Chapter 43 – The Day of Children

Palmira let out a long yawn, quickly slapping her hands over her mouth to stop the smoke which began streaming out. Grunting, she rubbed her eyes as she stumbled along the road, instinctively igniting the air around her to deter pickpockets as she tried to stay awake.

Last night had probably been a mistake, she decided.

It hadn’t been so bad, at first. Loud and chaotic, sure, but they were always like that. And the cake was, as promised, delicious. But then they kept talking, and drinking, and partying…

Before she knew it, dawn had broken and she’d been half-passed out in her seat.

A month ago that wouldn’t have been so unbearable—she could have just slept during the day instead—but unfortunately these days she had something called ‘social obligations’ which meant that despite running on an hour and a half of sleep she was out and about with her colleagues, Chiara the half-elf and Lamezia the half-orc.

Hm. She wasn’t half-anything. That made her feel weird. Unless… she was half human. Sure, the other half was also human, but surely that counted, right?

Palmira absently followed behind the others as she pondered her own lack of ancestry. The streets of Firozzi were packed to the brim with people celebrating the first day of All Saint’s Day, though luckily Lamezia’s massive frame granted her a clear wake to follow through the sea of tourists. She didn’t really know the blue half-orcess that well, but as far as first impressions go she was already leagues above Chiara.

“It’s nice having someone big around,” she smiled sleepily up at the half-orc. Lamezia nodded stoically back, her muscles tensed as though she was constantly prepared to fight. That was normal for orcs, she was pretty sure, though after such a long time around Ósma she found herself unused to it. “Thanks for clearing the way.”

Chiara was of course far ahead of them, stomping her way through the streets. She’d forgotten them again, though given how frustrated she looked it was to be expected. She’d been in a foul mood all morning.

Today was going to be a ‘girls day,’ as Chiara had dubiously dubbed it. She’d invited all the female members of the guild to partake in some of the festivities for the last day before the tournament proper began.

Palmira and Lamezia were the only ones to show up.

She’d forgive her friend a little frustration today.

Palmira let out another yawn, balancing between following close enough to not get separated while staying far enough away not to accidentally burn anyone. Above her, something else yawned in time with her, startling her. She tilted her head up, squinting at whatever was up there.

A red drakeling was snoozing on her head, small tufts of smoke wafting from its nostrils.

Huh. When did that get there?

Palmira shrugged and continued walking.

Eventually they arrived at the Piazza dei Campioni, the large Piazza to the north where the majority of the week’s festivities would be taking place. Normally the festival would be more spread throughout the city, but with the recent mounting tension between the Ambrosi and the Capparelli everyone had informally decided to stick to more ‘neutral’ territory this year.

Out here the buildings weren’t as densely packed, with open-air restaurants only vaguely defining the boundaries of the Piazza. Though the people more than made up for it, as hundreds of stalls had been set up over the past couple days to cater to the glut of tourists and rural-folk who’d be spending the winter in the city.

Chiara finally slowed down enough for them to catch up. She seemed less huffy now, and while she didn’t quite apologize (Palmira wasn’t sure she was capable) she did let them take the lead.

“What do you two want to do?”

Lamezia crossed her arms with a grunt, shrugging. “It doesn’t really matter to me where we go.”

This was definitely the wrong thing to say, as Chiara’s face fell at her words. Luckily, even half-asleep Palmira knew how to fix this.

“Food!” she shouted, stumbling forward under the force of her own yell. The drakeling on her head startled awake, digging its claws into her scalp. It hurt, but less than her own embarrassment. “Um. I mean, I’m starving! Let’s get something to eat!”

Chiara gave her an odd look. “Are you alright? You’re acting weirder than usual.”

“No, I just told you, I’m hungry!” she was also exhausted, and the glare from the sunlight was doing funny things to her eyes, but that was besides the point! “Now come on, you promised you’d treat us and I never turn down free food!”

“Whoever said I was paying?”

“You did. Last night, remember?”

“I most certainly do not.”

“Ah,” Lamezia mumbled, causing the two of them to pause in their argument to look at her. “You did promise. But only to Lorenzo, not us.”

“Hah, see!

“That’s not fair, why does he get special treatment!?”

“Excuse me, have you seen his jawline?”

“So you’re saying only hot people get free food!?”

“That is a crude if not inaccurate way of putting it.”

“Good, then that means you’re paying for my meal too.”

“Excuse me? Just because you set yourself on fire all the time doesn’t mean you can pun your way into a free meal.”

“Damnit—I mean, obviously not! I was talking about my sexy face. This beauty was a gift from a dragon-god-thing, you know!”

“That just leaves me with more questions. And you’re not that pretty!”

Palmira gasped, clutching at her heart as she fell back towards Lamezia, who clumsily caught her. “Did you hear that, Lamezia? Chiara thinks I’m ugly,” she sniffed, crocodile tears boiling at the corners of her eyes. “She thinks us hideous, nothing more than repulsive brutes!”

“No I don’t!” she snapped frantically, grabbing Palmira’s shoulder and shaking her. “I never said that! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“…Don’t worry, Palmira,” the half-orcess awkwardly patted her other shoulder in what was probably meant to be a comforting manner. “I, um, I think you’re pretty.”

Palmira paused, having not expected the genuineness of the complement. “Oh. Uh, thank you, Lamezia, I think you’re pretty too.”

She grimaced, turning away. “You don’t have to lie for my sake…”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

Chiara sighed, dropping her head into her hands. “Fine! You’re both beautiful!” her grumbling was muffled by her fingers. “I’ll buy you both food, just stop whatever this is, got it!”

“Heh,” Palmira grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

“I can still change my mind, you know!”

--

Chiara did not end up changing her mind. She was lucky, however, that she had gracious friends who didn’t take advantage of her kindness.

Mostly. Palmira did get an overpriced mug of coffee, but in her defense Chiara was the one who pointed the shop out.

Now they sat at a table beneath a chestnut tree, a collection of snacks between them generously donated from the only girl in the group with money. They were far enough away from the main chaos of the Piazza that it was relatively quieter, though nearby a dwarf and an elf were competitively busking with a drum and a lute respectively, which lent the space a charged air. Palmira using some of Chiara’s money to pay the dwarf probably hadn’t helped.

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But that was now background noise at this point, as a more important issue was at hand.

“I don’t know if I should…” Chiara muttered, running a small idol between her fingers. It was a wooden angel, painted silver. “It doesn’t feel as genuine…”

“Just because you aren’t right there doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Palmira reassured her, absently trading Lamezia a jerky strip for one of her Arancini. She had to work to keep the drakeling from instantly snapping it up. “I’ve been doing it here for years, after all.”

To emphasize her point, she held up the clay dragon in her own hand. It was in the style of the red dragons, long and scarlet.

“You agree with me, right Lamezia?”

“Er, I think so,” she shuffled on the stone bench they’d dragged the table over to. “I mean, I’ve never been to my grandfather’s grave, but mother and I still prayed to him often. I don’t think it was wrong to do that, even if we weren’t with him physically.”

“I suppose you’re right…”

Chiara didn’t look wholly convinced, but considering the circumstances that was to be expected.

It was the first day of All Saint’s Day, after all. And while it was a week dedicated to celebrating and honoring the dead, it was also a week of mourning the lost. Each day was meant to honor a different type of death, with the first day—the youngest day—honoring those who died young. Children, babes, and the mothers who died birthing them were honored today by those who had outlived them.

Chiara, as it turned out, had a truly shocking amount of dead half-siblings, and having been banished from her family estate it would be the first year she’d be honoring them in the city rather than at her family crypt.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t of more help…”

“No, it’s fine,” Chiara reassured Lamezia. “The fact you aren’t mourning anyone today is a good thing. It just… feels weird. That’s all.”

They were silent for a bit after that, none of them sure what else to say.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Palmira spoke up hesitantly. “And you don’t have to answer. But why…?”

Her friend scoffed. “It’s nothing special. My home is just… it’s not exactly hospitable to normal people. Only people who learn our family magic can live there long, and we obviously don’t teach it to outsiders. But a noble can’t clean or cook for themselves, it’s just not done. So the Patriarch is expected to take enough mistresses to keep the staff’s numbers up, but not all of the children… it takes a long time to learn magic, and…”

“…You don’t have to continue.”

Chiara looked like she disagreed, but she couldn’t force the words. Instead she just scowled, her teeth snapping together with a loud ‘click.’

“That’s really fucked up,” Lamezia told her, handing her one of her Arancini.

“Well, it’s normal in magical families like mine.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not fucked up.”

“…Yeah.”

They fell back into silence after that. Palmira opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but not sure what.

Finally—

“I’m gonna go get us some more food,” she stood up, offering her drakeling her fingers to lick clean. “I’ll be right back.”

“Here, I’ll pay—”

“No, I’ll take this one,” she protested, even as she hid a wince at the thought of spending money. “It’s not that much anyway.”

Palmira sped away before she could lose her nerve. Or perhaps running away was her losing her nerve? It was hard to tell.

She wished she’d brought Morte today, he’d know what to say. But according to Chiara the questionably ancient soul in her staff wasn’t feminine enough to join them for ‘girl’s day.’ He also apparently had his own mourning to see to, so he stayed behind in her room.

Then again, he probably would’ve said something insensitive that would end up making things worse.

Hm. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t brought him—

Wait.

Her head snapped back so quickly her neck cracked. The person behind her nearly ran into her and snapped at her as they shoved past, but she wasn’t paying attention to that.

No, she could have sworn she just saw…

There! That guy! The half-elf with the spear! What’s-his-face!

Palmira immediately made a U-turn, rushing after him. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, but if she could get close enough maybe she could hear—wait she didn’t have Morte with her this was probably a bad idea—but when was she ever going to see him again—!?

Then he stopped to buy something from one of the stalls, and she froze, unsure what to do. Stumbling back a few steps she hid behind an empty stall, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She squinted at the half-elf for a moment, not exactly sure what she was doing but certain she’d think of something eventually.

Then, as the adrenaline left her, she realized something.

This was stupid.

What even was her plan here? Stalk him through the Piazza? What if Chiara came looking for her because she was taking too long? That would be so mortifying if she caught her—

“Whatcha doing?”

Palmira absolutely did not shriek, and anyone who said otherwise was a filthy, filthy liar.

A short pink girl stood behind her, hands hidden behind her back and a wide grin on her face.

Oh thank the Goddess it was just Tintinnia.

Wait.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, one hand over her racing heart and the other stopping the drakeling on her head from launching itself at the other girl.

“I was looking for you!” she grinned, practically vibrating with manic energy. “I finally finished him!”

“Him?” Palmira blinked, before her eyes widened. “Oh, you mean—?”

“Yes, him!” she cheered, before thrusting a mace into her hands. “Say hello to Malocchio-Ultima, my second-best work to date!”

“I’m not calling him that,” she told her, taking the mace gingerly in hand. Looking it over with a critical eye, she was shocked by how little he seemed to have outwardly changed.

The head was still a slanted cube with a sideways eye burrowed into each face, though Tintinnia had added some fancier embellishments and extra spikes on the corners. Strangely it was the haft which seems to have had the most work done to it, as it was how longer, with a second spiked tail joining its twin in wrapping around her arm.

She wondered what it said about her that she now found the feeling comforting.

‘Greetings,’ Malocchio’s voice echoed in her head. Despite his usual monotone, it felt a little cheerier than normal. Or maybe she was just projecting. ‘We have finally returned to Our Lady. Our arsenal is now vast, and Our power enhanced. We await Our Lady’s orders.’

“It’s good to have you back, Malocchio,” she smiled at the upgraded crime against nature in her hand. “But, uh, what did you do to him, exactly? He doesn’t seem that different.”

“Just watch,” she pointed down at the mace with a smug grin. “Now, do the thing!”

The head of the mace fell off.

Or, no, that wasn’t quite right. It was still connected to the handle, a living chain of corded leather tying the two together. As it extended further she watched his tails slide into the haft until they fully disappeared, leaving her with over a meter of cord between handle and head.

Malocchio was no longer just a mace, he was now also a flail.

“Well, do you like it?!” Tintinnia practically jumped on her, hair frizzing out in every direction. “I had to spend all night getting him done in time for the tournament. That’s not everything I did though! I also added an oil producing gland which you can spray from the top spike, and his tails are stronger than steel now, and I even gave the eyes night vision!”

Palmira blinked, her eyes crossing as the smaller girl invaded her personal space. “That’s great,” she nodded, taking a step back. “Thank you for this, I was worried you might not have finished in time.”

“Please, as if I’d fail. I’m the best damn artificer in the world!”

“Well, you’re definitely the best one I’ve ever seen,” Palmira nodded, not mentioning that she was also the only one she’d ever seen.

Unless Morte counted? In that case she’d probably be the worst artificer she’d ever seen, but it would feel rude to point that out, so she didn’t.

“Thank you again,” she smiled at her preening friend. “What are you going to do next?”

Tintinnia paused. Then she seemed to deflate on the spot. “I don’t know. Uh, go home, I guess.”

Palmira frowned, before glancing back in the direction of the others. Well, it was supposed to be a girl’s day…

“Why don’t you join my friends and I?”

Like a switch, the other girl’s expression instantly lit up.

“You mean it!?”

--

Introducing Tintinnia along may have been a mistake.

“Wait, so you’re the one who made Palmira’s creepy mace?”

“Yup, that’s me!”

Not because the others didn’t like the girl, thankfully.

“Did you also make her staff?”

“Puh-lease, I’d have done a way better job than that antique!”

“Antique, huh? Heh, you’re alright, pipsqueak.”

But despite their amicability, there was something… off about their conversation that she couldn’t quite grasp.

“You too!” Tintinnia smiled back, her shark-like grin on full display. She kept herself squeezed between Palmira and Chiara for reasons she wasn’t sure of. “You’re not as mean as Palmira said you were. I figured you’d hate me on the spot!”

Chiara gave her a look over the other girl’s head. She gave her a look back.

The half-elf scoffed but let the matter rest.

Still, it was nice to know that her two closest friends got along, even if there seemed to be some strange tension between them. At least Lamezia seemed immune to whatever was going on and just treated the girl with the same stoic respect she treated everyone else with.

There wasn’t much left to do today, regardless. The sun was starting to set, and she’d seen more than a few ghosts flicker in and out of reality, so it was almost time for the first evening prayer. The four of them followed the crowd, funneling into one of the countless cathedrals which filled the city.

It was dark as they entered, the blue ghost flames which were lit only this week barely granting them barely enough light to see by. They shuffled their way into the pews, finding just enough space to sit near the back. Though getting there was… a struggle.

“Ow, Palmira, you stepped on my toe!”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, Lamezia, I should have realized. It’s so dark in here, I swear.”

“Wait, how did you mix up her and me!?”

“Maybe you’ve just been putting on weight recently. All that cake can ruin your figure, you know~”

“You know what else can ruin your figure—?”

“Shh! It’s starting!”

As they finally crammed themselves into the pew, the cathedral quieted until the only sounds were the crackling of flames and the breathing of hundreds of faithful.

Then, at the alter, the flames grew brighter, changing from a dim blue to a brilliant white. They cast the sweeping architecture of the cathedral in sharp relief, illuminating murals, stained glass, and the priestess who stepped up to the altar.

The priestess was a beautiful woman, such was obvious even at a distance. Beneath her vestments her skin was a smooth, healthy bronze, broken up only by thin cracks from which poured a soft, divine light. A mane of vibrant red hair fell down her back, the tips of which flickered gently with white flame.

A simple blindfold hid her eyes from view, yet even unseen they pinned her to the spot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” her smile was as radiant as the sun, and her voice as smooth as rain. “As the Goddess decrees, I shall lead you all in prayer on this most holy of nights. I am the Priestess Rosalina, and I look forward to spending this night with you.”