The compulsions were the worst.

Of all the many things that Joy had had to find fault with in this new life, that feeling that she was at times merely a doll being propelled by some larger force was by far the one she had struggled with the most. She had even - as she had told Gouvernail - come to question her own likes and dislikes. Was even her fondness for pale blue and a good medieval castle just some sort of subconscious primer for what she was to become? Could she have absolutely nothing that she could not question as being in some way planted in her without her permission and left to propagate itself across the landscape of her soul until had swallowed up whatever she might have been, like kudzu in an abandoned holler?

She felt one such compulsion now: mild, resistable. At least for the present. But she knew from experience that those instinctive urges would only grow louder with being ignored, and so she had dismissed Gouvernail - as she so rarely did - and turned towards the grim little stone chamber that lay somewhere in the labyrinthine corridors beneath the keep.

She had known for some time what that stone pillar in the center housed, and she had anticipated, in some way, having to decipher its opening like a puzzle. But it gave way beneath her hand as if expecting her - as, of course, the entire Garde might very well be doing for all she knew - and she stepped back to observe, in numb silence, what reposed within. She did not want to speak to it. She never had. But after a long silence, she unwillingly succumbed to the inevitable.

“I don’t know what means you actually have at your disposal,” she said, trying not to sound tired, as if she could possibly have anything to prove, “and maybe it’s possible you can’t do any better than plucking a promising starseed out of the aether and putting a toy into their hands. But you sure as hell can’t do much worse, right?”

The Code swirled slowly, silent as it always was. The golden mist was thin, faded, but stirred like there was some unseen wind disrupting the steady stream.

And, more than that, the sense of eyes on her. Like something was watching. Listening.

One of the great attractions of the Garde had always been that there was no one to see her do anything, no one to listen to her - a great and pervasive privacy whose only interruption was one pair of dark eyes that would meet hers, if she looked up, without anything to hide in them.

At least, so she’d thought, until recently.

She wondered, briefly, what he would have said, were he standing there. It would not be right to speak for him. But she found herself doing it anyway.

“I think the previous Garde maybe had a ******** up idea about what his job was, and maybe he got it from his mentor or maybe it came from somewhere else. But there’s gotta be a reason he never tried for anything better for himself, and to be honest, I’m sick of blaming him for everything. You - or some part of you - even lied to Ekstrom about who she was, and pretended like it was necessary. I don’t have a reason to believe anything you say. I’ll never forgive you for that, and that’s what made me think that whatever it is you’re doing, I don’t have any investment in making sure it’s done for your sake. I don’t know whether I’m right or Gouvernail was, but if it was me, I want you to know that I’m not making the Garde into something that lives up to its name because I revere it or you. I’m doing it because I revere myself, and you tried to take my own joy from me against my will.”

Silence, still. But the Code swirled a little faster. Glowed a little brighter.

The presence in the room grew a little heavier.

Her disgust rose to the level of contempt. Perhaps she did have something to prove, after all.

“I guess I want to blame you, and I know I will anyway. I can walk in dreams and I can bring a dead place to life. If your power is the one making that possible then I will keep taking that power from you until you don’t have anything left to give me, just to spite you for not giving me or any of us all of it to begin with, and making us prove ourselves worthy of what we didn’t ask for.”

“Do you think the process of giving and taking power is an easy exchange?” the Code asked, voice a whisper that slowly grew into something like a voice.

“You seem under the misconception that I deny you power. If it were something I had full control over, you would have access to the full well of magic here. I don’t ask you to prove yourselves. A starseed will crack if you force too much magic into it. It takes time to resonate with your Wonder and the magic here.”

The light of the Code flickered, blipped, dimmed. Stabilized, somewhat.

“You overestimate yourself if you think you claim power I do not give, though. And you underestimate me if you think I would not do everything in my power to protect this land and the Knights who serve it.”

This, of course, she discarded immediately. She knew the thing to be capable of deception.

And she did not say what she felt: that of course she had power that had not come from the Code. That even if all those personal inclinations had been planted in her, she had been the one that had nurtured them. She had been the one that had pursued them. She had been the one wrestling something out of this ruin, and she had seen for herself that she had done what others had failed to do. She would not simper and grovel in gratitude for what she still believed - knew - to have been her own power, and no one else’s. A little magic - a little strength and speed - none of that was the seat of any of her power. Even the Garde was not the seat of her power. The seat of her power was the same thing it had always been: that she simply refused to be weak.

Besides, even what it had given her, it had given to her only piecemeal, without even handing her the respect of letting her figure out for herself what her starseed could encompass. It was painful to be underestimated, but especially by something she had come to consider as something like an enemy.

“If you wanted us to have power, you’d find a way to give it to us instead of holding it hostage. It’s still basically a toy, isn’t it? A whip that can’t even break skin.”

“You carry great vitriol in your heart, Joyeuse Garde. I think it weighs on you needlessly, but I do not have human emotions like you. Perhaps hatred is the motivator you need to carry on. I don’t care if you hate me, as long as you care enough for this Wonder. As long as you protect it as I would. As those before you have. If ever you do not wish to carry this burden, know that you don’t have to. You are not a slave to Joyeuse Garde. A Knight serves because they want to protect. If you don’t wish to carry that mantle, you need only return it. I will find someone else.”

A silence passed briefly, and the faint mist that made up the Code picked up speed, like it was trying to charge itself.

“But I think you care too much to let it fall into anyone else’s hands. Come here. Bring me your weapon. Let me see if your conviction is as fervent as your words.”

There was no sense litigating putting the mantle down: it had been given to her, and she had to use it to do what good was in her power. Sometimes you received a responsibility that no one else could shoulder, and thus you had an obligation to fulfill it, if you could do it without destroying yourself.

(And there was, besides: there was no one else to help him, and this, even by itself, was too terrible a thought to countenance. And how she hated him, and hated the Code, for giving her this awful thing to take care of and make a soft place in her heart for.)

When she approached, it was less with the air of obeying a command than defying an insult. She thrust the coiled-up whip ungently into the center of the light.

“If you knew me you’d know better than to doubt my convictions,” she said, with open contempt. “I don’t deceive people. I’m not like you.”

“Hm,” the Code said. A warmth flooded the air around it, and her weapon began to glow at the same steady pulse as the Code itself. The entire process did not take more than a few seconds, but they seemed to tick on, slowly.

“You have not given me the chance to get to know you. Nor have you made an effort to know me.”

There was no emotion in it; the Code wasn’t a person. It didn’t have the same humanity, didn’t need a social connection. It simply was. It existed, in a capacity far beyond human reason. It was practical for a Knight along with their Code, if only because they shared the same goal: protect the Wonder. The Code gave the Knight the power to do so, and in exchange secured protection for itself as well.

It was a simple exchange, but a good one. Power for the Knight, protection for the Wonder, and the Code piece tucked within.

This was a satisfying arrangement.

When the Code slowed, Joy’s weapon hovered within it–invitingly. Ready to be reclaimed. Better than before.

“You’ve put a great deal of effort into your Wonder. Strengthen that bond, and you’ll see your power grow. This weapon might be more satisfactory for you. If not, I’m sure I’ll see you again. Be well, Joyeuse Garde.”

She turned away, mouthing what was unmistakably the “nyeh nyeh” gibberish of someone Thoroughly Unimpressed with something their manager has just told them at work, after grabbing the whip and shoving it into her belt. She’d tinker with it later - see what happened - but for now she shut the column on the Code piece with a satisfying thunk and immediately powered down, thinking that she’d never more badly wanted a swim.