Every journey had its end, and for escort quests in particular, that was often something to look forward to. Fayette was the first to spot their destination. She was standing on top of a wagon’s roof as it crested the hill, and a hillside valley opened in front of her.
Arreau. It was a place rather singular in focus, as mining towns tended to be. The buildings all gravitated to the hillside, gradually growing taller the nearer they were to it, giving off the impression of a ramp. Then, of course, the centerpiece of a mining town: the mines.
Rather poor as centerpieces went, being as they were—mostly hidden away. Still, Fayette could imagine it. Although the hill seemed solid enough from the outside, she could almost see the inside being dotted by a labyrinth of criss-crossing tunnels, delving ever deeper in search of the precious mana-rich stone that ran the kingdom’s factories.
But, something was off. There was a tension in the air. Fayette squinted her eyes, wishing she had [Enhanced Vision], and she thought she saw… barricades? Something of the sort, blocking the entrances to the mines. And the town’s furnace complex was strangely silent; not one bit of smoke coming off from its many chimneys.
Having seen enough, Fayette hopped down from the wagon’s roof, landing next to her waiting party. “Well, Marie, your information’s not bad. There’s definitely something off here.”
“Of course there is, I wouldn’t have come here otherwise, would I?” the [Lady] answered.
Mireille had a hawkish look on her face. “What did you say it was? They had declared a…”
Marie looked forward as the rest of the view of town finally opened in front of them. “Indeed,” she said. “It seems the [Miners] have declared a [Strike].”
—
The caravan carried on towards the town, finally stopping at the gates. Merchants began unloading goods, but they would continue forward soon. This wasn’t the caravan’s final stop, and they had contracted the other hunter party for the whole trip.
Fayette met Martin and the rest of his party at the gates. “It was good working with you,” she said, genuinely meaning it.
She had come to respect the silver-mustached man in a way. Perhaps not all hunters were good-for-nothings after all? No, she wasn’t quite willing to let go of her preconceptions yet. The rest of his party had been… less agreeable.
Mostly because she never let them join the tea parties due to their lack of etiquette.
“Hah! Good hunting to your lot too,” the man responded. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a crew like yours before. A learning experience for us both.”
Fayette gave the young Martino a nod—they had fought together, side-by-side, so she had a measure of respect for him too. The rest she left for Mireille to handle, standing behind her with a [Disarming Smile].
It was a fast goodbye, as these sorts tended to be, and their party soon headed into town.
Fayette looked over her group with a critical eye. Mireille was nondescript enough—she had chosen rather plain clothes for today, the type an eye tended to gloss over. Olivia was gloomy as always, fading into the shadows as she walked, which worked fine for their purposes. No, the issue was…
“Miss, you are walking too confidently. A proper [Merchant] is always wary.”
“Hmph, stop doing that. Is it really that bad?”
“You hired us to continue helping you out here, so of course it is my duty as a proper [Maid] to make sure you are acting properly. You wanted to start out undercover, didn’t you?”
Marie sighed. She relaxed her posture just a bit, and brought her right hand down near her hip, guarding her pouch. “Is that better?”
“Yes, well done, Marie.”
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
Fayette hummed and didn’t answer. She turned to Mireille. “Where should we head to first?”
The [Seamstress] thought for a moment. “Maybe we should secure an inn? Lodgings are—”
“The tavern,” Olivia interrupted. The others looked at her, and she gestured at the town, eerily silent around them. There were few people on the streets, mostly the odd [Guard] here and there, but many more eyes were following them from behind windows.
“There’s a stench of plotting about this town,” she continued, eyes darting around nervously. “You want to find out what’s going on? Head to the tavern. People talk. That’s where we should start.”
“What do you think?” Fayette asked, turning to Marie. “This is your operation we’re doing here.”
“The tavern,” the [Lady] decided with little hesitation. “Information wins wars.”
Fayette took out a knife from her apron. “Are we at war, then? Which side are we carving up?”
Marie missed a step. She turned to the [Maid], struggling for words. “No, it’s not… Not an actual war. It was a metaphor! Look, we’re here—let’s just head inside.”
True, they had reached a reputable enough-looking tavern. Towns like these really didn’t have enough space to produce proper seedy ones. Fayette put her knife away, a bit disappointed, then [Eavesdropped] inside. Hushed conversation played out in her ears, never more than four voices in one conversation.
“—have to do something—”
“—don’t have food for that long—”
“—but the explosives—”
“—have to act before it comes to that—”
She could almost sense the tension radiating around inside. Fayette smiled—maybe she would get her war after all.
They stepped inside the tavern.
—
Small groups sat all around, sticking to tables at the very edges of the room. There was a divide, a line that seemed to separate them into two factions, and glares were being spread all around liberally.
Marie took one quick look around, then chose a table in the middle for them. Fayette smirked—the attempt at symbolism was almost cute.
“Should I get an ale for all of us?” Olivia asked as they sat down.
“No,” Fayette answered. “Mireille is still seventee—wait.”
She turned to her friend. “Your birthday is in… three days, right?”
Mireille smiled. “Ah, you remembered.”
“You have drinking ages on this side of the channel?” Olivia asked, frowning with disbelief. “No, I’ll just get us all an ale.”
The [Doctor] walked off, and Fayette followed her with her eyes, but then decided to relent. Well, it's close enough, I guess.
“So, are we safe to talk?” Mireille asked first.
Marie nodded. “I’m using [Control Conversation]. Is that too suspicious?”
Fayette shook her head. “No, skills like that are common enough. The group behind me is using something similar,” she said, nudging her head backward. She hadn’t detected that lot with her [Eavesdrop].
“So, where do we begin?” Mireille asked. “Should we sneak and poke about for a bit first, see what comes up?”
“If we find who’s causing all this trouble, I can knock some sense into them,” Fayette said, making a fist.
Marie looked between the two, a bit exasperated. “Are you two really raring to go that much? Do we really have to get started right away? I don’t think we should do much before we get a better picture of things. Can we relax for a bit first?”
Mireille nodded and took out her needle and thread, and continued her work on a pair of mittens. They were almost done. “Sure, I don’t think we’re in that much of a hurry, are we?”
Fayette frowned. “Delaying work just makes it tougher. Best clean things out promptly before the grime manages to fester.”
“Come on, it’s not that urgent,” Marie said, waving a hand. “Surely we can relax for a moment.”
Fayette eventually nodded and leaned back in her seat. Taverns were always a bit of an odd experience for her, she was too used her being the one who served the drinks, not the other way around.
Though I guess I’ve now had a [Lady] wash up my hair for me. Maybe I should indulge in things more? A good [Maid] does take care of herself. Besides...
“Marie, are you really sure you want to do this whole thing?” She asked, peering at the [Lady]. “I’m really not sure this will get the results you want.”
The [Lady] grimaced, and looked down at the table, twirling her blond drills about. “I don’t know what else I can really do either. This way, at least I can feel I’ve accomplished something.”
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“Maybe you could run away for real?” Mireille offered, gesturing with the nearly-finished mitts. “Make it so they really won’t ever find you.”
“And be what? A [Lady] on the run? Change classes to something else?” Marie stretched out her right arm in front of her and gripped it into a fist. “I do still want to be a [Lady], really. I don’t want to waste this class.”
“It is a tough thing, thinking about class stuff,” Mireille said, nodding. “I don’t really know what I’ll get at 15, and if things go right, I’ll be there pretty soon. What about you, Fay?”
The [Maid] smiled. “I’ve been pretty satisfied lately, progressing well. Big 20 soon, I look forward to what capstone I’ll get.”
“I still can’t believe you were just using me for leveling…” Marie complained, pouting.
“I wouldn’t say ‘using’ like that, you got some good service, right? Didn’t you like it?”
The [Lady] flinched up a bit, then looked away. “I guess it was worthwhile—”, she said quietly, then turned around, face controlled. “—give me some more on the same level, and I might just forgive you.”
Mireille looked between the two, then snorted to herself, muttering something quietly.
“What was that?” Fayette asked, turning to her.
“Oh, nothing, just got the finishing touches in—there.” Mireille hefted up the pair of mittens, now finished. She looked over them, face satisfied, then put them away into her pocket. “Well, that’s done. Fay, can I have the rest of the pelts?”
Fayette’s heart stopped for a moment. The moment she had been dreading had finally come. “The pelts?”
“You know, the Beavermonkey pelts. I left them into your [Bag of Holding].”
Fayette plastered her best [Disarming Smile] on. “What about the pelt I gave you? You know, from the hunt.”
The [Seamstress] smiled. “Ah, it was nice working with such fresh material, but it was only part of it. We had to share it with the Salted Knives, remember?” She waved around the finished mitten in her hand. “Already used it all up on these smaller pieces.”
Activating the full power of her mind, Fayette went into overdrive, trying to find a way out of this desperate situation. “Um—are you sure… Do you really need it? Um, how about… no, but… You’ve been working so hard, don’t you deserve a small break from that?”
“You and I both know that levels don’t come to those who wait.” Mireille was starting to look at Fayette with suspicion. “What is it, Fay? What’s bothering you?”
The [Maid’s] mind was running at a hundred broom strokes a second, going through every fact related to [Seamstress] work she could think of. Cloth, pelts, materials, what can I say? I need something to distract her, just for a bit more, until I find a solution to fix them up. Maybe [Dry Laundry]? Wait, right, [Dry Laundry], that’s the key!
Fayette’s eyes shone with realization. There was that thing I was sort of wondering about! Right! This will work.
“A-are you sure you need to work on the Beavermonkey pelts specifically?”
“Well, yes. I am pretty sure. I have a whole thing planned out. What do you mean Fayette?”
“It’s just... I was wondering if you could look into something for me. You know, alternate materials and all that.”
Mireille frowned. “What material are you thinking of? We don’t have much on hand.”
Fayette tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh, I’m sure we could procure some. Have you considered making clothing from—” she turned on her best [Disarming Smile], “—human skin? Like, just theoretically.”
A deep silence descended.
Two sets of blank eyes focused on the [Maid].
Fayette looked between them. What, is it that weird?
Mireille was the first to recover. She stared at her friend, stiff and eyes wide. “W-w-what the f—what the frick, Fayette?”
Fayette’s [Disarming Smile] was outclassed, and she let it fall. Damn, should have put more skill points that. She stood up, waving her arms around, attempting to explain. “No no, not like that, I don’t want to wear them! I just need to know how they would feel against my skin!”
She turned her eyes to the side, looking for support, but Marie was slowly backing up her chair with her mouth open in horror. Mireille took a deep breath. “Fay, for your sake and mine, you’d better have a good explanation for this.”
“A skill! Just for a skill! It would really make my [Dry Laundry] better in combat!”
The tension dissipated. Mireille let out her breath. “Oh. Okay, for a moment there I thought you had finally lost it.”
Marie also relaxed, very relieved. She chuckled nervously. “Hah, of course. For a skill. [Dry Laundry].” She frowned. “Wait, isn’t that still pretty bad…”
While the [Lady's] mind descended into doubt, Mireille was just getting impatient. “Just give me the pelts already,” the [Seamstress] said, sighing deep. “I don’t think I could quite stomach something like that.”
Fayette stepped from side to side, nervously. “Well, it’s just… The pelts—those pelts—they may have gotten slightly…” She paused for a moment, then looked at her friend, feeling very very guilty “—damaged.”
Mireille raised her head up. “…What do you mean damaged?”
Fayette sighed—there was no helping it now. She reached into her [Apron of Holding], took out one of the damaged pelts, and laid it flat on the table. One side looked fine, but the other was blackened with a chemical scent on it.
Mireille’s eyes widened. She jumped up from her chair and leaned over the table, inspecting the furs “T-this is ruined! What happened? Are they all like this?”
Marie’s eyes widened in recognition, and she turned to the very guilty-looking [Maid]. “Aren’t those from—?”
The [Maid] winced but then nodded. “Sorry! Really, truly, sorry. It was my fault. I needed to use them as part of my leveling plan, but I didn’t thi—”
“Leveling plan?” Mireille interrupted, looking up. She had tears in her eyes. “For that? What about me? What about me, Fay?”
Fayette flinched back at the words, falling back down on her seat. She turned her eyes down. “Sorry, I really didn’t think it would go like this. If I had known…”
“That’s it, isn’t it. You didn’t think.” Mireille said, voice strained as she dried the corner of her eye with a tissue. She slammed the hand on the table. “You’re already way ahead of me, and you go and do this? Do you have any idea how much you’ve set me back?”
Fayette looked up. “I’ll make it up to you someh—”
“How?” Mireille demanded. She sat back down, anger deflating from her. “I was going to make a set. That was my idea—a whole matching set of high-quality clothing. I’ve never done something that big before. Quality work, difficult materials, a cohesive theme to it all...”
She looked at the ruined pelt, eyes hollow. Now she just sounded tired. “But now it’s ruined. I was close to a level, Fay. Maybe two if things went right. How could you even make that up to me?”
“I’ll think of a way, look, how about we—”
“No.” Mireille said, a note of finality to it. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Look, Fay. You are my friend, always will be, but you can sometimes be so thoughtless. Just let me think for a moment. I need to plan. Need to think on how to salvage this.”
Marie was frantically looking between the despondent [Seamstress] and the apologetic [Maid], searching for a way through this knot. She jumped as tray of drinks was placed on the table.
“Bad time?” Olivia asked, looking around the table.
“No,” Mireille answered, opening her eyes. “Just perfect.”
She took an ale from the tray and began drinking it down in one go. Fayette looked over with concern as the girl struggled to gulp it all down, some spilling out her mouth, but eventually, Mireille slammed the tankard back down, emptied. She shivered for a moment, wiped the froth off her lips, then looked at the others, frowning. “What?”
Everyone turned away, eyes down.
You could have cut the silence with a knife. Olivia slowly picked up a tankard of her own, and sipped at it, peering over with her eyes. Like a true [Doctor], she began dissecting the scene. “So… What are we doing? Did I hear some talk of skin clothing? Do I need to get out the knives?”
Mireille stared at the [Doctor], face getting slightly flushed, and very unamused. “Don’t joke around. I saw you skulking about, taking your time. Get to the point. Did you get the news?”
The [Doctor] nodded. “It wasn’t hard, not exactly a secret. I have the main points.”
The [Seamstress] cracked her fists. “Good, let’s get to work.”
Marie looked hesitant. “Are you sure?” She asked, voice soft. “Is now really the time?”
“Yes, now is the time,” Mireille said, turning her angry gaze to her. “I want to punch something.”
The [Lady] sighed, then nodded at Olivia. “Alright then, give us the news.”
Olivia took a long sip from her drink, then started. “Well, from what I’ve gathered, the mess here all started from one dispute. The [Miners] reported a high concentration of beasts in the direction they were to mine. Some say there were even monsters. They requested that the [Lord] in charge call for [Mages] to clear out the tunnels. He refused, claiming such monster concentrations were expected, and the duty of the [Miners] to clear out.”
“Do you know this [Lord] here, Marie?” Mireille asked. “To me, it sounds like he’s the one in the wrong. Do we go at him?”
“I don't know him well,” the [Lady] admitted, frowning. “[Lord] Marcel is my second cousin twice removed, from a minor branch of the family. It is true that [Miners] are expected to fight and deal with a certain amount of hazards, but it’s strange that he would oppose calling in [Mage] support so much…”
“What about calling in hunters? Why [Mages]?” Fayette asked.
“Fighting in tunnels they know and built, [Miners] are probably better than the average hunter. Magicoal mining is always dangerous,” Marie answered. “[Mages] are just more efficient for that sort of thing. Flood the tunnels with poison gas, or something of the sort. Quick and easy.”
Fayette perked up, getting some energy back. “Poison gas?” She shared a look with Olivia. “I think we can do poison gas.”
Marie shook her head. “No, the difference is that [Mages] have a lot of control over that sort of thing. Alchemy always leads to some sort of accident—eventually. It's happened a lot of times.”
Mireille leaned her head against her hand, eyes closed. “So who do we believe then? Why would this [Lord] here not call in [Mages]? Are the [Miners] really lying?”
“Well, if so—” Olivia interceded “—they’re pretty serious about the lie.”
“How so?” Marie asked.
“This ‘disagreement’ was just the start. When things didn’t proceed, the [Lord] threatened to lay off the [Miners]—replace them with others. The [Miners] responded by declaring a [Strike], then rigging explosives all over the mine. Say that if they go, the mine goes too.”
Fayette blinked her eyes, impressed. “You can do that? What’s a [Strike]?”
Olivia frowned. “I’m not sure really, it sounded like a pretty powerful skill. Had the [Supervisors] helpless. Maybe a capstone of sorts? Now the [Lord] is trying to withhold food from the [Miners], starve them out, and the [Miners] have barricaded up the mine in turn. A bit of a siege while the [Lord] is trying to get in support.”
Marie nodded. “Sounds like we should start with meeting cousin dearest—he’s definitely hiding something. I’ll prepare the meeting request.”
She started to take out a pen and paper, but Olivia held up a hand, stopping her. “Wait just a minute here—that won’t do you any good.”
The [Lady] stopped. “What do you mean?”
Olivia snatched the pen from her hand, then twirled it around as she leaned back. “You’re thinking like a [Lady] right now—polite meetings and such. That won’t do you any good. You need to think like a proper [Inspector], and I—” she gestured at herself, “—happen to know quite a bit about dealing with inspections.”
Fayette blinked at the admission. Olivia really was reliable in the strangest things. Should I really be taking medicine from her after all?
Marie was thinking, brow furrowed. “What do you recommend then?”
Olivia tapped the pen three times in front of her. “Speed, surprise and impact—those are the three things we need. Surprise so they can’t hide anything, speed so they can’t keep up, and an overwhelming show of force that sets them off balance. Otherwise, it’s too easy to slip away and hide evidence.”
Mireille cracked her knuckles and frowned. “I can do impact. Just unnerve ‘em and poke around like they don’t want us to, right?”
“That’s exactly it,” Olivia said, then shifted her gaze, pointing. “But the key role is on you, Marie.”
The [Lady] nodded. “My task is to keep the primary target engaged, right? Barge in with my authority, [Appraise] him then start the questioning while the rest of you poke around to see what you can find.”
“Wait—” Fayette had to interject. “You have [Appraise]? Why did we have to transport those [Bandits] all the way to the nearest church, then?”
Marie made a very conflicted expression, squirming under Fayette’s gaze. “Well, I was trying to be undercover, and I didn’t want all that on my conscience, alright?”
Fayette wasn’t satisfied. “Really? But it made all that so much more difficult, and—”
“Lay it off Fayette—” Mireille interrupted. She stood up, swaying a bit from side to side in the process. “—she isn’t the only one who’s made things more difficult for us after all.” They locked gazes for a moment. “Is she?”
Fayette slumped down, withering under the glare. She tried to say something, but Mireille turned away. “So, are we leaving?” the [Seamstress] asked, looking over her needles. “Surprise is best, right? No point wasting time and giving them any hints.”
Marie looked between the two of them, conflicted, but Fayette gave her a small nod. Sighing, the [Lady] stood up. She looked at her own tankard of ale, untouched, and laid some coin on the table as payment. “I guess we’ll go right away then. Simple is best, right?”
Olivia and Fayette got up too and started making their way to the door. Fayette lingered a bit so she was last to go, as she stared at Mireille, feeling guilty. Yeah, I really messed this one up, didn’t I?
She was raring to go and knock some sense into the dense heads in this town, but that was a small issue in comparison. She watched her friend stomp out the door, like a stormfront gathering in strength. Fayette closed her eyes for just a moment, then followed.
I can knock down a [Lord], easy, but how am I supposed to fix this?