Chapter 383 - Pledge VI

“Olga.” His lips dried as the name escaped them. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” The old lady leaned on the patio’s railing as she spoke. “You should have told me you were coming to Vel’khan.”

Belyaev lowered his gaze and took a breath.

“Arciel, the dungeon is named Crimson Rock. It’s fairly notorious, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find plenty of information about it. I’d love to tell you more about it, but first, Olga and I would like a bit of time to ourselves.”

“And you shall have it,” said Arciel.

“Thanks.” Walking over to the patio, the old berserker grabbed the towel that the dog-faced lady presented and gingerly wiped off his sweat. “When was the last time we saw each other?”

“When you left for Paunse with the twins, I’d wager,” said Olga. “Ten years, at least.”

“Not as long as I thought then,” he said. “Sorry, I haven’t visited. I just…”

“I know,” she said. “You don’t need to say it.”

“Thanks.” Setting down the towel, he closed his eyes and joined her on the railing. “Remember the time when we…”

The pair continued to speak at length, but Claire closed the patio door after magically floating over a pair of cups and a fresh bottle of wine. Frankly, that alone was unable to fully mute the noise, so she made for the front door with a mreep whilst beckoning for the others to follow.

“Uhmmm, are you sure it’s okay for us to leave?” asked Sylvia. “I’m pretty sure Lia’s parents are still upstairs. And uhmmm, we’re kinda not in Paunse anymore.”

“I do not believe that to be a problem,” said Arciel. “Myne is still stationed at the house, and she shall see to any of their needs during our time away. Of far greater concern is the group we left behind. Chloe is sure to be worried sick.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows that Claire can teleport, so I think it’ll be fine?” the fox tilted her head.

“Perhaps,” said Arciel. “Whatever the case, I aim to gather information on this Crimson Rock dungeon. Its name does possess a rather familiar ring, but I cannot recall why.”

“That’s the one that the god of the depths told me to visit,” said Claire.

“I suspect that not to be a coincidence then,” said Arciel. “Perhaps we should return to Paunse and investigate?”

“If we’re gonna go back, we should probably bring everyone with us,” said Sylvia.

“Or, we could convince them to stay,” said Claire.

The suggestion earned her a pair of curious looks.

“You wanna live with them? That seems kinda weird,” said Sylvia.

“We aren’t using the house,” said Claire. “And I don’t trust the god of thunder. He’s up to something.”

“And what drives that particular interpretation?” asked Arciel.

“He’s always been a petty piece of divine garbage. He pulled me into his domain and tried to threaten me earlier.”

“Wait, really? When?” asked Sylvia.

“During my sleep. We talked,” mreeped the tiny snake-moose. “...I may have ticked him off.”

“Claire…”

“It was his fault, not mine.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” said Arciel.

While the squid and the fox walked along the street, the qiligon never once touched the stone-paved ground. She was floating around in midair, swimming through it as she undulated her body. It was the same way she would have flown in her larger true form, only the wind was of far greater influence. She had to fight back against the salty sea breeze whenever it came crashing down with the tide.

Still, it was pleasant. She felt unbound, untethered, even as Sylvia grabbed her out of the air and pulled her into a hug. The accompanying mreeps were almost more natural than speech. It felt like she could melt away if she wanted and become one with the world around her.

“I guess I don’t really mind since we’re not living there anyway, but I dunno if they’ll want to. It’s kinda sudden.”

Claire shrugged. “It’s fine if they don’t. It’s just a precaution, and I doubt a god like him cares much for borders to begin with.”

“Yeah, but it’s probably at least a little harder if it’s outside the place he’s worshipped,” said Sylvia. “I think I remember Al saying something like that before.”

“Either way, we should hurry through Paunse,” said Claire.

“Are you sure? I kinda expected you to want to stay for a while ‘cause of all the catgir—ow!”

The incomplete statement earned her a bite. Claire chomped down on her thumb and clamped her jaws just hard enough not to draw blood. She then escaped her grasp and slithered her way into Ciel’s much softer and more comfortable embrace.

“I do believe you deserved that one,” said the squid, as she patted the qiligon’s head.

“I thought she was supposed to be over it,” grumbled Sylvia. She briefly massaged her thumb before suddenly perking up. “Wait, so what are we still doing here if we're supposed to be hurrying to the next country?”

“I don't want to watch old people flirt,” said Claire.

“I would also prefer to stay out of their way,” said Arciel. “And I wish to provide Lia’s parents with the opportunity to sample some local delicacies, regardless of their final decision.”

“Oh, good idea!” said Sylvia. “It should still be early enough to get something decent from the fish market.”

“Perhaps it would be better for us to split up then? There are certainly other main features than fish.”

“Wait, really?”

The fox’s question earned her an incredulous look. “Sylvia. How long have you lived in Vel’khan?”

“Uhmmm… I dunno. Like a year, ish?”

“Then how is it that you remain unaware of our delicacies?”

“Dunno. Maybe I just forgot?”

“It pains me to acknowledge that to be within the realm of possibility.” Arciel sighed. “I suppose we have little choice but to part. I shall return to the castle and ask our chefs to prepare a few dishes while you visit the fish market.”

“Okay,” said the fox.

“And Claire, could you please go with her? I am of the opinion that she is likely to mistake the size of an individual portion.”

“I won’t be able to stop her from buying too much,” said Claire.

“Perhaps, but at the very least, it is better than allowing her to proceed undeterred.” With that, the squid handed the snake back to her vulpine keeper and made for the castle alone.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The rest of the morning went by fairly quickly. With Claire holding her by the reins, Sylvia returned from the market with only a few dozen fish in her tail and a few dozen more in her belly, while Arciel fetched the head chef and returned with a cartful of ingredients.

Neither of the felines had awoken by the time of their return—the previous day’s events had left them completely drained—but they drifted downstairs when the lovely scent of brunch wafted through the house. Directed by the maid, they walked the stairs, their bodies armed with a fresh set of clothes magically warped from their Paunsean abode. It was an arrangement made the previous night, just before they hopped into the bath.

“Good morning,” said Liliya, with a yawn. Even her bed hair was just like her daughter’s, though perhaps that too was a part of Alfred’s design.

“Good morning,” echoed Lavrentiy. He didn’t look nearly as sleepy as his wife. His eyes were wide open, and there was a light spring in each step he took. It helped that he was skipping a day of work. The unplanned vacation was nothing short of a happy accident.

“Good morning, you two,” said Arciel. “You’re just in time.”

She gestured for them to join her at the table. Their chairs were already set out, a normal one for the wife, and a thinner, taller one for the husband, so he could reach the table. Both were newly imagined, things that Sylvia had sung into existence, after determining that they were a little short on furniture.

Everyone else was already present and accounted for. Boris and Starrgort were sitting on top of the table and failing to blend in with all the extravagant dishes, Arciel, Sylvia, Olga, and Belyaev were seated as normal people would, and Claire floated in the space above her chair, still in her tiny, qiligon form. Her appearance led the couple to stare at first, but they soon dismissed it as a part of the norm. The combination of the individuals present and its somewhat familiar shape—they recognized the proportions from the bardic song told the previous night—allowed them to deduce her identity.

“That’s a lot of food,” said Lavrentiy, his eyes open wide. The whole table was piled high with breads, fruits, and breads with fruits baked into their crusts. Sylvia’s fish had been transformed into a multi-coloured carpaccio, and the chef had somehow put together another dozen dishes in the hour that he was allotted.

“Do not be reserved. You are free to have as much of it as you like,“ said Arciel, with a smile.

With that, the meal was underway. Arciel went for a quiche and Olga started with a sweetbread while Claire floated herself between Sylvia and the fish to stop her short of inhaling it. Starrgort grabbed various seasonings and sauces whenever they were requested, while Boris cleaned any empty plates by way of spontaneous ingestion.

They somehow managed to completely polish off the table without the help of Sylvia’s non-euclidean stomach. But never one to be beaten, the chef populated it again with a fresh set of desserts. There were thin, freshly made crepes stuffed full of berries and cream, as well as frozen delights made possible in the summer only by way of magic.

“I can’t eat another bite,” said Belyaev. He lightly thumped a finger against his inflated stomach as he sank into his chair as would a pile of lard. He wasn’t the only one whose energy had gone entirely to digesting. The other two Paunseans were the same way. They had been exposed not only to rare ingredients but the skill of a chef whose service was reserved for royalty. It was no wonder that they basically ate until they dropped.

It helped that the human had more resistance than the other two. It wasn’t his first time eating a fancy meal served up by a noble. He had plenty of experience with that as one of the nation’s foremost blade masters, but Vel’khan had closer ties to the Ryllian sea than most other coastal nations. The chefs were simply more skilled than most of those who worked inland.

“How was it?” asked Arciel.

“Frustratingly delicious,” said Lavrentiy. “It almost makes my efforts last night look like they were wasted.”

“I would not be so concerned,” said Arciel. “The Paunsean flavours were as pleasing to us as the Vel’khanese were to you.”

“You might’ve felt that way about the spices, but there’s no way I measure up to that chef of yours.” The cat stretched in his seat, extending his back and arms as far as they would go. When fully extended, his length nearly doubled. “I know when I’m beaten, and this time, I might as well be black and blue.”

“If you are so taken by it, then might you consider staying?”

“Staying?”

“Yes, as guests of the state.”

Arciel summed up the earlier conversation and briefly highlighted the risks that came with remaining in Paunse, but despite her insistence, Lia’s parents rejected the notion.

“We do appreciate the offer, but we aren’t worried,” said Liliya. “Tzaarkus would never harm us.”

“I don’t trust him,” said Claire.

“He does seem a little bit abrasive if you don’t know him, but he’s a lot kinder than he sounds. I doubt he would hurt his own people, even if you did wind up picking a fight with him.”

The lyrkress frowned. She wasn’t convinced, but she accepted the explanation with a nod. “Okay. Then when do you want to go back to Paunse?”

“Would it be okay if we returned a little later in the afternoon? I’d love to explore the town.”

“That’s fine.” Claire took a deep breath. “We can stop by the shop.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much,” said Liliya.

And so the afternoon was spent. They explored the various districts, visited the castle, checked out the shop, and visited all its neighbours. The day was already coming to an end by the time they thought to return, so they visited a local restaurant—a familiar place named Gulfweed Reef—before they finally decided to return.

When Claire eventually opened the portal again, she was greeted by a peculiar sight. In Vel’khan, the sun was still in the middle of setting. The sky was dyed madder red, and the city was still rife with life. But Paunse was draped in darkness. The stars, which were starting to shine in the Vel’khanese night sky, were hidden beneath the thunderclouds painted across its Paunsean equivalent.

Liliya and Lavrentiy were the first to step through, with Belyaev following shortly after. He looked through the portal, waved at Olga, and then entered the Vernelle house without so much as another word.

When Claire looked at the huskar, she found that the old lady was just as dismissive. She simply reached through the portal, took Liliya by the hand, and said the rest of her goodbyes, without so much as acknowledging the old man’s departure or casting a glance at his shadow. She was starting to think that the two might have fought during their time alone.

It was their turn next. Arciel, Claire, and Sylvia wandered through to the other side, said their goodbyes, and started down the street. They still had much to do. The brigade awaited, and there was much they had yet to learn about Crimson Rock.

___

Lord Ephesus breathed a sigh as he read over his agents’ reports. All of them detailed the exact same problem that he had expected to see. The only lines that still fully functioned were those that made use of instant communication. Everything else was in shambles. His messenger birds were all missing or dead, and even in-person communications would sometimes fail on account of enemy counterintelligence.

Nearly two dozen field agents were missing in action, including those only deployed on Cadrian soil. Someone or something was picking them off, one or two at a time.

What annoyed him most was that the killings had continued after he enforced a strict buddy system. Even when they travelled in groups of five, individual members would sometimes go missing. He was at his wit’s end. Never in the millennia he served had he encountered a foe capable of picking off his servants so easily.

A second sigh escaped his lips. And then a third and a fourth. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to how to approach the problem. At least not without introducing a few holes in his surveillance network.

“Is something the matter, Progenitor?”

Looking up from his desk, he found one of his children standing in the doorway. The seven-hundred-year-old spawn was dressed in a cottontail’s skin and a butler’s uniform. Officially, they were not related in any which way. The boy was simply one of his longtime servants, a talent he had happened to find on the street.

“No, it’s nothing,” said Ephesus. “Did you have something to report?”

“Yes, Progenitor. Number Fourteen has emerged from its chrysalis. Its memories appear to be largely intact.”

A smile crept onto the old warlord’s false face. “Good. You are dismissed, Number Eight.”

Nodding, the butler returned to his forward-facing duties while his master grabbed his hat from the coat rack and started down the hall. He walked through a number of secret corridors, hidden in freezers, bookshelves, and closets before locking himself up in a private bathroom and taking off his criocentaurian skin.

Climbing into the seemingly broken toilet, he flushed himself down the drain and entered his underground lair. He found his spawn already standing at attention at the end of the tunnel, saluting in the dark bedroom whose only entrance was a thin metal pipe.

“Number Fourteen. I’m glad to see that you have been revived.” Technically, the term was inaccurate. The spawn would only truly die in the wake of his own demise.

“Thank you, Progenitor. And good evening,” replied Number Fourteen.

Ephesus took a second to look the child up and down and confirm that it had been fully restored. “Number Eight reported that you still possess most of your memories. Is that correct?”

“Affirmative, Progenitor. I discovered a copy in the back of my mind shortly after I reawakened, however, I have no recollection of its creation. The output and source are both unknown. Treating them with caution is advised.”

“Let me see.”

“Understood, Progenitor.”

Number Fourteen extended a silvery tendril, which Ephesus took and plunged straight into his head. His body spasmed, but he continued humming and hawing, unconcerned, as he perused everything that she had in her mind.

“So that’s how it happened?” He pulled her tentacle from his face and placed a hand against his chin. “It does seem a little dubious.”

“Affirmative. If her attacks carry a destructive property, then it is unlikely for my memory to have remained so neatly intact.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” A smile crept across his lips. “It depends.”

“I do not understand, Progenitor.” said Number Fourteen.

“You will once I reinstall your preliminary knowledge base.”

The fake goat couldn’t stop himself from laughing. The scenario was one that he knew all too well. A clone had revived with all the information he needed to plan his next move, and the accompanying details were crisp and clear, lacking none of the noise that a restored memory was typically meant to carry.

It could only have meant one thing.

Vella had intervened.

She had pledged her allegiance, and she had pledged against the unworthy fool that was Claire Augustus.