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Memoirs 297 - Standards
🕑 Added 2024-10-11 21:49:21 +0000 UTCScarlett hadn’t known what to expect inside Arlene’s house, but even so, she felt a twinge of disappointment. She had never entered this place in the game or in Freymeadow, yet it was as unremarkable as one might expect from a rural village like this. Sparse, worn furniture filled the space, carrying a faint musty smell. Scattered toys and small objects tucked in the corners hinted at the occasional use, but overall, there wasn’t much to the place.
It made sense, of course. This wasn’t even really Arlene’s house at this point, so why should there be anything special? Still, Scarlett couldn’t deny the flicker of irrational anticipation she’d brought with her. A small part of her had even entertained the possibility of finding whatever book the older Arlene was always reading while here in Freymeadow.
Her gaze drifted over the dust-covered surfaces as she stepped farther inside. Beyond satisfying her curiosity, she’d intended to look for something that could help Arlene in her current state, but it seemed unlikely she’d find anything. Not that it mattered — if needed, she could always bring out more supplies from her [Pouch of Holding].
In what appeared to be a living room of sorts, Scarlett paused by an old wooden table surrounded by chairs. Crude drawings marred its surface, etched into the wood. Presumably, they were the work of the village children.
Her eyes lingered on the drawings.
“I fail to see the purpose in all of this,” came a voice from behind. Scarlett turned to find her younger ‘self’ stepping into the house, the girl looking over the place with mild disinterest. Curiously, her once-disheveled clothes from their earlier bout in the forest now appeared pristine. “Is there a particular reason you are wasting time trying to help that woman? It will not change the final outcome.”
Scarlett studied the girl but said nothing.
The younger Scarlett raised an eyebrow, fixing her with an expectant look. “Surely you do not feel sympathy for her? That would be strange, considering you allowed the previous version of Arlene to approach that ‘dangerous’ rift.”
“That is not the case,” Scarlett replied, returning to her cursory search around the house. “I am fully aware that this Arlene is not real.”
“Then why bother?”
Scarlett opened a dresser drawer and looked through its contents for a few moments before briefly glancing back at the girl. “What would you think if such truths had been revealed to you, were you not already aware of your existence as a mere construct of these Memories?”
“What makes you so certain that I am a construct?”
“Are you not?”
The younger Scarlett observed her silently. “I am Scarlett Hartford. I see no need to entertain any other notions beyond that. Perhaps that is where we differ.”
“…No, I understand your attitude well enough.” Scarlett closed the drawer with a soft thud. “Regardless, I ask that you refrain from making such comments in front of Arlene. Can I trust you to comply?”
“Perhaps.”
Scarlett didn’t press further. She doubted she’d get a more definitive answer. Instead, she continued her search, combing through the house for anything useful. After some time, though, she abandoned the effort and returned to the entrance, where the younger self was waiting.
Scarlett was somewhat surprised to see that the scene outside had changed. A group of village children were now playing around the wooden platform in the square’s center, and Arlene sat in her chair, watching them. Scarlett frowned slightly as her gaze settled on the woman. Had she changed clothes? The ruined and bloody attire she’d worn before had been replaced by a set of loose, dark robes that Scarlett recognised all too well. If this woman wasn’t still a few years too young, Scarlett might have thought this was the Arlene she knew.
Arlene turned to them, her eyes meeting Scarlett’s before gesturing to the empty chair beside her. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Scarlett’s frown only deepened. Arlene’s complexion looked healthier, but for some reason, she also seemed more drained, as if some invisible weight pressed on her. There was less emotion in her voice.
Scarlett’s eyes lifted towards the sky, and she noticed that the sun hung higher in the sky. Unless they had somehow traveled back in time, the Memory must have changed while they were in the house.
Her attention returned to Arlene. At the very least, this still seemed to be the same version of the woman — the same ‘construct’, so to speak. Had she not forgotten Scarlett between Memories this time? Shouldn’t she find it odd that Scarlett had ostensibly disappeared for an indeterminate period of time just now?
Scarlett approached the chair and took a seat beside Arlene. A strange mood hung in the air as the woman returned to watching the children playing in the square. To Scarlett, the scene was anything but new. She had probably seen these same children playing in this same way dozens of times before.
“Have you spoken with any of them?” she asked, studying Arlene’s expression.
Arlene gave a slow nod, the lines around her eyes softening. “Yes. They’re good kids. Very spirited.” She glanced briefly at the younger Scarlett. “I think they’re mostly interested in getting to know your sister better, though. Do you think she might want to join them?”
“…That is unlikely.”
“Indeed,” the girl in question said, moving towards the porch railing. She watched the children with cold eyes. “I have no interest in the trivial games of commoners.”
Arlene observed her in silence, then lowered her head slightly as if acknowledging the response. “If you say so.”
The younger Scarlett turned to face them, and without hesitation, lifted herself onto the railing, earning a raised brow from Scarlett. The action felt jarringly out of character for her, yet the girl seemed content to sit there, legs even swinging slightly as she considered them.
“Is there something on your mind?” Arlene asked, noting her look.
“Not in particular,” the younger Scarlett replied. “Though I suppose you could say that I am still pondering why we are still here. There are a litany of other matters that could demand our attention, yet here we are, squandering our time in this insignificant place.” Her eyes shifted to Scarlett. “You did not provide me a proper answer before, but perhaps you will now. What exactly are we trying to achieve?”
Scarlett met her gaze evenly, but she didn’t know what the girl expected from her. The Memory had shifted, but they remained in Freymeadow, and she couldn’t really say why. At this point, it was clear she was influencing these changes in some way, but it wasn’t anything she could consciously control. So why did the younger Scarlett even bother asking? She thought the girl would already have known this much.
“I’d like to know the answer to that as well,” Arlene said, turning to Scarlett. “Are you staying because of me? If so, you don’t have to. I don’t need your help anymore.”
Scarlett glanced at her. “…No, you are not what is keeping us here.”
“Then what is?”
Scarlett hesitated with her response.
“Nostalgia, perhaps,” the younger Scarlett interjected.
Arlene’s brow furrowed slightly. “Nostalgia?”
Scarlett shot the girl a reproachful look, but the girl seemed uninterested in returning it.
Arlene watched them both as if expecting someone to elaborate, but no one did. The silence settled between them again, and Scarlett could tell the woman didn’t like being ignored. Still, she seemed to choose not to press the matter.
The children’s laughter filled the square, echoing from its heart as they played simple games, running and chasing after each other as if time had no meaning.
The younger Scarlett’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked back at them. “I cannot comprehend how they find entertainment in such meaningless activities.”
“Not everything needs a purpose,” Arlene said. “Sometimes, it’s enough just to enjoy the moment, to find happiness in the simple things.”
The younger Scarlett’s skeptical gaze returned to her. “That is the very definition of wasting one’s time.”
“And that is fine.”
“Because they are children?”
“In part, yes. There is no need to judge them for it.”
The younger Scarlett tilted her head. “That little excuses them? Why should naivety and inexperience afford them special privileges? Is there a reason I cannot abhor someone merely because of their age?”
A faint crease appeared on Scarlett’s brow. Was this somehow connected to Evelyne?
Arlene went silent, as if not fully prepared for words like those to leave a girl so young, spoken with such a detached tone. The woman regarded her for several long seconds before speaking. “…Would you like it if those same standards were applied to you?”
“They always have been,” the younger Scarlett replied without hesitation. “Few ever extended me kindness simply because I was young. Those who did would have been wiser not to. You seem to dishonestly believe all children deserve equal compassion, but that notion is both foolish and naïve.”
Arlene’s expression darkened. She turned to Scarlett, eyeing her, before slowly returning her attention to the girl. “It’s not a belief. Nor is it an assumption. It’s simply…an ideal. One my master often champions.”
“I see.” The younger Scarlett’s lips curled in a faint smile. “Then, if it is not your own, you need not pretend to stand by it, no? It is, at most, a misguided sentiment. I find it hard to believe you would continue applying it to these children if you did not harbour false assumptions about who and what they were.”
“Scarlett,” Scarlett finally interrupted, her voice firm. “That is enough.”
“Have I said anything that is untrue?” the younger Scarlett asked. “If I have, ought it not be forgiven on account of my youth?”
Scarlett gave her a sharp look, but before she could respond, the girl gestured towards Arlene. “Is that not the logical outcome of that ideals she spoke of? Or were those not her true beliefs? If not, then what are they?”
Arlene watched the younger Scarlett with a calm, yet quiet, intensity.
“Come now,” the girl pressed. “I am sincerely curious as to what drives one of the empire’s great mages.”
“Is this truly necessary?” Scarlett asked, not hiding her irritation.
Her younger self shot her a short look. “Why not? Since we are here, should we not make the most of our time? I understand you prefer to leave things perpetually unchanged, as always, but fortunately, I am not bound by your conventions. You have always desired to learn more about her, have you not?”
Scarlett’s lips thinned into a hard line.
“What? Is this line of inquiry forbidden as well?,” the younger Scarlett asked. “Or would you prefer I begin by laying out my own ideals before I ask about hers?”
She glanced between Arlene and Scarlett as if they were both unreasonable, then let out a small sigh. “For some unfathomable reason, people have a habit of endlessly complicating these matters. It is not as if one’s principles and ideals are these lofty, unreachable concepts. Mine have always been simple. I place my own value above others, and those who wrong me should face consequences. Compassion and mercy are well and good if you wish, but they are not owed to anyone, and I see little use in them myself.”
Scarlett kept her eyes fixed on the girl. She knew what her younger self was trying to get at with all of this. She wanted to tell her to stop. To be silent. But she doubted it would work by this point. And…there was a part of her, however reluctant, that was interested in seeing where this might lead.
Arlene looked at the younger Scarlett like a parent confronted with a deeply troubling declaration from their child. “…Those are not ideals you should take pride in. Have you truly considered what it means to live by them?”
“I have, and I do not care. They are mine, not yours,” the girl replied dismissively. “But, by all means, do enlighten me about what noble standards one should aspire to. Should we perhaps protect the innocent, repay kindness with more kindness, display unwavering loyalty to the Empire and the Emperor, and eradicate evil wherever it may tread? Would you say these ideals are preferable?”
“Yes,” Arlene replied.
“Then that raises a rather interesting question, does it not?” The younger Scarlett’s tone was calm but pointed. “Which of them takes precedence?”
Arlene’s expression tightened suddenly. With her hesitation, a heavy silence hung between them. After a few moments, the younger Scarlett clicked her tongue, a trace of irritation flashing across her face. “That is where you should say ‘loyalty to the empire’. After all, that is the ideal you have embodied for much of your life.”
Arlene’s eyes widened.
Sitting on the railing, the younger Scarlett shook her head slowly. “This is disappointing. As callow as those ‘ideals’ may be, I do not necessarily dislike the notions themselves. But one should at least be clear about which holds priority and not falter in that conviction. Otherwise, they are not your ideals. At most, they are an obsession, and to me, that sounds much more dangerous. It astounds me how so many fail to grasp this concept and accuse me of being unprincipled. If you rely on nothing but a rudder cobbled together from scraps, you have no one to blame but yourself when it fails you.”
In the background, the laughter of the children carried on, a carefree melody against the increasingly tense atmosphere. Arlene stared at the girl. “What exactly are you?” she finally asked, a dangerous edge now in her voice. Her eyes shifted to Scarlett. “A child her age would not speak like this. Are the two of you truly sisters?”
A light chuckle escaped the younger Scarlett. “No, but the distinction is irrelevant in this case. One could even argue that we are closer than sisters.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I would not be opposed to explaining,” the girl replied with a faint gesture towards Scarlett, “but I fear she might take offense. For all our similarities, our priorities do not quite align.”
Arlene's gaze lingered on Scarlett, studying her carefully. “…I see. I won’t pretend to fully understand, but the difference between you two is clear enough.”
“I am glad,” the younger Scarlett said. “And I suspect my ‘sister’ shares that sentiment. Much like you, she has never viewed my personality in a favorable light. After all, to her, I have always been nothing more than a third-rate villainess.”
Scarlett turned to her. “Your personality is not the issue here.”
“No? Then what is? My actions? I dare say nothing I have done could possibly compare to the crimes you yourself have committed.”
“…And what crimes might she be referring to?” Arlene asked.
“I believe this is where she would utter something to the effect of, ‘That is nothing you need concern yourself with’,” the younger Scarlett interjected dryly. She inclined her head ever so slightly, as though granting the barest acknowledgment. “Though I suppose she would be right. None of her sordid transgressions bear any particular relevance to you, nor shall they ever. At most, you might find interest in her dealings with the Hallowed Cabal or the Tribe of Sin.”
The atmosphere around Arlene shifted immediately, the air growing heavier, warmer, and palpably more charged. Her gaze focused on Scarlett, sharp and unrelenting.
“That appears to have struck a nerve,” the younger Scarlett observed coolly.
“Is what she said true?” Arlene’s voice sliced through the thickened air.
Scarlett cast a brief look at her younger counterpart.
…Why had she ever thought the girl wouldn’t throw her under the bus?
She exhaled quietly, masking her irritation as she returned her attention to Arlene, her expression carefully neutral. “I hold no affiliation with either of those groups, if that is your concern. As I have already stated, they could be considered my adversaries. There was, at one point, a temporary agreement to avoid direct hostilities, due to the mutual repercussions such actions would provoke, but that is all.”
“Is there not something you are conveniently omitting?” the younger Scarlett asked. “For instance, the time when you played a crucial role in aiding one of the Tribe’s Enclaves evade imperial forces?”
Scarlett’s glare sharpened into a dagger aimed at her younger self. Arlene’s gaze hardened further as the temperature seemed to rise ominously. Scarlett hesitated, noting the intensity in the woman’s eyes. She’d seen something similar in the woman when she and her siblings were informed of their parents’ death. It was an unbridled, simmering anger barely held in check, completely opposite the composed demeanour the woman usually wore.
Just the mention of the Cabal and Tribe had Arlene genuinely considering an attack against Scarlett.
“What takes precedence now, I wonder?” the younger Scarlett’s voice cut through the tension. “Would it be punishing the supposed villain before you, or honouring the kindness shown to you by a stranger in the forest?”
For a moment, Arlene paused, her rigid stance softening as the dangerous light in her eyes wavered.
“If it is of any assistance in your deliberation,” the younger Scarlett pressed on, “you might consider this: she has also accomplished many commendable deeds in service of others. Of late, she has garnered significant recognition for her generous contributions to large-scale relief efforts aiding those affected by the Tribe’s attacks. In addition, she has played a key role in identifying and removing corrupt elements within the ranks of nobility, founded orphanages for those in need, and though few are aware, she was instrumental in thwarting the schemes of a Vile within attempting to manifest in the Material Realm.”
Arlene glanced over at the girl.
“Does that absolve her of consorting with criminals?”
Several seconds passed as Arlene watched her, then she eventually turned back to Scarlett. “The Tribe of Sin has slaughtered countless innocents,” she said slowly, as though forcing composure. “They are enemies of the empire and the very foundations upon which it stands. Any alliance with them—no matter how brief—is treason against His Majesty and an unforgivable affront…. There can be no justification for that.”
Scarlett looked at the woman, watching her expression. She spoke the words with a certainty and conviction that made you think it was what she truly thought, but at the same time…
It seemed more like a mantra than a genuine belief. A truth—or a habit—born out of rage, tradition, and who knows how many years of seeing the worst of what the Tribe’s violence had brought.
Rather than feeling more anger towards her younger self for instigating this confrontation, Scarlett found something else rising to her lips. “Can there truly be none?” she asked, the question escaping before she even had time to consider it.
Arlene stilled, her expression flickering in the smallest of ways.
“…I do not think that is what you truly believe,” Scarlett said, her tone steady. This Arlene might be no more than a reflection, a construct formed of memories and the experiences of the real woman, but in this place, and in this particular moment…maybe Scarlett could consider her real enough. Her feelings, thoughts — they were likely as genuine to her as they had been to the original. That understanding was something Scarlett had been uncertain how to contend with. It had been why she hesitated to reveal too much. Because, no matter what she said or how she tried helping her—regardless what realisations the woman might come to on her own—these Memories would chain Arlene to the same inevitable fate.
So what was the point in pushing her? Scarlett couldn’t say. If anything, it felt needlessly cruel, and she wanted to avoid it. But, perhaps… Perhaps it was still what the Arlene she knew would have preferred.
“I am curious to hear what justification you might offer,” the younger Scarlett said, “to excuse any association with the Tribe of Sin. They are little more than a congregation of blind fanatics, worshipping the ineffability of a being they cannot comprehend and committing atrocities in its name like the misguided zealots they are. To extend any form of sympathy towards them, under any circumstances, is incomprehensible.”
“Sympathy towards them as a whole is not necessary,” Scarlett replied, meeting the girl’s gaze. “How one perceives them is a matter of personal judgement, and more often than not, I see them as enemies. However, they are not always as overtly belligerent or vile as your words—or the empire’s dogma—would suggest.”
“You must forgive those who remain skeptical, considering they bear ‘Sin’ in their very name.”
Scarlett shook her head. “They do not call themselves the Tribe of Sin out of some reverence for wrongdoing or wickedness. Rather, they do so because they believe their very existence is the result of a profound act of sin — one they fully acknowledge and strive to atone for.”
“And what act might that be?” the younger Scarlett asked.
“The Severance,” Scarlett answered. She observed the girl, trying to read her expression, wondering if she truly didn’t know this or if she was simply fishing for her to be the one to reveal it. Scarlett was still unsure how much her counterpart actually knew and how much she chose to pretend she didn’t know. Was it possible this was where she wanted to push this conversation from the beginning?
Setting those suspicions aside for the moment, Scarlett turned back to Arlene, who had been surprisingly silent throughout the exchange. The woman’s face no longer betrayed anything of what was going on inside her head, presenting only an unreadable mask looking straight at Scarlett.
Several seconds passed without the woman speaking, and eventually, a frown formed on Scarlett’s brow.
“Arlene…?” she began, but her words trailed off as she noticed faint embers materialising in the air around her. Her gaze darted upward, catching sight of the sky as it darkened with unnatural speed, the sun swallowed by swirling clouds tinged with a deep, ominous red.
She recognised the sight all too well.
Her eyes snapped back to where Arlene had been seated — only to find the woman gone. The younger Scarlett had also vanished from the railing, and the children playing in the square had disappeared as if they’d never been there to begin with. At the edge of the settlement, flames were creeping up above the rooftops.
Freymeadow was burning.
Comments
AjiTae
Well, the truth is: justification doesn't mater. The deeds matter, and the deeds we have.
Ulbert
Even worse. Mini Scarlett is a meta cringefest slinging fourth rate “I can’t comprehend the concept of perspective” villainess. It’s jarring if anything. Almost has the character of the bridge scene in Monty Python and the holy grail. *Blabbers emotionally stunted unhinged rant about morals she has no concept of* Meanwhile Arlene somehow eats that shit and Scarlett has to defend herself. Like what? This feels more like a shroom sequence than a migration through memory valley.
Lavoslava
"Freymeadow was burning." Finally! This meandering is not worth the little tidbits we are getting. (In my humble opinion.) “What comes first now, I wonder?” the girl mused. “Punishing the supposed evil before you, or honoring the kindness shown to you by a stranger in the forest?” Chaos-steering brat, but that's a very good question. It's quite easy to simplify your life by deciding something like "There can be no justification for that.”.
lenkite
Hopefully, something happens soon.
Jack
Third-rate villainy at its finest.
David Frerich
Either Freymeadow is collateral damage in Arlenes fight or Freymeadow is in truth a settlement of the tribes of sin and Arlene finds out and destroys it. Interesting development. I‘m curious why this action of her resulted in the gentleman putting her in the timeloop though
ActionKermit
Oh snap, it’s about to get real
Ellye28
Mini Scarlet seems to be trolling.
