Chapter 312 - Pirates and Prayers IV
Claire rested her face in her hands as she watched the strange contest in which Boris and the fake were engaged. It was the same game that he often played with Marcelle. They were running frantically around the garden, collecting various items so that they could compare, contrast, and determine a victor through a means that Claire simply failed to understand.
In the interest of fairness, there was only one Boris actively collecting. The other three present were sitting side-by-side atop a small mound of dirt, supposedly poised to function as a panel of impartial judges. Claire wasn't quite sure how that worked exactly. As far as she was aware, every Boris shared the same dysfunctional mind. Every clone shared the ikarett’s three brain cells regardless of how many of them there were. The count was entirely inconsistent; the active number changed every single day. Sometimes, only the original would be present, but when he lost control, the headcount could balloon well beyond a couple hundred. There has been more than one occasion on which Sylvia had to repair the house, following an unexpected surge.
That was not to say it was entirely uncontrollable. Having spent a full month denying his existence, Boris had finally become capable of dismissing the clones at will. That then begged the question of why clones appeared throughout the day in the first place. He never quite articulated the idea, even through the psychic link they shared, but Claire had more or less solved the mystery—it was simply more relaxing to sunbathe in three bodies than one. Likewise, he enjoyed the sensation of waking up from a nap and would queue a number of sleeping clones just to experience it again and again.
The home’s other two residents joined Claire on the front porch right as her Boris-related contemplations came to an end. Sylvia was already half asleep. She was still in her fairy form, floating around with her tail functioning as the highest point in her frame. The rest of her body was allowed to hang like a jacket strewn over a chair. In all likelihood, the fox was only awake because the maid accompanying her carried a tray of evening snacks.
The cake was supposed to have been their dessert, but with everyone but Sylvia having stuffed themselves full, they decided to delay it until later in the evening. Claire hated to admit it, but the maid’s signature roast beef pastry—the entirely inappropriate name of which she refused to repeat—had taken her tongue by storm.
“Thank you,” said the snake-moose, as she was handed a plate with a slice of cake and a cup of tea.
“You’re very welcome,” said Chloe, with a smile. It was a calm, gentle look, a stark contrast from the perverted grin she wore when she was up to no good.
Taking up a position right beside the lyrkress, she entrusted her weight to the railing and sipped from a cup of her own. Her raven black hair fluttered in the evening breeze, its colour shimmering in a deep shade of brown as the evening sun shone across it.
When she noticed the lyrkress’ gaze, all hint of grace vanished, replaced by a toothy, impish smirk. “Like what you see?”
Claire sighed. “You’d be such a good maid if you just stopped opening your mouth.”
“I get that a lot,” said the human, with a laugh. “I don’t think it’s true though. Being true to myself is what keeps me motivated.”
Again, Claire sighed. “There’s a time and place for everything. Idiot.”
“And is this not it? I’m chatting with a friend over a cup of tea.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “What about all the fooling around you do on the job? And around Ciel?”
“Let’s just say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’” said the human, with a wink. That, of course, only earned her another cold stare, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relish in its shivering chill.
“I don’t think Ciel cares anyway,” said Sylvia, with a yawn. “Mmmnnnnnn, in fact, I think she might like her better that way.” The fairy crawled over the edge of her cup and lapped at the liquid inside. “Wow, this stuff is good.”
“I swiped it from the kitchen before we left,” said Chloe. “We’ve been getting it imported directly from the south. There’s normally plenty of it to go around, but it might be a bit harder to get with the famine rearing its head.” She smiled. “We’ll have to squeeze Cadria for all the reparations it can possibly afford if we don’t want everything to suddenly start sucking.”
“Why’s everyone so sure there’s gonna be a famine?” asked Sylvia, with a tilt of the head. “Can’t someone just cheer the goddess up or something?”
“Sometimes,” said Claire. “It depends.”
“So just why is she feeling down this time anyway?”
“We don’t know,” said Chloe. “She didn’t tell any of the priests when they asked.”
“Mmmmrnnnn… maybe we should go to her temple and try cheering her up anyway?” suggested the fox. “I could sing and stuff.”
“I’d rather not,” said Claire. “It might be my fault. For blowing up the temple she had in Tornatus.”
“Oh… right,” said Sylvia.
There was a brief pause in the conversation, broken only as Starrgort scuttled out the door and climbed his way onto the table. The mechanical spider lightly thumped his legs against the outdoor desk as he spun a small web and wove a series of letters.
“Primrose is currently depressed because my mistress seduced the mortal that held her greatest affections and actively gloated about it in front of her.”
Claire twisted her lips into a dark smile. “So it’s Vella’s fault.”
The spider trembled and immediately spun his web into another set of slightly shakier letters. “Oh shit.”
“I guess I do have to pay the stupid bug’s temple a visit after all,” she muttered, under her breath.
That, of course, only unnerved the spider even further. He packed up his web, quite literally shoving it back into the orifice from which it had emerged, before skittering back into the house at his top speed. The message was loud and clear. What happened next was none of his business. In fact, none of it was any of his business at all.
Still smiling, Claire turned her eyes back to the child frolicking about in the yard. Apparently, it seemed that the items she had managed to find completely trounced all of Boris’, as the lizard was down in the dumps in spite of the fact that the judges were bursting with excitement.
It didn’t exactly make sense, but Claire wasn’t about to complain. They were both having fun and that was all that mattered. She did, however, step in before the lizard could entice the fake into another match.
“It’s getting late. Let’s get you bathed and ready for bed.”
It was a proposition that only earned a pout from the homunculus. She even pointed towards the sun, which had yet to sink beneath the horizon, and jumped in place a few times to show that she was full of energy. Still, Claire shook her head.
“Everyone’s looking for you back home. It’s better if we get you back before Bea gets in trouble.”
Rubia paused briefly as the maid’s face flashed through both their minds. Though still somewhat disappointed, she eventually nodded her head.
“Don’t worry,” said Claire. “The bath will be nice and long. And you can visit again some other time.”
Taking the blood golem by the hand, Claire led her up the stairs and into the house, with everyone else following in a line behind them. Two of the members, she had expected. It was perfectly normal for Boris and Sylvia to join when it was time to bathe so that they could be pampered and scrubbed.
The last person in the train, however, was not quite as easily accepted.
“Why are you following us, Chloe?” she asked, with a glare.
The maid responded with a calm smile. “Was I not supposed to? Helping out in the bath is par for the course, as far as maid duties go.”
“That only applies if the maid in question isn’t a perverted freak.”
“You’re worrying too much, Claire. I’m really not as bad as you’re making me out to be. Sure, I might stare a little, but it’s not like I’m going to be sticking my hands where they don’t belong.”
The lyrkress pinched the bridge of her nose. “Perverted and way too honest.”
“Would you rather I lied?” asked Chloe.
“I’d rather you were normal,” said Claire. She lightly prodded the other girl with her tail, using only enough force to mess with her balance.
“You know, I don’t actually mind all that much,” said Sylvia. “A little staring never hurt anyone, and Chloe’s a lot of fun.”
She wasn’t the maid’s only supporter. Even Rubia reached out and grabbed the hem of Chloe’s sleeve. Her pout was hardly any different from Claire’s own, but the lyrkress found it difficult to refuse her. Eventually, she begrudgingly heaved a sigh and acquiesced. “Okay, fine. But you have to wear a blindfold and I’ll punch you if you take it off.”
“If that’s what it takes for you to relax,” giggled the maid.
And so the evening passed. Before long, the sun was beneath the horizon, and everyone was freshly cleaned. Rubia stood in the hallway, a Boris hugged to her chest and a fresh Vel’khanese nightgown draped over the rest of her body. The portal was already open, and the room she borrowed was visible on the other side.
She was hesitant to leave, however. She looked uneasily between the fox, the original, and the perverted maid as she reluctantly inched her way towards the portal. It wasn't until Claire stepped through to the other side and extended a hand that her trepidation began to abate. With a gulp, the fake took the original's hand, ventured beyond the veil, and crawled right into bed with the metal lizard still snuggly held in her arms. In the meantime, Claire took the homunculus’ day clothes and placed them on the desk, where they could be easily found, before returning to Rubia’s side and taking her hand under the sheets. Lightly, gently, she ran her fingers through her hair, waiting until she fell asleep.
It was an event that was quick to pass. The homunculus and Boris raced to fall to the bed’s devilish scheme, with the loser only a few seconds behind her new, iguana-shaped friend. Her mind was soon lost in its soft embrace, her breath slowing as her energy drained.
Only when certain that the fake was asleep did Claire rise from the side of her bed. Smiling softly, she stuck a foot through the portal before whirling around with a twitch of the ears. Everything suddenly changed. Her muscles tensed, her eyes opened wide, and her expression distorted, going from one of bliss to rage as she raised her ears overhead.
“Uhmmm… Claire? What’s wrong?” asked Sylvia, with a blink.
“Nothing,” she said. Her heart was pounding, but she slowly brought it back under control as she pulled the rest of her body through the portal. Right away, she moved towards the fairy, pulling the tiny creature into her chest as she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. And for a while, that was how she remained. “I heard one of Pollux’s sons,” she said, after a long pause. “One of the ones I recognized, at least.”
It was difficult to say how many there were, exactly. The man had lived for over a thousand years, and his lecherous ways had caused him to sire a non-negligible number of children outside of wedlock, often when his wife grew too old to produce any more of her own. In total, there were at least three hundred people in Cadria attributed to him directly, and perhaps another few thousand if one was to account for the generations that followed.
“Are you gonna go kill him?” asked Sylvia.
The lyrkress took a breath. “Not today.” It was too risky in the middle of enemy territory. If she skipped up, and he called for help, she would be unlikely to get away unscathed, assuming she could get away at all.
His most powerful men were deployed to the western front, but Decimus was still a marquis. He would not leave the security of his main castle so lax that a murder could occur unnoticed. There was always the option of opening a portal directly beneath the target, but that too would be seen and investigated, and the last thing she needed was for some master mage to spot and interpret the fox's tricks. As Pollux had proven, prior to his death, there were countermeasures that sealed their ability to warp, and countermeasures that could be quickly engineered and produced to say no less. Whatever he had used to obstruct their teleportation had been potent enough to cover an entire village. She hadn't tested it at the time, and the effects had faded upon her return, but there was a chance that it had the potential to negate vector magic in general. And if that were the case, then she would need to do everything in her power to prevent its recreation.
“Mmmk,” said Sylvia. The fox closed the portal behind her pet, flew over to the side of her head, and gave one of her ears a hug.
“I’m fine,” said Claire. “Stop worrying.”
“Are you sure?”
Claire nodded before flicking Chloe, who was watching over them with a smug look, and dragging her feet back up to their room. Even just thinking about Pollux’s kin had left her completely drained. With that said, it wasn’t like she could simply join the fake in going to bed. She had an assassination slated for later that night, and she wasn’t about to miss her appointment on account of some dumb horse whose death was set in stone.
“Did Stella give you any more information about tonight’s target?”
“Nothing that would change your mind,” said Sylvia. She climbed up the side of the lyrkress’ head and positioned herself on top.
Claire sighed. “Then let’s go. The sooner we kill him, the sooner I can go to bed.”
Assuming her true form and floating out the window, Claire set her eyes on the horizon and made off into the night. The usual start to a long night’s work.
Chapter 312 - Pirates and Prayers IV
Claire rested her face in her hands as she watched the strange contest in which Boris and the fake were engaged. It was the same game that he often played with Marcelle. They were running frantically around the garden, collecting various items so that they could compare, contrast, and determine a victor through a means that Claire simply failed to understand.
In the interest of fairness, there was only one Boris actively collecting. The other three present were sitting side-by-side atop a small mound of dirt, supposedly poised to function as a panel of impartial judges. Claire wasn't quite sure how that worked exactly. As far as she was aware, every Boris shared the same dysfunctional mind. Every clone shared the ikarett’s three brain cells regardless of how many of them there were. The count was entirely inconsistent; the active number changed every single day. Sometimes, only the original would be present, but when he lost control, the headcount could balloon well beyond a couple hundred. There has been more than one occasion on which Sylvia had to repair the house, following an unexpected surge.
That was not to say it was entirely uncontrollable. Having spent a full month denying his existence, Boris had finally become capable of dismissing the clones at will. That then begged the question of why clones appeared throughout the day in the first place. He never quite articulated the idea, even through the psychic link they shared, but Claire had more or less solved the mystery—it was simply more relaxing to sunbathe in three bodies than one. Likewise, he enjoyed the sensation of waking up from a nap and would queue a number of sleeping clones just to experience it again and again.
The home’s other two residents joined Claire on the front porch right as her Boris-related contemplations came to an end. Sylvia was already half asleep. She was still in her fairy form, floating around with her tail functioning as the highest point in her frame. The rest of her body was allowed to hang like a jacket strewn over a chair. In all likelihood, the fox was only awake because the maid accompanying her carried a tray of evening snacks.
The cake was supposed to have been their dessert, but with everyone but Sylvia having stuffed themselves full, they decided to delay it until later in the evening. Claire hated to admit it, but the maid’s signature roast beef pastry—the entirely inappropriate name of which she refused to repeat—had taken her tongue by storm.
“Thank you,” said the snake-moose, as she was handed a plate with a slice of cake and a cup of tea.
“You’re very welcome,” said Chloe, with a smile. It was a calm, gentle look, a stark contrast from the perverted grin she wore when she was up to no good.
Taking up a position right beside the lyrkress, she entrusted her weight to the railing and sipped from a cup of her own. Her raven black hair fluttered in the evening breeze, its colour shimmering in a deep shade of brown as the evening sun shone across it.
When she noticed the lyrkress’ gaze, all hint of grace vanished, replaced by a toothy, impish smirk. “Like what you see?”
Claire sighed. “You’d be such a good maid if you just stopped opening your mouth.”
“I get that a lot,” said the human, with a laugh. “I don’t think it’s true though. Being true to myself is what keeps me motivated.”
Again, Claire sighed. “There’s a time and place for everything. Idiot.”
“And is this not it? I’m chatting with a friend over a cup of tea.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “What about all the fooling around you do on the job? And around Ciel?”
“Let’s just say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’” said the human, with a wink. That, of course, only earned her another cold stare, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relish in its shivering chill.
“I don’t think Ciel cares anyway,” said Sylvia, with a yawn. “Mmmnnnnnn, in fact, I think she might like her better that way.” The fairy crawled over the edge of her cup and lapped at the liquid inside. “Wow, this stuff is good.”
“I swiped it from the kitchen before we left,” said Chloe. “We’ve been getting it imported directly from the south. There’s normally plenty of it to go around, but it might be a bit harder to get with the famine rearing its head.” She smiled. “We’ll have to squeeze Cadria for all the reparations it can possibly afford if we don’t want everything to suddenly start sucking.”
“Why’s everyone so sure there’s gonna be a famine?” asked Sylvia, with a tilt of the head. “Can’t someone just cheer the goddess up or something?”
“Sometimes,” said Claire. “It depends.”
“So just why is she feeling down this time anyway?”
“We don’t know,” said Chloe. “She didn’t tell any of the priests when they asked.”
“Mmmmrnnnn… maybe we should go to her temple and try cheering her up anyway?” suggested the fox. “I could sing and stuff.”
“I’d rather not,” said Claire. “It might be my fault. For blowing up the temple she had in Tornatus.”
“Oh… right,” said Sylvia.
There was a brief pause in the conversation, broken only as Starrgort scuttled out the door and climbed his way onto the table. The mechanical spider lightly thumped his legs against the outdoor desk as he spun a small web and wove a series of letters.
“Primrose is currently depressed because my mistress seduced the mortal that held her greatest affections and actively gloated about it in front of her.”
Claire twisted her lips into a dark smile. “So it’s Vella’s fault.”
The spider trembled and immediately spun his web into another set of slightly shakier letters. “Oh shit.”
“I guess I do have to pay the stupid bug’s temple a visit after all,” she muttered, under her breath.
That, of course, only unnerved the spider even further. He packed up his web, quite literally shoving it back into the orifice from which it had emerged, before skittering back into the house at his top speed. The message was loud and clear. What happened next was none of his business. In fact, none of it was any of his business at all.
Still smiling, Claire turned her eyes back to the child frolicking about in the yard. Apparently, it seemed that the items she had managed to find completely trounced all of Boris’, as the lizard was down in the dumps in spite of the fact that the judges were bursting with excitement.
It didn’t exactly make sense, but Claire wasn’t about to complain. They were both having fun and that was all that mattered. She did, however, step in before the lizard could entice the fake into another match.
“It’s getting late. Let’s get you bathed and ready for bed.”
It was a proposition that only earned a pout from the homunculus. She even pointed towards the sun, which had yet to sink beneath the horizon, and jumped in place a few times to show that she was full of energy. Still, Claire shook her head.
“Everyone’s looking for you back home. It’s better if we get you back before Bea gets in trouble.”
Rubia paused briefly as the maid’s face flashed through both their minds. Though still somewhat disappointed, she eventually nodded her head.
“Don’t worry,” said Claire. “The bath will be nice and long. And you can visit again some other time.”
Taking the blood golem by the hand, Claire led her up the stairs and into the house, with everyone else following in a line behind them. Two of the members, she had expected. It was perfectly normal for Boris and Sylvia to join when it was time to bathe so that they could be pampered and scrubbed.
The last person in the train, however, was not quite as easily accepted.
“Why are you following us, Chloe?” she asked, with a glare.
The maid responded with a calm smile. “Was I not supposed to? Helping out in the bath is par for the course, as far as maid duties go.”
“That only applies if the maid in question isn’t a perverted freak.”
“You’re worrying too much, Claire. I’m really not as bad as you’re making me out to be. Sure, I might stare a little, but it’s not like I’m going to be sticking my hands where they don’t belong.”
The lyrkress pinched the bridge of her nose. “Perverted and way too honest.”
“Would you rather I lied?” asked Chloe.
“I’d rather you were normal,” said Claire. She lightly prodded the other girl with her tail, using only enough force to mess with her balance.
“You know, I don’t actually mind all that much,” said Sylvia. “A little staring never hurt anyone, and Chloe’s a lot of fun.”
She wasn’t the maid’s only supporter. Even Rubia reached out and grabbed the hem of Chloe’s sleeve. Her pout was hardly any different from Claire’s own, but the lyrkress found it difficult to refuse her. Eventually, she begrudgingly heaved a sigh and acquiesced. “Okay, fine. But you have to wear a blindfold and I’ll punch you if you take it off.”
“If that’s what it takes for you to relax,” giggled the maid.
And so the evening passed. Before long, the sun was beneath the horizon, and everyone was freshly cleaned. Rubia stood in the hallway, a Boris hugged to her chest and a fresh Vel’khanese nightgown draped over the rest of her body. The portal was already open, and the room she borrowed was visible on the other side.
She was hesitant to leave, however. She looked uneasily between the fox, the original, and the perverted maid as she reluctantly inched her way towards the portal. It wasn't until Claire stepped through to the other side and extended a hand that her trepidation began to abate. With a gulp, the fake took the original's hand, ventured beyond the veil, and crawled right into bed with the metal lizard still snuggly held in her arms. In the meantime, Claire took the homunculus’ day clothes and placed them on the desk, where they could be easily found, before returning to Rubia’s side and taking her hand under the sheets. Lightly, gently, she ran her fingers through her hair, waiting until she fell asleep.
It was an event that was quick to pass. The homunculus and Boris raced to fall to the bed’s devilish scheme, with the loser only a few seconds behind her new, iguana-shaped friend. Her mind was soon lost in its soft embrace, her breath slowing as her energy drained.
Only when certain that the fake was asleep did Claire rise from the side of her bed. Smiling softly, she stuck a foot through the portal before whirling around with a twitch of the ears. Everything suddenly changed. Her muscles tensed, her eyes opened wide, and her expression distorted, going from one of bliss to rage as she raised her ears overhead.
“Uhmmm… Claire? What’s wrong?” asked Sylvia, with a blink.
“Nothing,” she said. Her heart was pounding, but she slowly brought it back under control as she pulled the rest of her body through the portal. Right away, she moved towards the fairy, pulling the tiny creature into her chest as she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. And for a while, that was how she remained. “I heard one of Pollux’s sons,” she said, after a long pause. “One of the ones I recognized, at least.”
It was difficult to say how many there were, exactly. The man had lived for over a thousand years, and his lecherous ways had caused him to sire a non-negligible number of children outside of wedlock, often when his wife grew too old to produce any more of her own. In total, there were at least three hundred people in Cadria attributed to him directly, and perhaps another few thousand if one was to account for the generations that followed.
“Are you gonna go kill him?” asked Sylvia.
The lyrkress took a breath. “Not today.” It was too risky in the middle of enemy territory. If she skipped up, and he called for help, she would be unlikely to get away unscathed, assuming she could get away at all.
His most powerful men were deployed to the western front, but Decimus was still a marquis. He would not leave the security of his main castle so lax that a murder could occur unnoticed. There was always the option of opening a portal directly beneath the target, but that too would be seen and investigated, and the last thing she needed was for some master mage to spot and interpret the fox's tricks. As Pollux had proven, prior to his death, there were countermeasures that sealed their ability to warp, and countermeasures that could be quickly engineered and produced to say no less. Whatever he had used to obstruct their teleportation had been potent enough to cover an entire village. She hadn't tested it at the time, and the effects had faded upon her return, but there was a chance that it had the potential to negate vector magic in general. And if that were the case, then she would need to do everything in her power to prevent its recreation.
“Mmmk,” said Sylvia. The fox closed the portal behind her pet, flew over to the side of her head, and gave one of her ears a hug.
“I’m fine,” said Claire. “Stop worrying.”
“Are you sure?”
Claire nodded before flicking Chloe, who was watching over them with a smug look, and dragging her feet back up to their room. Even just thinking about Pollux’s kin had left her completely drained. With that said, it wasn’t like she could simply join the fake in going to bed. She had an assassination slated for later that night, and she wasn’t about to miss her appointment on account of some dumb horse whose death was set in stone.
“Did Stella give you any more information about tonight’s target?”
“Nothing that would change your mind,” said Sylvia. She climbed up the side of the lyrkress’ head and positioned herself on top.
Claire sighed. “Then let’s go. The sooner we kill him, the sooner I can go to bed.”
Assuming her true form and floating out the window, Claire set her eyes on the horizon and made off into the night. The usual start to a long night’s work.
