1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.1 An Icy Welcome
1.2.1.5 Emmanuelle
She found herself back in her sleeping cell at the Sanctum. Vessel Alderney and Massimo were there too.
Kafana: “Hey Vessel-Alderney, Spirit-Kafana here. Sorry to switch around without notice. I suspect today’s going to be really confusing. I hope you got some sleep?”
Massimo muttered: “Keeps half the population awake all night, and what does she apologise for? Inconveniencing Vessels.”
Kafana glared at him, glad to be back on familiar territory: “Massimo! You do that on purpose, don’t you? Say things slightly indistinctly but still loud and clear enough that the person will hear most of what you’re saying.”
Massimo grinned: “Well, it would be a waste of a good grumble, otherwise. Kafana, sincerely, welcome back. I’m amazed and overjoyed you survived the Inferno.”
Vessel-Alderney gave her a hug: “Your Vessel took the separation as badly as you did. But while you retreated, she didn’t have that option. So she got angry at Isabella.”
Oh dear.
Massimo: “Talking of which, I’ve been stationed here to escort you to her if you turned up again. Something about reparations.”
Kafana: “I have to pay for everyone disturbed? Ouch. Apparently I got a few things the Brute Squad were carrying. Perhaps I can auction those to cover the bill, next time they hold an auction? By the way, Vessel-Alderney, can you head to the Sanctum’s clothes making area? I believe Alderney plans to drop in on you in a few minutes and she’ll have a request.”
Vessel-Alderney smiled brightly and scuttled away, calling out a parting word behind her: “She left a message for you in your stash box. Don’t forget to read it!”
She sniffed something sulfurous, and looked around worriedly before realising it was herself.
She grabbed a towelling cloth and a change of clothes. “Massimo, no matter what it is, it can wait 10 minutes.” She dived into the guest bathing area.
15 minutes later she re-emerged, out of breath, a lot cleaner and most of her gems placed in an orderly fashion on a shelf of their own back in her stash. She’d changed back into her travelling gear from House Landi, which had a helmet that covered her hair. It was the simplest thing she had, other than the white shift she’d started the game in. The only magic items she’d kept on her were her Guardian’s Pendant, hidden under her clothing, and her gem of mind-healing, because she really didn’t want anyone reading her mind right now.
Massimo was tapping his foot impatiently and sped out of the room as soon as she arrived. Kafana followed him; Massimo not chatting at all was unusual for him. He was doing his best to be mysterious and ominous; even with sense motive she couldn’t work out what he was suppressing. She slowed down, and read the note from Vessel-Kafana as she walked:
Dear Self,
I feel the same about our separation as you do. But the important thing is that neither of us are permadead, and while there’s life, there’s hope. We have time now to solve things, for others as well as for ourselves. So many people stood by me, when I needed help getting the sword back. I could never forgive myself if I didn’t stand by them in their need. So please, make the gelato launch a success, for the sake of Nicolo and the orphans. They are children, who Fra Nerone will turn out onto the streets. I am a grown woman, damn it. I can, and will, wait.
Your Self.
Now she was giving herself good advice. She cracked a smile at the idea. Maybe there was something to Alderney’s idea of having a cute talking animal companion in a hat to set her straight when she was being silly, full of herself, or too pig-headed? Or perhaps she ought to give Minion and Balthazar their own avatars? Hmm.
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Before she could complete that thought, she arrived. Lot of people were sitting around a conference table, arguing with each other. Herberto Landi was talking to Marco and a third woman. She’d not met Marco yet, but from Wellington’s descriptions it could only be the Landi’s trade factor, who’d been so helpful. He’d obviously been large and athletic when younger, but he was now comfortably rounded and dressed in bright comfortable clothing that mixed styles from around the world. Soft fur-lined boots from the Slavic Dominion, a brocade waistcoat from the Scandic Union, a fine tailored shirt from the Burgundish Benevolence, breaches in the local Etruscan style, an awesome hat with an Ostrich feather in it from the Iberian Palatinate and tooled leather belts and pouches from the Teutonic League. He had a twinkle in his eyes, though, and he spotted her the moment she arrived, giving her a genial wave to invite her over to sit with him.
Massimo had abandoned her to go whisper in the ear of Suor Isabella who was talking to Lelio and Vittoria, so she snuck over to Marco drawing as little attention as possible.
Kafana: “Hello. How are you finding Wellington as a pupil?”
Marco: “Pupil? Ha! He’s teaching me, but is kind enough to let it appear to be the other way around, and he listens politely to my endless stories of past trading expeditions. Now, let me introduce you to Laureato Emmanuelle Giambrone. Wellington said you had limited financial means, but asked me to retain a legal advocate on your behalf. Emmanuelle is my solution. She has only just graduated and doesn’t have an established practice yet, so you can afford her services. This will be her first case, which will make or break her name. But don’t underestimate her. She graduated first in her year, with the highest honours, and the thesis she defended last month at her viva voce was in the new legal area of Questing Spirits. To the extent there’s an expert in this, she’s it. And I think she’s done rather well for you. We’re just waiting for judge Tartaglia to return and deliver his verdicts.”
Isabella joined them, Lelio and Vittoria surrounding her against the table so there was no escape. She gulped.
Isabella: “So. You’ve done ‘nothing’, none of this is your fault, and the mess caused by your return is all due to Cov, hmm?”
Kafana: “Er..”
Vittoria, joining in: “Nothing heroic, no foolish chances, nothing you should be reprimanded for, right?”
Kafana, perspiring, tried to say brightly: “Right!”
Lelio leaned in, sternly: “You’re a rotten liar.”
Kafana, feeling panic, shot back: “I’m an excellent liar!”
Herberto snickered, and she blushed bright red.
Only Emmanuelle stood by her, every hair and stitch clothing in perfect order, glaring icily at Isabella: “Just what exactly are you accusing my client of?”
Isabella: “Thanks to Alderney and Vessel-Kafana, we discovered what Kafana has been avoiding telling us.”
Vittoria: “She returned from the dead, covered in ash and fumes from the Inferno, asked for no fuss to be made over her, and instead started worrying about me and the orphans.”
Kafana: “Yes! We’ve got to get everyone to taste the orphans' new food product, so they’ll like it, buy it, and the orphanage will be saved. That’s the important thing we should be talking about.”
Lelio glared at her, and she shut up.
Isabella: “It turns out that she faced down the Devil Princess and her hoard, killed thousands of devils, beat the Princess in a 1-on-1 duel, and has forever changed the devil race so they understand empathy.”
Kafana whispered: “It was only a few of the devils who changed, probably won’t make a difference. And Princess Salama banished me from the Inferno and forbade her devils from bargaining with me or taking my spirit again, so you can hardly say I beat her.”
Emmanuelle’s jaw dropped.
Massimo patted Emmanuelle on the arm, muttering: “There, there. You’ll get used to her eventually.”
Lelio: “So you did kill thousands of them?”
Kafana squirmed: “Well yes, technically.”
Marco, looking fascinated, raised an eyebrow: “Technically?”
Kafana looked down at her feet: “They died writhing in agony. I don’t want to talk about it, ok?”
Captain Nafaro joined in: “Journeyman, have you any idea what people’s previous interactions with devils have been like? Normally we’re the ones who die. Even when we kill one of them, it usually results in hundreds of soldiers dying.”
She felt like crying again. She was a mess today, emotions all over the place. {Sys, intimidate and aura on for 5 seconds.} She snarled back at them: “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” then more softly she added: “Please, let me just sit with you and wait for the judge. Right now, for today, I just want to forget about it and be a simple singer. I’m not being modest. I’m not feeling too good. Go easy on me, let Emmanuelle talk for me if needed.”
She so needed to regain her balance, her centre. If she kept yoyo’ing like this, she’d be no good to anyone. She just had to keep it together for 3 more hours, and then the launch would be over. 3 hours arlife time. She could do that. One minute at a time, if needs be.