^^ Lady Liberatus ^^

— James —

Looking down at my own body was... disconcerting.

"I cannot be quite that picturesque, laying in a pile of mud, can I? I'm not exactly a Dandy." I frowned.

My platinum white hair, -once golden in color, in my youth, some sixty years prior,- was splayed around my head in a halo, having come loose from its militant queue at the back of my skull. My clothes were immaculate; perfection, but for the blood on my shirt, where the musketball that had killed me had struck me quite squarely in the heart. Due to my immediate expiration, my heart hadn't beat, meaning I hadn't bled almost at all, though what was there would be slowly draining out the hole in my back, and was invisible to the viewer, me.

My hands still clutched my sword and shield, both the tool of death and of life wet with the blood of the enemies I had slain around me before being killed from afar; a man who had never even seen the whites of my eyes or spoken my name, though he had likely heard me announce myself with no small amount of gusto, as I had laid about myself quite savagely.

Eighty-eight years old or no, I was no soft lamb of a Doctor, here only to heal and with an oath to do no harm, and by Heaven I was not a coward, either. On the battlefield I was a Warrior, a Skald, and a Surgeon, in that order.

My patients, whom I had died protecting, lay dead behind my position, to my sorrow. My valiant defiance had achieved only a few dozen more dead enemy soldiers, and one commander who had been something of a gentleman, and announced himself before dueling me properly. He had ruined the duel by using a pistol, however, and I killed him with a blow to the throat from my shield.

The advent of 'modern weaponry' had proven nothing but an insult to proper battle, in my opinion. How could you count yourself a warrior, when you did not have to look your opponent in the eyes before he died? Watch the life drain from him as his humors followed? Archers and Crossbowmen, they still learned the sword or axe, and attacking them yielded no less of a battle than any other; but these riflemen and artillerists... disgraceful. Take away their weapons and what were they? Useless.

Entire armies, weapons confiscated, sent packing by enemies they shamefully surrendered to, and were marched drearily home, as if they could not muster the strength of will to take upon themselves a rock or a stave, and club their enemies to death, or sharpen a stick and impale him, or use their fists and beat them bloody against their foes; this was the death of warriors, these new weapons. Muskets. A foul word in my mind, and a curse when said aloud.

A woman appeared next to me, laughing softly, and broke me entirely out of my dark line of thought. "That is your concern? Truly? You are concerned with seeming a Dandy?" She questioned, covering her laugh with a folding fan which appeared from a puff of sparks and smoke.

"Well what else do I have to be concerned about? I am dead, am I not?" I asked logically, clearing my throat.

She hummed, closing the fan and revealing her face. Her skin was dark, like many of the men I'd treated today, the Ottomans and Jews, though split by a beautiful set of white tattoos, shaped like branches of a tree or perhaps lightning, from her chin to her eyebrows. I immediately wondered how she had managed to tattoo her skin so symmetrically. "I suppose you are correct... well, let's be off!" She nodded and snapped her fan against her palm, and a white doorway appeared, behind us.

I hummed, looking at her, then my body. "I suppose you must be a Valkyrie or an Angel? Or Lady Death? I pictured you quite differently, you know; I thought you'd be a very matronly Scottish woman, and you are instead a beautiful young Persian or perhaps African woman, and with such a lovely smile... death could be worse, I think."

She blinked in shock, and then surprised me by covered her face with the fan again. "Well!!! N-No, I am not Death, Sir, but I do appreciate being called beautiful, as any woman should..."

I bowed my head, embarrassed at having been so forward, now. "I didn't mean to offend, My Lady, do forgive me."

"It is very much Alright, and even appreciated! To be likened to death, less so, but not without reason, I suppose; you are dead, and I have appeared to take you away. This is very in line with your culture's legends about Valkyries or Angels, I think, and so the comparison is not untrue." She nodded calmly, but didn't move the fan much. Behind it, I could see the barest of blushes; not in her skin, too dark and mysterious to allow such evidence to show so easily, but in her tattoos, which changed from pure white to slightly pink-tinged.

"Still, I would offer my apologies, my lady... may I ask who you are, if it isn't an imposition? And if you have any way to..." I gestured at my body helplessly.

"No, I apologize, I cannot revive you. Or rather, I could, but it would upset many, many people, and it is highly illegal. Very little magic is allowed, here, after all. As for my identity, I am Lady Ilene Liberatus, Current Arch-Mage of the College of Acheron." She bowed her head a bit, making her introductions.

I hasted to bow back, and address her properly. "And I am Sir James, or rather, Lord James Vitara of Scotland, Surgeon-General and Senior Member of the British Royal College of Medicine, twice knighted by Queen Victoria and King William, god rest him. It is most pleasant to meet you, Lady Ilene Liberatus."

She looked pleased, though she kept it to herself for the most part. "It is a pleasure, I'm sure... as to my purpose, which I'm sure you're curious about, I can say this: my college and I collect wise or enlightened souls, that is, Scholars, writers, poets, -and Skalds,- and we bring them to the College to flourish, even in the afterlife; great work is not to be ended with death, after all. To be clear, we also gather soldiers who die, and warriors of great skill or talent, so that their genius in the Martial Art is forever renewed unto the world; again, much like your Valkyries. You, rather luckily, fall into three categories, -skald, Doctor, and Warrior,- making you a very good catch, hence why I, the Arch-Mage, was sent to collect you." She nodded calmly.

I frowned, digesting that information. "And... my purpose and goals for the College would be?"

"Well, whatever you would like! Research is generally what you Scholars do, though some like to learn new skills, and be reborn to fulfill those roles instead, securing a place for themselves in the College's Alumni; this allows them to come back to the College every time they die, and continue trying to perfect their knowledge! It is not unlike the Buddhist beliefs of achieving the perfect mind and soul, to achieve Perfection!" She smiled prettily.

I hummed again, looking out over the battlefield. "I don't suppose I could be of any use to Britain as a child... it would be eleven years before I could serve again, and by then this blasted war will be over... begging your pardon, Madame." I blushed, -to curse in front of a distinguished lady being very rude,- but she only tilted her head, confused.

Now I saw two points sticking off of her ears, which before I'd considered to be ornamental, but they were twitching. "Curious... your ears are rather elongated... and they seem to be very mobile; the amount of extra facial and cranial muscles necessary for such a wide range of motion must be extraordinarily deft... Hmm... I wonder if they are an evolutionary effect, such as theorized by Lord Darwin? Though what environmental necessitates longer ears and more flexible ear-canals, I would wonder at as well... perhaps a very densely-wooded heartland? That would necessitate a full range of hearing, much like most mammalian species'... but are not they evolved from apes as well? Would they not then have rounded ears, such as a Homo Sapiens?"

She blushed again, much more obviously, leaning away from my reflexive closeness as I studied her ears, and now they pinned themselves back against her skull like a cats, hidden under her hair, where they had apparently been meant to be invisible from the beginning. "W-Well!!! I will f-forgive your forward nature, Sir, as you are unaware, but a person might like to maintain a bit of privacy!" She stuttered, the hand holding the fan shaking a bit.

I took a hasty step back, bowing deeply. "My deepest apologies, Madame, I didn't mean any insult, and surely I would never impugn the privacy of a lady, I beg you forgive my curious nature..."

She cleared her throat. "Y-Yes! Well!!! Come along, then? We must get through the gate while it is still active!" She turned on her heel and walked towards the white door, apparently sure I was following.

I frowned, looking about at the battlefield, then my body. "I suppose... I can't stay..."

She paused, and turned a little. "No, you could, if you were so inclined; as a spirit, you are free to roam, but none here would be able to see you, and you would become something of a poltergeist to them."

I smiled wryly. "I imagine that most would choose to live on rather than cling to a life lost... no, I will leave this life. I think I have earned a rest, a short one."

She nodded, gesturing to the glowing door. "Well, then...?"

I squared my back and shoulders, picking up my doctor's bag and weapons as a reflex; though my hands passed right through them, pale copies appeared in my hands, and I left off questions, for once. Instead, I stood tall, and set one foot in front of the other, towards the 'Gate'.

My steps faltered a bit, as fear tried to wriggle its way into my mind; this was the Gate to Hell, surely, and I was to be met with hell and torment and demons. My stride grew stronger, harsher, and faster, and I grinned savagely. I felt a great new vitality, oddly enough, as if I was a young man again, and I did not fear whatever was to come my way.

Soon, I was charging at the door, shield in front of my chest and legs, and I faintly heard the Lady Death behind me, speaking anxiously, but I paid her no attention, though she certainly deserved it; were I truly younger, and not dead, I would court such a lovely creature. Were I in Valhalla, I would not refuse her company. But I was bound for Hell, I knew; I had spilled too much blood, even in the service of King and Country, to go anywhere else.

A thought occurred, to stay on the battlefield; as a poltergeist, I could perhaps muck about with the enemy in small ways, and destroy their moral. Frayed bowstrings, de-fletched bolts, spilled gunpowder, a dropped match here and there... I could do a good about of mischief.

But I struck the thought as if physical, and turned it away. Such actions would be rude, and dishonorable. If I couldn't fight the enemy with honor, then I should accept my death, and continue on in Hell, killing demons until they chopped off my legs and my arms and ripped out my teeth to stop me from biting, and finding ways to fight even then. What else was Hell but a Target Rich Environment, after all?

I laughed at the light, -and my thoughts,- as it got brighter, and roared a Savage challenge. I began running with an even greater set of bounding leaps and springing off or over obstacles to gather momentum, all to reach the gate, which I had now realized was about ten feet off the ground.

With enough momentum, I gave one last half-crazed shout of challenge, and sprang off a destroyed cannon, towards the gate. My aim was true, happily, and I smashed into it, dead-center, wherein my vision went white.