half a metre apart—“bigger than I was. They wouldn’t let me take it with me, but they gave me a chain they found. It was iron, almost falling apart. Still, Father told me to treasure it.”

“Why?” Amelia asked.

“Because it was the last record of someone's life,” Seonmi said. “That’s what he told me. A thousand years ago, someone made that chain. A nameless smith whose entire life, their childhood, their first love, their hard work, all that’s left of it was that chain. They were so close”—Seonmi held her finger and thumb an inch apart—“so close to being forgotten forever, and they would have, if not for those archaeologists digging up their last surviving work. From then on, I always wanted to follow in their footsteps, to give that last kindness to so many nameless people.” Seonmi’s expression turned forlorn, and she looked down momentarily. “The kindness of not being forgotten.”

“But life didn’t take you that way,” Noburu pointed out.

“No,” Seomi said with a sigh. “That naive child who loved digging in the mud hadn’t realised the brutal reality of modern economics. For such an important job, of uncovering the physical evidence of the Empress’ victories, there is little opportunity for work.” Seonmi clicked her tongue, as if remembering a period of job-hunting frustration. “Dig work only comes when they expand the lowlands, or build more rail. But restoration work?” Seonmi raised an eyebrow. “Everything degrades, no matter what we do to stop it. Even the glowing runes on the Empress’ weapons fade a little more every day. While fixing that is beyond me, I can treat leather, chemically bathe metal, and tell you the exact environmental conditions that are optimal for a brigandine from the War of the Ten Houses to keep its colour for three hundred years.”

“You’re still keeping the memory of those people alive,” Amelia said. “Only you’re maintaining them instead of uncovering new ones.”

“That’s true,” Seonmi said with a nod. “And there’s pride in that kind of work. I feel pride in that kind of work. It’s just… restoration work is a known problem. We know what we’re going to be working with.” Seonmi shrugged. “Sure, maybe there’s a surprise here and there, the condition of the item might be better or worse than expected, or perhaps a more modern technique is discovered, but when you dig…” The demon’s eyes flashed with anticipation. “Who knows what you’ll find? What’s buried in the peat bogs of the East, or covered by the Red Sands of the South? What are the ice fields of the North hiding? The mysteries of the West?” The cadence of Seonmi’s voice increased further. “There are so many secrets, so many people ready to be remembered. Ah… Miss Liona, now you’ve asked me why I became a restorationist, you’ve made me want to revert to my old dream.”

“I also want to uncover all those mysteries,” Amelia blurted out. “All those secrets!”

“Ah, that’s good,” Seonmi said. “You and Yunseo would be great friends.”

“Yunseo?” Amelia tilted her head. “Who’s that?”

“The restorationist you just spoke to.”

“Ah.” Amelia smiled. “You’re very convincing.”

“Thank you.”

“It almost makes me feel sad, knowing she doesn’t really exist.”

“She does,” Seonmi said, “in a way. All that emotion Yunseo used, all that excitement, regret, pride and sadness… It all came from a real place.” Seonmi smiled softly and tapped her head. “My real father never took me to a dig; he would have disapproved of me getting dirty, but I do have an equivalent memory with him, with all the same feeling of adventure and realisation. I draw upon that to make Yunseo feel real.” Seonmi nodded to her and asked, “You hate lying, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then reframe it in your mind. You’re not lying so much as selectively changing how the real you is manifested. The empathy and love of a certain healer to heal and employ orphans can be the same empathy and love that drove Miss Liona to want to become an officer and fight for the Empress.”

Amelia grinned and said, “I understand, I think. I’ll need practice. I can see what you were talking about regarding the micro-expressions. Does that come naturally?” 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Seonmi nodded. “It becomes natural, eventually. It is a skill, though, to connect the memories and feelings of your persona to the real you. At first, you’ll need to force it, and it won’t feel real. That said, it won’t take long before your face and eyes will communicate those subtle emotions and changes authentically. At first, I would focus on your prosody.”

“What’s that?”

“Prosody is a catch-all term for the rhythm, intonation, cadence, and tempo of your speech. These things are easier to train, and they all fall into place rather quickly once it clicks.” Seonmi looked around. “The prosody of someone’s speech betrays their upbringing, whether they’re highborn or from the lowlands. Most people can intuit this on instinct, but it takes training to pick up when someone's faking it.” Seomi looked Amelia up and down. “In a month, you’ll be able to present as a lowborn pirate as authentically as a saint that can heal and clean the entire Asamaywa slums.”

Amelia folded her arms. “They weren’t clean for very long, unfortunately,” she said, a tinge of sadness entering her voice. Even though she wasn’t assaulted by nightmares, she could make herself shudder by recounting the horror of the inferno and the smell of the dead.

There were disadvantages in having excellent, shard-enhanced memory and recall.

“It was beautiful,” Noburu said. “For however long it lasted. Kiku and the children loved seeing their home immaculate. To think it was all taken away by the embers of a baker’s oven.”

Seonmi frowned. “Is that what you heard?”

“That’s what the broadsheets said,” Noburu replied with a shrug.

“I heard something else.”

“Oh?”

“Heard a rumour during our time on the cadet course,” Seonmi said. “One of the instructors was saying it was caused by a lathe overheating.”

“A lathe?”

“Steam-driven one, yes,” Seonmi said with a nod. “Bad batch of lubricant, the instructor said. Watered down or something. The excess heat caused the fire.”

“Probably just badly maintained,” Noburu grumbled. “The workshop owners in the lowlands operate machinery long past its recommended lifetime,” he explained to Amelia. “And they care about their workers less than that, so you can imagine how bad the conditions are.”

“I hope the new Lord in charge of the lowlands makes the right changes,” Amelia said. “If they don’t, I’ll complain directly to Greatlord Oshiro, mark my words!” If that didn’t work, she’d use her sainthood to make a public statement exposing the conditions. She hadn’t forgotten how much she made the cardinal and Greatlord Oshiro squirm when she threatened to abandon her Lord-Prospectship. If they complained about her protests, she was the one holding the cards.

Besides, the Empress was her boss, and they were on great terms.

There were some advantages to being ridiculously cute and powerful, after all.

Seonmi smiled. “Of course you would. I would, uh…” The demon trailed off as the striding figure of Serena appeared next to her.

“Less discussion of the past and more focus on your future training,” Serena said, looking at each of them in turn. “A mind distracted by what’s behind cannot focus on what’s in front. Miss Liona…” Serena faced Amelia. “Before you and Noburu begin exploring that type of training, I’d like for you to warm your aether up with Hinako. You are her patron, after all.”

Amelia peeked past her girlfriend to see Hinako with a nervous look on her face.

“Mmm!” she hummed. “I’ll give her a good thrashing, and then…” She turned back to Noburu. “Then we’ll rewrite history by exploring your impossible blessing, Noburu.”

“Ahhh, are you kidding me!?” came Finella’s voice. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you!?”

“No,” Amelia said innocently. “Not at all.”

She definitely was.