Divination

To the far north, where the weather grew fierce and the plains became barren, those who were called Beastkin thrived--an ancient race of animalistic humanoids known for their excellent survival skills owing to a savage and unforgiving homeland. The Henklomeon Steppe was scarcely visited by travellers and merchants due to its isolationist people who were unlikely to remain in a single place for too long. As a result, very little was truly understood about the so-called 'Hermit Kingdom'.

Occupying a northerly belt of sunken, generally flat terrain above Tor and Anjima, it was perhaps the easiest place in the world to accidentally wander into when travelling. Despite this apparent simplicity, however, its long, rolling crests and lack of common routes made navigation a difficult prospect. Adding to that were the slew of monsters who had adapted to the country's harsh conditions; the Giant Burrowing Worm, Spotted Reaver and legendary Garuda--one of the largest creatures in the world, to name but a meagre few.

On a quiet afternoon, Barion and Fusala had set out from a small settlement near the Tor-Anjima border, having stopped overnight to restock on supplies they would be needing for the perilous journey north. Pemmican and water, dried meats, fish, chopped offal, butter and oil, beer--which seemed like a strange choice to Fusala, sugar and tallow. It was the heaviest the wagon had ever been for quite some time.

"There's a church just outside the village." Barion mentioned to her as they began to depart, "Let's see if I can't get a hold of the Goddess while we've still got the chance."

The faith of Tor, and of humans, was utterly unwavering, such that worship of the Goddess of Light had since spread to and gained traction in many other countries, especially after the establishment of the Holy Alliance. Trade routes carried not only commodities, but ideology. Anjima, Fleecia, Kluon and even the Steppe found their own beliefs challenged by a fervent religion which had justified itself by the prophetic arrival of the three heroes, a core legend of the faith. Indeed, Barion had never been a religious man, but he knew better than anyone the Goddess' authenticity, and so had become a believer whether he wanted to or not.

Churches of the Goddess were so common a sight in Tor that a settlement without one was considered strange. Quaint steeples--simple to build and pleasing to the eye, could be recognised from some distance away by the bell atop each of their spires. Taking the wagon around to one such building that overlooked a blooming meadow, Barion and a hidden Fusala entered the open doors of the church, revealing a humble set of pews set alongside artisanal stained-glass windows. It appeared that the priest was absent, and so Barion wandered up to the altar uncontested.

"Come to think of it, it's been quite a while since I last visited one of these…"

"I am surprised to hear that you attended church at all. You do not seem the type." Fusala replied.

"I'm not, really. Do you know how many times I or one of the others got killed when we were exploring the world during the Demon age?" Barion looked towards his shadow, "I tell you, they used to charge a premium for resurrection back then. Nothing like how it is today."

"You have died before, Barion?"

"Only a handful of times." He answered, "Between Dorma and Shilahi… I think Dorma died the most between all of us. It was difficult for her before she started getting the hand of defensive magic. After she learned some barrier spells, it was only ever me and Shilahi kicking the bucket from there on out."

"I am intrigued by the concept of returning from death."

"It isn't a pleasant experience--being killed or being brought back. I'll tell you that for free."

Settling down on one knee, Barion closed his eyes and thoughtfully clasped his hands together in prayer. The original verses of the prayers he had come to know as a young man were difficult to recall, but there were a few that had been burned into his memory. Fusala did not interrupt him as he silently completed a session of prayer before the altar, pausing briefly afterwards with an expectant feeling blooming in his chest.

"...Doesn't seem like she's available to speak at the moment." He said after a pause, standing back up, "Or, maybe since I don't have the Sword of Light anymore, it isn't possible to get in touch with her. One of the two."

"Did you speak to the Goddess often during the Demon age?" Fusala asked.

"Whenever we were in real trouble, I asked her what to do. Never gave me a straight answer, but she did try to help in her own way. Sometimes her advice was the only thing that stopped us from making decisions that would've killed us all." Barion explained, "...I wonder if this is all because she's upset with what we spoke about last time."

"Last time?"

"After we killed the Demon King--or, well, after we defeated him, I should say…" He corrected himself, "I had one last talk with her. You know, congratulatory stuff."

"Did you somehow manage to upset the Goddess of Light with your words?" She asked, "Although unbelievable, it sounds like something you would do."

"Well, after all was said and done, we started talking about…" He paused, considering his next words, "-What I mean to say is that she mentioned… hm…"

"I detect that this is something you do not wish to discuss."

"It's nothing bad. Not really." Barion insisted, "It's just… a little embarrassing, I suppose."

"The tone of your voice indicates that something of a sexual nature transpired."

"Saying that out loud is a little…" He rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, I appreciate you being frank about it. It's not really that big of a deal, is it?"

"On the contrary, even my limited capacity to express emotion has been tested by such a statement." She replied, "Truthfully, I am not certain whether to compliment your complete lack of inhibition as a man, or condemn you for reproducing with a metaphoric avatar of the universe's light."

"I don't want you to make it sound like I didn't expressly seek her consent." Barion frowned, "We went over this in Anjima. You can call me a womaniser or a hedonist, but I am absolutely not a man without any morals."

"Some would say such behaviour is unbecoming of a hero."

"I'm not a hero without the Sword of Light, so what does that make me now?"

Fusala thought for a moment, "...A pervert?"

"Damn it, if that's what I am, then I won't deny it! I'm a pervert, alright!"

"Please refrain from declaring your degeneracy in the middle of a church."

Having accomplished their single intention in visiting that place, their conversation continued brazenly and openly all the way back to the wagon and beyond. Even as the village fell far behind them and was replaced with Tor's rolling hilltops and verdant woodlands, that discussion of a singularly erotic nature did not cease.

"-It's just a matter of principle at the end of the day."

"I will accept these words as a concession. You are therefore a slave to your base desires in the truest definition of the phrase."

"Don't go concluding anything based on a handful of similarities!"

"Counterpoint - doing so is the sole purpose of a conclusion."

"What I'm trying to say is that being honest about what you like is important."

"Your fervent disposition towards larger-than-average breasts implies an inherent intelligence closer to that of a primate, or a domesticated mammal." Fusala paused, "Ergo, you were most likely a farm animal in your previous life."

"Let's just drop this. It's getting dark." Barion sighed, casting a glance at the fiery evening sky, "This is a good spot to camp, anyway. Plenty of open space."

"You cannot escape from my faultless arguments."

"Be quiet and help me get the box out."

Beneath an alcove in the back of the wagon, there was a large, segmented box used to contain the tools of a rudimentary 'camp-kitchen'--knives, pots and spices along with other amenities which were too large to have on-hand but too small to safely store in barrels or crates. It had been a staple of Barion's inventory since the day he decided to become a trader. After retrieving and unfolding the box, he began prepping a simple meal for the two of them while Fusala gathered loose twigs to use as tinder for a campfire.

"Using alchemy, it is quite possible to create calorie-dense substances ideal for long journeys." She explained while arranging stones for a fire-pit, "It would be more efficient in terms of time to consider such possibilities instead of using more traditional methods."

"Is the stuff you can make tasty?"

Fusala blinked, "...Please define tasty."

"Eating isn't just about keeping yourself fed, Fusala." Barion lectured, "At the end of every journey, the nomad rewards himself for the day's efforts by preparing a meal he can savour."

"Would it not be better to conserve food and only eat the minimum amount one needs to survive?"

"Maybe. But I wouldn't call anyone who does that 'alive', really."

"Alive…" She repeated, "Am I alive, Barion?"

"What sort of question is that?"

"I am self-aware of my tendency to over-explain and only consider the most efficient solutions. A life of practising alchemy and mastering its intricacies, not to mention being isolated from the greater world until very recently, has left me with difficulties expressing myself socially." She elaborated, "I am immune to becoming overwhelmed by stressful situations, or ecstatic when presented with ideal conditions, whereas you seem to embrace such opportunities. Is it possible that a lifetime of solitude has affected my mental state permanently, or was I created to be this way?"

"I think that's just how you are." Barion's answer arrived so quickly as to give Fusala pause, "Plus, you aren't immune to emotions in the slightest. Remember how you were bawling your eyes out when we read that letter from Yamora in the pocket dimension?"

"Correction - I am incapable of weeping."

"Right. But that storm of emotion you felt--sadness, grief, happiness… that's proof enough that you're as normal as anyone else. Saying you can't express yourself because of the way you act is just plain wrong, because they're exactly the same thing."

"Your spontaneous answer is proof of the impulsiveness that I lack."

"Being impulsive doesn't make you 'alive' in the slightest." He replied, "Taking the time to think about things--that's normal, too. It's only natural that the apprentice to the greatest alchemist in the world would want to see everything that way. But, at the same time, there's nothing wrong with wanting to act differently. If you take it slowly, I'm sure that you could also become a little spontaneous."

"I see. This is a point worth considering." Fusala lowered her head, "May I practise becoming more spontaneous using you as a subject, Barion?"

"I'm not really sure what that means, but go ahead."

"I have obtained a tremendous amount of data regarding your sexual preferences today." She stated "However, based on this data, I have concluded that you are most likely attracted to me in a sexual manner. If this is the case, then why have you not declared it?"

"I did say to take it slowly when trying to act differently, you know…"

"I am asking you this question because the answer interests me."

"Actually, I've never really thought about you in that way before…" Barion muttered, "-Since we're travelling together, and all. But now that I think about it…"

Without trying to hide it, his gaze fell upon Fusala's body of shadow. Though she was technically a creature separate from humanoids entirely, she had chosen to take the form of one. In the low light of that late evening when only her lantern-yellow eyes were clearly visible, her distinctly feminine body was difficult to make out.

"Well, I won't say anything inappropriate-"

"I insist that you do." Fusala interrupted, "Please do not be afraid of offending me."

Barion blinked. The expression on his face was one not completely devoid of interest.

"...Let's eat before we have a conversation like that." He muttered.

"These are acceptable terms."