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Memoirs 309 - A teacher's farewell
🕑 Added 2024-11-17 22:20:26 +0000 UTCFor a time, Scarlett walked through an empty expanse, each step resonating with a strange, weightless gravity. The air was thick yet hollow, pressing against her like an unseen presence. Shadows flickered at the edges of her vision — wavering mirages that gradually coalesced, shaping themselves into something familiar. A wide, open space took form—Freymeadow’s square—its periphery dissolving into an encroaching abyss. At its heart, indistinct figures of children played, their laughter thin and distant, like imitations struggling to reach her.
On the porch of a solitary house, Arlene sat with a grey, leather-bound book resting on her lap. Her appearance was now unmarked, pristine, absent of the wounds that had been there before. As Scarlett approached, Arlene lifted her gaze, her expression calm. Scarlett hesitated at the foot of the porch, studying her, then stepped onto it and settled into the chair beside the woman.
A brief silence stretched between them, filled only by the imagined rustle of wind and the ghostly laughter of the children. Scarlett’s gaze lingered on the figures in the square, their movements slipping just beyond the grasp of certainty.
“I never thought about having children when I was younger,” Arlene said after a while, her voice tinged with a quiet introspection. “It felt like such an abstract notion, something foreign to me. Back then, I was consumed — either with the thrill of mastering my next spell, fulfilling my duties, or preparing for the next battle. Always another step forward.” Her eyes were on the children as well, her words trailing with a hint of something wistful. “But as I grew older… I suppose I realised I wouldn’t have minded it. By then, of course, it was far too late.”
Scarlett glanced at her but said nothing, turning her attention back to the square.
“The same was true for having a student,” Arlene continued in a slightly lighter tone. “I never thought I had the temperament for teaching.”
“That is true,” Scarlett said. “I could undoubtedly have secured instructors elsewhere — ones less inclined to gamble so recklessly with my survival.”
The other woman chuckled, the sound dry but not without warmth. “Ah, but I daresay it served you well in the end. Tough love, as they call it, hmm? Or would you claim to regret coming to me for guidance?”
“…I did not mind it,” Scarlett admitted after a while.
Arlene chuckled again, softer this time. For a moment, she was quiet, then she reached into her robes and withdrew the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame]. The dagger’s hilt gleamed in the sunlight, the scales along its grip catching the light. She extended it toward Scarlett. “This is yours now.”
Scarlett accepted the weapon, its weight heavier than she remembered. As her fingers closed around the hilt, a faint shimmer surrounded her, and a notification appeared before her eyes.
[Side-Quest completed: The Emberbrand Baptism]
{Skill points awarded: 11}
She dismissed it without a second thought, her focus remaining on the dagger. Arlene watched her.
“The Flameweaver has its quirks,” Arlene said, “but you’ll figure them out in time, I’m sure. I hope it will be of at least some use to you.”
Scarlett glanced up. “The ‘Baptism’… Is it over, then?”
“It is.”
“And yet, here we both sit.”
A small, knowing smile curved the woman’s lips. “There may not be any bending of the rules for you, but I found a way or two myself. Temporary as they are.”
She gestured towards the square, where the edges of the Memory were unravelling, the darkness inching closer, slowly erasing more and more of the village.
“This Memory is fading,” Scarlett said.
Arlene nodded. “For good.”
“So this is my last visit.”
“Yes.”
Scarlett watched as the scene continued to disintegrate. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—of using the Anomalous One’s power to change it—but she pushed it away. She knew she couldn’t do that. For many reasons.
“You will manage,” Arlene said lightly. “If nothing else, this frees up more of your time, doesn’t it? No more trekking through the woods to visit a cantankerous old lady more inclined on knocking you down than building you up. Isn’t that cause for celebration?”
“…I would have preferred otherwise,” Scarlett replied.
The words lingered in the air, surprising even herself that she’d spoken them aloud. She cast another glance at Arlene, half-expecting a wry response. Instead, she was met with a steady, measured gaze.
“So would I,” Arlene said.
Scarlett’s eyebrows arched faintly. “Do you truly mean that?”
“Yes,” Arlene answered simply. A shadow passed across her face. “But that was never a real option, I’m afraid. My fate was decided ages ago.”
Scarlett watched her for a moment. “…Is that why you pretended?” she finally asked.
Arlene’s gaze didn’t waver. “And what, precisely, do you think was me ‘pretending’?”
Scarlett motioned to the square, the porch, and everything around them. “The Arlene I met here — the one who never recognised me. She reset each time. Or so I thought. Was it all an act?”
For a long moment, Arlene was silent. Then she gave a slow nod. “Yes.”
“Why?” The question left Scarlett almost immediately.
She had long suspected Arlene knew more than she let on — that she understood the loop’s nature and the peculiarities of her own existence better than had been made clear in the game. Yet, much like Arlene’s hidden lineage, Scarlett had not considered the possibility that her forgetting had all been a deception.
Arlene’s gaze drifted, as if she was looking towards some distant, illusory horizon. “…Why? Because the act could just as easily have been the truth, maybe? Or perhaps it would have been better if it were.”
She fell silent for another moment, her words seeming to press down on the space between them.
“I wasn’t certain anyone like you would ever come,” she continued in a quieter voice. “But if you did, there was only one thing I wanted from you. And from your perspective, it would ultimately have been easier—more merciful—to face someone who forgot you completely every few days. Someone who was little more than a fleeting shadow in an already fractured memory. Wouldn’t you agree? There would, if anything, be less hesitation.”
Scarlett stared at her.
Arlene showed a wistful smile. “At least, that was the plan. But you—” She exhaled softly, shaking her head. “You have a way of complicating things. I certainly never expected being drawn into those other Memories of yours, let alone that mess with the Anomalous One. After that, well… Maintaining the act became much harder.”
“…Was any of this necessary?” Scarlett asked.
“You know it was,” Arlene replied without hesitation.
“I do…” Scarlett said. “Yet still, I cannot help but ask — was it truly necessary?”
Being here in Freymeadow, trapped in this endless loop. Unable to leave or bring it to an end.
Arlene studied her for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes. “Meneth once asked me something similar.”
Scarlett’s attention sharpened at the name.
“I considered alternatives,” Arlene said. “More than you could imagine. But some paths are decided the moment you set foot on them, whether by fate or design. Mine was sealed the day I entered Freymeadow.”
Scarlett frowned. “With that, do you mean literally?”
“Literally, figuratively — either or.” Arlene gave a faint shrug, dark hair slipping over her shoulders. “Maybe it was simply the way I was, and my path was decided from the moment I was born. In the end, the choice was mine. And though I have regretted many things, that is not one of them. I would not be here, now, if it weren’t for that choice.”
Scarlett considered her for several seconds. At last, she spoke. “I cannot say I understand.”
Arlene smiled soberly. “I never expected you to.”
The woman’s posture was relaxed, one hand resting lightly on the book in her lap. The weight that usually clung to her seemed to have eased, even if its shadows still haunted her eyes.
Why had Arlene chosen this? To be trapped within this loop, reliving the same events endlessly? Was it punishment? Scarlett had believed that at first, but it didn’t seem to fit entirely.
Arlene brushed her fingers over the book’s worn cover. “I won’t try to explain it to you,” she said, glancing downward. “In fact, I hope you never come to understand it. The strange emptiness that lingers until you learn to laugh, to smile, to live among others — but forget what it is to feel whole. When aimlessness becomes part of your purpose and core, even the most senseless things begin to make sense.”
Scarlett’s fists tightened slightly at the quiet resignation she could hear in the woman’s voice.
Arlene let the silence settle again before releasing a light breath. “At the end of the day, though, it truly isn’t any more complicated than this — I was presented with a choice, and I made it. I believed it was both what I deserved and what I needed to do.”
“…And when was that?” Scarlett found herself asking. “How long have you been here?”
Over two centuries had passed in the outside world. For Arlene, trapped in this place, how long was that? How could anyone endure that?
Another faint smile played at Arlene’s lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “It’s not as terrible as you might fear. But not as tolerable as you might hope, either.” Her gaze turned distant again, as if sifting through long-buried memories. “I have started forgetting things. Small things — the colour of my childhood room, the sound of my mother’s voice, the way I once scolded Delmont for chasing yet another pretty face.”
She looked back at Scarlett, her smile lifting. “Your Memories helped with that. They brought back pieces I thought were lost. And showed me what became of Delmont, after I last saw him. For that, I’m grateful.”
“I do not know why you are thanking me,” Scarlett said. “Even I do not fully understand what transpired within those Memories, nor how you came to be drawn into them.”
Arlene tilted her head slightly. “Truth be told, I am no expert on such things either. Memories like these…they are like echoes, tethered to something outside this world. Fragments of what once was. Every being leaves its mark, no matter how small, and that mark is intrinsically tied to their existence. When you created those Memories, I came with them — even if it took some time to find my footing, so to speak.”
Scarlett's lips pressed together thoughtfully. That did sound somewhat like what The Gentleman had told her.
“When you first sent me to find Delmont and that necklace,” she said after a moment, “…did you anticipate this outcome?”
Arlene shook her head. “If you mean to ask whether I knew you would start working with Memories, then no. I expected you to learn about Delmont, nothing more.”
“…I see.” Scarlett’s gaze dropped as she turned the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] over in her hands. The divine artifact’s blade glowed gently, the molten patterns beneath its surface almost seeming to shift.
“Have you ever communicated with the fire goddess?” she asked eventually, changing the topic.
“I have,” Arlene replied.
Scarlett’s eyes returned to her. “And what was that like?”
“I suppose you’re curious about it?” Arlene said with light amusement, though her expression grew more somber as she continued. “But interactions with divinity are not what one would call ‘conversations’. They are rarely straightforward from how I understand it, and even less often pleasant. In one sense, my fate might have been sealed the day I arrived in Freymeadow. In another, it was the day I became Flameweaver’s master.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “Divinity is far less omnipotent and far more constrained than most people imagine. That restriction extends, to some degree, to those tied to its power.”
Scarlett frowned.
“That reality, along with the nature of the Baptism, is why I would not have ordinarily passed the Flameweaver on to another.” Arlene’s gaze met hers. “But you proved to be a unique case. Someone who does not need to worry as much about either.”
Scarlett remained quiet for a few seconds, weighing her words.
“And is there truly no alternative method for transferring ownership aside from the Baptism ritual?” she asked.
“Not without the fire goddess herself intervening,” Arlene replied. “Once the Baptism begins, it cannot be stopped until a victor is decided. And the ritual has, at least, a semblance of a mechanism to ensure both participants remain invested in reaching that conclusion.”
Scarlett's fingers curled slightly around the dagger’s hilt. A small part of her found it distasteful, just thinking about how she got it. “…I might almost prefer never to have received it.”
“I know you do not mean that,” Arlene said.
A humourless laugh escaped Scarlett. She inclined her head. “No, you are correct.” She let the Flameweaver vanish into the ether with her [Charm of Expeditious Change], shaking her head. “Yet it is almost amusing how, even now, part of my mind cannot help but dwell on the advantages this has afforded me. On how best to wield it to my benefit.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Arlene studying her intently.
“And do you think that is the ‘Scarlett’ part of you or the ‘Amy’ part?” the woman asked.
Scarlett paused, turning her full attention back to her. Arlene continued watching her for a while. “Do you recall,” the woman said, “the conversation we once had about a similar subject? It was back when I first learned of your rather unique circumstances — your past life, your name, and this peculiar ‘system’ of yours.”
“Yes,” Scarlett answered. “I remember.”
“At that time, you seemed uncertain — unsure of where ‘Scarlett Hartford’ ended and ‘Amy Bernal’ began. Would you say that is still the case?”
“…Not to the same extent, no,” Scarlett said.
“Oh? And what has changed?”
“I have simply grown accustomed to it. The more time I spend as Scarlett Hartford, the more I come to think of myself as her. It is not that I no longer question it, nor that I have ceased contemplating the matter, but…”
“It’s easier to accept the situation and live as you are,” Arlene offered.
Scarlett nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Pragmatic, but that is what I have come to expect of you.” Arlene considered her for a bit before adding, “If it provides any comfort, I believe you and the other Scarlett are considerably different from each other.”
Scarlett blinked.
“She was similar to you in many respects,” the woman went on, “but I would caution you not to underestimate the influence of you as Amy. From what I have seen, that part of you has shaped some of the most important decisions you’ve made. You are far from the unfeeling monster you once feared you might become.”
Scarlett looked at the woman, not really sure what to say. “…Thank you?”
A brief silence followed before Arlene leaned back slightly in her seat. “I find myself curious,” she mused. “I never had the opportunity to hear too much about your old life. Your old world.”
“…If you were so curious, you might simply have asked,” Scarlett replied. “I would have answered.”
“Is that indignation I hear?”
“Am I to be grateful that you have been deceiving me all this time instead?”
Arlene shook her head, a trace of apology in her expression. “No, that would be too much to ask for, wouldn’t it? Sorry.”
Scarlett turned her gaze forward. The Memory had shrunk further, the village square’s borders steadily eroded by the encroaching void. “…What exactly is it that you were curious about?” she asked at last.
Arlene seemed to consider it for a few seconds. “I recall you mentioning that you were a ‘content editor’?”
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Not terribly. It was merely the occupation that I found myself in.”
“Hmm.” Arlene made a faint, thoughtful sound. “Was there something else you wished to pursue?”
Scarlett hesitated. When she didn’t immediately answer, Arlene smirked. “Should I take your silence as a confession? Is it something that cannot be spoken of in polite company? If you’re worried that I would share it with your pet bard, that’s unlikely to be an issue.”
“It is nothing of the sort,” Scarlett said curtly. “It is merely a term unfamiliar to you, so I see little point in discussing it. Besides, it was only a dream I had in my early childhood.”
“You could explain it,” Arlene suggested.
“It was a trite and unremarkable aspiration.”
“I doubt I would find it so.”
Scarlett glanced at the woman, debating whether it was worth indulging the question. Finally, she let out a long breath. “…When I was young, I wished to be an astronaut.”
Arlene’s eyebrows rose. “You are right in that I have not the faintest inkling what that is.”
“It refers to an individual who travels into space,” Scarlett said, earning a skeptical look in response. “Inside a spacecraft. A vehicle that flies beyond the boundaries of this world.”
“…And you consider that ‘unremarkable’?” the woman asked with more than a note of incredulity.
Scarlett gave her a dry look, then sighed before launching into an explanation — detailing what an astronaut was, what lay in the vastness of space, the Apollo space program, and the marvels of her old world’s technology. Their conversation continued, meandering into remnants of Scarlett’s old life mixed with mentions of the culture, innovations, and the quiet routines that had once seemed unremarkable but now felt like relics of a bygone era.
Arlene listened closely, her reactions a blend of subdued disbelief, humour, fascination, and the occasional flicker of disbelief or horror.
Scarlett wasn’t entirely certain why she was sharing these things or why Arlene had asked in the first place. This was likely their final meeting, their last words to each other, and here she was, wasting them on trivialities and idle recollections of a world that had no bearing on this one.
And yet, strangely, she didn’t mind. It was…comforting in a way. A fleeting moment of simplicity, reminiscent of the first time she had confided in Arlene.
But it would all end soon.
The darkness had reached the first step of the porch. The echoes of children’s laughter had faded entirely, and only a small patch of the square remained intact. Arlene turned her gaze towards the void before them, her expression reflective. Then, after a long moment, she looked back at Scarlett, her eyes moving towards her finger.
“Have you learned how to use that yet?” she asked.
Scarlett followed her gaze.
[Hartford Garnet Ring (Unique)]
{Blessed by an unknown power, this ring has been passed down through generations of the Hartford family, often worn by its head. There appears to be a slumbering flame burning within}
The sight stirred a faint, bittersweet pang within her.
“No,” she admitted.
Arlene leaned forward slightly. “Would you like me to show you?”
Scarlett was silent for a brief moment, her thumb brushing over the ring’s gold surface. Then, finally, she nodded. “Yes.”
Arlene gestured for her to extend her hand. Producing a small blade from her robes, she drew a thin line of blood across Scarlett’s thumb and pressed a drop to the garnet’s surface, staining the stone a deeper red. “Now, conjure a flame and recite these words: ‘By the flame that guards us, awaken’.”
Scarlett eyed her, then complied. She summoned a small flame and let it brush the ring as she spoke. “By the flame that guards us, awaken.”
The garnet flickered, its dormant flame stirring to life with a steady, rhythmic glow.
“This ring was crafted by my father’s father alongside my master,” Arlene explained. “It strengthens pyromancy to a degree, but its true value lies in its ability to detect and warn of imminent dangers. A subtle safeguard for those who wield it.”
Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly as she examined the ring. A warning mechanism, essentially. That could prove invaluable. She turned her fingers, watching the ring’s faint glimmer. “Thank you.”
“Consider it a gift from one Hartford to another,” Arlene said, leaning back.
Scarlett paused, turning back to her. “…But I am no true Hartford.”
“To me, that barely matters.” The woman’s expression mellowed. “I would be proud to call you a descendant of my house.”
For some reason, those words resonated more deeply with Scarlett than she had anticipated. She straightened slightly, collecting herself.
“…On that topic,” she said after a while, “do you not find it peculiar that, of all individuals for me to inhabit in this world, it was a Hartford? The very family from which you hail?”
“Peculiar?” Arlene repeated. “Certainly. When you first came to me, I scarcely knew what to make of it. A stranger claiming my name. But I can’t say that it surprised me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because fate has its peculiarities.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “And what, exactly, do you know of Fate?”
“Far less than you, without a doubt,” Arlene replied. “And perhaps only slightly more than what I have already shared. Meneth understood far more about such matters than I ever did.”
Scarlett’s expression darkened somewhat. “…And what do you know of Meneth?”
Arlene was silent for a moment. “I wish I could tell you,” she said at last. “Genuinely, I do. But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
The woman’s smile was faint. “Because Fate has its peculiarities,” she repeated. “Those are not my words, but hers. Meneth was both a friend and an ally, but our relationship was built on necessary exchanges.”
Scarlett absorbed this for a few seconds. “Would I still be able to meet her today?” she asked eventually.
“It’s possible. But I wouldn’t know how. If you want to find her, I can only offer you my best wishes.”
The darkness passed the first step of the porch. Arlene turned her head, peering into the void. “It’s getting late,” she said, her voice quiet. “You should probably leave.”
The words landed heavier than Scarlett expected. She stared ahead, watching the abyss consume the last remnants of the square.
“…There is still much I wished to learn from you.”
Arlene shook her head lightly. “The truth is that there is little left for me to teach you. What holds you back now is not a lack of knowledge, nor skill. Even without the system and all that it grants you, you have surpassed much of what I could have expected. You are more than capable yourself, without guidance.”
Scarlett’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she did not argue.
“I would still have taught you more,” Arlene added after a pause, “had there been time.” She glanced at Scarlett, a certainty in her tone. “But you will be fine. I trust you.”
With deliberate movements, she rose from her chair. For a couple of seconds, she stood there, looking over the last remnants of the Memory. “…Now that the time has come, it does feel rather strange, doesn’t it? Most of those who would remember me are long gone, and I suspect the empire’s records aren’t particularly kind to my name.”
A quiet moment stretched out. When Arlene spoke again, she was more subdued. “There is something that has lingered in my thoughts for some time now.” She turned back to Scarlett, her features touched by a gentle solemnity. “Once, you told me you weren’t sure if you had ever cried for another person. As though that fact troubled you.”
Scarlett said nothing, waiting.
“I do not believe it is something you need to change,” Arlene continued. “But…if there ever comes a day when you do find yourself shedding a tear for someone, would you perhaps mind sparing one for an old teacher?”
Scarlett stilled. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.
Arlene only smiled. A true, genuine smile.
“For once, I’ll take my leave first,” she said. “Farewell, Scarlett Hartford. Farewell, Amy Bernal.” A small breath. “I hope that, at the end of that tempest of a life of yours, you find yourself in a place where you truly wish to be.”
She gave Scarlett one final nod before turning. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, walking towards the edge of the porch. The darkness swallowed her in slow, steady increments, her figure dissolving into the void — until she was gone, as though she had never been there at all.
[Side-Quest completed: A teacher’s past]
{Skill points awarded: 7}
[Side-Quest completed: A teacher’s wish]
{Skill points awarded: 7}
[Side-Quest completed: A teacher’s blessings]
{Skill points awarded: 7}
The notifications flickered into existence, but Scarlett ignored them. She sat motionless, her eyes fixed on the empty space where Arlene had disappeared.
“…Farewell,” she murmured at last, the words barely above a breath.
[Quest completed: Farewell to Arlene]
{Skill points awarded: 20}
Comments
Tin
Thoroughly enjoyed! I’m conflicted to make even a suggestion as I unsure it would make things better… Some physical contact as they part, a warm smile… but at the same time what been done is very much on point with both women.
Tin
Well said. I happen to care about all mentioned… and wow, what a great chapter! I’d add, a teacher student relationship and passing down of a legacy.
lenkite
WARNING! QUEST FAILURE! [FATE ERROR] Gentleman's Trinket was not delivered! -50 skill points!
Colin Love
That was a nice send off for Arline, moving.
Wolke
Even if Scarlett didnt shed a tear for Arlene, I certainly did😂
Lemon juice 1206
I cried
Larc
Wonderful job, nailed the chapter! Honestly it was so good, every narrative and emotional beat was hit perfectly. Thanks!
Pandalf
Absolute cinema. Farewell, Arlene. One of the coolest and most unique characters I have read in books.
Martin
Very satisfying memory arc finale. Kudos to the writer for catering to opposite categories of readers here. Those expecting the great showdown got their wish fulfilled in the past chapter. Others who preferred a more dignified melancholic farewell were satisfied with this chapter. And people counting the LitRPG numbers will rejoice as well, because points awarded for Arlene's quest beat even the rewards for Anguish the Vile and signify how epic an achievement it was.
Martin
Precisely, that is her unique and epic quest to shed a single tear for her late teacher.
Martin
>>>“Have you ever communicated with the fire goddess?” she asked eventually.<<< For some reason, I think if Scarlett ever gets a hold of the Fire Goddess, divinity can expect a thorough admonishing. Also, Gaspar will freak out. He already raised several times his estimates regarding Scarlett's power. Now she becomes even more powerful.
TheMartinalfa
Farewell Arlene
Shane T.
RIP Arlene.. but also don’t forget the basket! It’s undefended! 👀
Amdo
o7
MrWheelsOfMime
Got me all melancholic and stuff, TYFTC
crusaderstar
A few chapters ago I felt this arc of tromping through the memories dragged on too long, but I'll be damned if I didn't shed a tear reading that ending. Curious if Scarlet will interact with evelyn any differently, or share this interesting part of their family's past.
The Lord has given
Scarlett tears are precious!
Tyler
Sad to see her go but good chapter.
ActionKermit
That was a beautiful farewell but the fact that Scarlett never gave Arlene the Gentleman’s trinket bugs me, it’s like a song ending on a dissonant note
