Two Friends Plot a Murder

Something burned in her chest.

It was hot, and tight, and ugly.

Palmira stared at the spot David had vanished from, Malocchio shaking in her grip.

She opened her mouth, smoke pouring out as though a wildfire was burning in her gut—

"GET BACK HERE!" Tintinnia let out an inhuman scream of rage, stealing the wind from her sails. Her hammer joined in, letting out a wet howl. "STOP RUNNING, YOU DAMN FISH!"

--Palmira snapped her mouth shut with an audible 'click.'

"Hey, Malocchio," she whispered, grip tightening around the handle of her mace. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to smash him into paste. …Will you help me, when I do?"

'Agreement. We will do anything Our Lady requires of us.'

She let out another breath, the last of the smoke sneaking past her lips. "Thank you."

With that she stood to full height, and slogged over to Tintinnia was screaming her lungs out.

"Tintinnia!"

"WHAT!?" she snarled, her face twisted into something almost inhuman and her pink skin darkening to an almost purple shade. Then she locked eyes with Palmira, and with visible strain reigned herself back in. "What?" she bit out, somewhat more calmly.

"Do you know where he went?"

Tintinnia blinked in surprise, before her face fell even further. "No," she scowled. "I don't."

Palmira nodded, even as her grip shifted on Malocchio's handle. It was unfortunate, but she'd expected that answer. "Then do you know where we could begin looking? How did you find out he was in this city in the first place?"

Having now calmed down enough to hold a normal conversation, Tintinnia frowned, absently stroking the jaw of her hammer. "Sinbad was the one who figured it out," she told her, though it looked like the admission hurt to make. "He'd probably know, if we could ask him, but…"

Another explosion holy light erupted from the direction of the Ambrosi's villa, followed by the shouting of soldiers.

Palmira shared a frown with the other girl. There was no way they were going to be able to talk to Sinbad until he was done fighting the Ambrosi, and by that point who knows where David might have gone.

"Now hang on just a minute!"

The two girls paused, turning to look at the dwarf who'd up until now stayed quiet.

"You two can't be planning on going after him, are you?" Svani asked as he waddled down the flooded street, grimacing where the water reached up to his knees. "After what just happened?"

"Of course we are!" Palmira scowled at him. "He took Morte! I can't—I need—he stole my staff! I'm not going to let him get away with that!"

"He's already gotten away! And even if you do find him again, what do you even plan to do?" Svani motioned to the flooded street. "He was kicking our asses up and down this street! Hell, I'm not to proud to say that without the protection of the Ambrosi I'd have died within seconds of showing up!"

"We almost had him there!"

"Aye, because of a fluke!" Svani sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "You don't even have your staff anymore, and all you have left is that creepy mace you don't look like you've ever swung a day in your life. You're worse off than when you fought him before, and now you suddenly expect to win!?"

Palmira scowled, huffing out a puff of smoke. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't come up with a response to that.

He was right. She hated to admit it, but she had no real plan beyond 'hit him harder with her mace.'

A mace she barely knew how to use.

"…Why is he even here," she spat out at last. She didn't want to admit he was right, but she also didn't want to let him have the last word. "Why did he make a deal with the demons? And why did you Ambrosi start working with him, anyway!?"

"I don't know," the dwarf shrugged. Somehow, he managed to look unbothered by that. "The Head probably thought he'd get something out of it. What that might be, who am I to know?"

"But to consort with demons—!"

Svani gave her a tired sigh. "Look, Palmira? I know this may come as a shock, but they all consort with demons. The Ambrosi, the Capparelli, the Gennarelli—they all do it. They've done it for centuries, even, long before the Demon King attacked. The big mistake the Ambrosi made this time was not making a deal with a demon—it was getting caught."

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Palmira felt like some part of her was breaking, as she listened to him talk. Sure, she'd always known that the guilds and Famiglias weren't bastions of virtue, but she'd at least thought they were all on the same side. That if nothing else, they fought against the demons, not with them!

How could Svani talk so calmly about that? Like it didn't even matter!?

What the hell were they even fighting for?

Palmira suddenly felt very, very tired.

"…I'm going to find Morte," she rasped at last. There was nothing else she could do at the moment—nothing else she wanted to do.

Svani's frown deepened, concern in his eyes. How dare he, after what he'd just admitted!? "You will die if you do that. I can't protect you this time, not if you go looking for him."

Palmira felt a bitter smile grow on her face. "Without Morte I'll die on the streets. And, despite what you might think, I don't want to die. So yes, I'm going after him, and you can't stop me."

Svani sighed, looking away. "…You're right, I don't think I could stop you either. But I won't be joining you. Much as we may have been allies for a moment, my home is currently under attack, and I'm not going to stand aside while that occurs."

He turned away from them, and then paused, as he took in the once wealthy city street, now flooded and smoldering. "…However. Should I stumble across that paladin, I might tell him where the fey he is looking for has fled to. …For it seems my home is currently under attack, and I'm not going to stand aside while that occurs."

With that he trudged away, back in the direction of the Ambrosi's villa.

Palmira watched him go, complicated feelings burning in her chest.

…Even though she'd told him she didn't want to die on the streets, it was days like today that made her wonder.

It would be simpler, if nothing else.

With a sigh, she turned to continue planning with Tintinnia, when—

"Hey, hey kid? Can you hear me?"

Palmira jumped as he staff's voice suddenly echoed in her head.

"Morte!? What—!"

"You can't, huh? Damn it, I knew it was a long shot, but I'd hoped it would've worked."

"No, what? Morte, I can hear you, why are you—!?"

"Well, just in case you or anybody else can hear this, I'll start explaining where I am. Actually, I'm going to repeatedly shout where I am over and over again on the off chance that somebody will hear, until such a time that I get rescued."

Palmira felt a sinking feeling in her chest.

"I AM CURRENTLY IN A GRAVEYARD!" He roared, and Palmira winced as his voice echoed in her head. "THE GRAVEYARD IS SMALL AND SURROUNDED BY OLD BUILDINGS! I AM CURRENTLY IN A GRAVEYARD! IT IS—"

"I KNOW WHERE MORTE IS!" Palmira shouted over the droning in her mind, causing Tintinnia to lean back in shock. "Sorry," she apologized, lowering her voice. "He's currently shouting his location in my head. It's a small graveyard surrounded by old buildings!"

"Really!?" her eyes widened, before she frowned. "Wait, that barely tells us anything. Can you ask him for more information?"

"—IS SMALL AND SURROUNDED BY OLD BUILDINGS! I AM CURRENTLY—"

Palmira winced. "Unfortunately, it's only one-way. But, assuming that David returned to Ambrosi territory, then that has to be the old Ambrosi's crypt!" she smiled, before her face fell a bit. "Maybe. It's the only one I know in the area."

"Well then," Tintinnia smiled, her sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. "It's more than what we currently had to go off of. Lead the way, friend, and let's tear that fish-faced bastard limb from soggy limb!"

Palmira couldn't help it—she smiled. It was good to have people she could count on again.

"—OLD BUILDINGS! I AM CURRENTLY IN A GRAVEYARD! IT IS SMALL AND—"

She could do without that, though.