Fayette blinked herself awake. She was still standing, right there, it had been only a moment—did I just—

A chair was flying at her.

She ducked low, and it flew above, clattering into a wall. Her eyes raced forward, searching for her target. The [Innkeeper]. He was retreating—backing up into the room’s furthest corner, but around him—

Fayette blinked. Ghosts? Seriously, damned ghosts? No, the skill was about dreams… these are—

Nightmares.

Dark, phantasmal shadows were materializing around the [Murderer], the last dreams of those condemned to eternal rest. Coiling tentacles spread out, a goopy, fleshy form was dripping bits of itself all over the place, an enormous spider—

That made rage fill the [Maid’s] heart, and she snapped out of the reverie, jumping forward. She whipped forward with her broom, swatting at the spider which hissed, eight legs spreading out—

And the broom went right through the form.

It hit the [Innkeeper] on the shoulder, and he stumbled back, cursing. But the spider-ghost prodded forward. A limb reached for her faster than she could block, and she started to…

feel…

sleepy…

Fayette smacked herself on the head with the broom and jumped back, jolting awake. She glared at the ghastly forms, which were still holding position around the [Innkeeper]. “This ability is bullshit.”

The [Murderer] was wiping blood from his shoulder blade, wincing. He gave her a malevolent glare, then nodded at his assembled creations. “Forward.”

The dark forms all shambled forward, and Fayette turned back. The others—what are they…?

Olivia was fighting the… soup? The [Maid] stopped for just a half-second to stare as the [Doctor] sliced carrots and wiggling bits of meat that were flying at her. Right. The wife. There was a [Chef] too—of course.

Mireille was by the back wall, Char on her shoulder, doing something with near-invisible spiderwebs. Marie was next to her—drawing a quick symbol on the wall. She finished and a cupboard appeared on the wall, and she turned towards the others. “To me!”

Fayette didn’t need the encouragement.

She ran back, spectral figures right at her back, and turned at the wall to face them, Olivia arriving by her side too. Fayette readied her broom for a hit, timing it just as the giant tentacle reached out, then—

It never came.

All the nightmares stopped in place, crashing against something, like there was an invisible barrier there. Fayette stared.

Marie giggled nervously, keeping her hand back at the [Hidden Cupboard’s] handle. “I-it worked. Yay—lucky.”

She had a slight nosebleed and stood unsteady. Backlash? Did we break etiquette too much? But this…

“What did you do?” Fayette asked, still keeping her broom ready. The nightmares were prodding at the barrier, but it did nothing. Then a sausage flew through, and Olivia sliced it with her scalpel.

“His ability only works in his inn,” Marie said, taking deep breaths. She looked at the sausage, now wiggling at her feet. “[Saints], I almost ate that. But. Yes. This is my cupboard, not his, and I guess that works out? Claim and all that.”

Fayette nodded. “...That sort of makes sense.”

Then the nightmares flickered, as a chair flew through them, high speed. She got her broom in both hand, steadying it, and blocked it, shunting it away. Then another came. Fayette cursed. “It’s not saving us! He’s going to keep throwing stuff at us! Can you make it bigger? Anybody, you got anything?”

“Give me a minute,” Mireille said, eyes closed.

“I need to get close,” Olivia said. She was eyeing the food on the ground suspiciously.

Then the [Murderer] laughed. Fayette could hear him moving, behind the barrier of nightmares. Not out of the room, but behind the—table?

Right, I should—

Fayette called forks and knives into her hands with [Cutlery Control], then sent them out at the laughter. They thunked against wood. Damn, too slow, he took cover. Should I spice him up? But there’s a [Chef] messing with food…

Too risky.

A spray of hot soup flew out next, and Olivia hissed as it hit her skin.

“Enjoy your cupboard!” A scornful voice sneered from behind the nightmares. “My [Poltergeist] won’t run out! How long can you keep this up?”

Then another chair flew in, and this time, Fayette tried to grab it from mid-air. If I take all his ammunition…

It hit her ready hands hard, and she felt the crash against her bones, and fell back, falling against the wall. Her back hit it hard, then the chair flew out of her hand, and flew back.

“Ow!”

“Do you need the boon?” Marie asked, giving Fayette a hand. The [Maid] took it but shook her head as she got back up.

“Save it. But—this sanctuary you made—it’s about claiming territory from him, right?”

Marie nodded, steadying the [Maid] onto her feet with both hands. “Yes—do you have an idea?”

Fayette looked over the room. Her view was blocked by the nightmares crowded around them, but she could just about make out spilled soup on the floor under them. And quite a bit of dust.

She took a step forward, and Marie let go. “I think I do.”

Because her skill was a type of claim too.

She reached out mentally, for that well of power. [So Fresh, So Clean]. Alright, skill—let’s do this.

Another careful step forward, closer to the nightmares, but staying just out of their range. The wall of tentacles, spider limbs, and eyeballs hissed at her, but she wasn’t swayed.

She had never really had nightmares.

Carefully, she reached out with her broom, made sure her capstone was ready and waiting—

And swept some bits of potato further away, into a little pile.

The monsters were shoved back a half step.

A chair flew at her.

Fayette smiled. Cleaning the battlefield—she was in a way claiming it. A [Maid’s] work.

She dodged the chair and heard a curse behind her as it hit Olivia. Another step forward, then she used [Sweep Dust]. Grime and spilt soup was sent further away, and the nightmares fell back again.

For a moment, she saw the [Innkeeper] through them, and he was no longer smiling. He reached into a cupboard, and took up a frying pan into one hand, and a knife into the other, falling into a stance.

Is that [Tavern Brawling]?

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Keep him off me!” Fayette shouted, and ducked down, dodging the frying pan as it flew at her head.

Olivia stepped behind her to guard, scalpel ready, and Fayette began running forward. Cleaning.

She first made a wide sweep to her left, which cleared a swathe of space for Olivia to work with, then started cleaning to the right. Dusty spots were easiest, so she focused on those, ignoring the bits of spilled soup around. Every swipe cleared off more of the floor, and the nightmares were steadily pushed back against an expanding wall.

They were being split apart.

Fayette got to the opposite wall, and with that—the room was split in two by a swathe of clean floor. Her broom was starting to gather energy, and she had to duck another chair.

Olivia was fighting the man, a clash of knives and pans, and Marie was sagged against their safe spot, still weak, but keeping an eye out. And Mireille was still doing something.

Fayette picked the chair up, put it back in a spot neatly, and claimed a bubble of space around it. Then it flew back at her again.

Damn. She kicked it, getting distance, and it lost the power for a moment. Do I have to hit it to stop the effect? But seems they are no good. Now—

She surveyed the room again. Nightmares split onto the two sides. Let’s clear one side first.

Fayette quickly swapped to her mop and got to work on the side where the [Murderer] couldn’t interfere. The nightmares were right by her, just an arm’s length away—but her cleaning was keeping them just out of reach.

She mopped up spilled soup, getting nearer to the tables, and bent to mop under it—

Then three bowls of soup hopped off the table and flew at her.

She sensed them with her [Dustsense], some change in the air, and jumped back to dodge—just managing to get out of the way.

The boiling-hot soup spilled behind and in front of her, just missing her by an inch. Fayette breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the monstrous forms advanced, no longer blocked, reaching out from three sides.

No! It spoiled my cleaning!

Cursing, she jumped back, but a coiling tentacle was faster and gripped her arm, and she…

started…

to…

fade…

Suddenly, a pinch from her uniform. Fayette jolted back to awareness, and jumped back behind her barrier of cleaning.

She was panting—that was too close! What was tha—?

Looking at her uniform, she saw it relax from the constriction it had done, and a long thread attached to it, going back to—Mireille, of course.

The [Seamstress] still had her eyes closed, standing next to Marie, but Fayette could just barely make out tiny threads spreading out from her fingers. Thanks for the save.

Still, the flying soup was an inconvenience, as it messed with her cleaning. But...

She was faster. She looked over the room. There really wasn't that much space. I don’t really have to get things perfect right now, do I?

Fayette swapped back to her broom, deciding to ignore everything it couldn’t clear. Just the dust should be enough to corner him.

She moved back to the side Olivia and the [Murderer] were fighting on. He was jumping in and out from behind his barrier of nightmares, trying to disturb the cleaning. Fayette moved in, [Sweep Dust] ready.

It was fast. Focusing only on dust she could sense, she cleared out large swathes of space, gradually driving the nightmares against walls as her skill claimed their space. She had to dodge frying pans, more soup, chairs, and even knives, but [Dangersense] and a subtle Waltz in her steps helped her dodge.

And as she dodged the pans and knives, she caught them, then she sorted them back to their places.

More territory claimed.

Quickly, most of the nightmares on this side were squeezed against walls, and she started cleaning against the walls, following them.

And the forms vanished when they ran out of space.

Her broom was feeling pretty powerful by now.

Fayette turned around and looked over the fight for a moment. Olivia was fighting defensively, taking her time. And the [Innkeeper] was looking around desperately. Mireille looked back at the [Maid] and nodded. Whatever she’s done, it’s ready.

They had managed to close off his paths of retreat. He only had a small bit of free territory around him

It’s time.

Fayette pointed her broom forward. “Everyone, all at once—get him!”

And she ran forward, following the wall and using [Sweep Dust] ahead of her on all the room’s dusty corners.

Mireille jumped forward, throwing out needles, and the [Innkeeper] dodged back, shielding his face with a frying pan. He retreated behind his wall of nightmares, but Mireille kept up the barrage, and Olivia joined in too, throwing vials of… something?

And Fayette was circling behind.

He can’t both shield his front and guard his back at once.

There was a wall of nightmares in front of her, but they were being pushed back with every one of her steps, and she could hear the [Murderer] already, just ahead of her. He was cursing.

She rounded the last corner, the [Innkeeper] just ahead. She brought her broom back, ready for a clean hit.

Then a panicked Marie shouted in her ear.

“Behind!”

Fayette spun around and saw that a dark-haired woman with an apron had slid out of a panel in the wall, knife in hand. Right behind her. Oh yeah, the [Chef].

The woman grinned ominously, and her flesh started bulging out as countless arms and fingers started growing out in an expanding forest.

“[I Am What I Ea—”

Fayette finished her spin, brought her broom with her in a half circle, and unleashed it on her head. Also a valid target, if less so.

“[So Fresh, So Clean.]”

A flash of blue, and her head caved in, a dome impression on it. A loud crack, like splitting wood, and a spray of blood on the wall. She fell down to the ground. Dead.

Fayette breathed out. I am not dealing with whatever that skill was.

But her skill was used.

She spun back around—how was the [Murderer]—?

Trapped. The nightmares were all gone, and the man was caught in a web, a victorious [Seamstress] waving a needle at his face. “Careful where you back up mister—really shouldn’t lose focus.”

Fayette relaxed. It’s done.

He was trapped against the wall in a web of threads, eyes wild. The thud from Fayette’s broom had alerted him, but he only looked at his dead wife for a second, and then his face calmed. His eyes relaxed.

As if he wasn’t cornered. As if he was still in control.

Fayette couldn’t help but feel shivers. We are still inside his inn…

The man looked over them quickly, licking his lips, finally turning his eyes to Marie, the [Lady]. “Nobody will believe you.”

She stopped approaching him, gait still unsteady, giving him a look of disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

He was smiling again. “The villagers know me—my reputation is good. They won’t judge me. You are vagrants, suspicious individuals. Once you try to tell them—”

“I don’t judge,” Fayette said, walking closer. She held out her broom, and the [Murderer] paled just a bit at the pieces of skull lodged in the wooden shaft. “I’m a [Maid]. I just clean. No need to ask questions or anything more.”

He licked his lips. “If you kill me—”

“Look, I’d do it for just the experience,” Fayette said, taking another step forward. She brought her broom back readying it for a blow. “Only reason I need really, simple and easy, so just stay still and—”

“Wait, Fay,” Mireille said, and held up a hand, blocking her advance.

Fayette stopped. “What, are you saying we should spare him?”

The [Seamstress] scowled. “Of course not. It’s just—” She pointed at herself. “—I want experience too.”

Fayette stared.

Mireille held the gaze. She was putting on a calm front, but Fayette could see the subtle unsteadiness in her form.

“Are you sure you want to do it? Do you even need to do this for experience?” she asked her.

“I caught him, and I think it matters. So yes,” Mireille answered, turning to Marie. After a brief hesitation, the [Lady] nodded. Finally, Mireille turned to the man.

She looked at him, at the [Murderer] who had suddenly fallen very silent, and hesitated for just a moment, looking him in the eyes, judging.

Fayette knew she would not have hesitated.

Then Mireille nodded. “You confessed already. A [Murderer]. And you are high-level. I don’t know the details, did he kill many?”

“Many,” Olivia answered, looking over the proceedings. “Not all have been found yet.”

The [Seamstress] nodded. “Then this is easy to judge. Traditional.”

The [Murderer] started to speak “Wait, I can—”

Mireille pulled on a thread, and a loop tightened around his neck. “The hangman’s rope.” She tugged at another, and the other strings were released, and the man dropped, staying up only by his neck.

No longer calm. Finally, he was panicking, eyes flailing wildly as he grasped at his neck. But it was sturdy as iron.

Mireille looked for a dozen seconds as his face grew redder and his arms weaker, then turned, a grimace on her face, and walked out the room. The doors were no longer blocked. Olivia also followed her out, muttering something about spoilt food.

Fayette stayed until the end. Until the man’s body stopped moving. So did Marie. The [Lady] watched too, though her face was uneasy. She wasn’t enjoying it.

Fayette found that… she really didn’t care at all. Why even bother with this judging and ceremony? He was just something to be cleaned away. Not something for [Maids] to think about.

[Great Job! Get that Trash! More more more!]

[Progress towards next level: 80%]

Right, I did get a bunch at the end of all that too. So close…

Fayette made a celebratory fist, smiled, then turned to Marie, and—

But the [Lady] wasn’t smiling. She was still looking at the motionless body, face just a bit green. Fayette tapped her on the shoulder, and Marie jumped.

“Hey, you okay?” The [Maid] asked, slow and calming.

Marie paused for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s nothing big. Still feeling a bit unsteady. Backlash is nasty. But—“ She looked back to the body, “—I hope I never get used to this.”

“Why do you watch if you don’t like it?”

“Because it is a [Lady’s] duty,” Marie said, and in that moment, there was strength in her eyes. “So often, we give the order to be carried out. To give out the order—that means we judge too. Decide who lives and dies. I think we should see the result too.”

Fayette started to respond—need something encouraging—

And then the ache in her class was back.

Stronger than ever.

She stumbled, looked away from Marie, taking a step back. No, not her. Why now?

“Hey, what was that?” The [Lady] asked, taking a step forward.

Fayette let the hand touch her shoulder, let it steady her feet, and then let out a sigh of relief. It’s gone. Just a momentary lapse. But why—?

She looked up, at the concern on Marie’s face. Need an excuse.

“It’s just—we have two bodies to deal with now. Can’t really leave them here can we?”

Marie jolted, suddenly realizing she had a hand on the [Maid], and took two rapid steps back. “Oh—um—just that. Right.” She turned, looking down at the [Chef] with a smashed-in head. “Yes, it might be bad if we leave these here. What should we—?”

Fayette relaxed, an idea coming to her. Right. Hadn’t this all started at the swamp, when she had seen something familiar?

“I think I have an idea…”