Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-31

It’s a good thing I can function on much less sleep these days. Between Talia slipping into bed far too late and Kierra waking much too early, I don’t get much of it. Sometimes, powerful senses are a curse. I have control when I’m awake but when I’m asleep, even the faintest whispers of fabric sliding against itself can wake me if my unconscious mind finds it suspect. Something moving near me is guaranteed to rouse me, regardless of origin.

Kierra’s soft kiss to my brow is filled with love but I grumble as I find myself unable to return to my pleasant, dreamless sleep. Alana and Talia ignore my attempt to spread the misery. The biggest reaction I get is from my knight, who pouts in annoyance and swats at the thing trying to rouse her. Nevermind that the stubborn woman will probably be training within the hour.

The succubi are awake as well, though I question if they ever sleep. Geneva is in the kitchen as I walk in, standing to the side as Big Bell kneads dough. I pause, taking a moment to admire the perfectly sculpted obsidian muscles before asking the obvious question. “Taking on an apprentice?”

Geneva’s pink eyes turn to me as she smiles. “I wouldn’t have you to suffer in my absence.”

I wouldn’t call Bell’s cooking suffering. After all, she’s had centuries to master the mundane art. It lacks Geneva’s strange culinary magic, but I’d wager it’s still better than anyone else in Harvest can create. “Why is your cooking so much better anyway? Can’t you just give her the recipes you use?”

“The recipes, of courses. However, she does not have my mastery of water and fire. I can perfectly mix my ingredients and control the temperature by the smallest increments. There is also the matter of ingredients.”

“Er…”

She chuckles. “Special spices, herbs, and sugars. The source of the otherworldly flavors.”

“Ah, yes. I remember you…grow the parts.”

“And prune them, yes.”

Ugh. Even knowing that I’m literally eating her, I wouldn’t hesitate to devour anything she puts in front of me. I suppose it’s only fair. She relishes eating me too. “Why can’t Bell do that?”

“All succubi are shapeshifters but we are not equal.” Her smile morphs into a mocking grin. Bell pointedly doesn’t respond. “As you know, knowledge and familiarity decrease the cost of magic. I have far more of both. I could make two dozen changes for one meal and it will cost a fraction of my pool. The same changes would drain a fourth of Bell’s. Not something to be done for an extravagance.”

True. I love luxury but everyone’s safety is more important. One of the reasons I’m completely relaxed despite being surrounded by enemies is knowing that I have two master healers around to keep my clan alive, three sometimes. A guarantee that’s more than worth eating excellent meals instead of ambrosia that tastes like it was formed from the virtues of the saints.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. If you could grab me something simple to snack on while I’m out.”

Unfortunately, simple really does mean simple. We’re not overly concerned about the lack of supplies coming through the city, there are two elves in the house that can grow enough food for the entire clan in minutes, but it has affected the estate’s pantries. There’s a distinct lack of variety. I’ve had the same jerky and fruit for breakfast for the past week. They’re both tasty but eating the same thing over and over can make even a great meal dull.

I’m not too bothered by it, my thoughts wandering to other things as I distractedly chew. They go to the city first, of course. It’s such a big issue, it’s only natural that I’d think of it often. But surprisingly, I don’t linger on the causes behind the shattered ruins for long before my thoughts go to my missing partner for my morning strolls. Then, somehow, my thoughts on Orum turn to contemplations about my own father.

Particularly, his final days. I know the circumstances behind his death, having interrogated Fen, but not his thoughts. What did he hope to accomplish, consorting with a band of independent summoners? I would have thought the mere suggestion enough to make him turn up his nose. The thought of taming a powerful beast like the drakkon is a strong temptation and a future of persecution from the royal family a strong motivator, but he had to know that it wouldn’t end well.

There’s a reason why summoning cabals aren’t common. A contract is between the summoner and the elemental. The art is treacherous enough without trying to balance multiple agendas. It’s a point of weakness that the creature would have exploited. Aside from that, it was a recipe for disaster. He and his new friends might have been united but once their goal was achieved, it wouldn’t be long before they turned on each other.

Each man given a city, a collection of small kingdoms against all threats outside of their coalition? A fantasy. I’ve seen nobles fight over who gets to walk into a room first. There’s no way they could have left each other be. Father would have been the first to break such a weak treaty. He’s always been a prideful man, especially when it comes to summoning. I can’t imagine him acknowledging anyone besides, well, me as an equal. He’d jump at the chance to crown himself the king of summoners.

Was that what he was planning? Had his ambition burned so hot it burned him? But why? He’d always been a cautious man. He had to be. One wrong step and the Grimoires would have crushed him. He had a finely honed sense for danger. Where had he gone wrong?

…I should have been there. I knew something would go wrong the moment I read Uncle Jackal’s letter. Geneva's right. I’m angry with Uncle Jackal for getting him involved in that mess, angry at Fen for not saving him, but the succubus was right when she said I should be angry at myself foremost. I could have stopped him. If it were a member of my clan, I would have been in the capital inside of a week to save them from themselves. For Father…I couldn’t be bothered.

I can’t even be bothered to give him a proper burial. I…he wasn’t the best father but I haven’t been much of a daughter either, have I? I should…visit. Once we’re finished here and are settled somewhere I don’t have to be surrounded by the consequences of my actions, I can fly across the kingdom. Jac should have already handled the gritty details by now, but I can visit his grave. Collect his records. He wouldn’t want them rotting away in the estate or worse. It’s not much but it’s the best way I can honor him.

He deserves that much.

And…

The thought is interrupted by the sound of someone walking toward me. It’s not uncommon for me to pass close to others during my walks. Usually, I ignore it. I imagine the average native’s heart would stop if I appeared in front of them. But these are hard to ignore. Specifically because they’re trying to go unnoticed.

I know every variation of footsteps. Heavy clunks are reassuring. They tell me that the person making them has nothing to hide. These are the opposite, the faint slide of soft leather navigating loose stone. So soft normal ears wouldn’t be able to pick them up, which is harder than it sounds. It’s not a given that someone can walk soundlessly, especially over difficult terrain. That kind of thing takes special training, training that rough hunters and reckless civilians shouldn’t have. And they’re moving toward me instead of away, which is beyond unusual.

Still, I ignore whoever is shadowing me. They’re hardly a concern and I can’t blame them for wanting to keep tabs on me. As long as an arrow doesn’t come flying toward me, I won’t startle them with my attention.

But they aren’t satisfied with simply checking up on me. After several minutes of peace, my observer starts rushing toward me, the sound of their passing deliberately loud. They want me to know they're coming, which bodes well for their intentions. I pause, turning toward a shattered building. In moments, someone comes from around it, their swift jog slowing to a walk as they notice I’m waiting for them.

Huh. They are armed and armored, but this isn’t a hunter. Their gear is far too uniform. The mercenary monster hunters are easily distinguished by their mismatched uniform, bought piece by piece, a mix of hand-downs, patchwork, and freshly commissioned work.

The approaching man’s attire is nothing special, but it is of a uniform quality. Moreover, there is a professionalism in the way he stops several strides away from me and straightens up, as if the world inserts a fence post where his spine should be.

Saints deliver us. Is this a soldier?

“Pardon me, your ladyship. Are you Lady Lourianne Tome?”

Yeah, definitely not a hunter. “Yes. You are?”

He actually salutes me, one arm going across his chest, his fist resting over his heart. “Sergeant Wilkes, my lady. At your service.”

Sergeant? Ah, let’s see. The royal army doesn’t have that many ranks, I believe. Ordinary soldiers are called footmen, I think? Then there’s the officers, which all nobles start as. Sergeants are above them, aren’t they? So is Wilkes a family name? Just because he’s addressing me politely doesn’t mean he’s a commoner.

Does it matter? I made the ruling lord of the city my maid, heh.

“Did you need something, sergeant?”

“I hoped to ask your ladyship a question. We are working to root out the rebels that are jeopardizing the lives of the kingdom’s citizens in this city, under the command of Sir Frost of the Harvest Royal Knights. If your ladyship has any clues as to their activities, we would appreciate it immensely if you would see fit to share such.”

I barely hear his request, my mind focusing on two words from his entire spiel. “What is a royal knight doing here?” Is the king already making a move against me? Is he that stupid? No, he said they were here for the rebels. Tsk. As if I believe that. That’s like sending a master caster to drive the rats out of a farmer’s barn.

“We traveled to Quest as an escort for Prince Samuel kor Harvest. Afterwards, we received word to remain in the city. As it is our duty to defend the kingdom from all threats, we have decided to aid the Hall in its attempts to support the people of the city, namely by neutralizing those that would threaten their efforts.”

Makes sense but is still ominous. Why were they asked to remain? Are they going to point their swords at me eventually? Perhaps. Saints, I put my money on the odds for. But there’s a chance that they really are here just to put down the villains that are born in chaos before they can become a problem for the rest of Harvest.

“I don’t have any information at the moment.”

“I understand. If that should change, Sir Frost can be reached at the camp outside of the city at any hour.”

“Wait!” I call as he bows his head, clearly preparing to leave. “What are your orders regarding me?” As he just said, they are meant to stand against all threats to the kingdom. I’m sure I qualify. It’s a little strange that our meeting could be so cordial. I’m happy he’s being friendly, but it invites suspicion.

“We have been ordered not to intervene with any matters of the city. Aside from that, we are to treat all citizens of the kingdom with the utmost courtesy.”

“…I see.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Lady Tome?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then, I will take my leave.”

And he does, without so much as a backward glance. After listening for a while to make sure that he isn’t lingering, I continue my walk, thoughts slowly turning. The presence of a royal knight makes me uneasy. Being a part of a prince’s escort is a perfectly reasonable reason for this Frost’s presence but the fact that they were told to stay is concerning. Am I going to have to fight the kingdom’s strongest fighters?

What happens if I annihilate the royal knights, that are seen as extensions of the crown’s power, its literal sword and shield?

That’d just be asking for some bastard with delusions of grandeur to try something, wouldn’t it?