After their guild-provided sanitation soak ended, the necromancers found their clothes and equipment thoroughly washed, mended and neatly arranged on the tables inside the room they had taken them off in. Despite being dried through some possibly magical means, the clothes now had a noticeable medicinal odor to them, to a point where they may require a second wash back at the inn if whatever chemical traces on them didn’t evaporate overnight.
While gathering their gear and dressing up, both necromancers carefully checked the everything to make sure the assorted items they had been carrying had actually been returned.
“I can’t find some of my things.” Iris frowned and rummaged through her collection of medical equipment.
“Was it bits of people or animals?” Anastacia asked while counting the little white crystals she had stolen from the machine fortress. “You heard what the guard said, you can’t just bring random bits and pieces into the city.”
“They were carefully curated and prepared bits and pieces…” The newly appointed court cleric pouted.
“If there’s something you absolutely need, buy replacements tomorrow. You’d be surprised by what’s being sold around here.” Anastacia shrugged. “I have seen jars full of elf toenail clippings, being sold by the gram – alchemists are wild.”
Iris sulked with an unsure look on her face. “I don’t have much money though… From what I hear, things here aren’t exactly cheap.”
“Well, you’re lucky that you’ve found work already then. As a servant of the goblin throne, you’re entitled to a modest budget for your expenses. I assume Emilia is banging out the details about your room and food as we speak, so those shouldn’t be an issue. We can go and buy you some normal clothes and such tomorrow, it’s not a problem.” The adventurer nonchalantly waved away Iris’ worries as if they were nothing but minor inconveniences.
Iris froze in the middle of buttoning her shirt. “Why? Why do any of this for me? You hate me.”
Genuinely having put the minimal thought possible into the matter, Anastacia didn’t really have an answer ready. If she had to think about it, she did despise the inquisitors just as much as before, but the wingless one hardly seemed like she should count. Iris’ powers had waned to a point where Anastacia found herself forgetting about them existing in the first place and in her head, the word ‘inquisitor’ conjured the idea of someone who was always one decision away from prematurely ending the lives of everyone else in the building. Now it was hard to say if Iris could have done that even if she wanted to. Whatever the ex-inquisitor was going through had broken her spirit to a point where it was questionable if she could even defend herself, and that put Anastacia at ease.
Yet, the question remained, why was she going through any amount of trouble to make some Mournvalleyan twit comfortable or feel welcome to her home at all?
“I suppose I’m paying something forward.” She scraped together an answer. “I came here as a Mournvalleyan, from a recluse country and without a coin to my name. No one had any reason to trust me, I dragged more trouble along than I care to admit and I don’t know if I’m even that good of a person, but I was accepted with a warm greeting, food, a bed to call my own, friends… Now, as Anastacia of Valor, I am in a place where I can offer the same to someone, even if it’s temporary, seems only right that I do. Maybe one day, you can do the same.”
“You live in a much more beautiful world than most of us. I doubt most people would see it like that.” Iris sighed. “Or maybe they don’t just see the beauty of it.”
The two continued to silently put together their things and eventually left the establishment behind. Their bath had taken around two hours and night had properly descended over the city. The streets were largely empty and most businesses had closed their doors a good while ago. Curiously, they could still hear the relentless banging of metal from the blacksmith’s shop as they passed it. Anastacia remarked that the dwarf inside was the one responsible for building Coquelicot’s new set of arms as well as a few other things, and that he was likely the one to talk with about the replacement wings. She herself also needed a new set of spears, and so needed to pay a visit to him regardless.
“Say, you mentioned Teal in one of your outbursts, right? What’s up with him?” The adventurer spoke out as they slowly meandered towards the inn.
Iris’ mood darkened. “Teal is… integral to the inquisition. When given the tools he needs, he’s likely the third one in terms of power, after you and boss. As the second of the inquisition, he’s the immovable sentinel tasked with a lot of defense-related things, but also the ‘big brother’ for the rest of us, someone everyone trusts when things get rough. He breaks up fights and sees that everything is given equally to us all.” She explained with a hint of reverence in her tone. “But, some time ago, we had to send him to an urgent meeting to prevent wars with some of our… more difficult neighbors. The meeting has been over for weeks, but he hasn’t returned, nor has he sent a message. People are starting to wonder if he just up and left us because things back home had been tense for a while. Others are considering doing the same for various reasons, to a point where the inquisition would collapse.”
“Okay. So, here’s the thing: Teal is more than likely tied to a bed by a large insect-lady… Or like a net or something – you need to ask Gil about how Ouans go about things.” Anastacia suddenly said, remembering the unexpected outcome of the recent diplomatic meeting she had been a part of.
The downcast necromancer fell silent and slowly turned to look at her new employer. She had several questions but not the presence of mind to audibly express any of them.
Noticing the visible confusion, Anastacia expanded on her interjection. “I was at that meeting. Things got out of hand really quickly and in several ways. There were a couple of murders, an ancient spirit of discord, recreation of an old myth, a maid was involved – you know, the usual. Teal did his inquisitorial duty of attacking me for dumb fucking reasons and I did mine by putting him in his place.” She explained the rough idea behind what occurred. “But while this was going on, things between Teal and the Ouan representative got fairly steamy, if you know what I mean. It was all very adorable, but by the end, the Ouan was well in shape to drag your little sentinel into her nest for who knows what. I don’t think he ever showed any intention of abandoning Mournvalley, so my money would be on him being half-willingly imprisoned as sort of a peace offering. You might want to send someone to check up on him sooner or later.”
Still beyond speechless, Iris stared at the adventurer and went through a whole range of emotions, from disbelief to delight over what was without a doubt great news overall. The largest hurdle about dealing with Ou was their utter distaste for necromancers, to a point where they refused any and all attempts for diplomacy. However, if Teal had managed to get in good graces of an Ouan with meaningful stature, it might create an opening.
“Taking one for the team is a very Teal thing to do…” Iris warily smiled.
Anastacia agreed to let her court cleric to do one final task as an inquisitor to find and send a courier with the newly learned information to the nearest Mournvalleyan operative while they would wander around the city in the morning, but before that, they would need a quick meal and a proper rest.
When they finally arrived to the inn, the counter had already been handed over to the strange owlfolk girl that handled the slow hours of the night. With Holly, Emilia had left behind the key to her woefully unused room, which now served more as a storage for dust than anything else, along with a message that Iris should use it for the time being.
While waiting for the waitress to slowly construct them a couple of sandwiches, Anastacia, Iris and the simulacra sat down around the table nearest to the counter and started to wind down for the day. Both of them did their absolute best to suppress their powers to not feel the living material around them after realizing the inevitable outcome of the other two members of the party returning to their significant others.
“So, how about a distraction conversation?” The adventurer suggested while gritting her teeth to forcefully snuff out her own powers. “A question for a question.”
“Sounds good!” Iris immediately agreed. “You go ahead and start.”
“What’s up with this biting people business of yours?” Anastacia launched the first thing that came to her mind.
“It’s a Rustgarden thing. A fairly small percentage of necromancers originating from a few families there are born with the ability to sense some things from flesh and blood with their mouth. From a drop of blood, I can tell quite a bit about your recent life and health, from a tiny morsel of flesh I can almost relive the moments leading up to whatever it was that took off the piece, as your body felt it that is. Sense any fear, stress and the like. From a little nibble on your skin, I can get clues on whether you’re being honest and just what kind of a person you are overall.” The ex-inquisitor explained, clearly delighted to once more share knowledge with someone. “We don’t really know much about it, other than that it’s related to necromancy. Some kind of an offshoot maybe? Similar to whatever causes the difference between being able to use living material and not. It’s handy at times, but makes you unable to actually eat meat… unless there’s something very wrong with you as a person, I suppose – as well as cause a lot of issues when it comes to intimacy…”
The adventurer paid as much attention to the answer as possible to have it occupy her mind. “The meat thing. Why is that?”
“Would you be able to eat it if every bite meant reliving whatever happened in the slaughterhouse?” Iris asked. “Or the feeling of having an arrow in your neck after being stalked by a hunter.”
Having some experience regarding arrows and necks, Anastacia found it easy to understand Iris’ point, and a chill ran down her spine just from the subject being brought up. However, having some insight to Iris’ curious abilities brought up some ideas regarding their friend’s ‘condition’.
“Say. If you were to bite Emilia, would you know what’s up with her?” She inquired with a slightly hushed tone while covering her mouth.
Iris pondered the idea for a while. “I do like your thinking, but I’m certain it would require drawing blood at the very least. There’s also no chance she’d let me do that though – I’ve tried.”
“I think I can come up with something for that. We’ll bring this up with Rosie first.” Anastacia figured and brought an end to their covert plotting as Holly finally brought over their meals.
The owlfolk girl stood silently by the table for a few seconds while unblinkingly staring at the necromancers with her unnaturally large and blank eyes. She placed two plates with surprisingly neatly made sandwiches on them by Anastacia, as well as a pair of cups and a bottle of water. Without breaking an unsettling eye contact with Iris, she lowered her head right next to Anastacia.
“Where are the wings?” She tried to whisper but didn’t actually lower her voice.
“How do you know about that? We’ve never met before, have we?” Iris wondered after, perhaps a bit rudely, judging the waitress to just be a bit of a simpleton. On their last visit to the inn with Cobalt, they had briefly seen Rosie, but as far as she knew, she had never seen Holly.
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“Shame. Shame. Wings are good to have.” Holly ignored the questions and slid one of the plates over to Iris.
“That’s partly why she’s here. We’re going to visit the blacksmith tomorrow to see if we can get a new set made.” Anastacia explained. It was hard to tell if the waitress was uniquely apt at reading people, or if she possessed some sort of boon from whatever her relation to Estreya, the devotee of the God of the Night Sky was. Regardless, she had accepted that Holly just knew things she likely shouldn’t have and didn’t let it bother her anymore.
Nodding understandingly, the owlfolk slowly moved away from Anastacia’s face but still didn’t blink or break eye contact with Iris. “Blacksmith is very busy. Hasn’t come to get food in days! The brother worries too. But the hat of teeth is still not ready. He might not have time for wings.”
The master blacksmith being overworked, willingly or unwillingly, was nothing new for him. However, it was somewhat curious that his scummy brother, Valimir, had apparently expressed concern over it. Skipping meals to work wasn’t something Anastacia had seen him do before either, so simply checking up on the dwarf was added to the reasons to visit him first thing in the morning. The ‘hat of teeth’ seemed like something she could live without seeing though, so she decided to not bring it up.
While the adventurer pondered the situation, Iris had realized she wouldn’t be getting an answer and had given up on her inquiry. Instead, she focused on the sandwich offered to her. She could see that the one given to Anastacia had some kind of bacon poking out of it and began perusing her own to take it out. To her surprise, there was none to be found and the Mournvalleyan paused to appreciate the consideration she had been given. Though had she known the people she was dealing with a bit better, she would have realized that it was far more likely that Holly simply ate half of the fillings while making the sandwiches and gave the rest of the meat to the person she liked more.
The vacuous emptiness in Holly’s widened pupils was extremely unsettling for Iris whenever she happened to glance up, and the waitress refused to stop staring directly at her at all times. Despite being an elite necromancer, the unblinking gaze of the strange girl made her feel like a helpless field mouse that was being trailed by a bird of prey. The reason for the feeling was unclear, but there was some oppressing force that lurked behind the harmless appearance, only pushing through when the owlfolk’s eyes were shaded from the spare lighting of the inn. The feeling was so strong that she couldn’t believe that Anastacia and the few other tired adventurers hanging about in the tavern simply ignored it.
When Holly suddenly took a step closer, Iris almost darted out of her seat before she even had the chance to think about it. Clenching her fists, she forced herself to stay put while the waitress crept ever closer and kept inspecting her.
“Disguised as a little bluebird.” Holly stated and reached to her own shoulder inside her loose-fitting clothes. She fondled around a bit until finally pulling her hand out and placing three white and fluffy feathers onto the table in front of iris. “For the new wings.”
With an uncharacteristic smirk that implied intentions, plots and planning that far surpassed what she seemed to be capable of on the surface, the waitress left the necromancers to enjoy their meals and returned behind the counter. She immediately returned to her usual character and started gnawing on a piece of cork for some reason.
Iris stared at the feathers before her, each one almost shining on their own with the very distinct shade of pale moonlight. The curiosity was almost unbearable, as the feathers resonated normally with necromancy, there was definitely a good chance she could find out what Holly’s deal was with a quick bite on one.
Anastacia could easily tell what her cleric was thinking from the look in her eyes. “I really, really, really wouldn’t. I’ve had to deal with some stuff related to her and trust me when I say that whatever you can sense from that isn’t going to clear up anything.” She advised her fellow necromancer and briefly remembered the odd realm of night she had visited to ward off whoever it was that was after Holly.
Unable to take her eyes off from the feathers for a few more seconds, Iris heeded the advice regardless. She tucked them neatly into a pocket inside her robes and continued eating her sandwich. “Very well… But it’s time for my question, right?”
“Shoot.” Agreed the adventurer.
“Do you have a plan? Is there a rhyme or reason to whatever it is that you’re doing with your life, is there a goal you’re striving for? Like, let’s say… having a family, that’s a common one, I think.” Iris asked a question she had prepared quite a while ago. Everything she had ever read about Anastacia from the inquisitorial spy and intelligence reports made it seem that her movements and motivations were at best arbitrary. To put it simply, Anastacia seemed to just ‘happen’ in unrelated places at random times.
Anastacia frowned. “Was… was I supposed to have one? I have stuff I want to do at some point but was there supposed to be a plan involved?”
“Like what?” Iris asked, curious about what the most powerful necromancer in the world could have possibly wanted to do.
“I want to see how they grow coffee, ride a ship, see a real sloth, visit different cities across the world, study simulacra…” The adventurer listed off things she had at one point or another wanted to do.
“First of all, sloths aren’t real, that’s stupid. Rest of that stuff though, I’m pretty sure you could just get up from that chair and do with fairly little effort.” The cleric pointed out, sounding a bit disappointed at the scope of Anastacia’s dreams. “Do you really not have any purposes you need to or want to work towards? Like the whole goblin kingdom thing, are you thinking about expanding that? Maybe setting up some level of society, form relations with other countries or something?”
Visibly upset by Iris’ lack of faith in the lazy animals Gilbert had vouched for several times, Anastacia took a moment to shrug off the comment before smirking. “I don’t think you understand how goblins work. I might be their queen, but all I do is look after them. The only way I would expand anything is if more tribes sought protection. It may be a bit hands-off approach for a ruler, but it’s not like I’m putting a gaggle of barely trained kids in charge of a withering nation that has a tendency to be evil. So, I think it’s going alright as is.
“Other than that, I’ve only been out of the dungeon for about half a year now. I don’t know shit about anything so why would I make long term plans yet? I’ve got great friends, I’ve got King and Leggy, a room here and a castle that will be at some point ready… I’m fairly confident that I can just ride on this for a good bit while figuring things out. If anything, you need to look into scrapping whatever ‘plans’ you have. You’ve only got like three or four years on me, right?” She said smugly and finished her meal.
Iris sighed deeply. “I might have to, if things go on like this for much longer…”
As they finished their meal in silence, the necromancers deemed the situation in the inn to finally be safe and could move into their rooms without having to come up with further distractions. Anastacia showed the way to Emilia’s room to its new, temporary resident and swiftly retired into her own with her simulacra, leaving Iris alone to settle into her life as a court cleric.
The priestess’ room was obviously barely used. Dust covered every surface of it and there didn’t seem to be a single personal effect to be found anywhere. The wardrobe was empty, as was the little chest by the end of the bed. In the drawer of a small table by the window, she found writing utensils, paper, as well as a small crystal lantern.
This was convenient for Iris, as she still needed to write some kind of a report on the information regarding Teal and the possible destruction of Anastacia’s records so that it could be delivered to Mournvalley with haste.
She wiped most of the dust off the table and sat down to scribble together a fairly informal summary of what she had learned, what she was going to be doing for a while and a few other notes. The rest of the inquisition expected a lot of her, but formal or well-thought-out messages weren’t something she excelled in, so the task was quickly completed. Iris then folded the paper somewhat neatly and sealed it with an inquisitorial blue wafer seal she carried with her.
“Good enough!” She cheered on herself and put the letter into the pocket inside her robe.
As she did that, her hand brushed against the soft feathers already stored there and reignited the intrigue she had felt immediately after they had been gifted to her. Internally wrestling with her curiosity, Iris slowly placed one of them on the table.
In the slightly blue-tinted light of the lantern, nothing about the feather seemed all that unusual. It was certainly soft and beautiful, but not in an unnaturally captivating way. Far too small to be even considered quill material, with a rounded tip and a subtle bend to it, most ornithologist would have recognized it as an owl feather – or in this case, owlfolk one.
Iris had noticed that darkness, or a lack of light to be exact, seemed to somehow escalate the strangeness surrounding Holly. Based on this, she decided to slide the lantern shut to inspect the feather in the faint light of the barely visible moon.
Almost immediately, the feather regained its odd glow-like effect. While it didn’t necessarily didn’t produce light itself, it almost appeared to amplify the light produced by the cloudless night sky. Iris twirled it between her fingers, captivated by the oddness. Without her even noticing it, the darkness in her room somehow intensified, leaving only the feather and a few white items in the room visible as they reflected moonlight.
The air became heavier to breathe and tendril-like threads of night began to wrap around the necromancer, who still failed to take her eyes off the feather. In a massive lapse of judgement, against the warning she had received, Iris bit down on the fluffy plume and the darkness covered everything.
Upon opening her eyes again, Iris found herself in a place she didn’t recognize at all. In front of her was a large wooden desk, filled with dozens of quills and inkwells, as well as a single book that had been opened to a blank spread. Beyond the desk opened up a massive hall, unlike anything she had ever seen before or even thought possible. Outside of a path in the middle, the entire space was filled with infinite rows of gargantuan bookcases that each dwarfed the walls of Valor in size. Every single one of them was entirely packed with copies of somewhat small, black, leather-bound books that had no title written on their spines. Continuing as far as the eye can see, this library ridiculed all other collections in size – possibly even combined.
Here and there, among the infinite rows of books wandered people, all of them dressed in a similar manner in black trousers, a white long-sleeved shirt and a black vest on top of it. Despite being seemingly regular people, humans, elves, beastfolk and others, they all seemed somehow small compared to whoever it was Iris saw through at the time.
Thinking about the seemingly large size of the being made the necromancer realize that this was not at all her abilities at work. When she spoke about ‘reliving’ the recent past of someone or something she sank her teeth into, what she meant was the emotions and feelings, not literal visions of the past. Someone powerful might have been using this ability as a steppingstone to show her something she wouldn’t have normally seen. The lack of sandwich making made it obvious that the where and when this scene had happened certainly wasn’t the immediate past of the waitress the feather belonged to either.
Iris’ train of thought was interrupted by the approach of one of the people wandering around the library. A crow-like birdfolk, clad in the same attire as everyone else in the building and with a stack of three books in his arms.
“Lady Saga, I have brought the stories of the red and violet necromancers as well as the owlet’s, like you asked me to. All from the same period.” The crow said and gestured at the books, but seemed somehow unsure. “If I may be as rude as to ask: the stories had little to no coinciding threads, why bring them?”
“Thank you, Noir, for both the stories and the question.” Spoke a voice originating from Iris’ point of view. Not one she recognized immediately, but still somehow familiar. “I have plotted an escape from these drab halls, one that will hide me from father for a good while – perhaps even throw his plans into disarray! Because of this, I will tie these threads together, alter their course and… meddle.”
The crow sighed. “Have I perchance just become an accomplice through my nosy nature?”
“Astute as always, my dear Noir. If my recollection serves me right, which it does because… that’s how it works – Vinca was originally close to these matters and found you in this period as well. You and him are to take some off-the-record trips down there to guide and nudge things around, if need be, as I will be out for the time being.” The voice said and chuckled mischievously.
With another heavy sigh, the crow placed the books on the desk, which he could barely reach because of the difference in size. “I serve The Lunar Library, and its head librarian above all else… be she a pinch juvenile at times. Consider your requests granted, Lady Saga.” He said and wandered off into the maze of bookcases.
The person Iris saw through stood up as the conversation ended and turned around to face the opposite direction. Behind her was a large stained-glass window, on which was pictured a moth of all things, and through which one could see outside. Several stories below the window spread a strange landscape that had no mountains, lakes, trees, grass or anything usually found in nature, but rather a matte gray plane that seemed almost ashen. Directly in front of the building was something even stranger however, a large circular hole in this terrain – and far, far, far below this hole were what seemed to be clouds, continents, seas and the like – a view of the world that wouldn’t have been visible even from the highest of mountaintops.
And with that, darkness once more covered Iris’ vision.
When she came to, the necromancer found herself on the floor of her temporary room, seemingly having fallen down in her chair and with a feather stuck on her tongue. All seemed as it should have been, quiet and peaceful.
“Is it just illegal to be normal and exist around Anastacia?” The court cleric muttered as she tiredly stumbled up from the floor and began trying to rid her mouth of shredded bits of plume.