“Easy now,” Agravain wrestled the angel aside, “what the hell’s going on?”
As he said this, the maid immediately stood on guard, an arm crossed in front of her lady. It seemed she could see the angel, but couldn’t understand where she had come from.
Because of Iranon’s appeal for help, he hadn’t paid much attention to the angel, but apparently she had stayed behind with Mauven while they went to investigate the noise.
Then that one showed up.
Not that he was a genius anymore, but the barbarian could still guess who that was.
Again as before, he lifted Soraya overhead, wheelchair and all, while rushing to the back of the building.
“But why?!!” she shrieked.
“Explain to your maid as you did just now, it seems she’s killing Jophiel’s rare character.”
One hell of a way to refer to a human being. Not that anyone could call an angel out for how she calls a human.
When he, Soraya, and Rania arrived, the murder appeared to be already very close to being carried out.
The former crime boss was being pinned flat against the wall by a woman. In her hand a knife, perhaps taken from one of the defeated thugs along the way, pressed at the man's throat.
The window that was not opened before now revealed an azure sky and the port city. So it seemed she had evaded the fighting and sneaked across the building to this place.
Agravain’s entrance into the room with Soraya atop of him had caused enough noise for the woman to turn their way.
Something of her clearly resembled Rania, not just her occupation as a princess’s handmaid, though he could not tell what. Yet at the same time, hers was an entirely different demeanor, far more intense, not just because she seemed older, nor that her hair hung loose instead of in a cute braid, but because her glare was the real deal, not just a squint caused by bad eyesight.
Her eyes were filled with only murderous impulses.
And yet they vanished right away the moment Soraya cried for her to stop.
Blinking, Agravain wondered if it was only his imagination. She was pressing a knife against a guy's throat, after all, of course that was the right impression she gave off.
After the brief explanation, she backed away, standing with her hands clasped before her in the same demure manner as Rania’s.
“Well, as you can see, phew,” Soraya was laboring her breaths after two rounds of screaming down and up the stairs, “this is Lamia, my other personal handmaid. And now you have met the meager number of my staff.”
She made the same mannerly bow as her colleague, “Sir Agravain, I can’t thank you enough for fulfilling the responsibility I have failed.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m also no stranger to failing my responsibilities, I get you.”
The angel, incidentally, had dropped on a chair by the table and was rambling away without a care for appearance. “Ah, I forgot how fragile you humans can be. Ahhh, you are like babies, now that I have come to understand the feeling of you mammals--you really just want to shut your babies up in a box and keep them there forever, safe from the hand of this dangerous, dangerous, world.”
Putting aside how weird it was to compare a grim, old man to a baby, it was rather unseemly for an angel to lay her face flat on the table, so he lifted her up by the collar of her tracksuit. “The only mammal you resemble is a sloth. Now, get up, didn’t you say we have recruiting to be done?”
“Right, right,” she pushed the codex, which had been lying on the table all this time, towards him, “check those maids out for yourself, I was talking about them.”
Though annoyed by the attitude, Agravain attempted what he had seen the angel do with the tome.
“Let’s see,” Agravain mumbled, his hand hovering experimentally over the opened codex. “What were their names, Rania and Lamia?”
As soon as the sounds of their names escaped his lips, the pages began to flip at the dizzying speed as before.
Still an interesting sight, but this time, he noticed the little princess was not looking rapt at them anymore. She was lost in thought.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. That look he knew well of her version in the other world, that marked her being engrossed in the scheming of some mischief or resolving a tricky puzzle.
“I have been thinking, that’s all. You know the people at the palace must be worrying sick about me. And it’s only a matter of time before they find us here. I mean even you who was a stranger of the land caught wind of me being kidnapped, right?”
“Why worry about it? If they come, I will just beat them up.”
“Ughh, that’s what I’m trying to avoid.” She looked at him as though he was a thoughtless brute, which he was. “Unlike these villains, they are only people trying to look out for me, you know, overbearing as it may be.”
“No way around it then, we just have to drop the plan to make this place our base. Not that I’ve had more than a minute to get attached to it or anything.”
“Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking. There’s a way for us to keep this place and for me to avoid being dragged back to the palace. I mean, sure, my parents are worried about me, but if we could just let them know I’m safe and doing this on my own accord, they wouldn’t go out of their way to send the entire host of paladins after me.”
“I don’t know, Soraya, I may be stupid, not entirely, but even I know how this royalty stuff works, don’t you have obligations to the throne or something? Like being in line to inherit, or political marriages and whatnots.”
Rania coughed. Still austere as usual, devoid of emotions and overly formal, yet it was a tactful cough.
The girl in glasses intervened, “Sir Agravain, in this land, women don’t inherit the throne, and as for marriage prospects, for the princess, there is none.”
What with that tactful cough, Agravain stared at her, only to then say something so blunt anyway?
Still, he could understand why. Political marriages are in essence a symbolic exchange of goodwill between two states. Giving out your crippled daughters to an ally hardly seemed an offer in good faith from a political perspective. Of course, there should be plenty of rulers of varied importance who would leap at the chance at a princess’s hand, crippled or not.
Nevertheless, it was easy to understand what Soraya meant when she said they would not go out of their way to get her back.
A crippled princess’s political worth didn’t really merit the mobilization of an army.
And this goes without saying, but most parents want their children to be happy. Not all, of course, but most.
It would be erroneous to assume all royal families think of their children as mere political tools. Nothing could be further from the truth.
There was a thing as keeping up the image, sure, but it would be a convenient excuse as any to let your already absconding child do whatever she pleases without going out of your way to correct it.
Even his mother, a woman cold as any stone, had allowed him one year to do whatever he pleased after his sister’s death. A complete stranger would never be granted so much leeway by that woman.
It wasn’t a stretch by any means, one only needed to think deeper than surface values to understand the way it worked. Nothing Soraya had said had hinted at her father’s personality one way or another, but on the flip side, nothing had painted him as a heartless monarch either.
“Sure,” he shrugged, “Assuming they are going to trust what you have to say. You’re going to leave a letter?”
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“A letter could be easily faked,” she pointed out, “but if we left one of my maids behind to inform the search party of my safety, it could work., I think.”
“Would their words be any better than a letter? They’re just maids. I’m sure you trust them endlessly, or whatever, but you can’t say the same for your father, can you? For all he knows, the maid you leave behind could be lying, or cooperating with your kidnapper. They could have been threatened, bribed, or even fooled.”
“Except they couldn’t,” it was Jophiel who contested the notion. The angel was still slouching on the chair and laying her face flat on the table, so her voice was muffled. “Check the codex.”
The pages had ceased flipping for a good while during his exchange with Soraya, and were now presenting the information of the pair of maids side by side, each one on her own page.
Rania
Class: Bodyguard
Focus: Endurance, Dexterity
Trait: Journeyman Fighter, Adept Housekeeper, Genie, Honest, Near-sighted
Lamia
Class: Bodyguard
Focus: Dexterity, Charisma
Trait: Expert Fighter, Expert Steward, Adept Housekeeper, Genie, Deceitful, Trained Assassin
“See the trait Genie?” Jophiel pointed without looking, “They’re a kind of modified humans. Genies can’t betray nor can they lie to their masters. Or to be precise, they have no desire to. Excellent mental fortitude. In a word, they have the emotional range of a coffee maker.”
“But if you are their master...” the barbarian looked to Soraya.
“Nope,” she said, “my father keeps their lamps. They are just assigned to take care of me. It’s not like I can give them any command that contradicts my father’s.”
Her explanation only added further to his confusion. And were Agravain the curious type, he would have inquired further into what she meant by lamps, a peculiar call back to the stories of beings of the same name in his world. But he didn’t care to. Not that it would become relevant later. Probably.
He liked to live dangerously, and that meant not asking too many important questions.
“All well and good then,” Agravain nodded. “Then that’s decided. We set out as soon as possible tomorrow to avoid the search party. So long as Rania can explain that you’re leaving on your own accord we should have one less thing to worry about.”
The angel suddenly leaped from her seat, her head jerked up like a jack-in-the-box, eyes flared where moments before there was barely any intelligent life. “Huh? Huh? Huh? What are you talking about, you can’t just decide like that! You are supposed to ponder over this deeply before picking one!”
“What’s there to ponder? Just look at their traits and compare. I may be stupid, but even I can tell when something is obvious. No matter how you look at it, this Lamia will be of better use for us on the road. It’s not even a contest.”
There wasn’t even a competition. Like, really? Near-sighted or Trained Assassin?
Not that he wasn’t aware of how rude his direct comparison of the two living humans next to him was. But then again, Jophiel did say they weren’t exactly humans. You would probably require some capacity for basic emotions to mind.
Just to make sure, he stole a glance over to the bespectacled maid.
It was only momentary, barely a split second and then vanished almost as soon as his eyes settled on the girl, yet it was there beyond doubt: an annoyed, almost hostile look. It was exactly that one she gave him when he first stumbled into Soraya’s bedroom, the scowl without the excuse of a lacking pair of glasses. The disagreeable expression was gone before he could make sure it was anything more than just his imagination. The girl turned away, staring at nothing particular, placid like it was someone else’s problem. Not that her pass at a poker face was perfect by any means. In fact, she looked exactly like someone trying too hard to appear unconcerned.
Probably just his imagination.
“Well, but, but, but,” Jophiel’s exceeding frustration was exploding to compensate for that one’s deliberate lack of attitude, “Just you look at her! I mean, glasses! A girl in glasses and even a braid! Speaking nothing of the maid outfit! Isn’t that just peak moe!”
“What the hell is moe?”
First time he’d heard of that word, yet all the same the barbarian had a hunch the era-inappropriate angel had just uttered a word no angel should have in her vocabulary, whichever the era, let alone speaking out loud.
“Well, when you get down to it,” Jophiel suddenly took on a solemn tone, “there’s no one correct answer to that question! Oh, could it be you are trying to subtly imply your taste for the mature and composed kinds of characters?”
“Oh, do you?” the princess widened her eyes.
If Soraya had been his real sister, he would automatically assume the intent look on her face was her gathering ammunition for later.
But she could not possibly be! It’s not nice to assume the worst of someone you don’t know well.
This world’s version of his sister could well be an innocent, good-natured young girl. One should never give up hope in humanity.
“I think it’s time you learn this, Soraya,” he decided to treat her as such, “you’d do well going forward to dismiss this woman’s nonsense unless it’s directly related to her job, ok? Anyways.”
Anyways.
“You heard me. I think we should go with Lamia,” he concluded, “I doubt that moe thing you talked about is anything useful anyway.”
“Don’t anyways me!” the angel protested, “let’s think over this a bit more! Let’s! First, don’t you understand in the first place the greatest advantage of a genie over humans?”
“You did say they don’t betray their masters, so what? They are both genies. Though I must say the genies I know of tend to hand out wishes instead of serving as garden-variety handmaids.”
“Well, since they are modified humans,” she wagged her finger, “they’re less susceptible to hunger, thirst, fatigue and other human needs. That is to say, they can be very capable at their job given the right training regiment. More training time, faster recovery speed. You could say that both their ceiling of potential and learning rate are superior to your average human.”
“Just get to the point.”
“The point’s staring at you, begging you to look at it like a bashful maiden, you are just too dumb to acknowledge it! Don’t you see, the ceiling may be high, but most people, genie or not, can only specialize in so many things. The older one of the two here has better skills and traits and attributes, but that just means she has less room for customization. While the other one is basically a blank slate. There’s literally no better foundation for min-maxing!”
Surprisingly, she did end up saying something sensible, despite the nagging feeling in him of a serious stretch behind her argument. Agravain rubbed his square chin. It’s true, the more one grows and accumulates knowledge and experience, the less they are inclined to learn new things or open themselves to new ideas. Not to say someone older wouldn’t be able to master new skills, they just tend not to. In fact, there were older students in his course who still sought knowledge and experience different from what they were used to, but these were by no means many.
“Alright, I concede your point. Let us go with Rania then. You have no problem with that, right, Soraya?”
“Nope,” Soraya said, “Though to be honest, I’d have loved to take them both, since they have been taking care of me since I was a child.”
You are still a child.
“That’s decided then,” he concluded the matter the second time, “Rania, you go with us. Lamia, you will stay behind to hold the base. Good?”
“Tch.”
Did the older one just click her tongue?
Emotionless my ass.
He was starting to suspect the angel was mixing facts with fiction just to mess with him.
“Anyways,” the angel said. She seemed visibly happy, so much so that Agravain wondered once more if the whole thing with the younger maid being better to develop was just a giant excuse to satisfy her irrelevant preferences. “Anyways, Lamia here can keep an eye on that guy there for us. I’m sure she would have no problem, judging from her high Steward skill, and without a hostage she wouldn’t have to hold back should it come to that.”
What with her having had a dagger against the guy’s throat and all.
“Shouldn’t we just send Lamia straight back to the palace to explain our situation?” Soraya pointed out. “It’s not like she has to be here waiting for them, right? So long as we’ve been gone long enough, it should be fine to inform my father.”
“Well, except,” Jophiel slammed her fist on the table, more excited than the situation called for. “I said to make this place our base of operation. I need her to stay behind and secure it. There will be a need for it later.”
“You mean keeping this as a place for us to crash whenever we come back later?” Agravain asked, “You put it vaguely enough before, but I don’t see how we can build a network of information from a local business like this.”
It’s not like a game where you can just allocate points to “business” and wait for it to grow on its own accord, or something.
“About that,” Soraya ventured, “it would be probably a bit much to expect my personal fund can cover the expense for searching parties, and I doubt my father would be willing to fund our journey either. But he wouldn’t be too opposed to me starting a business or something?”
“What, are you going to assume the post of a gang leader?”
It seemed his mother’s backup plan finally worked, albeit in a different world.
“Yeah, the king would rather kill his daughter than allow me to assume such a vulgar role,” Soraya rolled her eyes. Not sure whether that was meant to be praise for her father’s character or otherwise, though. “But I can arrange with my factor to turn this place into a legitimate shipping business. The starting point is far from ideal, but father wouldn’t want me to run a cutthroat gang. We can then get a loan out in my name to fund some voyages to foreign countries. Between Lamia’s connections and mine, we should be able to set them up without much trouble.”
It was a good idea. A princess’s credit points must be nigh infinite.
“Ah, that’s genius,” Jophiel agreed, “a shipping company surely can cast a wider net for intelligence than a bunch of bandits. Anyways,” she pointed, as though it was a brilliant idea of her own contribution, “I shall allow you to enact this plan, you and your maid I mean, I leave it all to you.”
This time, Agravain could not blame the angel too much for wiping her hand clean. All this talk was also starting to hurt his head.
Thinking this, an idea came to his mind.
The barbarian patted the twin image of his sister’s head. “You have a good head on your shoulder, Soraya.”
“Well, something has to function well at least!”
“Then take care of this. I have high hopes for you.”
He took off the emerald ring and slipped it on her index finger.
“Whoa... such responsibilities... Wait, are you just trying to skirt yours?”
“Yup, you are my summoner, so you gotta share some of mine too. That’s fine with you right, Jophiel?”
Whether she was fine or not, the angel did stare at him for a second. But then as though realizing something, she shrugged, “Sure, why not. I can work my stuff with either of you bearing the master ring. But are you sure? It’s really easier to manage your recruits with that ring on you, you also won’t be able to react as quickly if one turns on you.”
“I would just deal with them physically when the time comes. And yeah, I can’t just be bothered to worry about things like employees anymore. Almost had enough with it back in my world.”
Two more servant rings were then produced, one for Lamia, another for Ramia. The two betrayed little more than a hint of suspicion when they received the rings. Yet despite the initial reluctance, they both put the rings on.
“Well now all that sundries are arranged,” the angel declared, “we depart on the morrow, and you two,” she pointed at the barbarian and the young, bespectacled maid, “will enter my training regiments. Look forward to it!”