After some time spent zoning out in my room, I stretch my arms and massage my stiff shoulders in anticipation of the likely violent confrontation with a mind-controlling wizard twat in the next couple of hours. They're not as sore as my elbows or my wrists, but at the very least I count myself lucky I can move my arms around relatively normally. Experimentally, I flex my fingers, staring at the unfamiliar digits. The disconnect between my perception of my body in reality and the data construct I currently inhabit is lessening at a rapid pace.
It feels far more like my own after a night of rest, though the physical exertion involved in my woodland stroll likely helped force some of that familiarity just for the sake of survival.
I wonder if they're looking to hire any more researchers.
When I leave the simulation, I'd absolutely love to go through their data and theories when the testing is finished to see how it all works. No guarantee I'm going to even understand a lot of it, given that I flunked out of neuroscience as hard as I did, but I still wanted to get my Doctorate in the field. Sharon seemed to be amenable to the idea of employing me, though that was before she found out about my lack of certifiable qualifications.
Something to bear in mind, I guess, assuming I still remember any of this by the time it's even a concern.
Properly equipped and a little more rested, I make my way downstairs, shuffling past an inebriated patron sprawled out on the bottom of the staircase - something that Jomsy or one of the drunk's friends will have to deal with since it's not my problem and I'm already running late - and out into the open street.
Twilight is rapidly approaching, I note with a glance to the horizon. The sun dipping low enough to rest atop the distant hills, so perhaps I'm not quite as tardy as I feared - though the lack of a more accurate indication of the time makes it so that could still be a possibility. There's no way to be sure of when Iffmy will return home, either, if she even bothers, but I've been assured that one of the Tenders will see to it that she makes it home.
Grumbling aside, I spot Renth in the same dirty linens from earlier sat on the fence of Maybell's house-cum-workshop picking at some filth on the sole of his boot with a kitchen knife, flicking flecks of dirt and manure in my general direction without a care as to who could be walking by.
Electing to not get pelted by that muck, I walk around the splash zone and tap him on the shoulder, snapping Renth out of his reverie. His shock is replaced with an easy smile, "Hey, Nealum! Just waiting for Bell."
Irritated, I correct him, "Nealan. Lan. Come on, it's not that weird a name. It was my great-uncle's y'know?"
Well, to be honest, it was the name that got suggested to me by the writing team guy whose name I - ironically - can't remember.
Unperturbed, Renth shrugs it off, "Sorry, I'm terrible with remembering peoples names. Horses, though? Know 'em all by heart. Ain't the same with people though, strange, right?"
He chuckles a little, and I can only roll my eyes, "Just...just call me Neal, then. At least you got that part right."
His face brightens, "Really? Alright then Neal, you've got yerself an accord."
The way he grins at me makes me wonder if he did it on purpose just to so he could have an excuse to call me by a nickname. It's annoying and makes me want to smack him upside the head for it, but having already fallen for his ploy, real or not, I find myself unwilling to call him out on it.
"So, what's Maybell doing, exactly?" I ask, changing the subject to satisfy my curiosity.
At the mention of his girlfriend, he becomes positively radiant, hopping off the fence with a big goofy grin, "Ahh, she's making up a simple pair of sheaths for our knives real quick. Probably just about done, in fact."
"Is that really necessary..?" I can't help but be sceptical.
Renth shrugs, "I mean, I don't think so, but Bell insisted on it and I wasn't about to argue. Hey, maybe if you ask her really nicely she'll make you a proper belt loop for your hatchet?"
I shake my head, "No point."
About a minute passes before Renth speaks up again, looking concerned, "So, how do you think it's gonna go down?"
"No idea. Well, I hope. I already said all there is to say on the matter, so I ain't gonna repeat myself."
The door to the house opens, "Renthie, I'm done!"
Maybell emerges with a big grin, waving a pair of leather sheathes as she approaches. Opening her eyes, Maybell blinks once in surprise, "Oh!" She nods at me, "Hello there. Time to go then, is it?"
"Yeah. Reckon so. You both ready?"
Renth claps his hands together, dusting off his palms, "Ready if Bell is. Been gettin' a li'l twitchy just sitting around waiting if I'm honest with ya."
Maybell hands over a sheath and pulls his head down to whisper something in his ear, smirking. Renth blinks rapidly then smiles sheepishly, fumbling to get his knife in its sheath.
I can only roll my eyes and the lewd looks the couple are giving each other.
Pointedly, I clear my throat, "It's great that you're getting along so famously, but unless you've forgotten in the last few seconds, we've got a sleepwalking friend o' yers to deal with."
Renth coughs, embarrassed, while Maybell gives me a rather smug sidelong glance as she starts walking, "I know, I know. Yer a grumpy one, ain'tcha?"
She tugs her fiancee's wrist and we all get moving down the street.
----------------------------------------
Amidst a small group of Tenders, Iffmy trudges lazily across the field back to the village, barely paying attention to the animated chatter of her colleagues amidst the anticipation of a new evening.
The only thing on her mind is the mounting ire of her beloved Prince, whose disappointment continues to grow more explosive with each failed attempt to reach him unhindered by the plebeian villagers and her stubborn mule of a father. Their concern for her wellbeing might be considered endearing - sweet, even.
But it is utterly unfounded in truth. How can they not understand that?
Truly, their ignorance is overwhelming.
His Imperial Elegance is not someone to be feared but admired and obeyed, as befitting his royal countenance and nigh-perfection. A station that he deserves to regain as is his right. To deny her is to deny him. But even so, she can hardly alert the village to his existence before he is ready to make his triumphant radiance known. They would not understand, perhaps call him a murderous monster.
No, no, no. That won't do at all.
Still, it is a fact that their obstructions have made going to his side stealthily in order to fulfil his desire for release almost impossible. Her father especially has proven exceptionally paranoid about her behaviour ever since he interrupted a wonderful conversation with her love. Again, Iffmy understands his exasperating need to protect her after his embarrassing failure to save her mother, but such things are inconsequential to her.
She stops in the middle of the road into the village at the tug of her sleeve, a colleague says something to her, face full of concern, but his voice sounds as though she is submerged just beneath the surface of a steadily surging river. Muddled, and uninteresting in the face of other concerns.
A few seconds of staring blankly back at the man once again does the trick, just as it has for most of the unenlightened bumpkins. Exasperated, he sighs, shoulders dropping in defeat, and walks off with a wave to the remaining members of the group. They laugh...or appear to be, by the shaking of their bellies and gross smiles.
Another minute of unsuccessful attempts to engage Iffmy in conversation go by until at last, they arrive at the entrance to her family home, built generations ago to house the first settlers...a history for which she cares nought. Even before the Prince opened her eyes to new possibilities at his side, she hated it, though the former Iffmy would have to be pressed hard in order to admit it.
Generations of her family were born here. They lived decades of their lives here. And then, just the same, they died here.
As if trapped by it.
This innocent little hovel symbolises to her the stagnation and utter lack of ambition that suffocated her, with her father as the jailer exacerbating the entrapment. Emphasising tradition and similarly disgusting beliefs. Iffmy's otherwise impassive face curdles into a brief visage of distaste that disappears just as quickly into the blanket of her Prince's embrace.
"Evening's tidings, my sweetest jewel," echoes the Prince's voice through her mind.
To her right, the handsome figure of the man dearest to her heart appears, as if he were always there and simply chose now to allow her to see him. Of course, she would not be so ignorant as to miss his presence.
During the day, His Imperial Elegance minimises contact with her so as to preserve and gather his strength through relative dormancy. But, come sundown; when her watchers slacken in their vigilance and reduce in number, he is free to act as befits his mood. Once, he mentioned that the indignity of being treated as a common animal is lessened by this practice, as a bonus.
The smile she returns to his radiant presence is beatific, "Such flattery ill-suits one as low as me."
Despite her lack of supervision at the present time, Iffmy keeps to her habit of whispering and muttering under her breath when conversing with the Prince. She herself is unclear as to why the vocalisation of her words is necessary, aware of His Effervessence's apparent talent for mind magic, but far be it for her to question him. It is unlikely to be a flaw in his spellcraft, rather a limitation imposed on him by the world itself.
Yes, that makes sense.
Nonetheless, the Prince's words belie his disappointed eyes, "Perhaps this is so, given your recent failures. It is a shameful waste of such beauty to be so incompetent. These are mere boorish peasants, are they not? Their tenacity cannot be so great as to dissuade a truly devoted woman."
The man folds his arms, leaning in, "I grow impatient. Are you truly making an effort, or is my attention better spent elsewhere?"
With a derisive snort, he changes his clothes from a gilded scarlet robe to a green and blue tunic and grey tights that accentuate his muscular calves. In spite of herself, Iffmy finds her eyes moving of their own accord to snatch a quick glimpse of them.
"N-no, milord. Tonight, for certain, we will be reunited. Your will be done."
He growls, a strange sound, seemingly all around her at once, "Such empty promises preceded your failures on all previous nights. Your certainty is difficult to trust at this point, my jewel."
Iffmy gulps, lowering her head in shame, "Sorry...There is little I can do to escape my father or Renth."
"Weak excuses, and little more," The Prince sniffs, "Now, go and greet your Haksh. You're much too conspicuous standing around out here mumbling to yourself."
----------------------------------------
Inside, the sound of haggard breathing greets Iffmy to her home. Behind her, the breeze slams the door shut, eliciting nary a wince from the girl, but does cause the house to shudder in her stead. Age and amateurish maintenance work have left the small house in poor shape, particularly in comparison to it's slightly more modern two-floored neighbours.
Unperturbed, Iffmy walks slowly down the corridor and turns almost mechanically to look through the cased doorway of the Kitchen. At the old metal stove is her father, stirring a pot of something lacking the smell of spices but altogether savoury. Perhaps feeling her stare, he cocks his head left to eye her over his shoulder, "Evening, flower. How...how was yer day?"
His voice is shaky, but easily written off as a consequence of his recent illness. Fits of coughing and hoarse breathing have been rather a common occurrence of late, and in a way, he has been rather lucky to avoid the affliction that took the life of the previous Master Farrier for as long as he has. The forges are perhaps more ravenous for the lives of the villagefolk than even this forsaken hovel, as many struggle to make it past their fortieth winter as Almecks has.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Still, luck cannot shield one forever, and his health has entered a steady decline before even getting halfway to the natural ends of many tradesmen on Eden: Their fifth decade. All told, Iffmy can't help but find it difficult to properly register it as a concern.
A rather desolate few seconds go by before she brings herself to respond, forcing her words out beyond the whisper she'd grown accustomed to in recent days.
"...It was alright. Jemmy looks like she's going to make a recovery from her foaling yesterday."
Awkwardly, Almecks murmurs understanding, "I see...well, that's good isn't it?"
He turns a little more towards her, stirring the put with his right hand, expectantly. However, his daughter offers no such thing, staring blankly at his shoulder - or rather, in the direction of his shoulder, and through it.
Disheartened, Almecks sighs, "...I'm going to go out for a drink with my 'prentices tonight. Yer dinner should be done cooking now," he taps the pot with his spoon, "So take as much as you want, and leave what's left in the oven. I'll be out late...alright?"
Iffmy blinks, genuinely a little surprised. Quickly, she masks it with her usual blank stare, but can't help but be distracted by the growing aura of anticipation on the periphery of her senses. No doubt the Prince heard that.
"This is your best chance for escape. Do not ruin this opportunity, or there might not be another," comes his eager whisper, entirely too close to her ear. Reflexively, she blushes, to the confusion of her father.
Shaking his head, Almecks drops the stirring implement in the pot, and plods across the room, looking Iffmy over with a somewhat complicated expression, heavy with indecision. Before too long, he reaches a large, calloused hand up and ruffles her hair fondly.
"I won't be gone long. Just a couple rounds."
With a last smile, Almecks lets his hand drop to his side and walks out into the corridor, leaving a motionless Iffmy still stood in place as the front door clatters shut behind him.
----------------------------------------
"Well, I suppose we should be glad we don't have to hunt her down. Looks like the guys managed to get her home alright," remarks Renth.
Behind me, in the shadow of the house we're hiding in, Maybell nods, fingering the handle of the knife newly belted to her hip, "Just as well. Light's running out right quick and I don't wanna have to go looking for her while it's twilight, let alone the cover of night."
I cast my gaze upwards, craning my neck a little to see around the corner of the building. The sky has turned from a bright, burnished orange to a dull blue, and a few speckled lights in random patterns just barely shine through. Clouds, dispersed and dark also begin to slowly shift over in a thick blanket from the southeast, likely bringing yet more rains from off the coast. Locals don't call The Dragonhunt Plains the Mudwest for nothing.
I grunt, twisting back to face them over my shoulder, "From the clouds, it looks like the rainy season is gonna make tonight a damp one either way. Let's hope this doesn't take long or we'll be soaked t' the marrow."
We collectively grimace, when the loud bang of a door slamming shut draws our attention to the front door of Almecks' rather ugly looking family home. At least, ugly as it is now, perhaps it was better looking when it was recently built and not flanked by more modern structures; better designed to deal with the heavy rainfall of the region. The Master Farrier himself stands in front of the door with a palm against it, trying to steady himself, still hesitating even now.
I suppress the urge to call him out on his rank cowardice, since it might provoke him to abandon the plan altogether, and I don't feel like shouting to reveal our presence is the wisest course of action either. For all I know, Iffmy could be by the door listening in for the departure of her father, or the rickety construction of their home could allow my voice to carry through its walls.
Renth pushes past me, and waves Almecks over, before ducking back into hiding. I glance back at him in annoyance, but it seems to have been the push the old man needed, since he makes his plodding way over to us.
I roll my eyes at the couple's smug faces and greet him with a short wave, "No second thoughts now."
Almecks only grunts in response as he passes me by to take a spot behind the rest of us, leaning heavily against the wall.
Maybell nudges him with her elbow, "D'you think it'll work? Did she..say anything?"
He glances down at her, before slowly shaking his head, "No different. 'cept...I dunno, got this weird feeling offa her. Not like it's been before. Felt like someone else were in the room wi' us, staring at me o'er her shoulder. Put a chill down my spine it did."
Renth thumbs his chin, "Suppose that's Neal's wizard?"
Almecks shrugs, then deflates, "Only The Faceless would know for sure. I just want my baby girl back to her smilin' old self. Safe 'n' happy."
"All going well that'll be what she'll be after we're done," Maybell assures him, patting his arm.
"Yeah," Renth concurs, "Won't be long."
I do my best to put their conversation out of mind, focusing on the door to the house, when a heavy slap on my shoulder damn near makes me jump out of my skin, "Ushvi's Fire, what was that for?!"
Renth smiles at me, "You're being awful quiet there, Neal. Something bothering you?"
I scowl, turning back to stare at the door, "I'm trying to keep a lookout. Not got anything to add to your conversation."
Renth tuts, "Not gonna make any friends with that attitude, Neal."
"Really not worried about that right now," I wave him off dismissively.
Unperturbed, Renth spends a few minutes trying to convince me to open up to some conversation before giving up. The group remaining silent until the last strokes of ember in the sky die out, and the Hunting Moons resume their eternal chase across the cosmos.
My eyes, adjusted to the dim light, spots a window on the side of the house swing wide open, followed by the clambering form of a vaguely feminine figure illuminated poorly by the light from within the building. I reach back and pat Renth's chest with the back of my hand, beckoning the group to attention.
Having taken the bait, Iffmy is finally on the move.
I grin, the anticipation turning ever so slowly into excitement.
----------------------------------------
Ducking through the old wooden fence encircling the enclosure, I almost trip over when my ankle snags on the lower beam, and have to hop in place on my other foot to recover my balance, earning a withering glare from Almecks who is waiting for his turn to go through.
I do my best to ignore him, and resume my crouched pursuit of the powerwalking Iffmy some 20ft ahead of us, approaching the main entrance of the attached stable, so far appearing oblivious of her stalkers' amateurish pursuit.
Out of the four of us, I'm probably the most used to creeping around in the dark unseen, but I'm no Rogue or Ranger; Wandering the woods at night as a child, pretending to be on an adventure is a poor substitute for talent and training, and with the utter lack of cover marking the distance between us and her, all it would take is a twinge of paranoia to turn around for our presence to immediately be revealed.
Speeding up a little to close the distance, it's not even two paces before I start to feel uneasy, my veins beginning to itch like my blood is burning hot, unnaturally so, and a faint tingling...downstairs, as it were.
Stopping, I take a cautious look around the area, but note nothing out of the ordinary. Glancing at Maybell I think I can make out the beginnings of a blush, but no real discomfort, as she stares longingly into her fiancee's eyes. Irritated, I snap my fingers between them, hissing, "Save it for later."
"...She's gone inside the stable," Almecks interjects sternly, standing up, brushing himself off and breaking into a run.
Grunting, I jerk my head for the couple to follow, then do much the same as Almecks, catching up to the farrier in pretty short order and coming close to passing him by the time we arrive at the opposite end of the field. Bending over with my hands on my knees, I take several deep breaths, an unseen weight pressing down on my whole being and setting my body alight with pins and needles like I swallowed a lightning bolt whole. Even the others look like they're starting to feel it, by their moonlit grimaces. Sweat glistens off their skin, and their bosoms heave.
Magic is the likely culprit, I note before shaking my head vigorously. Stop staring at Maybell's chest, me. Woman's basically married already, even ignoring the situation.
Scrunching my eyes shut and massaging my head with my knuckles, I turn around and force myself to walk to the edge of the large doorframe, a deluge of inappropriate thoughts about my compatriots raging through my head with ever greater tenacity as I continue to approach.
Clenching my teeth, I dig my fingernails into my palms to try and stay focused by offsetting the mental chaos through physical pain, to limited success. It doesn't take long for the sensation to turn to a perverse sense of pleasure, and I immediately cease the tactic out of fear. Whatever spell is at work here is seriously messing with my perception just by being nearby, which doesn't bode well for a direct confrontation with the source of it.
Swallowing a thick gobbet of saliva, I lick my cracked lips and slowly move close to the gap between the slightly open door and the frame.
What I see is the single largest horse I've ever come across, standing easily a few heads above me and towering over the much shorter Iffmy, who isn't even looking at the enormous creature, instead staring into space to the left with a blissful, dumb smile stretched wide across her face, both hands drawn together to her collarbone in a maiden's pose.
Stranger still, is the oily sheen of the horse's head and shoulders, accented by irregular waves of rainbow-like discolouration, and the eerily blank eyes that stare down at the lovestruck blonde.
More than that, I can't really see from this angle. In turns, the others also take a quick peek, but none of them seem to understand what's going on in there. Nonetheless, there doesn't appear to be anything else present in the building unless there's an invisible wizard or something, so it stands to reason that that freak of a horse of all things is responsible somehow for Iffmy's present behaviour, or at the very least closely related to the culprit.
Quest Updated!
Investigate the cause of Iffmy's reticence 1/1
Locate the Culprit 1/1
Confront the Culprit 0/1
The Quest 'There's Something About Iffmy...' has changed into the Quest, 'The Hand That Feeds'.
Quest Accepted! The Hand That Feeds Urgent Region Quest Difficulty: Extremely Hard
Iffmy has fallen under the influence of a powerful individual.
Resolve the situation before it is too late.
Objective/s:
Destroy or Escape from the Culprit 0/1
Optional:
Rescue Iffmy 0/1
All Companions Survive 0/1
Report the Situation to the Authorities 0/1
Rewards:
Massively Increased Regional Fame
???
Failure:
High Likelihood That All Local Settlements Will Be Destroyed, Including Gilmy and Klennock Village.
???
My turbulent thoughts stop short at a cheerful giggle, drawing my attention to the scene inside, "Please, I am just as pleased as you to finally have this moment to ourselves. By your will, my beloved, all I am, all I will be, my purity of form is yours to enjoy for as long as you wish, that you may gain your freedom ever quicker."
I inhale sharply, as Iffmy rapidly begins to strip her clothes with nary an ounce of seductive intent, walking toward the hulking animal. Still, I struggle to pull my eyes away from the revealed curves and skin as each article of clothing drops to the dirty stable floor. My breath quickens and my eyes bulge, drawing me closer to that thin little crack and the contained wonders.
A roar of indignation shocks me back to my still addled senses, a blur of movement passes my vision and obstructs the fascinating scene, resolving in the form of Almecks. He stoops low on the approach to scoop up a piece of discarded clothing, then shoves it into Iffmy's surprised arms. Renth and Maybell also jump through the door after a brief moment of hesitation.
"I'll not be party to whatever sick game this is!" Almecks looks around wild-eyed, "Show yourself, you coward! You will release my daughter of this enchantment at once!"
Well, so much for stealth. With resignation, I pull out my hatchet and seax, then join Renth and Maybell in the entrance. I keep my grip on the handles tight, straining my senses and focus for any hint of additional presences inside the stable, though to no avail.
A voice, far too close, scoffs in my ear, "Who dares interrupt my long-denied entertainment?! I will not be robbed of my property again!"
The horse raises a single foreleg and stomps it's hoof into the ground, the stone foundation splitting from the impact, and the shockwave rattling the wooden building. Before us, a man fades into view as though he were always there, olive skinned and impossibly handsome, dressed in lavish silken drapery, reminiscent of a toga. His eyes burn with arrogance, and his delicate lips form a thin line of displeasure that makes me somehow feel a little guilty and ashamed - feelings I do my best to cast aside as false.
As he turns his head to observe us individually, the horse's follows the movement in lockstep. Pausing on Almecks, he sneers, "For who else but you could it be? Ever have you been a thorn, burning and jagged in my side, denying me. Years of your interference and disdain have I endured, and even now you persist. Even now, you seek to quash me, restrict me from what should be rightfully mine."
Confused I look to Almecks, who is staring at the stranger with a mix of shock, anger and disgust, "My daughter is not your property."
Iffmy scoffs, "On the contrary, I'm not your property, father. I am His Radiance's to use as he wills, for my love is true."
I share a look with Renth. He nods at me with complicit understanding, and we slowly begin to make our way around the side as subtly as we can, weapons ready.
Maybell approaches Iffmy in the meantime, displeased, "A lover ya wouldn't tell me about?" She harrumphs, "I don't believe in the existence of such a thing, Iffmy. Or are you so desperate for a man that you'd stoop to riding a horse saddle-side down just to take the edge off?"
With that, Maybell grabs Iffmy's shoulder firmly, earning a deathly glare from her friend, followed up with a swift backhand across the face that sends the stocky woman flying several feet, "You will not hinder my Lord's release! He needs me, and I will hear no insult to his good name."
Unsurprisingly, Renth loses his cool and abandons the flank to run to his lover, "Bell!"
Which brings the attention of the stranger from glaring at Almecks to me, as he realises where we were attempting to move to. Fantastic.
The horse sniffs, "Hrmm. I don't recognise you, but you smell delicious."
Long rivulets of drool leak from its mouth as both the stranger and the horse eye me hungrily, "But you shall have to wait your turn. I have waited for too long to taste a sweeter dish, eyeing it hungrily from afar waiting my chance to partake of it, to ruin my appetite on something altogether savoury."
As he talks, his voice raises in volume and irritation, and a premonition of extreme and imminent danger cuts through the layers of cotton thick lewdness weighing down my mind and body, but too late. Before I can make a move to attack or defend, a thick, translucent mist erupts from the hulking stallion's body, the foreign man vanishing as it blankets the room.
"The feast of carnal pleasures will proceed without interference, even if I must expend some of my savoured magic to do so!"
Heavily, I collapse to my knees, and slumber, succulent and sweet, takes us. The last thing I see is the massive beast moving toward the now nude Iffmy. All I can do is smile in satisfaction, as the Prince claims his Right.