Chapter 190 - Skyreach Spire II
“She can’t possibly be a man,” said Natalya. “Have you seen her hips!?” The catgirl shook her head in vehement denial as she directed her gaze towards the supposed male specimen. She stared so intensely that the knight spun around and furrowed his brow, his lips adorned with an uncomfortable frown. Still, even after a careful analysis, the peeping tomcat’s opinion remained unchanged.
“Why are you looking at his hips? Pervert.”
“I-I wasn’t. I just happened to notice because her dress really showed off her body’s lines.” Tail swishing wildly, the pervert averted her eyes and faked a cough. “A-anyway, I don’t believe you. She has to be a girl, right, Sylvia?” When the cat directed her gaze towards the fox, she found her staring through a box made with her hands, one eye closed and the other glowing green. There was a veil of magical liquid between her fingers, a tiny piece of a bubble, spread so thin it was all but invisible. “Sylvia?”
“One sec! I’m just checking to make sure.”
“Checking?” The catgirl paused for a moment before suddenly moving between the fox and her target. “Wait, stop! Sylvia! You can’t just check! That’s an invasion of privacy!”
“Well uhm… I already did,” said the fox, with a strained smile. “And err… Claire’s right. He’s definitely a guy.”
“Told you,” said the lyrkress. “And get used to it. Sylvia doesn’t care for privacy. She probably peeks at your dreams when she’s bored at night.”
“W-wait, really?” The cat’s glasses nearly fell over her face as she looked at the librarian in horror.
“Uhmmm… kinda?” Sylvia tilted her head and placed a finger to her chin. “I used to do it a lot when we first met, but your dreams are mostly samey and boring, so I went back to watching Claire’s. Hers are a lot more vivid and always lots of fun.”
Natalya buried her reddening face in her hands. “Oh no…”
“Don’t worry, Lia! Your secrets are safe with me,” said Sylvia, with a wink. “I’m not gonna tell Claire about your tongue feti—” The fox clamped both her hands over her mouth. “Er, I mean, uhm… that food they’re bringing out looks really tasty!”
“Sylvia!” cried the cat.
“I’m sorry! It was an accident, I swear!” The giggling vixen spun out of the way of a tackle, only for Claire to reel her in and give her a light chop to the head.
“Calm down. Both of you.” An identical attack was delivered to the liar’s pursuer, stopping her dead in her tracks. “We’re in public, attending an event. Behave.”
“Right. Sorry.” While the cat was somewhat apologetic, the catdog responded only by placing her hands on her hips and huffing.
“Oh, come on. We’re just having a bit of fun.”
“We’ll bother the other guests. And they’ll think we’re idiots.”
“So what? It’s not like it matters, right? Since you didn’t get your hair done and stuff.”
Claire averted her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this one!” The fox spun around to the lyrkress’ back, wrapped her arms around her waist, and leaned over her shoulder. “You literally just said that you didn’t really care like thirty minutes ago!”
“It was closer to forty.”
“Uh huh. Thirty and forty are basically the same thing.”
“They’re different.”
“Same difference then!”
“Fine. Whatever. Just get off of me.” The abyssal moose pressed a hand against Sylvia’s face and tried to push her away, but the girl-shaped-remora refused to budge, only tightening her grip as she rubbed their cheeks together.
“Don’t wanna.”
“Lia.” Left with no other choice, Claire turned to the cat, who had followed her embarrassing episode with three glasses of wine. “Can you talk some sense into this idiot?”
“I don’t really think there’s much of a point in trying,” said the cat, with a giggle. “You’re just going to have to deal with her.”
“Great.” Sighing, Claire removed her hand and brought her own drink to her lips. She recognized the deep red beverage as one of a distinctly Cadrian make. The grapes used in its production were particularly sweet, and just enough of the sugar remained to result in a hard but harmonious flavour, dotted with a number of layered aromas, and accompanied by a full-bodied mouthfeel. It differed slightly from the variety that had always decorated the dinner table at home, but it was no doubt of a similar quality. Perfectly enjoyable, even with the second head on her shoulders nagging her for a sip.
Sylvia stayed put for the most part, only moving occasionally to grab a plateful of hors d’oeuvres, whenever the waitstaff passed by. Natalya showed a similar lack of respect for the lyrkress’ personal space. She was half a step closer than usual, removing just enough distance to plague Claire with a sense of discomfort. The catgirl herself did not appear to be in the best of spirits. An initial bit of fooling around aside, she kept her tail close to her legs and said very little. Her eyes flitted about the venue, focusing primarily on the centaurs, with her hand nearing her blade each time they drew too close.
“Calm down,” said Claire, after consuming a delightfully prepared oyster. “Being jittery only makes you more suspicious.”
“I know, but I can’t help it,” she said. “What if one of them recognizes me?”
“They won’t.” Claire rolled her eyes. “And they wouldn’t attack you even if they did. They’re professionals, not ruffians.”
“Professional killers, maybe.”
“Still professionals.” Claire magically grabbed a shellfish and shoved it into the side of the cat’s cheek. “You have to take your mind off of it. Try the food. It might help you think about something else. It’s delicious.”
“Yeah, it really is!” said Sylvia. She teleported a few steps away, grabbed a waiter’s tray, and consumed everything on it before teleporting back. “I dunno how they do it, but this stuff is even better than what dad makes.”
“It is pretty good, but what are we going to do if it’s poisoned?” asked the cat, as she swallowed her oyster.
“Uhmmm…” Sylvia blinked. Thrice. “Aren’t you supposed to ask that before you eat it?”
“Oh, shush.” Lia averted her eyes. “I didn’t think about it until just now. And besides, we’ve only had a few pieces.”
“Sylvia’s had more than just a few pieces,” said Claire.
The servers had already judged the fox a problematic mark and taken measures to avoid her. Most veered away whenever she approached, while others tried to appeal to her sense of shame by informing her that they had other guests to serve. One had even tried to fill her up with cheap fishy treats, but her infinite stomach saw his strategy completely defeated. Not even the carver, who was responsible for serving up portions of a large fresh tuna, was able to combat her appetite. When Sylvia approached, she ate not the plate that he offered, but rather the entire presentation that hung behind him, hook and all.
While Claire had certainly been tempted to scold her at first, she soon arrived at the conclusion that they were ruining the centaurs’ finances. Each extra portion the fox consumed was a dent in Marquis Pollux’s wallet.
“And we have more pressing concerns than poison.” Taking the lead, the lyrkress walked across the venue and approached the group seated by the fountain. “Good evening, Arciel.”
“Why, good evening Claire.” The witch returned her greeting with a smile. Unlike the lyrkress, the blood-sucking squid girl was not wearing any particularly fancy clothes. She had only a plain witch’s dress, woven with arcane-touched fabrics and a hat nearly identical to the one completely destroyed by her new ally’s breath. Under the moonlight, she gave a completely different impression than she did in the shadows or the depths. Her tattoos were alight, glowing softly as if to prove to the world that she was beloved by the goddess of floating rocks.
The men seated beside her were positioned as would guards despite looking nothing like the part. One was lanky and frail, his body so thin that he looked ready to be removed by the slightest breeze, but alas, such was the norm for the edepheran race. Closely related to stick bugs, they were masters of camouflage and close combat. Their surprisingly sturdy limbs were long and often struck from angles otherwise impossible. Their joints were impossibly flexible, and each of their limbs had a dozen distributed throughout. When not in use, the extra hinges would contract, leading their forearms to take on an accordion-like shape.
His partner, the other man, was only a fifth of his height. The familiar mantis stood out from the group, both for his renowned race, and because he was the only one that had attempted to dress formally. His lack of knowledge of formal wear, however, was only made apparent by the poor attempt. He was wearing both a dress and a bowtie, neither of which suited his insectoid frame.
“I am accompanied here by Sir Valek and Sir Matthias,” said the vampire. “Valek shall be staying aboard the ship, but Matthais will be joining us in the dungeon.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Arciel. I’ve heard a lot about you from Claire and Sir Ray’esce,” said Lia. The catgirl extended a hand. “I’m Lia, Armidian Fastpaw.”
“Arciel, Imperial Bloodkraken.” She took the cat’s outstretched paw in her hand and gave it a solid shake. “I suppose it has come time to form our party, now that we have all passed and recovered from each other’s tests?”
“Sur—” The catgirl’s ears twitched. “Wait, each other’s tests?” She slowly craned her neck towards Claire, who turned her own head away in pace. “You didn’t tell me you tested her.”
“Well I did.”
“It was among the most difficult evaluations I have had the liberty to endure,” said the vampire squid. “I did not expect to survive.”
“Claire! What did you do!?”
“Nothing,” said one halfbreed.
“She used her breath,” said the other.
Natalya did her best to smile, but it came out strained. “That must have been tough. I’m sorry, she’s a little bit… of a free spirit.”
“Hardly.” She pointed at the fox moving back and forth across the venue. “Sylvia’s a free spirit. I’m normal.”
The fae fox appeared by the lyrkress’ side at the mention of her name, her head tilted to the side and three whole fish stuffed inside her mouth with only their tails still visible. “Mfmrph?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Claire.
“Oh.” Sylvia swallowed her meal before vanishing through another portal. “Well it’s not my fault! This stuff’s way too tasty!” she said, her head peeking out through the dimensional gate.
“She must be difficult to keep well fed,” said Arciel.
“A bit,” said Claire.
“May I have her then? It would cut down on your expenses.”
“No.” The lyrkress magically lifted a pebble off the ground and flicked it at the sea witch’s forehead. “I told you. Mine.”
“What a shame.”
“You can have this one instead.” Claire grabbed Natalya by the shoulders and pulled her between them.
“H-huh? Wait, you can’t just give me to people!” shouted the cat.
Arciel took a moment to slowly look the feline up and down. “That is certainly quite the enticing offer.”
“Do I not get a say in this!?”
“No.”
“Not at all.”
Having spoken in sync, the two highborn exchanged glances, smiles forming on both their lips soon after.
“I knew I was right to have you as an ally, Claire Au—”
Her jaw was clamped shut, and her tongue pierced by her sharpened teeth.
“My silence is only contingent on yours.”
Raising two hands in surrender, the vampire licked the fresh blood off her lips. “I shall endeavour to be more careful.”
Greetings and introductions out of the way, the group quickly got on with the rest of their business. Valek, the priest, conducted the party-making ritual as its witness and divine communicator and quickly saw the two groups formed into one. Though it was performed in Griselda’s name, and not Tzaarkus’, the process was identical. The rite required no specific gods’ power, only for a celestial or divine to enter its result into the eternal records.
Claire took note of each of the members’ levels as they signed up. Natalya had grown a fair bit, with her race in the 320s, and her average a bit over 400. Arciel was only slightly behind her, roughly forty lower in each category, while the silent knight, as the princess’ escort, was ahead of them both. His race nearing five hundred, and his average significantly over it.
“Is the fox not joining us?” asked Arciel. “I was under the impression that she was your druid, or perhaps something else of the sort.”
“She’ll be accompanying us, but not joining the party,” said the lyrkress. “And she won’t be fighting either.”
“I know it sounds like it’s a bit of a weird arrangement, but it’s what she wants,” added Lia.
“Well, I suppose I have no reason to object.” The vampire squid paused for a moment to sip from her glass. “Now all that is left is for us to sort out our name. What were you calling yourselves before?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? That is a rather interesting choice,” said Arciel. “We had described ourselves the Overpaid Fishmongers, and as I am certain you may have surmised already, we were specialised in bounties, those involving runaways and rescues in particular.”
Claire sighed internally. “We didn’t have a name.”
Taking a long look at the lyrkress, and subsequently giving up on reading her blank expression, Arciel turned to the cat, who nodded in affirmation.
“I’ve made a few suggestions here and there, but none of them stuck.”
“I do not see the purpose in avoiding one. How are you meant to be remembered, if not with your name?”
“We aren’t supposed to be remembered,” said Claire.
Lia, who also preferred to stay incognito, agreed to the statement with a series of vigorous nods. Arciel was less compliant. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed into a frown, but she stopped short after noting the lyrkress’ icy glare and glowing throat.
“Surely something inconspicuous would do?”
“No. No names,” said Claire. “And that’s final.”
“I suppose if you insist,” sighed the vampire.
With that particular topic out of the way, the vampire began to prod at their strategies. Natalya was invested in steering the conversation, but Claire spaced out in record time. She surely would have fallen asleep where she stood, had the food been any worse.
Three others joined her in avoiding the discussion. The priest drowned himself in wine, the knight dozed off where he sat, and Sylvia, to the servers’ dismay, dedicated herself to eating as much as she possibly could.
It wasn’t until the landing platform started to descend that Claire finally snapped to attention. Marquis Pollux was standing in the lead, dressed from head to toe in the most ridiculous outfit she had ever seen on the man’s bulky frame.
He was wearing a dress, specifically one of a centaurian make. The gown was clearly meant for the woman in the loose-fitting tuxedo standing beside him; his bulging muscles were stretching the once elegant garment in all the wrong ways and places. It was technically tailored so that it could sit on his frame, but provided an exceptionally poor glimpse of the benefits that an alliance to the Cadrians would bring. He almost didn’t look wealthy, in spite of his giant floating island.
“Ladies and gentlemen! A moment of your time please!” The centaur spoke, his voice magically amplified to reach even the furthest ends of the venue. “We will now begin the boarding process. All groups please report to the landing platform immediately. The main courses and desserts will be awaiting you up above. We will also be engaging in a mission brief detailing the location and any corresponding expectations.”
Silently, her eyes on the winged centaur’s face, Claire joined the crowd and prepared to rise into the sky.
The landing platform was a massive slab of rock, an independent piece of the fortress capable of freely navigating the skies. Its centerpiece was large enough to support a fully equipped army of two hundred Cadrian warriors, with enough space ahead of them for the unit’s commander to stand upon a platform and offer a briefing. The party’s guests were neither as numerous nor as bulky. The headcount barely reached the triple digits, even with the occasional individual possessing multiple craniums. While there were a few giants among the hired swords, the average fighter was maybe half the size of an adult male centaur.
Whirring to life with a low, magical hum, the artifact began to climb once all the guests were assembled. Standing aboard the slow-moving platform and peering off the edge brought a small smile to Claire’s face. The manor’s landing platform had always seen a similar lack of speed. Her attempts to sneak away would often end with Durham swooping down through the clouds and capturing her before she could reach the ground.
“Is it just me, or does this thing feel a little unsteady?”
“It’s fine,” said Claire. “You’re the only thing unsteady.”
Unlike the Cadrian native, Lia was incapable of hovering around the platform’s edge. Her whole body shook every time she looked at the castle below. Even huddled on the ground, she continued to tremble, her face buried in her knees and her eyes spinning.
“Are you sure? It feels like it’s going to fall out of the sky.”
“Oh, come on! It’s not that bad.”
The fox, who had opted to pursue the waitstaff over boarding the platform, appeared behind the cat and placed a hand on her shoulder. The action was accompanied by an ear-piercing scream. Lia flew fifty feet into the air, and while she failed to jump out of her own skin, she did leap beyond the platform’s range. Had a force not reeled her back, she surely would have plummeted to the ground below.
“P-please don’t do that, Sylvia!” shouted the hysterical feline. She clung to her unamused snake-tailed saviour with her eyes teary and her heart pounding.
“Sorry,” The prankster stuck out her tongue. “But it really isn’t that bad! And besides, you’re a cat! You’re supposed to land on all fours no matter how far you fall.”
“I’m a catgirl,” said the cat. “I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply to us!”
“It does, from what I have heard,” said Arciel. “It is often said that catgirls shall endure, even in the case that they are thrown off the edge of a castle’s ramparts.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that!”
“We can test,” said Claire. She grabbed the cat’s face and tried to push it away, “Get off,” but Lia continued clinging to her for dear life.
“I can’t! You’re just going to throw me off the lift!”
“I’m not,” said the lyrkress, as she eyed the ground below. “We’re almost there.”
The elevator was already nine tenths of the way through its five minute ascent. They had already passed the control center in the fortress’ triangular basement and were slowly climbing to ground level. But contrary to the passengers’ expectations, the lift did not stop or even slow enough to allow for disembarkment. The platform accelerated as it continued to climb, taking them far into the clear night sky. The swirling abyss of clouds, their final destination, was the only mass still visible. There was not a single puff suspended beneath the heavens anywhere else to be seen.
Some began finding it harder to breathe as they continued to ascend, while others started to shiver. But whatever the case, their lack of comfort was resolved when the servants walked through the crowd. Each individual was given a packet containing a potion to neutralise the cold, thinning air, a pamphlet detailing the dungeon’s dangers, and a distinctive magical device that did neither. The artifact, a ring of rune-carved stone with a gaping hole in its center, activated as soon as its magic circuit was ignited, magnifying all that lay within its opening. The party’s participants had already started playing with the magical telescope, with many casting their eyes on the various faraway sights in childlike wonder.
Recognizing the toy, Claire put hers away without draining its charge. It was placed in one of the many pockets that lined the inside of her skirt, right next to Farenlight’s horns. Her eyes already possessed the same function, and she was confident that her ability was more potent than a device meant for children and perverts.
“Before we continue our banquet, I would like to provide you all with the most wondrous of sights.” Marquis Pollux rose from his seated position as the ascension finally slowed to a halt. He alone flew higher up, taking to the sky with his wings spread wide and everything obscured by his dress exposed to the unfortunate crowd standing beneath him.
“Behold, Vel’khanese warriors. Beyond the northern sky lies the most technologically advanced marsh on this continent.”
Ignoring the eye-scaring scene and following the tip of his finger, she looked across the firmament, at the lights that lay beyond. It was her first time so high up at night, her first time seeing with such clarity and certainty the location of her homeland.
It stood out from the rest of the world. While everything else was dark, with the closer settlements’ firelights only barely visible, the Cadrian cities were shimmering blurs off in the distance. Each dotted the sky around it with colour, vague hints of blue that almost seemed to rebel against the natural order enforced by the moon and the stars.
The closest of the domains was practically a beacon. Its lights were particularly powerful, cutting through the night in a manner reminiscent of a line of fire. Like a jewel atop a clump of mud, the marquis’ domain, the home of Cadria’s artificers, and the forge where its magical fortresses were crafted, was impossible to miss.
“For hundreds of years, it has stood as a symbol of Cadrian power, a centre for the artisans and their successors. And tonight, it stands true again for your viewing pleasure.” His voice rang with the strength and confidence of many. “Even from here, hundreds of kilometers away, it can be clearly seen even in the absence of Griselda’s guidance. Now, through the powers of knowledge, the studying of the magical sciences, and the understanding of the world around us, we stand as more than mere mortals. We are true adventurers, cutting through the darkness with blades of enlightenment. And it is through these powers that we have brought you this experience today.”
There was a brief moment of silence, followed by an awkward, scattered clapping. Many were still stuffing their faces, and had nowhere to put their plates and utensils.
“It is often said that artifacts are to be feared and disregarded, that the limitations and bans that the gods had placed upon them were just, and that the powers they brought were unnatural. But that rule has long been revoked. There is no longer a reason for our everyday lives not to be bettered by these convenient tools, no longer a reason to forgo a better quality of life without fear of angering the great gods and goddesses above.”
The marquis threw a handful of bombs into the air, with each exploding into a cloud of dust that took on the shape of a god.
“And to demonstrate their utility, outside of a specific military capacity, we have prepared for you a number of dishes prepared entirely by our prided mechanised chefs. Behold.”
Rising from its previous position, the fortress soared through the air, caught up to the boarding platform, and docked alongside it. The manor had undergone a rapid overhaul in the few minutes that its guests had spent staring beyond the sky. It was covered in decorations; tables had appeared all over the courtyard, each completely covered in Cadrian delicacies. Whole roasted cows, vekratt-steeped stews, laughing rabbit eggs, and roasted suckling boars ready and waiting to be eaten. All manner of servants, centaurs, cottontails, thorae, and even locals were standing by, primed to restock the buffet in case of fox.
“I shall keep you no longer. The rest, I wish for you to hear with your stomachs,” said the Cadrian. “Now eat! Enjoy this feast, this evening, to your heart's content.” He raised his glass into the air. “For tomorrow, we forget our pretenses and our ranks, and step upon the battlefield as equals. Tomorrow, we go to war.”
Chapter 190 - Skyreach Spire II
“She can’t possibly be a man,” said Natalya. “Have you seen her hips!?” The catgirl shook her head in vehement denial as she directed her gaze towards the supposed male specimen. She stared so intensely that the knight spun around and furrowed his brow, his lips adorned with an uncomfortable frown. Still, even after a careful analysis, the peeping tomcat’s opinion remained unchanged.
“Why are you looking at his hips? Pervert.”
“I-I wasn’t. I just happened to notice because her dress really showed off her body’s lines.” Tail swishing wildly, the pervert averted her eyes and faked a cough. “A-anyway, I don’t believe you. She has to be a girl, right, Sylvia?” When the cat directed her gaze towards the fox, she found her staring through a box made with her hands, one eye closed and the other glowing green. There was a veil of magical liquid between her fingers, a tiny piece of a bubble, spread so thin it was all but invisible. “Sylvia?”
“One sec! I’m just checking to make sure.”
“Checking?” The catgirl paused for a moment before suddenly moving between the fox and her target. “Wait, stop! Sylvia! You can’t just check! That’s an invasion of privacy!”
“Well uhm… I already did,” said the fox, with a strained smile. “And err… Claire’s right. He’s definitely a guy.”
“Told you,” said the lyrkress. “And get used to it. Sylvia doesn’t care for privacy. She probably peeks at your dreams when she’s bored at night.”
“W-wait, really?” The cat’s glasses nearly fell over her face as she looked at the librarian in horror.
“Uhmmm… kinda?” Sylvia tilted her head and placed a finger to her chin. “I used to do it a lot when we first met, but your dreams are mostly samey and boring, so I went back to watching Claire’s. Hers are a lot more vivid and always lots of fun.”
Natalya buried her reddening face in her hands. “Oh no…”
“Don’t worry, Lia! Your secrets are safe with me,” said Sylvia, with a wink. “I’m not gonna tell Claire about your tongue feti—” The fox clamped both her hands over her mouth. “Er, I mean, uhm… that food they’re bringing out looks really tasty!”
“Sylvia!” cried the cat.
“I’m sorry! It was an accident, I swear!” The giggling vixen spun out of the way of a tackle, only for Claire to reel her in and give her a light chop to the head.
“Calm down. Both of you.” An identical attack was delivered to the liar’s pursuer, stopping her dead in her tracks. “We’re in public, attending an event. Behave.”
“Right. Sorry.” While the cat was somewhat apologetic, the catdog responded only by placing her hands on her hips and huffing.
“Oh, come on. We’re just having a bit of fun.”
“We’ll bother the other guests. And they’ll think we’re idiots.”
“So what? It’s not like it matters, right? Since you didn’t get your hair done and stuff.”
Claire averted her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this one!” The fox spun around to the lyrkress’ back, wrapped her arms around her waist, and leaned over her shoulder. “You literally just said that you didn’t really care like thirty minutes ago!”
“It was closer to forty.”
“Uh huh. Thirty and forty are basically the same thing.”
“They’re different.”
“Same difference then!”
“Fine. Whatever. Just get off of me.” The abyssal moose pressed a hand against Sylvia’s face and tried to push her away, but the girl-shaped-remora refused to budge, only tightening her grip as she rubbed their cheeks together.
“Don’t wanna.”
“Lia.” Left with no other choice, Claire turned to the cat, who had followed her embarrassing episode with three glasses of wine. “Can you talk some sense into this idiot?”
“I don’t really think there’s much of a point in trying,” said the cat, with a giggle. “You’re just going to have to deal with her.”
“Great.” Sighing, Claire removed her hand and brought her own drink to her lips. She recognized the deep red beverage as one of a distinctly Cadrian make. The grapes used in its production were particularly sweet, and just enough of the sugar remained to result in a hard but harmonious flavour, dotted with a number of layered aromas, and accompanied by a full-bodied mouthfeel. It differed slightly from the variety that had always decorated the dinner table at home, but it was no doubt of a similar quality. Perfectly enjoyable, even with the second head on her shoulders nagging her for a sip.
Sylvia stayed put for the most part, only moving occasionally to grab a plateful of hors d’oeuvres, whenever the waitstaff passed by. Natalya showed a similar lack of respect for the lyrkress’ personal space. She was half a step closer than usual, removing just enough distance to plague Claire with a sense of discomfort. The catgirl herself did not appear to be in the best of spirits. An initial bit of fooling around aside, she kept her tail close to her legs and said very little. Her eyes flitted about the venue, focusing primarily on the centaurs, with her hand nearing her blade each time they drew too close.
“Calm down,” said Claire, after consuming a delightfully prepared oyster. “Being jittery only makes you more suspicious.”
“I know, but I can’t help it,” she said. “What if one of them recognizes me?”
“They won’t.” Claire rolled her eyes. “And they wouldn’t attack you even if they did. They’re professionals, not ruffians.”
“Professional killers, maybe.”
“Still professionals.” Claire magically grabbed a shellfish and shoved it into the side of the cat’s cheek. “You have to take your mind off of it. Try the food. It might help you think about something else. It’s delicious.”
“Yeah, it really is!” said Sylvia. She teleported a few steps away, grabbed a waiter’s tray, and consumed everything on it before teleporting back. “I dunno how they do it, but this stuff is even better than what dad makes.”
“It is pretty good, but what are we going to do if it’s poisoned?” asked the cat, as she swallowed her oyster.
“Uhmmm…” Sylvia blinked. Thrice. “Aren’t you supposed to ask that before you eat it?”
“Oh, shush.” Lia averted her eyes. “I didn’t think about it until just now. And besides, we’ve only had a few pieces.”
“Sylvia’s had more than just a few pieces,” said Claire.
The servers had already judged the fox a problematic mark and taken measures to avoid her. Most veered away whenever she approached, while others tried to appeal to her sense of shame by informing her that they had other guests to serve. One had even tried to fill her up with cheap fishy treats, but her infinite stomach saw his strategy completely defeated. Not even the carver, who was responsible for serving up portions of a large fresh tuna, was able to combat her appetite. When Sylvia approached, she ate not the plate that he offered, but rather the entire presentation that hung behind him, hook and all.
While Claire had certainly been tempted to scold her at first, she soon arrived at the conclusion that they were ruining the centaurs’ finances. Each extra portion the fox consumed was a dent in Marquis Pollux’s wallet.
“And we have more pressing concerns than poison.” Taking the lead, the lyrkress walked across the venue and approached the group seated by the fountain. “Good evening, Arciel.”
“Why, good evening Claire.” The witch returned her greeting with a smile. Unlike the lyrkress, the blood-sucking squid girl was not wearing any particularly fancy clothes. She had only a plain witch’s dress, woven with arcane-touched fabrics and a hat nearly identical to the one completely destroyed by her new ally’s breath. Under the moonlight, she gave a completely different impression than she did in the shadows or the depths. Her tattoos were alight, glowing softly as if to prove to the world that she was beloved by the goddess of floating rocks.
The men seated beside her were positioned as would guards despite looking nothing like the part. One was lanky and frail, his body so thin that he looked ready to be removed by the slightest breeze, but alas, such was the norm for the edepheran race. Closely related to stick bugs, they were masters of camouflage and close combat. Their surprisingly sturdy limbs were long and often struck from angles otherwise impossible. Their joints were impossibly flexible, and each of their limbs had a dozen distributed throughout. When not in use, the extra hinges would contract, leading their forearms to take on an accordion-like shape.
His partner, the other man, was only a fifth of his height. The familiar mantis stood out from the group, both for his renowned race, and because he was the only one that had attempted to dress formally. His lack of knowledge of formal wear, however, was only made apparent by the poor attempt. He was wearing both a dress and a bowtie, neither of which suited his insectoid frame.
“I am accompanied here by Sir Valek and Sir Matthias,” said the vampire. “Valek shall be staying aboard the ship, but Matthais will be joining us in the dungeon.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Arciel. I’ve heard a lot about you from Claire and Sir Ray’esce,” said Lia. The catgirl extended a hand. “I’m Lia, Armidian Fastpaw.”
“Arciel, Imperial Bloodkraken.” She took the cat’s outstretched paw in her hand and gave it a solid shake. “I suppose it has come time to form our party, now that we have all passed and recovered from each other’s tests?”
“Sur—” The catgirl’s ears twitched. “Wait, each other’s tests?” She slowly craned her neck towards Claire, who turned her own head away in pace. “You didn’t tell me you tested her.”
“Well I did.”
“It was among the most difficult evaluations I have had the liberty to endure,” said the vampire squid. “I did not expect to survive.”
“Claire! What did you do!?”
“Nothing,” said one halfbreed.
“She used her breath,” said the other.
Natalya did her best to smile, but it came out strained. “That must have been tough. I’m sorry, she’s a little bit… of a free spirit.”
“Hardly.” She pointed at the fox moving back and forth across the venue. “Sylvia’s a free spirit. I’m normal.”
The fae fox appeared by the lyrkress’ side at the mention of her name, her head tilted to the side and three whole fish stuffed inside her mouth with only their tails still visible. “Mfmrph?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Claire.
“Oh.” Sylvia swallowed her meal before vanishing through another portal. “Well it’s not my fault! This stuff’s way too tasty!” she said, her head peeking out through the dimensional gate.
“She must be difficult to keep well fed,” said Arciel.
“A bit,” said Claire.
“May I have her then? It would cut down on your expenses.”
“No.” The lyrkress magically lifted a pebble off the ground and flicked it at the sea witch’s forehead. “I told you. Mine.”
“What a shame.”
“You can have this one instead.” Claire grabbed Natalya by the shoulders and pulled her between them.
“H-huh? Wait, you can’t just give me to people!” shouted the cat.
Arciel took a moment to slowly look the feline up and down. “That is certainly quite the enticing offer.”
“Do I not get a say in this!?”
“No.”
“Not at all.”
Having spoken in sync, the two highborn exchanged glances, smiles forming on both their lips soon after.
“I knew I was right to have you as an ally, Claire Au—”
Her jaw was clamped shut, and her tongue pierced by her sharpened teeth.
“My silence is only contingent on yours.”
Raising two hands in surrender, the vampire licked the fresh blood off her lips. “I shall endeavour to be more careful.”
Greetings and introductions out of the way, the group quickly got on with the rest of their business. Valek, the priest, conducted the party-making ritual as its witness and divine communicator and quickly saw the two groups formed into one. Though it was performed in Griselda’s name, and not Tzaarkus’, the process was identical. The rite required no specific gods’ power, only for a celestial or divine to enter its result into the eternal records.
Claire took note of each of the members’ levels as they signed up. Natalya had grown a fair bit, with her race in the 320s, and her average a bit over 400. Arciel was only slightly behind her, roughly forty lower in each category, while the silent knight, as the princess’ escort, was ahead of them both. His race nearing five hundred, and his average significantly over it.
“Is the fox not joining us?” asked Arciel. “I was under the impression that she was your druid, or perhaps something else of the sort.”
“She’ll be accompanying us, but not joining the party,” said the lyrkress. “And she won’t be fighting either.”
“I know it sounds like it’s a bit of a weird arrangement, but it’s what she wants,” added Lia.
“Well, I suppose I have no reason to object.” The vampire squid paused for a moment to sip from her glass. “Now all that is left is for us to sort out our name. What were you calling yourselves before?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? That is a rather interesting choice,” said Arciel. “We had described ourselves the Overpaid Fishmongers, and as I am certain you may have surmised already, we were specialised in bounties, those involving runaways and rescues in particular.”
Claire sighed internally. “We didn’t have a name.”
Taking a long look at the lyrkress, and subsequently giving up on reading her blank expression, Arciel turned to the cat, who nodded in affirmation.
“I’ve made a few suggestions here and there, but none of them stuck.”
“I do not see the purpose in avoiding one. How are you meant to be remembered, if not with your name?”
“We aren’t supposed to be remembered,” said Claire.
Lia, who also preferred to stay incognito, agreed to the statement with a series of vigorous nods. Arciel was less compliant. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed into a frown, but she stopped short after noting the lyrkress’ icy glare and glowing throat.
“Surely something inconspicuous would do?”
“No. No names,” said Claire. “And that’s final.”
“I suppose if you insist,” sighed the vampire.
With that particular topic out of the way, the vampire began to prod at their strategies. Natalya was invested in steering the conversation, but Claire spaced out in record time. She surely would have fallen asleep where she stood, had the food been any worse.
Three others joined her in avoiding the discussion. The priest drowned himself in wine, the knight dozed off where he sat, and Sylvia, to the servers’ dismay, dedicated herself to eating as much as she possibly could.
It wasn’t until the landing platform started to descend that Claire finally snapped to attention. Marquis Pollux was standing in the lead, dressed from head to toe in the most ridiculous outfit she had ever seen on the man’s bulky frame.
He was wearing a dress, specifically one of a centaurian make. The gown was clearly meant for the woman in the loose-fitting tuxedo standing beside him; his bulging muscles were stretching the once elegant garment in all the wrong ways and places. It was technically tailored so that it could sit on his frame, but provided an exceptionally poor glimpse of the benefits that an alliance to the Cadrians would bring. He almost didn’t look wealthy, in spite of his giant floating island.
“Ladies and gentlemen! A moment of your time please!” The centaur spoke, his voice magically amplified to reach even the furthest ends of the venue. “We will now begin the boarding process. All groups please report to the landing platform immediately. The main courses and desserts will be awaiting you up above. We will also be engaging in a mission brief detailing the location and any corresponding expectations.”
Silently, her eyes on the winged centaur’s face, Claire joined the crowd and prepared to rise into the sky.
The landing platform was a massive slab of rock, an independent piece of the fortress capable of freely navigating the skies. Its centerpiece was large enough to support a fully equipped army of two hundred Cadrian warriors, with enough space ahead of them for the unit’s commander to stand upon a platform and offer a briefing. The party’s guests were neither as numerous nor as bulky. The headcount barely reached the triple digits, even with the occasional individual possessing multiple craniums. While there were a few giants among the hired swords, the average fighter was maybe half the size of an adult male centaur.
Whirring to life with a low, magical hum, the artifact began to climb once all the guests were assembled. Standing aboard the slow-moving platform and peering off the edge brought a small smile to Claire’s face. The manor’s landing platform had always seen a similar lack of speed. Her attempts to sneak away would often end with Durham swooping down through the clouds and capturing her before she could reach the ground.
“Is it just me, or does this thing feel a little unsteady?”
“It’s fine,” said Claire. “You’re the only thing unsteady.”
Unlike the Cadrian native, Lia was incapable of hovering around the platform’s edge. Her whole body shook every time she looked at the castle below. Even huddled on the ground, she continued to tremble, her face buried in her knees and her eyes spinning.
“Are you sure? It feels like it’s going to fall out of the sky.”
“Oh, come on! It’s not that bad.”
The fox, who had opted to pursue the waitstaff over boarding the platform, appeared behind the cat and placed a hand on her shoulder. The action was accompanied by an ear-piercing scream. Lia flew fifty feet into the air, and while she failed to jump out of her own skin, she did leap beyond the platform’s range. Had a force not reeled her back, she surely would have plummeted to the ground below.
“P-please don’t do that, Sylvia!” shouted the hysterical feline. She clung to her unamused snake-tailed saviour with her eyes teary and her heart pounding.
“Sorry,” The prankster stuck out her tongue. “But it really isn’t that bad! And besides, you’re a cat! You’re supposed to land on all fours no matter how far you fall.”
“I’m a catgirl,” said the cat. “I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply to us!”
“It does, from what I have heard,” said Arciel. “It is often said that catgirls shall endure, even in the case that they are thrown off the edge of a castle’s ramparts.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that!”
“We can test,” said Claire. She grabbed the cat’s face and tried to push it away, “Get off,” but Lia continued clinging to her for dear life.
“I can’t! You’re just going to throw me off the lift!”
“I’m not,” said the lyrkress, as she eyed the ground below. “We’re almost there.”
The elevator was already nine tenths of the way through its five minute ascent. They had already passed the control center in the fortress’ triangular basement and were slowly climbing to ground level. But contrary to the passengers’ expectations, the lift did not stop or even slow enough to allow for disembarkment. The platform accelerated as it continued to climb, taking them far into the clear night sky. The swirling abyss of clouds, their final destination, was the only mass still visible. There was not a single puff suspended beneath the heavens anywhere else to be seen.
Some began finding it harder to breathe as they continued to ascend, while others started to shiver. But whatever the case, their lack of comfort was resolved when the servants walked through the crowd. Each individual was given a packet containing a potion to neutralise the cold, thinning air, a pamphlet detailing the dungeon’s dangers, and a distinctive magical device that did neither. The artifact, a ring of rune-carved stone with a gaping hole in its center, activated as soon as its magic circuit was ignited, magnifying all that lay within its opening. The party’s participants had already started playing with the magical telescope, with many casting their eyes on the various faraway sights in childlike wonder.
Recognizing the toy, Claire put hers away without draining its charge. It was placed in one of the many pockets that lined the inside of her skirt, right next to Farenlight’s horns. Her eyes already possessed the same function, and she was confident that her ability was more potent than a device meant for children and perverts.
“Before we continue our banquet, I would like to provide you all with the most wondrous of sights.” Marquis Pollux rose from his seated position as the ascension finally slowed to a halt. He alone flew higher up, taking to the sky with his wings spread wide and everything obscured by his dress exposed to the unfortunate crowd standing beneath him.
“Behold, Vel’khanese warriors. Beyond the northern sky lies the most technologically advanced marsh on this continent.”
Ignoring the eye-scaring scene and following the tip of his finger, she looked across the firmament, at the lights that lay beyond. It was her first time so high up at night, her first time seeing with such clarity and certainty the location of her homeland.
It stood out from the rest of the world. While everything else was dark, with the closer settlements’ firelights only barely visible, the Cadrian cities were shimmering blurs off in the distance. Each dotted the sky around it with colour, vague hints of blue that almost seemed to rebel against the natural order enforced by the moon and the stars.
The closest of the domains was practically a beacon. Its lights were particularly powerful, cutting through the night in a manner reminiscent of a line of fire. Like a jewel atop a clump of mud, the marquis’ domain, the home of Cadria’s artificers, and the forge where its magical fortresses were crafted, was impossible to miss.
“For hundreds of years, it has stood as a symbol of Cadrian power, a centre for the artisans and their successors. And tonight, it stands true again for your viewing pleasure.” His voice rang with the strength and confidence of many. “Even from here, hundreds of kilometers away, it can be clearly seen even in the absence of Griselda’s guidance. Now, through the powers of knowledge, the studying of the magical sciences, and the understanding of the world around us, we stand as more than mere mortals. We are true adventurers, cutting through the darkness with blades of enlightenment. And it is through these powers that we have brought you this experience today.”
There was a brief moment of silence, followed by an awkward, scattered clapping. Many were still stuffing their faces, and had nowhere to put their plates and utensils.
“It is often said that artifacts are to be feared and disregarded, that the limitations and bans that the gods had placed upon them were just, and that the powers they brought were unnatural. But that rule has long been revoked. There is no longer a reason for our everyday lives not to be bettered by these convenient tools, no longer a reason to forgo a better quality of life without fear of angering the great gods and goddesses above.”
The marquis threw a handful of bombs into the air, with each exploding into a cloud of dust that took on the shape of a god.
“And to demonstrate their utility, outside of a specific military capacity, we have prepared for you a number of dishes prepared entirely by our prided mechanised chefs. Behold.”
Rising from its previous position, the fortress soared through the air, caught up to the boarding platform, and docked alongside it. The manor had undergone a rapid overhaul in the few minutes that its guests had spent staring beyond the sky. It was covered in decorations; tables had appeared all over the courtyard, each completely covered in Cadrian delicacies. Whole roasted cows, vekratt-steeped stews, laughing rabbit eggs, and roasted suckling boars ready and waiting to be eaten. All manner of servants, centaurs, cottontails, thorae, and even locals were standing by, primed to restock the buffet in case of fox.
“I shall keep you no longer. The rest, I wish for you to hear with your stomachs,” said the Cadrian. “Now eat! Enjoy this feast, this evening, to your heart's content.” He raised his glass into the air. “For tomorrow, we forget our pretenses and our ranks, and step upon the battlefield as equals. Tomorrow, we go to war.”
