Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-14

Once I return, I head straight for the study, my mood sour but wanting to get my meeting with Morgene over with. Surprisingly, the room is empty. I barely have a moment to wonder where my wayward tutor is before a weight hits my shoulder, small hands latching onto me.

“Coo~” Bell says right into my ear, while the mature voice of her true, or should I say preferred, form speaks into my mind. {The elf has requested that you meet her behind the estate.}

“What for?”

{She requested that I not tell you.}

“Is it something annoying?”

“Coo!” {No more than anything else she does. Less, I assume.}

Sigh.

I decide to trust her judgment and the two of us walk through the estate, the imp clinging to my shoulder. We pass through the kitchen to the servant’s entrance at the back of the house.

I don’t pay much attention to what happens to the estate, as we don’t plan to stay here for long. Everyone can do whatever they care to in pursuit of comfort, but no one has cared to do much; the succubi have rearranged the kitchen and Talia has thrown out some of the decorations she found offended her taste, but that’s it. Or I thought that was the extent of it.

To the left of the door is a stone deck, formed from compacted dirt, tall enough to require three steps to reach. Bell’s doing, I assume. The two chaise lounges likely came from the house while the tree behind them, its long branches three times the length of its stunted trunk, are probably Orum’s contribution, providing ample shade from the growing presence of the spring sun. A mound of pillows and blankets completes the relaxing area, urging me to take a seat and nap away an afternoon.

The violet elf roasting meat over a firepit at the edge of the deck doesn’t match the scene at all. Normally, Morgene is a showy dresser, with a penchant for skirts and dresses that I have no idea where she keeps as she and Orum arrived at the estate without a hint of luggage between them. A style I find at odds with her dagger-like personality and stated willingness to engage in bloodsports, but I suppose when one can crush anyone that would dare criticize them, dressing to impress takes on a different meaning, or perhaps loses meaning entirely. Not that she’s not impressive. Just that, so long as she’s not glaring, no one would think she’s a savage whose idea of a good time is breaking someone in mind and body.

Today, she’s dressed in the tight leathers Kierra prefers, the dull brown vest and pants the simplest garments I’ve ever seen her wear. Her long silver hair is tied up in the exact style Kierra uses sometimes, exposing her slender neck, the only hint of delicateness in her toned body. She holds a bowl in one hand and a brush in the other, wiping something on the meat before turning it.

“There you are. Good job, pet.”

Bells coos as she leaps from my shoulder, dashing up the steps and stopping at Morgene’s feet. I follow at a far more sedate pace, moving between amusement and disbelief as I watch the imp sit on her back legs and raise her arms like a begging puppy. I know she’s only catering to Morgene’s desires, so the problem lies with the elf. She does realize that Bell isn’t really a pet, right? Specifically, that she’s a thinking creature that possesses an incredible intellect and the experience to support it. That this is all an act, with a goal, likely a menacing one. I hope so. Morgene doesn’t strike me as the willfully ignorant type. I just hope her confidence doesn’t work against her.

“Ah, Lou.” Morgene flashes me a smile, a real one, untainted by her usual sadism. “Thank you for joining me.”

“…are you feeling okay?”

She chuckles. “You should know people aren’t just one thing. It’s been brought to my attention that I shouldn’t teach you as I would my children. Spirit knows it’s been said I shouldn’t have taught my children how I taught them. So, we will try something different.” She crooks her finger and I hesitantly approach. Her fingers pinch off piece of meat and hand it to me. “Here. I’ve had to improvise with this kingdom’s lacking ingredients but it’s passable.”

I hold out a hand, but she refuses, pressing the food against my lips. I hope no one misunderstands this; that she isn’t misunderstanding it. I give into her insistence and accept the morsel. Hm. “It’s good.” Not as good as a succubus but that’s a standard that no one should be held to.

Morgene smiles prettily. “I’m not the most capable when it comes to preparing meals, but I know my way around meat,” she says while chuckling.

Wait. Is this because Orum insulted her cooking ability one time? Saints, this woman couldn’t accept anyone thinking she has a single weakness, can she? It’s almost cute, not that I’d say that to her face.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“It isn’t much of an occasion. Orum invited me to hunt. It’s a bit unseemly for us to empty your kitchen when there is scarcity surrounding us. It put me in the mood to try a few recipes. Here, pet.” After pinching off a bit of meat and tossing it to Bell, she hands the imp her bowl and brush. “See to the meat. Lou, come.”

Ah, well. I suppose this is as nice as she gets. I follow her and sit stiffly on the corner of one of the chaises. Morgene makes herself comfortable, arranging pillows and blankets until she is properly reclined.

“Then, your assignment.”

I pull out the paper stuffed into the pocket of my pants, fighting a bout of nerves. “Here.”

She takes it between two slim fingers, unfurling it with care. Her smile freezes as her eyes scan the contents. “Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is there only one thing written on here?”

“Cause there’s only one problem,” I return, shoulders squaring in anticipation of a verbal sparring. “A city is its people. We sort them out, the rest will follow.”

“…I see. I understand the problem.” Morgene gracefully rises from her lounging position and walks over to the firepit. I think she’s grabbing a snack…until she tosses the paper in the fire.

“Hey!” I shout, jumping to my feet.

“No need to be upset. It was worthless.”

“Then what was the point of making me do it?!”

“You didn’t do what I asked.” I match her glower as she strides toward me, a predator lazily approaching prey. “I told you to write down what is bothering you. Who cares about a few rats scrambling in the dark?”

I pause, offense upended by shock as I gape at her. “I…well, it’s eventually going to be my problem so—"

“Then that is what you should have written. What’s worrying you isn’t the perils of the people, but that said perils will intrude on your life. That is what you should be solving.”

“That’s what I wrote! I—"

A finger on my lips shushes me. “You were meant to ease your burdens. How can this be a proper solution if simply discussing it is stressing you out more?”

“Well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t burned my saints damned—"

This time I’m silenced by Morgene wrapping my arms around my neck and yanking me forward, burying my nose in her chest. The leather rubbing against my nose is a little uncomfortable, made more so about who is hugging me, but it’s not terrible. “You, my daughter-by-choice, need to learn to be more selfish.”

I scoff. Does she know who she’s talking to? “I’m perfectly fine there.”

“Oh? Says the woman that is trying to cater to the needs of her enemies.”

“It’s just easier—"

“Yes, it’s easier for them if you work through a proxy to solve their problems because otherwise, they might get upset and reject the hand going out of its way to lift them out of squalor.”

“That’s—"

“Says the woman who allowed the Hall to exile her because she didn’t want the old man running the silly school to keel over from a heart attack.”

“Who would willingly start problems with the Harvest Hero—"

She smushes me into her chest harder, turning my words into mumbles. “I suppose this place is to blame, smothering such a pure heart until it confused itself.”

“What in the Abyss are you talking about?” I grumble but it comes out as unintelligible grunts.

“Orum would walk for hours and point out clouds until you figured it out yourself but there’s something to be said for directness. Listen to me. Stop pretending you don’t care. Clearly, you do, or your heart wouldn’t be in such turmoil.”

I stiffen in her arms but that doesn’t stop her. “You care about your clan, as you should. You also care about these apes you have the misfortune to share a species with, for spirit knows what reason. You care about your human family, and your reputation, and you probably care about the poor, clumsy baby birds who shatter their wings when they try to fly.”

Okay. Now I’m offended.

I push her away, the elf smiling as she stumbles away from me. “This isn’t working out,” I growl, annoyed further by her humor. “I thought you wanted to help me but if all you’re going to do is make fun of me—"

“Why in the world do you think me saying you care is an insult?”

“You’re saying it like it is!”

“No, you’re projecting your bias onto me. I would never mock a merciful heart. My race wouldn’t exist if a being of infinite power didn’t take mercy on us. The only thing I would scorn is not having the strength to back your convictions, whether they be heroic or villainous.” She raises a finger, twirling it teasingly. “What you need to ask yourself is why you abhor the idea of being a force for good. Until you accept yourself, you’ll never find peace.”

…that settles it.

“You’re actually crazy.”

“And you, delusional.”

{We have a guest, Master Lou.}

Bell’s interruption is timely, her small form perched at the end of the meat spit, holding the bowl in one hand and the brush in her tail a welcome distraction. “Who?”

{A messenger. Earl is coming.}

As promised, the steward arrives in short order, letter in hand. “Excuse me, my lady. This just arrived.”

I take it, noting the smooth texture. The expensive stuff, then. Perfumed too. This wasn’t sent by a laborer or a hunter. Saints, I know exactly who it’s from without bothering to open it. The golden envelope with a white bird on the back is an obvious clue.

Seems Marcella is done ignoring me.