Chapter 285 - Prelude of Storm VI
Claire fought back the urge to yawn as she swam through the blushing aether. She moved at a leisurely pace, soaring over Vel’khan so slowly that even the non-eldritch birds could easily pass her. It had been a week since they returned from their vacation; ten whole days had gone by in the blink of an eye. The elf and his accompaniment had both settled into life at the shop, and it was precisely thanks to their efforts that Claire could spend so much of her time journeying through the skies.
It was perfectly timed. With spring in full force and many monsters producing fresh litters, the number of extermination requests had spiked tenfold. Alongside the increase in the job count grew an unfortunate need for verification. It was always difficult to determine if a request for culling had been successfully fulfilled given that they often required extensive research and careful consideration. The shop did of course post guidelines outlining expectations for clients on both sides of the equation, but even then, claims were frequent. The commissioners often found themselves unhappy when new monsters moved in to take a removed threat’s place, and while the hired blades were responsible for identifying and culling any likely candidates ahead of time, it was impossible for them to nip every problem in the bud. Snake-mooses were not the only creatures that could go from worthless to powerful practically overnight, and aggressive monsters often saw themselves favoured in the struggle for survival.
Hence, it was up to the MACC’s inspector (read: Claire) to determine if their contractors completed their assignments in good faith.
The number of intentional offenders was surprisingly low, perhaps thanks in part to the longtime establishment of the job board and its associated culture. In Cadria, there surely would have been at least one cheat for every ten do-gooders, but the local population was compliant enough that the lyrkress alone could handle the inspector’s role with ease.
Prior to the new hires’ arrival, she would have had to return to a mountain of paperwork, but the new hires had taken to their role in stride. Or at least one of them had. Though technically qualified for the task, Nymphetel was hardly any good at it. It took him five hours to finish what any other employee could finish in two, and he showed no signs of improvement over the course of his tenure. The lich, on the other hand, sat on the opposite side of the scale. She worked with the speed of a clerical prodigy and cleared out three days of documents in no more than an hour.
According to the elf, it was typical behaviour for members of the Drohk clan. She, Charlotte Juliette Eloise Drohk, was effectively an embodiment of its principles. Like most other liches, the Drohks put their clan names first and abbreviated the rest in the interest of time, hence she was Drohkchar before the public eye. Of course, between friends, or apparently coworkers for that matter, the official designation was unnecessary, and she was fine with simply being referred to as Charlie or Charlotte.
Regardless of the name used, the lich’s competence remained unparalleled. Her casual efforts freed the rest of the staff from the horrors of documentation and allowed them to further engage the business’ other offerings. Natalya had shifted to a role focused on consulting and instruction, with the latter taking up the majority of her time. It was all thanks to her first apprentice, who had already graduated from her lessons and gone on to become a breadwinner in his own right. He wasn’t exactly outstanding—as far as adventurers went, he was very much a greenhorn—but he was doing well enough to keep his clients happy and his friends fed. And it was precisely on that result that the locals had set their eyes.
Children and adults alike signed up for Lia's classes, not only orphans like the bear cub, but common folk and members of the lesser nobility as well. The sudden change in the monarchy's approach to handling its funds had left many without their old jobs, and killing monsters was a fair way of making ends meet. In the worst case, the resulting prey could simply be eaten. Common pests like goblins and the like were effectively unpalatable, but they were surprisingly nutritious in spite of their rancid flavour.
With so many newcomers excited to take her lessons, Lia was effectively running a school and taking care of kids all day. When she wasn’t engaged in the lessons themselves, she was actively planning them, tailoring specific assignments to specific students and debating the various methods she could employ to pass on her knowledge and experience.
And it was precisely because she was so busy that Claire was surprised to find her standing outside the shop upon her return. She and Boris were chatting with the neighbours, namely the bipedal dogs and the less-bipedal pigs that operated the shops a little further up the road.
There was no commotion, neither when the qiligon arrived in her true form, nor when she suddenly shrank to a humanoid size. For the people that lived in Vel’khagan, the flying moose had become an ordinary sight. And although the sudden advents and disappearances were very much a reason for the snake creature to be worshipped, there were few that could be bothered. The particularly keen-eyed among the public had determined that she was shapeshifting and subsequently spread the knowledge around.
While the information’s availability certainly reduced the number of curious investigators, so too did it come with its own set of problems. The city’s mermaids had unilaterally decided that she was an illusory beast and that the consumption of her flesh would grant them her shapeshifting abilities. One particularly shameless group had even asked for a sample. When news of the ensuing rejection spread, an even bolder party requested a few scales for use in their armour. Naturally, they too were rejected and greeted with fists to the face, which to the snake-moose’s annoyance, only furthered the rumours’ spread.
Lia broke free from the neighbourly crowd and walked over as Claire escaped the sidewalk. She seemed awfully full of energy for someone stuck dealing with children all day, perhaps even happy to have settled into the role.
“Welcome back! How did it go?”
“Same as usual,” said Claire. “Nothing to report.”
“That’s great,” said the cat. She peered at the moose’s face for a moment, her eyes shimmering beneath the evening light. “It’s getting a bit late. Want to go grab some dinner?”
There was something about the question that sounded off. It was unnatural, perhaps even recited. Still, Claire responded with a nod. “Okay. Where?”
“I was thinking we could check out the restaurant that Melly opened up recently.”
The shop in question was located on the edge of Birdtown, a stone’s throw away from the forest’s perimeter. It was so close that its shadow extended into the dense jungle, though that was in part thanks to its design. Engineered primarily for fliers and their ilk, the restaurant’s height was over a dozen times greater than its width. The vast majority of its seats were out of the average ground-dweller’s reach—perches and overhangs with tables suspended from up above. Likewise, the food was just as bird-oriented, often featuring items that were partially or entirely uncooked.
“I’m not eating bugs,” said Claire.
“I know!” said Lia. “Falgwyn mentioned that she came up with a few dishes with better wide-market appeal. She wants us to try them and tell her what we think.”
Claire blinked. “Who?” The name was entirely unfamiliar. Try as she might, she was unable to match it to a face.
“Melly’s mother.”
“Oh.”
“Now hurry up, let’s go!” Lia started walking immediately, eliciting another confused stare from the snake.
“Is it just us?”
“Sylvia ate already,” said the cat. “And uhmmmm….” She lowered her head. “I noticed that you’ve been getting a bit antsy lately, so I thought it’d be nice if we could spend some time together before you took off.”
Claire nodded. “We can stay a few more weeks. But I want to be gone by summer.”
“Right.” Lia twisted her lips into a strained, sad smile, “I figured.”
A moment of silence.
“Do you already know where you’re going next?”
“Not yet.” Claire shook her head. “Anywhere but here. Father knows where I am. The last thing I want is for him to suddenly show up in front of my door.”
“Well, in that case, how about coming with me to Paunse?” suggested the cat. “I’ve been thinking of going back and visiting a few old friends.”
Claire blinked. “Aren’t you wanted in Paunse? For desertion.”
“Paunsean laws aren’t nearly as bad as Cadrian ones,” said Lia. “And it’s not like they’ll know they’re supposed to arrest me in the first place.”
“Right.” Claire nodded. “Not a princess with obvious features.”
“That’s normally supposed to be the norm, not the exception,” mumbled the cat.
Claire shrugged. “I’ll think about it, but heading north only brings me closer to my father.”
“I know. It was just a shot in the dark,” said Lia. “Oh yeah, that reminds me, I have some good news. I submitted an application the other day, thinking that it would probably be shot down, but it turns out we’ve been approved for incorporation.”
“Why did you even bother?” asked the lyrkress, with a tilt of the head.
“The tax benefits are so good you wouldn’t believe them. We’d only be charged half as much as a standard business.”
“You could’ve just spoken to Arciel. She’d happily exclude you from taxes.”
Lia shook her head. “That wouldn’t do. I’ve become one of this country’s citizens now, and I’d like to fulfill all my duties. Besides, Ciel’s already having issues with the budget as is and we pull a decent sum.”
“Then why incorporate in the first place?”
“It’s fair game because it’s available to all members of the public,” said the cat. “I wouldn’t have done it if it needed special permissions.”
They continued to chat idly as they passed the city’s wall and ventured through its suburbs.
For them to be alone was a development that Claire found somewhat bizarre. Sylvia was usually attached to her like a limb, but she had left earlier in the day at Alfred’s behest. Apparently, she was needed to finalize some of the procedures involving Arciel’s kin.
According to the celestial’s report, thirteen of the forty-seven women rescued were miraculously still in their right minds. There was a bit of instability when it came to the details of their higher brain function—the trauma forced upon their artificially extended lives had certainly taken its toll—but they were otherwise as functional as imperial bloodkraken were meant to be. Of those thirteen, three would be heading home to the castle, while another nine would remain in Llystletein to take care of those still battered and broken. The final squid girl had apparently volunteered to work under the ancient human’s wing. And though they had never met, Claire immediately assumed that particular individual clinically insane.
It was debatable if the remaining bloodkraken would ever be unbroken, but Alfred pledged that he would continue to do what he could so long as his temple remained standing.
They happened to pass by the building in question as Claire entertained the thought. The shape was hardly out of the ordinary. Its form was that of a standard cathedral with few outlandish features. If there was one thing to note, it would be its cleanliness. Alfred had no pastors or priestesses. The church was clearly unserviced. And yet it remained as spotless and polished as it had on its opening day.
The locals had already discovered the mysterious phenomenon, with many among their number subsequently choosing to acknowledge the deity described by the documents within. Flitzegarde’s worshippers were somewhat suspicious at first, but the state’s sanctioning and explicit funding ensured a positive outlook overall. It was well known that the queen was one of Griselda’s faithful, and if she and her god backed Alfred Llarsse, then there was hardly reason for any common citizen to stand in denial.
Meltys’ shop was just a little bit beyond the chapel. It was visible from the same street and served as one of the tallest buildings in a part of town where verticality took center stage.
Entering the building revealed a completely foreign space. There were perches all over, populated by birds and their feeders. Only the ground floor had any tables, all ten of which were devoid of guests.
A group of hand-sized shoggoths greeted the party as they stepped through the door, gathering around their feet and crooning as they rubbed their blobs against the guests’ ankles. A flustered server followed soon after in their wake, holding a series of broken leashes in her bright yellow talons.
“Sorry!” she cooed. “They’re not used to ground-dwelling guests.”
“It’s okay, we don’t mind,” said Natalya. She played with one of the eldritch puppies as she spoke, patting it on its strange, amorphous head and scratching the spot beneath one of its eyes. She had been somewhat put off by the slime-like creatures at first, but her aversion to them had long abated with how frequently they wandered Birdtown’s streets.
“I’m glad.” The owl ruffled her feathers as she landed in front of the party. “Most of the natives around here don’t seem to understand how cute they are.” Her glasses were half fallen off her face, the rims clearly too large given her lack of a nose. It was only on top of her beak that they rested, uncomfortable enough that she needed to lean forward to see through them. “Wait, aren’t you Lia?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Falgwyn asked us to stop by when we had the chance.”
“Gotcha. I’ll let her know. You girls can take a seat anywhere that’s open.”
The group moved to the nearest table and sat down. They were asked for the choice of drinks and brought food a moment thereafter. It was clear that the birds had at least done some amount of thinking. There were no bugs on any of the platters and the food was largely hearty and stewed, perfect for anyone looking to grab a quick bite away from home. But while it was pleasantly warmed, the pine nut goulash was far from correctly adapted to the locals’ preferences; few would explicitly venture to the edge of town for what was effectively a bowl of oatmeal and hummus.
Falgwyn considered their feedback earnestly. She scribbled a series of notes onto a piece of scrap paper before thanking the girls and returning to the kitchen. She muttered under her breath as she went, listing off ways that the recipe might be improved.
And so dinner ended. The pair stepped out of the restaurant with their stomachs full and their opinions given. Claire immediately began walking in the house’s direction, but stopped when she felt a tug on the hem of her blouse.
Spinning around revealed a wistful smile. The cat’s tail was down and her hands were trembling, her eyes a mix of yearning and hope. “What?”
“Can we talk for a little longer?”
There was a moment of silence as Claire watched the feline’s glisteningly bright eyes. “Okay.”
Natalya led her in the opposite direction. Silently, they walked even further west of the town and made their way up a once-snowy hill with a swing still hanging from its crowning tree.
“This is my favourite spot in town,” said Lia. with a small smile. “I’ve always loved the way it overlooks the city. And it helps that it comes with a lot of fond memories here.”
Claire nodded, even though Natalya was facing the other way. “Like the picnics. And the napping contest.”
“Yeah.”
Another moment of silence.
“You know, I actually came here every time I felt really homesick.” Lia’s voice trembled. “But staring at Vel’khagan always made me want to stay.”
“I’m no—”
“That’s why I think it’s the perfect place,” said the cat, cutting her off. She slowly spun around, her ears still drooped and her eyes watery. “Claire. I know you’re going to go and that there’s nothing I can do to stop you.” She picked up the lyrkress’ hands and clasped them in her own, bringing them close to her chest. “But I want you to know that I’m going to miss you.”
Claire nodded, but said nothing. She simply stood still and lowered her eyes as the tears slowly trickled down the cat’s smiling face. It was forced, blatantly, obviously forced. And soon, it began to crumble. She lowered her face, but her trembling shoulders left the message loud and clear.
It took a few minutes for her sniffling to calm and lend itself to speech. “I wasn’t sure what to think of you for a really long time.” Her voice was quiet, barely audible with the insects chirping the night away. “You’re selfish, overbearing, and proud to a fault. You never listen to anyone and you always try to solve your problems with violence. Your father killed my sister. And no matter how much time passes, that will never change. I’d always assumed that you’d be just like him. Cold and unmovable. Like a mountain in the snow.”
A brief pause.
“But it turned out you weren’t as cold as I thought. It’d be a stretch to say you’re kind, but that’s only because you’ve always been afraid to reciprocate, with how unkind the world has been to you.” The cat smiled softly. “You weren’t a bad friend to me. But I still think it’s kind of weird.”
Another pause as she took a breath.
“That I ended up falling in love with you.”
She kept her eyes on the ground, not daring to raise them.
“I don’t really know how or why it happened. But I’ve never been able to take my eyes off your back. Not since the day we met.” She finally raised her eyes, her puffy, tear-stricken eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Claire shook her head. “I don’t feel that way about you.” Her face was blank. Perfectly, perfectly controlled.
“I know.” Lia’s whole body shook and trembled as she squeezed out her next words in a whisper. “Sorry, but can you leave me alone for a bit?”
Nodding, Claire turned around and descended the hill. Her ears were held close to her head. Tuned to mute the catgirl’s whimpers.
Chapter 285 - Prelude of Storm VI
Claire fought back the urge to yawn as she swam through the blushing aether. She moved at a leisurely pace, soaring over Vel’khan so slowly that even the non-eldritch birds could easily pass her. It had been a week since they returned from their vacation; ten whole days had gone by in the blink of an eye. The elf and his accompaniment had both settled into life at the shop, and it was precisely thanks to their efforts that Claire could spend so much of her time journeying through the skies.
It was perfectly timed. With spring in full force and many monsters producing fresh litters, the number of extermination requests had spiked tenfold. Alongside the increase in the job count grew an unfortunate need for verification. It was always difficult to determine if a request for culling had been successfully fulfilled given that they often required extensive research and careful consideration. The shop did of course post guidelines outlining expectations for clients on both sides of the equation, but even then, claims were frequent. The commissioners often found themselves unhappy when new monsters moved in to take a removed threat’s place, and while the hired blades were responsible for identifying and culling any likely candidates ahead of time, it was impossible for them to nip every problem in the bud. Snake-mooses were not the only creatures that could go from worthless to powerful practically overnight, and aggressive monsters often saw themselves favoured in the struggle for survival.
Hence, it was up to the MACC’s inspector (read: Claire) to determine if their contractors completed their assignments in good faith.
The number of intentional offenders was surprisingly low, perhaps thanks in part to the longtime establishment of the job board and its associated culture. In Cadria, there surely would have been at least one cheat for every ten do-gooders, but the local population was compliant enough that the lyrkress alone could handle the inspector’s role with ease.
Prior to the new hires’ arrival, she would have had to return to a mountain of paperwork, but the new hires had taken to their role in stride. Or at least one of them had. Though technically qualified for the task, Nymphetel was hardly any good at it. It took him five hours to finish what any other employee could finish in two, and he showed no signs of improvement over the course of his tenure. The lich, on the other hand, sat on the opposite side of the scale. She worked with the speed of a clerical prodigy and cleared out three days of documents in no more than an hour.
According to the elf, it was typical behaviour for members of the Drohk clan. She, Charlotte Juliette Eloise Drohk, was effectively an embodiment of its principles. Like most other liches, the Drohks put their clan names first and abbreviated the rest in the interest of time, hence she was Drohkchar before the public eye. Of course, between friends, or apparently coworkers for that matter, the official designation was unnecessary, and she was fine with simply being referred to as Charlie or Charlotte.
Regardless of the name used, the lich’s competence remained unparalleled. Her casual efforts freed the rest of the staff from the horrors of documentation and allowed them to further engage the business’ other offerings. Natalya had shifted to a role focused on consulting and instruction, with the latter taking up the majority of her time. It was all thanks to her first apprentice, who had already graduated from her lessons and gone on to become a breadwinner in his own right. He wasn’t exactly outstanding—as far as adventurers went, he was very much a greenhorn—but he was doing well enough to keep his clients happy and his friends fed. And it was precisely on that result that the locals had set their eyes.
Children and adults alike signed up for Lia's classes, not only orphans like the bear cub, but common folk and members of the lesser nobility as well. The sudden change in the monarchy's approach to handling its funds had left many without their old jobs, and killing monsters was a fair way of making ends meet. In the worst case, the resulting prey could simply be eaten. Common pests like goblins and the like were effectively unpalatable, but they were surprisingly nutritious in spite of their rancid flavour.
With so many newcomers excited to take her lessons, Lia was effectively running a school and taking care of kids all day. When she wasn’t engaged in the lessons themselves, she was actively planning them, tailoring specific assignments to specific students and debating the various methods she could employ to pass on her knowledge and experience.
And it was precisely because she was so busy that Claire was surprised to find her standing outside the shop upon her return. She and Boris were chatting with the neighbours, namely the bipedal dogs and the less-bipedal pigs that operated the shops a little further up the road.
There was no commotion, neither when the qiligon arrived in her true form, nor when she suddenly shrank to a humanoid size. For the people that lived in Vel’khagan, the flying moose had become an ordinary sight. And although the sudden advents and disappearances were very much a reason for the snake creature to be worshipped, there were few that could be bothered. The particularly keen-eyed among the public had determined that she was shapeshifting and subsequently spread the knowledge around.
While the information’s availability certainly reduced the number of curious investigators, so too did it come with its own set of problems. The city’s mermaids had unilaterally decided that she was an illusory beast and that the consumption of her flesh would grant them her shapeshifting abilities. One particularly shameless group had even asked for a sample. When news of the ensuing rejection spread, an even bolder party requested a few scales for use in their armour. Naturally, they too were rejected and greeted with fists to the face, which to the snake-moose’s annoyance, only furthered the rumours’ spread.
Lia broke free from the neighbourly crowd and walked over as Claire escaped the sidewalk. She seemed awfully full of energy for someone stuck dealing with children all day, perhaps even happy to have settled into the role.
“Welcome back! How did it go?”
“Same as usual,” said Claire. “Nothing to report.”
“That’s great,” said the cat. She peered at the moose’s face for a moment, her eyes shimmering beneath the evening light. “It’s getting a bit late. Want to go grab some dinner?”
There was something about the question that sounded off. It was unnatural, perhaps even recited. Still, Claire responded with a nod. “Okay. Where?”
“I was thinking we could check out the restaurant that Melly opened up recently.”
The shop in question was located on the edge of Birdtown, a stone’s throw away from the forest’s perimeter. It was so close that its shadow extended into the dense jungle, though that was in part thanks to its design. Engineered primarily for fliers and their ilk, the restaurant’s height was over a dozen times greater than its width. The vast majority of its seats were out of the average ground-dweller’s reach—perches and overhangs with tables suspended from up above. Likewise, the food was just as bird-oriented, often featuring items that were partially or entirely uncooked.
“I’m not eating bugs,” said Claire.
“I know!” said Lia. “Falgwyn mentioned that she came up with a few dishes with better wide-market appeal. She wants us to try them and tell her what we think.”
Claire blinked. “Who?” The name was entirely unfamiliar. Try as she might, she was unable to match it to a face.
“Melly’s mother.”
“Oh.”
“Now hurry up, let’s go!” Lia started walking immediately, eliciting another confused stare from the snake.
“Is it just us?”
“Sylvia ate already,” said the cat. “And uhmmmm….” She lowered her head. “I noticed that you’ve been getting a bit antsy lately, so I thought it’d be nice if we could spend some time together before you took off.”
Claire nodded. “We can stay a few more weeks. But I want to be gone by summer.”
“Right.” Lia twisted her lips into a strained, sad smile, “I figured.”
A moment of silence.
“Do you already know where you’re going next?”
“Not yet.” Claire shook her head. “Anywhere but here. Father knows where I am. The last thing I want is for him to suddenly show up in front of my door.”
“Well, in that case, how about coming with me to Paunse?” suggested the cat. “I’ve been thinking of going back and visiting a few old friends.”
Claire blinked. “Aren’t you wanted in Paunse? For desertion.”
“Paunsean laws aren’t nearly as bad as Cadrian ones,” said Lia. “And it’s not like they’ll know they’re supposed to arrest me in the first place.”
“Right.” Claire nodded. “Not a princess with obvious features.”
“That’s normally supposed to be the norm, not the exception,” mumbled the cat.
Claire shrugged. “I’ll think about it, but heading north only brings me closer to my father.”
“I know. It was just a shot in the dark,” said Lia. “Oh yeah, that reminds me, I have some good news. I submitted an application the other day, thinking that it would probably be shot down, but it turns out we’ve been approved for incorporation.”
“Why did you even bother?” asked the lyrkress, with a tilt of the head.
“The tax benefits are so good you wouldn’t believe them. We’d only be charged half as much as a standard business.”
“You could’ve just spoken to Arciel. She’d happily exclude you from taxes.”
Lia shook her head. “That wouldn’t do. I’ve become one of this country’s citizens now, and I’d like to fulfill all my duties. Besides, Ciel’s already having issues with the budget as is and we pull a decent sum.”
“Then why incorporate in the first place?”
“It’s fair game because it’s available to all members of the public,” said the cat. “I wouldn’t have done it if it needed special permissions.”
They continued to chat idly as they passed the city’s wall and ventured through its suburbs.
For them to be alone was a development that Claire found somewhat bizarre. Sylvia was usually attached to her like a limb, but she had left earlier in the day at Alfred’s behest. Apparently, she was needed to finalize some of the procedures involving Arciel’s kin.
According to the celestial’s report, thirteen of the forty-seven women rescued were miraculously still in their right minds. There was a bit of instability when it came to the details of their higher brain function—the trauma forced upon their artificially extended lives had certainly taken its toll—but they were otherwise as functional as imperial bloodkraken were meant to be. Of those thirteen, three would be heading home to the castle, while another nine would remain in Llystletein to take care of those still battered and broken. The final squid girl had apparently volunteered to work under the ancient human’s wing. And though they had never met, Claire immediately assumed that particular individual clinically insane.
It was debatable if the remaining bloodkraken would ever be unbroken, but Alfred pledged that he would continue to do what he could so long as his temple remained standing.
They happened to pass by the building in question as Claire entertained the thought. The shape was hardly out of the ordinary. Its form was that of a standard cathedral with few outlandish features. If there was one thing to note, it would be its cleanliness. Alfred had no pastors or priestesses. The church was clearly unserviced. And yet it remained as spotless and polished as it had on its opening day.
The locals had already discovered the mysterious phenomenon, with many among their number subsequently choosing to acknowledge the deity described by the documents within. Flitzegarde’s worshippers were somewhat suspicious at first, but the state’s sanctioning and explicit funding ensured a positive outlook overall. It was well known that the queen was one of Griselda’s faithful, and if she and her god backed Alfred Llarsse, then there was hardly reason for any common citizen to stand in denial.
Meltys’ shop was just a little bit beyond the chapel. It was visible from the same street and served as one of the tallest buildings in a part of town where verticality took center stage.
Entering the building revealed a completely foreign space. There were perches all over, populated by birds and their feeders. Only the ground floor had any tables, all ten of which were devoid of guests.
A group of hand-sized shoggoths greeted the party as they stepped through the door, gathering around their feet and crooning as they rubbed their blobs against the guests’ ankles. A flustered server followed soon after in their wake, holding a series of broken leashes in her bright yellow talons.
“Sorry!” she cooed. “They’re not used to ground-dwelling guests.”
“It’s okay, we don’t mind,” said Natalya. She played with one of the eldritch puppies as she spoke, patting it on its strange, amorphous head and scratching the spot beneath one of its eyes. She had been somewhat put off by the slime-like creatures at first, but her aversion to them had long abated with how frequently they wandered Birdtown’s streets.
“I’m glad.” The owl ruffled her feathers as she landed in front of the party. “Most of the natives around here don’t seem to understand how cute they are.” Her glasses were half fallen off her face, the rims clearly too large given her lack of a nose. It was only on top of her beak that they rested, uncomfortable enough that she needed to lean forward to see through them. “Wait, aren’t you Lia?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Falgwyn asked us to stop by when we had the chance.”
“Gotcha. I’ll let her know. You girls can take a seat anywhere that’s open.”
The group moved to the nearest table and sat down. They were asked for the choice of drinks and brought food a moment thereafter. It was clear that the birds had at least done some amount of thinking. There were no bugs on any of the platters and the food was largely hearty and stewed, perfect for anyone looking to grab a quick bite away from home. But while it was pleasantly warmed, the pine nut goulash was far from correctly adapted to the locals’ preferences; few would explicitly venture to the edge of town for what was effectively a bowl of oatmeal and hummus.
Falgwyn considered their feedback earnestly. She scribbled a series of notes onto a piece of scrap paper before thanking the girls and returning to the kitchen. She muttered under her breath as she went, listing off ways that the recipe might be improved.
And so dinner ended. The pair stepped out of the restaurant with their stomachs full and their opinions given. Claire immediately began walking in the house’s direction, but stopped when she felt a tug on the hem of her blouse.
Spinning around revealed a wistful smile. The cat’s tail was down and her hands were trembling, her eyes a mix of yearning and hope. “What?”
“Can we talk for a little longer?”
There was a moment of silence as Claire watched the feline’s glisteningly bright eyes. “Okay.”
Natalya led her in the opposite direction. Silently, they walked even further west of the town and made their way up a once-snowy hill with a swing still hanging from its crowning tree.
“This is my favourite spot in town,” said Lia. with a small smile. “I’ve always loved the way it overlooks the city. And it helps that it comes with a lot of fond memories here.”
Claire nodded, even though Natalya was facing the other way. “Like the picnics. And the napping contest.”
“Yeah.”
Another moment of silence.
“You know, I actually came here every time I felt really homesick.” Lia’s voice trembled. “But staring at Vel’khagan always made me want to stay.”
“I’m no—”
“That’s why I think it’s the perfect place,” said the cat, cutting her off. She slowly spun around, her ears still drooped and her eyes watery. “Claire. I know you’re going to go and that there’s nothing I can do to stop you.” She picked up the lyrkress’ hands and clasped them in her own, bringing them close to her chest. “But I want you to know that I’m going to miss you.”
Claire nodded, but said nothing. She simply stood still and lowered her eyes as the tears slowly trickled down the cat’s smiling face. It was forced, blatantly, obviously forced. And soon, it began to crumble. She lowered her face, but her trembling shoulders left the message loud and clear.
It took a few minutes for her sniffling to calm and lend itself to speech. “I wasn’t sure what to think of you for a really long time.” Her voice was quiet, barely audible with the insects chirping the night away. “You’re selfish, overbearing, and proud to a fault. You never listen to anyone and you always try to solve your problems with violence. Your father killed my sister. And no matter how much time passes, that will never change. I’d always assumed that you’d be just like him. Cold and unmovable. Like a mountain in the snow.”
A brief pause.
“But it turned out you weren’t as cold as I thought. It’d be a stretch to say you’re kind, but that’s only because you’ve always been afraid to reciprocate, with how unkind the world has been to you.” The cat smiled softly. “You weren’t a bad friend to me. But I still think it’s kind of weird.”
Another pause as she took a breath.
“That I ended up falling in love with you.”
She kept her eyes on the ground, not daring to raise them.
“I don’t really know how or why it happened. But I’ve never been able to take my eyes off your back. Not since the day we met.” She finally raised her eyes, her puffy, tear-stricken eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Claire shook her head. “I don’t feel that way about you.” Her face was blank. Perfectly, perfectly controlled.
“I know.” Lia’s whole body shook and trembled as she squeezed out her next words in a whisper. “Sorry, but can you leave me alone for a bit?”
Nodding, Claire turned around and descended the hill. Her ears were held close to her head. Tuned to mute the catgirl’s whimpers.
