Chapter 413 - Amidst the Valencian Wind VI

Having received a blessing but no quest, Claire sought another temple as soon as she escaped from Xekkur’s domain. Flying about half a kilometer south, she found a small property that was more garden centre than holy ground. The blessed building in question was a greenhouse, as was often the case for many of the smaller-scale facilities raised in Primrose’s name.

It doubled as one of the few places where pests could go to be worshipped. Rodents in particular were considered holy beasts for their seed-spreading capabilities and their resemblance to the goddess’ form. Alas, not even their pseudo-divine status could save the local pests from widespread elimination. If anything, the harvest goddess’ church was more proactive in their culling, for they understood that only in the right numbers did they do more good than harm.

As Claire entered the goddess’ domain, she found her pressure far weaker than Xekkur’s. It was a fault easily attributed to the time of year; winter was soon approaching and the harvest goddess lost her endless vitality in the accompanying cold. It was said that like many other rodents, she would dig herself a burrow and sleep until its end.

There weren’t too many accounts as to exactly when her hibernation began, and there was a small chance that she might have retired already, but Claire entered the greenhouse regardless. The nun out front didn’t even ask her purpose as she entered the so-called church, only giving her a passing greeting whilst she stocked the exterior shelves.

Most of the items were seeds, seedlings, or out-of-season flowers. And though many of the other guests showed interest—unlike Xekkur’s temple, Primrose’s was bustling with visitors—Claire ignored all the church’s wares and walked straight towards the back of the store. There, she found the sort of small altar that called the workers’ faith to question. It was not the size that proved problematic, but rather its active use. It was treated no different from the shelves in its surroundings and piled high with merchandise aplenty.

It felt a little bit strange to sit down with wheelbarrows full of dirt and fertilizer all around her, but Claire found a small spot where there was nothing and quickly got to praying.

“O Primrose, great goddess of fields and full bellies, mother to all who subsist on the harvest. I beseech from you a quest of great enough import to earn your blessing.”

For a second, it looked like her prayer had gone unanswered. But as she rose from her lowered posture, she found the world changed around her. There was still dirt and fertilizer all over, but it came in a less processed form.

Fallen fruits and leaves dotted the floor of a dimly lit forest. It was not as if the sun was non-present or otherwise obscured. The branches in Rikael’s path were barren. And yet, even without any clouds overhead, it was dark enough for one to think that the sun was beneath the horizon.

It took Claire a moment to locate the dominion’s master. Primrose was neither standing where she could be easily spotted nor looking in the lyrkress’ direction. It was only by listening for the goddess’ seldom-beating heart that she was able to discern that she was buried amidst the leaves.

Removing them with her vectors, Claire found a tiny rodent with its body spread slovenly amidst the fallen debris. The almost morbidly obese hamster was a mix of oranges and greys. And though there were a few bits of brown thrown in, it was only because she was half smothered in dirt.

Claire shrank down to her smallest form. As a tiny lyrkress, their overall sizes were not too dissimilar; the goddess made up for her relative lack of height with her bountiful width.

Claire spent a solid few minutes sitting in front of Primrose and waiting, but she never seemed to stir. Raising her voice and requesting the goddess’ attention proved every bit as fruitless as mindlessly waving her arms, so she eventually gave in, approached the holy hamster, and gave her cheeks a tug.

They were surprisingly malleable, even more so than Sylvia’s. Engaging her vectors, she found that they could go at least twenty meters apart even though the hamster’s body clearly lacked the requisite material. She was confident that they would have continued to stretch, but she wasn’t given the opportunity to test the theorem.

Primrose started to stir, so Claire quickly let go of her cheeks and allowed them to snap back to her previous positions. She backed off in the meantime and assumed the most natural, guiltless stance she could.

The goddess yawned, stretched, and rubbed her oddly sore cheeks before finally opening her eyes and gazing upon the mortal. Only then did she react with a start. Rapidly blinking, she adjusted the cape that sat on her back—the only article of clothing she wore—and shot to her feet. She audibly cleared her throat, but the fake cough was interrupted by a yawn and transformed into a strange sound that was equal parts both and neither.

“Good morning.” Giving up, she put on a bit of a sheepish smile and greeted Claire with a bow. “Sorry about that. I’m always a little sleepy around this time of year.”

“Good morning,” said Claire. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wouldn’t be too worried. There’s still about a week before I shut the doors for winter.”

Claire nodded.

“What did you say you were here for again?” asked the hamster. “I was still half asleep when I heard your prayer.”

“A quest.”

“Right.” The goddess flopped onto her butt as she picked up one of the seeds nearby and shoved it into her cheeks. “I’m not really sure I have too much to give you, to be honest.” Her cheeks only continued to swell as she gorged herself on acorns, dried goods, and the fruits of the season. “But I think Aurora wanted to see you.”

Claire tilted her head. “The goddess of the frozen wilds?”

Primrose started to chew on a sunflower seed as she nodded. “Normally, I’d point you to her church and go right back to bed, but seeing as how you’re in need of a task, I guess it can’t hurt to have a bit of fun.”

Log Entry 871342

You have received a quest - Punch Aurora.

The goddess of the frozen wilds rarely resides within the divine realm. She spends most of her time manifested within the Langgbjerns’ depths. Seek her in person and slug her in the face. Your reward will come in the form of a greater blessing.

This quest will immediately fail if you visit any of her temples or offer any prayers in her name.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Claire blinked. Slowly raising her eyes from the log, she found the goddess with a brilliant smile.

“You want me to hit the goddess of the frozen wilds?”

“As hard as you can,” said Primrose. “Knock her out and end winter early, and I’ll pledge my unconditional support.”

Returning her eyes to her log, Claire could feel a headache rapidly approaching.

___

While Claire debated the benefits of visiting one of Aurora’s temples and immediately abandoning the harvest goddess’ quest, the rest of the northern brigade lounged the afternoon away. Having finally completed their tour of Augustus Manor and eaten a delicious lunch, its members had returned to the suite for a moment of respite.

There was nothing left on the day’s agenda nor any reason for the group to remain as one. In the first place, the tour was never a part of a shared schedule; everyone had only happened to tag along because it had snagged their interest. And as such, they soon returned to their individual business. Sylvia ran off to find Claire, Chloe and Arciel went to the baths, and Jules ventured out in search of liquor. Krail had happily accompanied him on the adventure. Evidently, he had developed a taste for Vekratt.

With Lana polishing her axe and preparing for departure—Arciel had decided that they would set out the next morning—Allegra was left with no one to talk to. Had they any more time, she likely would have run off to her lab and continued an old experiment, but the number of man-hours required for any such task could only be measured in dozens. It was a bit of a shame, but she was best keeping her hands off her old projects, lest she was willing to miss her ride.

But with alchemy out of the question, she had no idea what else there was to do.

She wound up aimlessly wandering the castle, passing through its halls as she reflected on the circumstances at hand. It felt a little strange and confounding to walk again through the castle’s grounds. She had been banned from visiting it and sent up to Virillius’ manor ever since that decades-old incident with Fornestead. And now that she was finally back, it was functionally as a guest from another nation.

It wasn’t like her loyalty to Cadria—to Ferdinand—had suddenly dried up, nor was she opposing Virillius for the purpose of avenging her master. It was for the nation’s own good. Or at least that was what everyone from her coconspirator to her divine mentor had told her.

She found it difficult to discern the truth through the fog of their intentions, but she had to agree that their logic was sound. Most of her questions lay with the accompanying assumptions, but there was little that she could do to prod at their stability.

With similar thoughts swirling through her mind nonstop, she continued to brood as she wandered the castle, stopping only as she glanced out one of the windows and spotted a familiar face. For a second, she almost thought it was Claire, but another glance confirmed that it was her copy. The homunculus was sitting in one of the courtyards, studying under a gazebo with a blanket draped over her shoulders.

She was as engrossed in her materials as Claire had been as a child, before Virillius had suddenly changed his tune. Back then, when he was still supportive, when Violet was still alive, the tiny halfbreed would spend days on end with her face buried between the pages.

She wasn’t the most gifted student that Allegra had ever seen, but back then, she had certainly stood among their number. It was a real tragedy, a waste of potential that things had gone the way they did. Virillius regretted it as well. Or at least that was what she wanted to believe.

Opening the door to a janitorial closet and pulling a very specific broom, Allegra headed downstairs and out into the courtyard.

Because she had no intention of repeating his mistakes.

She stopped right in front of the homunculus’ sun chair and put on her best smile. “Good afternoon.”

The copy slowly raised her eyes and greeted Allegra with a small nod. In spite of their time apart, in spite of her murderous suggestion, the fake’s affectionate, admiring gaze was unchanged—a gaze that riddled the cottontail’s heart with fresh knife wounds aplenty.

The pain only intensified when the clone stood up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Allegra’s shoulders. She could feel her eyes watering. She almost couldn’t believe herself. She had always been the one to advocate widespread salvation. And yet, it was she who had so brazenly asked for her death. Even though the homunculus was just the sweetest thing.

Choking back her tears, Allegra returned the embrace with a gentle squeeze. She didn’t think she deserved it. She almost wanted the homunculus to hate her, to scream at her and openly express her disapproval. But no matter how long she waited, her condemnation was never delivered.

“I’m sorry.” Eventually, Allegra squeezed out her words. But only barely, her voice a hoarse croak.

The homunculus only shook her head. It was meant to be an act of comfort, but all it did was further Allegra’s guilt. It didn’t help that the copy’s form made it feel like she was apologizing to Claire as well—not the Claire of the present, who had gotten over her betrayal, but the fragile, weak, broken-hearted Claire who she had knowingly wronged.

“Did she give you a name?” She tightened her grip around the fake Claire’s waist and squeezed her one more time before she backed away.

The homunculus nodded, but she didn’t say it aloud. She glanced nervously through their surroundings instead, with her eyes falling on both the maids waiting in the doorway and some of the guards camping about. It only took Allegra a moment to catch on and throw up a series of spells. One was to dampen their voices, while the other was a physical barrier that blocked out the onlookers’ eyes.

“There. We should be able to talk freely now,” said the mage.

Nodding again, the fake brought a hand to her throat and lightly touched it a few times before she finally opened her mouth. “Rubia.”

It was strange how different the same set of vocal cords could sound. While Claire’s voice was clear and mellow, Rubia’s was gravelly and resonant. It almost seemed to echo through the rabbit’s ears. A part of it was because the syllables were not perfectly synced with the motion of her lips. They were just a tiny bit off, noticeable only because the rabbit was paying careful attention.

“Rubia,” repeated Allegra. “It’s a pretty name.”

Rubia nodded. “I like it.”

Allegra smiled. “Does Virillius know?”

Another nod.

“No wonder he reacted the way he did,” she muttered. “I can’t believe I never realised. I saw the signs.”

“Claire was there sometimes. When you were watching.”

“It makes so much sense now that I think back on it.” Allegra raised a hand to her face and massaged her temples. “There were a few times where you suddenly started acting just like her. I always thought that it was some sort of residual behaviour, maybe something that came with her form.”

Rubia shook her head. “She liked teasing everyone. We had lots of fun.”

“Try not to let too many of her bad habits rub off on you, alright?”

The fake cast her eyes downward and pouted. The adorable gesture was one that Allegra hadn’t seen the real Claire make in upwards of a decade. “They’re not bad. She’s fun and I love her.”

“You said that last time too,” said Allegra. “Does she… visit you often?”

Rubia nodded. “Once a week in person. And she possesses me almost almost every day.”

“Really? She visits that frequently?”

“Sometimes, she just sits around. And we watch her memories together while studying.”

“No wonder you were always content to bring out the books.”

“That’s not why,” said Rubia.

“Then why?”

“Because you were my mom. And you showed me that it was fun.”

Allegra felt her heart stop cold in her chest. All of a sudden, she wanted to cry again. Her face contorted and her stomach lurched, but with a sniffle, she stopped herself short of breaking into tears.

She had to do better. Even if the homunculus herself willed for something different. Even if she volunteered to be slain, as she already had, Allegra had already decided. She would allow no harm to come her way.