The moment Anastacia had waited the most for after her return from not existing, and perhaps also dreaded the most, had arrived. She was sitting at a table in the mostly empty tavern, with a fresh cup of coffee in front of her, and directly opposite from the most beautiful pair of glowing green eyes she had ever seen. Eyes she only dared to occasionally glance at, and eyes which seemed to have the exact same problem, both immediately darting back to inspecting the stained and worn grain of the wooden table between them whenever their gazes met. Even the brief simultaneous peek at one another was enough to turn the necromancer bright red and cause the spriggan to sprout a few more leaves atop her head. This had been going on for a better part of an hour now, and not a single word besides a faint greeting had been uttered.
Gilbert, who had mistakenly sat down in the same table about ten minutes later slowly grew more and more exasperated with the two, though did not show it in anything beside the deeper and deeper sighs he let out along with the smoke from his pipe. He knew that the two were hardly even aware of his presence, but still felt it would be awkward to get up, and even felt slightly like it was up to him to keep an eye on them while Rosie was otherwise occupied. It wasn’t that he actually cared that much, figuring that Anastacia wasn’t the defenseless whelp he had brought into the city anymore, and having a slightly better opinion of the spriggan than the innkeeper had – but he also knew that if something were to happen, he would be blamed for it.
Finally, as the hour was nearly up, he couldn’t keep his frustration in check anymore. “Are you two really doing this coy nonsense now? After all this time?” He asked and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even you, Xamiliere?”
“I have a purpose now, it’s different, shut up.” The spriggan whispered. “I need to do better.”
“You’ve needed to do better for years now, so that’s something we agree on.” Gilbert muttered.
“Don’t act like you were any better than me more than a couple of years ago, you just got old.” Xamiliere hissed and nodded towards Yulia who was ever busy running the tavern. “Not that it slowed you down too much.”
The old adventurer sighed and glanced at the necromancer to make sure she wasn’t paying attention before leaning closer to whisper to Xamiliere. “Be honest now, Xamiliere, did something happen? Before this newest debacle I mean, while you two were away.”
“A lot happened.” The spriggan smirked but quickly turned serious as the green energy swirling in her eyes grew brighter and more intense before focusing into two almost white points of light in the darkness inside her head. “Xamiliere that was faced judgement of The Mother Grove, her frail husk shattered by the mere attention of the great spirit. She was deemed unfit for her purpose, even by herself – especially by herself – but the tenacious spirit held on to the life it had led here, with these people, with Dammar and Maximillian… with Anastacia. For what felt like eons even to an ancient being such as her, fires hot enough to turn memories into glass, freezing winds cold enough to turn the deepest parts of the mind into ice, both she endured as the great spirit sought anything worth saving in this failed child. However, below it all, the great spirit saw something worth keeping, worthy of a new purpose. It took the tortured remains of its failed child and nurtured it to life once more – the Xamiliere that is… made anew. No more conflict within, only a sense of belonging – ease even, and of course, now knowing the purpose so integral to my kind.”
Gilbert frowned and tried to make sense of what he had just heard. “Made anew? You’re still the same Xamiliere, right? And not some sort of a copy or imitation.”
“Yes, no, debatable, uncertain, impossible to tell even for me. In fact, I’m the last person to ask that from. I certainly feel like I’m me, but would you be able to tell you’ve had fake memories instilled in your head? I know that’s not an answer that’s exactly great to hear, but it’s the best one I can give and stay honest.” Xamiliere admitted freely and glanced down at her own hands as if to me absolutely sure they still obeyed her.
“And this new ‘purpose’ of yours? I know you ridiculed the idea before.” Gilbert asked. He wasn’t actually that concerned about the spriggan not being Xamiliere, as he thought he knew her well enough to quickly notice if something was off, and so far, the biggest oddity was that she was actually behaving herself for once.
“That’s between me and the great spirit.” The spriggan smirked again and placed a finger on her lips as if to keep the secret in.
Gilbert took a moment too commit things to memory and take one more good look at his friend, who by all metrics he could come up with seemed to be herself. “Hmm, now answer the question I actually asked. Did something happen?” He asked again and gestured towards the daydreaming necromancer with his pipe.
“No… well, I did get a smooch on the forehead… but I also understood some things I failed to consider before.” Xamiliere said and gave a loving gaze across the table. “She needs to find her place in this world, understand herself and what she wants first. She’s getting there, but now is not the time for me or any of the others. Until this whole sect nonsense has been dealt with and she has had a solid moment to be herself, and not what everyone else needs her to be for once, you can tell Rosie that I will try to be better… for what it’s worth.”
The adventurer leaned back in his seat and gave up on his interrogation. “You’re awfully old for this kind of character growth.” He muttered.
“You’ve lived much more of your life than I have of mine.” The spriggan grinned. “Have we missed anything important while we were out? Promising new adventurers, dumb decisions from the guild, that sort of thing?”
Gilbert’s face darkened when reminded of the investigation he had slowly pursued while everything else had been going on. “A lot of people are way past late returning from quests. I’m talking seasoned folks like us. It can’t be the weather since they’re not even remotely in the same area, and most of their quests are nothing they should really struggle with.” He took out a list of names from his pocket and passed it across the table.
“Well, that sounds dire, is the guild on the case or just you?” The spriggan frowned and took a look at the names. A few had been crossed over, presumable after their belated return, but the list still had the names of dozens of people who were known to get things done. She was just as familiar with the more experienced adventurers as Gilbert, and many of the names listed were those she considered friends.
“They’re aware, I’ve gotten the permission to go check up on one of them, with a guild liaison of course. This whole business with the sect appearing on their doorstep has got them properly rustled and the funding for recovery exploded overnight – bunch of parties are taking off in a day or two and they’re all being briefed on the sect. I’d like to leave right now as well, but I’m not dumb enough to go out there without Anna at the very least, and she needs a day off from everything, more than a day… I’d take Emilia as well but I have no idea if she’s in any shape to go.” Gilbert lamented.
Xamiliere slid the list back over. “Just tell me which one. I’ll go check on them, I can leave tonight, without the whole bureaucracy stuff slowing me down.”
Gilbert’s eyes lit up as much as his gruffness allowed. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t you rest a bit too?”
“They’re my people too, and I’m in the shape of my life, stronger than ever. I’m not an idiot either, so if it turns out to be something I can’t handle, I’ll scurry back in a hurry.” The spriggan boasted, allowing the energy in her flare out, causing a noticeable floral scent in the whole tavern. “Do you think it actually is the sect though?”
The old adventurer scratched his beard and considered the options one more time before voicing out his theory to anyone for the first time. “If I was with the sect and Valor stood in my way, it’s what I’d do. Attacking the city itself is foolish, no matter who you are, but picking out adventurers in small groups while they’re out there is at least possible. None of the folks that have actually gotten back have said anything about the sect, but we don’t exactly know what they’re capable of. I’m led to believe that they have ample numbers and methods to stir trouble, maybe even in a way that doesn’t directly point to them. Mournvalley is no doubt making sure other nations are aware and prepared as well, so they’d be wise to make sure Valor can’t be called for help in case they decide to actually invade somewhere.
“Though I’m sure there are armies and covens and such able to push back any incursion they launch, they have to focus on Valor and Mournvalley first. Valor has Anna, who is nothing short of a catastrophe for them now, but the sect is not stupid enough to not realize that Eminence died before she was crowned, and the most obvious conclusion is that Mournvalley still possesses the ability to kill the sect members, even if their remaining red one is out there somewhere. Out of those two targets, Mournvalley is without a doubt the softer one, so my money is on the hammer falling there first, while Valor is slowly being bled out with these quests that turn out to be much more difficult than they let on.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot.” The spriggan pointed out, certainly not disagreeing with the logic.
“I’m an aging man surrounded by people far more capable than myself, I have to do something to feel useful.” Gilbert shrugged.
“I wouldn’t worry about your usefulness too much quite yet.” Xamiliere chucked and nodded towards Anastacia. “Sure, she can explode a person with her mind, but leave her unsupervised on a long journey and she’s lying face down in a bush by nightfall because she doesn’t even know how to differentiate between wild onions and fae onions. Your knees will give out before you’ve had the time to teach her all she needs to know. Besides, Yulia seems to find you plenty capable enough.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the inn’s door slamming shut and the rest of the patrons suddenly falling silent. The reason for their silence was apparent, as by the door stood a person clad in the guild’s purple, but not in armor the guards usually wore, nor with a crystalline horn on his head. His spotless uniform, neatly braided black hair, clean shaved face and just general refined aura immediately set him apart from the usual clientele of Rosie’s inn.
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Both Gilbert and Xamiliere were immediately on the same page on what the appearance of this guild affiliated person meant: their conversation had come to an end. If the spriggan was going to track one of the missing adventurers without the guild’s orders, it was better they were left completely unaware of it.
Gilbert lifted up his drink to cover his mouth, pretending to take a sip. “Allyria and her party, southern Id Kazan, ash maidens.” He gave a name on the list, one he knew Xamiliere knew, the location they were supposed to go to and the threat they were there to sort out. Strangely enough, he didn’t bother to whisper at all, speaking into his mug loud enough that anyone interested in the matter would have no doubt picked it up in the silence.
“Consider it done.” The spriggan spoke without her wooden lips moving at all and stood up from the table to get the few things she would need from her room before leaving.
The spriggan’s departure finally snapped Anastacia out of her blissful trance and she attempted to follow her but was gestured to sit back down by Gilbert. “Where is she going?”
Again, lifting up his drink to take a sip and cover his mouth, he spoke. “I’ll explain later. We’re about to have company, for now mind what you say.”
Just as he said that, the man who had entered the inn noticed the old adventurer in the corner table and the two locked eyes across the room. Gilbert wasn’t a fan of the feeling of being observed and scrutinized the acute gaze from the man’s deep brown eyes gave him. As if each movement he made was carefully taken note of and prescribed a meaning. The adventurer put down his mug and made a quick gesture with his hand, which garnered what seemed to be a genuinely impressed raise of a brow and a hand gesture back at him.
The man took off his leather gloves, gracefully made his way to the table and took the seat Xamiliere had just left and moved it opposite to Gilbert instead. He wasted no time and began making more gestures with his hands instead of greeting the adventurers.
Gilbert hit the palm of his hand with the side of his other hand, causing the man to stop mid-gesture and stare at him frustratedly. “I apologize, but would it be alright if I spoke and you wrote instead? My friend here doesn’t understand you and even I am a bit rusty in all honesty.” He asked, speaking unusually slowly and clearly.
The man turned to Anastacia, who was just confused by the entire exchange, and clearly stopped himself from rolling his eyes before nodding to Gilbert and taking out a coarse tablet of black stone, a piece of chalk and a leather rag from a bag hanging from his shoulder. He spent a while writing something on the tablet before turning it towards Anastacia, expecting her to read it.
“Greetings, adventurer. I am Solaria Azil-Idim, the guild archmagus of temporal and spatial magic. When speaking to me, please make sure that I can see you and that you speak with clear pronunciation. Thank you.” Anastacia read the message out loud and glanced at Gilbert, hoping for some kind of an explanation.
“Just do as he says, you’ll figure it out.” He sighed.
The necromancer nodded to both of them.
Already done writing his next message and directing it towards Gilbert, Solaria moved on with the conversation. “Have you decided on a schedule yet? I have no intention to waste much more time.”
“I was hoping we could wait a couple more days at least. I was going to ask Anastacia here to come with us, but she has had an eventful few days now and needs some rest.” Gilbert spoke clearly, as asked, and gestured towards the necromancer.
This obviously annoyed by the delay, the mage glared at the adventurers and grimaced while wiping away his message to start on a new one. Every few words, he paused for a moment to glare at the adventurers some more and do what seemed like some very complicated mental calculations. Finally finishing his message, he flipped the tablet towards Gilbert. “I am aware of the value she brings, and we have every reason to suspect it’s needed… but can she not rest on the road? We will travel by guild carriage after all.”
Anastacia leaned to the side to see the message as well. “Where are we going, and why? It’s starting to sound like I’ve missed something while I was gone.”
“You could say that.” Gilbert said, his mood falling through the floor again. “In the past weeks, a lot of adventurers have failed to return from quests, a lot more than usual. I’m talking about experienced folks on quests they’re more than capable of taking on, and who are more than smart enough to know when to bail. The guild is organizing some search parties, they’re worried it’s the sect – as am I. I’ve volunteered to make one of these search parties, with Solaria here as our guild liaison, and I was hoping you’d come along – Emilia too, but I reckon she has other worries right now.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Anastacia stood up. “Alright! Let’s head out then.” She declared and slammed her hands on the table.
Gilbert couldn’t help but to chortle amusedly, thinking that’s exactly the reaction he would have had years ago. “Are you sure about that? You really should take a moment to collect yourself after… not existing.” He tried to reason with the girl, but knew it was entirely pointless and didn’t waste that much effort trying.
“I’ll just sleep in the carriage like he said. I’m pretty sure I’ve become a magnet for nonsense and it doesn’t actually matter where I am, it just crops up anyway. So not much resting is going to happen anyway.” The necromancer shrugged. “Besides, I might not be on the best of terms with the guild, but if the sect even thinks about going after this place or adventurers in general, it’s time to put my fancy new title to work.” She boasted before remembering something important and meekly sitting back down. “I do actually want to talk to a few people first though… But tomorrow we’ll leave at first light!”
The haste seemed to have been of great importance to the guild mage, as he appeared ecstatic over the declaration – at least as much someone affiliated with the guild could. His grim look changed to a hopeful and perhaps even gentle smile as he placed his hand on Anastacia’s. Though he mouthed the words “Thank you,” no sound left his lips.
“Think King and Leggy will be up for it?” Gilbert inquired.
“I doubt I could stop them if I wanted to.” Nodded the necromancer.
Gilbert did some quick planning in his head before nodding as well. “The five of us should do. With the two of you, we’ll have ample ways to attack whatever we’ll find, while the simulacra and I handle the front line.”
“I’ll check up on Emilia too, but you’re probably right about her…” Anastacia added.
Solaria quickly scribbled one more message on his tablet as he stood up to leave. “Then it is settled! We leave tomorrow at dawn. Someone will be fetching you from here. I’ll handle supplies, so you only need to pack what gear you might need. Expect the trip to take up to two weeks.” After making sure both adventurers had read it, he wiped the slate clean, placed it into his satchel and bowed quickly before rushing off to presumably prepare for the trip.
Waiting until the guild mage had disappeared into the frigid winter weather outside, Gilbert spoke up again. “Xamiliere left to check out one of the other parties, by the way – not a word to Solaria about that though, it’s better the guild doesn’t know.”
“On her own?” Anastacia worried, disappointed that she didn’t have a chance to talk with the spriggan – not that she would have managed to say much anyway. “Will she be alright?”
Gilbert almost laughed. “More than fine. She’ll get it done faster and with less hassle than with anyone else slowing her down.”
“I guess…” The necromancer pouted.
They took a while to properly bring each other up to speed with everything the other one might have missed. Anastacia revealed some of the happenings during her stay in the mother grove and her talks with Tekhelet, while Gilbert explained case of the missing adventurers in more depth, as well as what exactly it was it that they were heading out to do. They also made some rudimentary plans for the morning and went over what gear they were each going to bring along.
Their conversation halted instantly when a third person quietly took a seat in the chair first occupied by Xamiliere and then by the mage. The curly dark red hair tied back with a strand of black lace, the freckles on the slightly tanned cheeks, the light brown eyes with considerable bags under them from lack of sleep – they were all recognizable features but felt completely off without one more defining aspect. Wearing a plain green shirt far too big for her, likely because it belonged to Rosie, and some wrinkled pants excavated from deep within a pile of unused clothes in some dusty wardrobe, Emilia sat down beside her friends and took a sip of the tea she had brought with her. Still unmistakably the same person, but almost completely unrecognizable without the pure white uniform and the armor that came with it. Her unusual appearance made the other two adventurers fall quiet. Anastacia even had to make sure that she was still untouchable by necromancy to be sure that this was indeed Emilia. It must have been months since either of them had seen her without the uniform, and only a handful of times ever. The imposing aura of divinity she usually radiated was entirely gone, and her mundaneness itself appeared abnormal to them.
“Out with it.” Emilia sternly demanded as the staring started to tire her.
“Well… um… is everything alright?” Anastacia asked warily.
“Manageable.” Emilia shrugged. “Not good, but I’ll be fine for a while. Taking the armor off was an ordeal, but it’s done now… what’s not over is the voice in my head. She just keeps on singing no matter what I say...”
Anastacia and Gilbert nervously glanced at each other.
“Reckon going out there would help to distract you from it? We’re working on something, should be leaving tomorrow.” The old adventurer suggested.
Emilia shook her head and sighed. “Maybe, but I think I would be too distracted to rely on. It’s better if I sit out this one and figure out something else that works.”
“Are you sure? You could just come along and stay back.” Anastacia suggested in turn.
Though she seemed to put some thought into it, ultimately Emilia shook her head again and smiled. “No… I’ll stay here and maybe help around the inn. I’ve lived with this for years now, I’ll manage.”
“If you say so.” The necromancer yielded. “Say something if you need help though, we’ll come up with something.”
Smiling through the visible exhaustion, Emilia put her hand on the necromancer’s head and ruffled her hair. “Just go out there and do what you need to be doing. Like I said, I’ll manage – somehow.”
Just as she said that Rosie emerged from the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and an equally exhausted frown. Despite not being the one with unwanted voices in her head, she seemed to be even worse off than Emilia. Though she had never been the one to put more than the bare minimum amount of work into her looks to appear somewhat neat and tidy around the inn, the braids hanging off her mane were loosened and even unraveling in places, there was a grayness to the usual bright orange hue of her fur, and her usually keen and terrifying gaze was now dull and tired. She filled the necromancer’s cup without even asking and left the pot beside her before sitting down by Emilia.
“You really should help Yulia already. This is your inn.” Emilia commented and pointed at the lamb, frantically dashing around to get everything done by herself.
“I’ll get around to it.” The innkeeper groaned and slumped down onto the table.
“Is everything alright?” Anastacia asked while shoveling sugar into her fresh cup of coffee. “You seem tired.”
“I WORRY!” The innkeeper roared. “First, I’m told that Em is now somehow immune to necromancy or whatever, then you just disappear with that twig of all people, then I’m told that you just fucking ceased existing for a while, and now the trollop of a god in Em’s head isn’t taking the hint and my nighttime waitress is apparently some kind of puppet of another shitty god or something! Is it really that much of a wonder that I haven’t exactly slept well as of late?” She slowly lifted her head to look at Gilbert. “At least you’re boring and smart enough to stay out of trouble, I wouldn’t be able to handle Yulia stressing over you as well.”
“Well… Actually. Anna and I were just talking about heading out and doing a recovery quest for the guild.” Gilbert admitted.
A fire ignited in the innkeeper’s eyes as her claws dug into the wooden table. “A what now?” She hissed with absolute fury.