Chapter 315 - Pirates and Prayers VII
Sylvia hummed a tune under her breath as she magically cleaned her great-grandfather’s temple. Everything the tiny fairy passed was polished to perfection. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, and the decorations all had their dust collected and expelled by way of defenestration. It was the usual duty, at the usual time. Every week, she would visit the temple, cleanse all the impurities, and ensure that it was every bit as presentable as it needed to be.
On most other days, she would have performed the chore with a spell from afar, but with it being Al’s birthday, she felt that it was more appropriate to handle the task in person.
The celebration of her own birth was coming up soon as well. It was just a few weeks after her great-grandfather’s and a few days before she met Claire. She couldn’t help but wonder if the lyrkress remembered it, but she didn’t think she did. She had only mentioned her coming of age once or twice in passing, and she doubted that Claire had kept track of the date whilst exploring the dungeon, especially because, like all the other torches, she was put in stasis for a time before she was allowed to roam the dungeon.
“When’s Claire’s birthday anyway?” wondered the fox aloud. Given the length of their friendship, she was fairly certain that it had passed without mention. It was possible that Claire just hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate, but it was just as likely that Cadrians simply didn’t care much for anniversaries and the like. She didn’t really know, but it wasn’t a big deal, and there wasn’t really much of a point thinking about it either way. Whatever the case, she would simply have to ask, assuming she still remembered when they reconvened.
“Okay! Looks like everything’s clean.” Humming in satisfaction, she floated her way out of the freshly-polished temple and moved up onto its roof. “Now I’ve just gotta find Al a present.”
The best choice was, of course, to procure a live catgirl. A certain goddess’ heart aside, it was the single thing he wanted most, but alas, it was impossible. Flitzegarde had specifically configured the barrier around Llysteltein to reject catgirls. Even newly manufactured individuals were transported outside, beyond the point where Alfred’s hands could reach. She suspected that the same would happen if she tried to smuggle one in through her tail. She could probably get one into the dungeon with her magic working the way it did, but they would surely be deported as soon as she withdrew them from the subspace. So left with no other choice, she resorted to gathering catgirl-related things instead.
She began by jumping off the roof and floating into town. She hovered right past the city’s walls and sought a very specific location just west of the northern wharf. It was a fairly well-known tea shop, albeit not necessarily for the quality of its wares. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t delicious—Sylvia always enjoyed the tea that they served—but her presence was driven by an entirely different purpose. Stealthing herself with a bubble, she floated through an open window and set her sights on a familiar figure.
Standing at roughly one-hundred-and-eighty centimeters, the catgirl was a fair bit taller than the standard. She had a head of wavy black hair and a pair of bright green eyes that paired well with her taciturn persona. Her voluptuous figure was accentuated by a frilly uniform, much like that of a maid’s, but without any of the unnecessary modesty baked in. Her skirt was well above her knees, barely covering everything it should, and her chest was practically spilling out of her unbuttoned blouse.
She tried her best to look stern, but the catgirl was unable to hide her exhaustion. She stifled a yawn from time to time and her eyelids constantly threatened to droop. It was a circumstance that begged an observer to imagine the previous night's activities as well as confirmation that Lyudmila, or Lewdmila as Sylvia had secretly dubbed her, was precisely the sort of girl that Alfred had hoped to create. With that in mind, the fox burned the catgirl into her retinas, carefully observing her from every angle so she could perfectly replicate her in song.
It took roughly five minutes of careful observation for Sylvia’s work to finish. She was confident that she could reproduce everything from the individual strands of her hair to the pores in her skin. The last thing she needed was a related holy relic so Alfred could experience the individual in question for himself. Panties were ideal, but it wasn’t like she could simply steal the catgirl’s while she was still wearing them—not that she would have wanted to do such a thing in the first place. She had certainly stolen panties on her great-grandfather's behalf before, but she wasn't about to do it again. Nay, she had grown too sensible for that.
Her thieving paws—or rather hands—drifted towards the catgirl's tail instead. She picked out some of the shed hair still stuck to her person and stored it away. She wasn't sure if it would make it through Flitzegarde's barrier, but it was really the thought that mattered.
Of course, an observation of just one catgirl did not quite suffice in and of itself, so she quickly vacated the tea house and flew towards her next location.
Dispelling the bubble around her body, Sylvia casually fluttered her way through the town. She was small enough that most people didn't notice her, even though she remained at shoulder height. The same, however, could not be said for the cat that ruled the northern wharf. He sprinted towards her as soon as he spotted her, pawing and biting in an attempt to capture the seemingly delectable meal. The fairy wasn't worried much about the attempt on her life. She giggled instead as she flitted out of the way, occasionally meeting the cat's pounces with a boop on the nose. Over the hills and under the arches she went, with the persistent, hungry feline chasing her to the ends of the world. When it eventually followed her into a dark alley, she assumed her full size and freaked it out to earn herself another fit of laughter.
At her leisurely pace, it took almost an hour to reach her second destination—not that it was a problem. Both the catgirls that worked in the city's most prestigious brothel were still sound asleep by the time of her arrival. Sylvia didn't exactly keep tabs on them, but having checked in on all the local catgirls' on occasion, at a certain celestial's behest, she more or less understood the schedules that fueled their daily lives. Izolda and Ira were late risers. They woke in the early afternoon, ate a healthy meal unlikely to damage their physiques, and spent the remainder of their day on marketable hobbies or other forms of self-improvement. Exercise, song, dance, art. They did everything they could to bolster their value so that only the most high-class customers would be able to afford their nightly services.
While such additional properties were prized by many, Sylvia only really cared for their bodies. She slipped into their shared bedroom and carefully scanned each, once again collecting their loose hairs and preparing a series of verses that would perfectly capture their forms. Again, it took a few minutes, but she soon slipped out of the adult-only entertainment centre and made for another destination.
The fourth and final catgirl that resided within the city’s bounds was the most difficult to stalk. She lived in a creepy manor that bordered the capital’s southern treeline. It was surrounded by several layers of spells. Only two of them were physical barriers. The other seven were all configured to notify the caster of any possible abnormalities.
Individually, they were fairly easy to sneak past. She was a level one, maybe two hundred caster—not anything that registered on the fox’s radar, but with all seven thrown together, they served as something like a puzzle that needed to be solved each time the fox wished to venture through the gate.
Like the courtesans, the social recluse was still sound asleep by the time of her arrival. Sylvia recorded her slightly chubby figure, retrieved a sample from her bright pink tail, and continued on her way.
With all the samples finally gathered and all the verses refined in her mind, Sylvia floated up into the sky above the city and lightly hummed a tune. She opened and entered a pair of portals, one to get her into Llystletein, and a second that took her straight to Alfred’s abode.
The ancient human was already waiting for her, relaxing by the fireplace with a slice of cake crammed into his undersized pipe. Somehow, he was smoking it, enjoying the desert as one would a batch of herbs. It wasn’t quite her first time seeing the behaviour, but she questioned it nonetheless. There was no reason to ingest it so slowly when he could just as easily devour it in a single bite.
“Hey Al. Happy Birthday,” she said. As was clear from all the gifts lying around on the floor, she wasn’t his first visitor, and though it was already past lunch, she was unlikely to be the last. It was still too early in the day for everyone to have risen.
“Thank you, Sylvia,” he said, with a happy puff. “And welcome home. Would you like a slice of cake?”
“Maybe a little later. I had a pretty big breakfast today,” said Sylvia.
“Right. The maid’s cooking, yes?”
“Mhm. We had some leftovers from last night that Claire froze, and they were super tasty.”
Alfred chuckled. “I’m sure they were.” He closed his eyes, leaned back into his chair, and clasped his hands in his lap. “Have you been well lately?”
“Mhm!” said Sylvia. “Wait, shouldn’t you know? I thought you were keeping an eye on us ‘n stuff.”
“I was, until Flux started running me into the ground,” he said, with a chuckle. “We had to spend a full two weeks sorting out the aftermath of that stunt you pulled with that murder-happy friend of yours. And now we’re stuck catching up on the rest of the work we were putting off.”
“Oh uhmmm… right,” said Sylvia, with a giggle. “What happened to all the souls we gave you anyway?”
“The same thing that happens to all the souls I get my hands on,” he said, with a small smile. “What else?”
“To be honest, I kinda thought for sure that Flux was gonna confiscate most of them,” said the fox. “Since she doesn’t really like it when people rip them out of the system.”
“She wasn’t exactly in a position to complain after feeding Claire the rest.” He popped open a small box and skimmed through a book’s worth of text at light speed. “Speaking of, it looks like she’s still not recovered.”
Sylvia’s tail flopped over. “Yeah, at the rate it’s going, it might take a few years before she gets back to normal. Is there really no way for you to fix her?”
“None that she would be willing to endure,” he said. “Pretty much everything I can think of involves telling her too much or shoving her into one of the tanks.”
“Mmmnnn… yeah, that probably isn’t gonna fly,” muttered the fox.
The so-called tanks in question were the large, cylindrical pods that Alfred kept in his lab. They were divine relics, system-defying creations born of his ability to embody the concept of creation. Any object or individual placed inside could be analyzed and tweaked at his discretion. Time, divinity, and the strength of the individual’s mind were the only limiting factors.
The only problem? Because the capsules were tied to his skills, and because his skills were as cultured as he, there existed a number of additional conditions. Each pod would be occupied by a single entity at any given point in time regardless of the input, and it just so happened that clothes were technically considered entities as well. It was impossible to avoid nakedness within the capsule lest one was willing to be combined with their garments.
“Oh yeah, before I forget. I have a present for you.” Sylvia reached into her tail and retrieved all the fur she had recently procured. There were only a few dozen strands, but the celestial’s eyes sparkled nonetheless.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Sylvia nodded. “Mhm. I grabbed a bit from all four of the catgirls that live in Vel’khagan.”
Alfred smiled. “Thank you Sylvia, that was very thoughtful of you.” He magically yoinked the fur out of the fox’s hands, and crammed it into his pipe with the cake. “I’ll be enjoying it to the fullest.”
“I also made a bit of a song to go along with it. One sec.” She floated up into the air, pressed a hand to her chest, and took a breath. The lyrics that followed were delivered alongside a bright, upbeat tune. The notes soon induced a shared hallucination. A group of miniature catgirls frolicked through an imagined field, each a picture-perfect recreation of the model that served as the base.
She didn’t know what most of the girls’ voices sounded like, but she made one up for each of the four and sang an accompanying verse. Her great-grandfather had teared up by the time the song was completed. He even lifted his handkerchief out of his pocket, lightly dabbed at his reddening eyes, and blew his nose for extra effect.
“That was wonderful. The only suggestion that I have for improvement is to ma—”
“I’m not making them do anything weird, Al,” said Sylvia, with a huff.
“Too bad,” he said, regretfully. That, however, was about as far as he played the role. He snapped to attention as soon as she faced him again and met her with his most serious look. “So? Why are you here? I’m sure it wasn’t just to celebrate, was it? This is hardly an important year.”
Birthdays were common enough for Alfred that he didn’t care all too much for them, save for when they ended in a multiple of ten. Taking a day-long break from work was about the extent of his celebration. And Sylvia, of course, knew that as well.
“Mmnnnn, I think so?” Sylvia lightly swished her tail back and forth before suddenly perking up. “Oh wait, I remember now! I was supposed to ask you about something super important.”
Alfred gestured for her to continue.
“Have you ever heard of the Langgbjern Mountains?”
“I do know of them,” said the old human. “They were considered fairly perilous even when I was still an aspect, and I’d imagine they've only ever gotten worse since.”
“Right so uhmmmm... I think we're going there soon.”
The celestial raised a brow. “And why is that?”
“Well, apparently Claire has to get really strong really quickly, and it was pretty much the only place she could think of.”
“I’m glad to see that she's about as insane as ever,” he said, with a chuckle. “But I‘d advise that you refrain from participating. I doubt that even you will be able to survive.”
“Really?” asked the fox, with her eyes wide open.
“Let’s confirm, shall we?” The celestial popped open a series of boxes and quickly scanned their infinitely scrolling contents. They were filled with images and numbers, but they flashed by too quickly for the fox's mind to register the details. The only thing she could really make out was the sheer amount of white. Alfred had no such trouble, however. He hemmed and hawed as he looked over the data, with its details only accelerating the gears in the back of his mind. “I’m fairly certain, Sylvia, that if you are foolish enough to visit the Langgbjerns, you will no doubt die within three days. It will only be sooner if you task yourself with the others’ protection.”
Her eyes opened wide. “It’s that bad?”
“It is one of the three places in Mara where an aspect might become a celestial, and a celestial might become a god,” he said. “You should discourage your friend from going. The base might have been fine for her to explore in perfect condition, but with her magic shackled, and her body in pain, she is sure to die.”
“I don’t really think she's going to listen to me even if I tell her that,” said Sylvia. She paused for a moment to think. “Oh, I know! Can you make the old ones a bunch of bodies? We’ll probably be fine if they incarnate.”
“I wouldn’t be against it,” said Alfred, with a grin, “but I would like you to do me a bit of a favour in exchange.”
“Uhmmm... what kind of favour?” asked Sylvia.
“Don’t worry,” said Alfred. “It’s nothing too difficult, just something that only you can do. We can even call it a quest, if you’d like.”
Though she doubted the claim, Sylvia continued to listen, even as the blush that appeared on her face spread past her cheeks and through her elven ears.
Chapter 315 - Pirates and Prayers VII
Sylvia hummed a tune under her breath as she magically cleaned her great-grandfather’s temple. Everything the tiny fairy passed was polished to perfection. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, and the decorations all had their dust collected and expelled by way of defenestration. It was the usual duty, at the usual time. Every week, she would visit the temple, cleanse all the impurities, and ensure that it was every bit as presentable as it needed to be.
On most other days, she would have performed the chore with a spell from afar, but with it being Al’s birthday, she felt that it was more appropriate to handle the task in person.
The celebration of her own birth was coming up soon as well. It was just a few weeks after her great-grandfather’s and a few days before she met Claire. She couldn’t help but wonder if the lyrkress remembered it, but she didn’t think she did. She had only mentioned her coming of age once or twice in passing, and she doubted that Claire had kept track of the date whilst exploring the dungeon, especially because, like all the other torches, she was put in stasis for a time before she was allowed to roam the dungeon.
“When’s Claire’s birthday anyway?” wondered the fox aloud. Given the length of their friendship, she was fairly certain that it had passed without mention. It was possible that Claire just hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate, but it was just as likely that Cadrians simply didn’t care much for anniversaries and the like. She didn’t really know, but it wasn’t a big deal, and there wasn’t really much of a point thinking about it either way. Whatever the case, she would simply have to ask, assuming she still remembered when they reconvened.
“Okay! Looks like everything’s clean.” Humming in satisfaction, she floated her way out of the freshly-polished temple and moved up onto its roof. “Now I’ve just gotta find Al a present.”
The best choice was, of course, to procure a live catgirl. A certain goddess’ heart aside, it was the single thing he wanted most, but alas, it was impossible. Flitzegarde had specifically configured the barrier around Llysteltein to reject catgirls. Even newly manufactured individuals were transported outside, beyond the point where Alfred’s hands could reach. She suspected that the same would happen if she tried to smuggle one in through her tail. She could probably get one into the dungeon with her magic working the way it did, but they would surely be deported as soon as she withdrew them from the subspace. So left with no other choice, she resorted to gathering catgirl-related things instead.
She began by jumping off the roof and floating into town. She hovered right past the city’s walls and sought a very specific location just west of the northern wharf. It was a fairly well-known tea shop, albeit not necessarily for the quality of its wares. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t delicious—Sylvia always enjoyed the tea that they served—but her presence was driven by an entirely different purpose. Stealthing herself with a bubble, she floated through an open window and set her sights on a familiar figure.
Standing at roughly one-hundred-and-eighty centimeters, the catgirl was a fair bit taller than the standard. She had a head of wavy black hair and a pair of bright green eyes that paired well with her taciturn persona. Her voluptuous figure was accentuated by a frilly uniform, much like that of a maid’s, but without any of the unnecessary modesty baked in. Her skirt was well above her knees, barely covering everything it should, and her chest was practically spilling out of her unbuttoned blouse.
She tried her best to look stern, but the catgirl was unable to hide her exhaustion. She stifled a yawn from time to time and her eyelids constantly threatened to droop. It was a circumstance that begged an observer to imagine the previous night's activities as well as confirmation that Lyudmila, or Lewdmila as Sylvia had secretly dubbed her, was precisely the sort of girl that Alfred had hoped to create. With that in mind, the fox burned the catgirl into her retinas, carefully observing her from every angle so she could perfectly replicate her in song.
It took roughly five minutes of careful observation for Sylvia’s work to finish. She was confident that she could reproduce everything from the individual strands of her hair to the pores in her skin. The last thing she needed was a related holy relic so Alfred could experience the individual in question for himself. Panties were ideal, but it wasn’t like she could simply steal the catgirl’s while she was still wearing them—not that she would have wanted to do such a thing in the first place. She had certainly stolen panties on her great-grandfather's behalf before, but she wasn't about to do it again. Nay, she had grown too sensible for that.
Her thieving paws—or rather hands—drifted towards the catgirl's tail instead. She picked out some of the shed hair still stuck to her person and stored it away. She wasn't sure if it would make it through Flitzegarde's barrier, but it was really the thought that mattered.
Of course, an observation of just one catgirl did not quite suffice in and of itself, so she quickly vacated the tea house and flew towards her next location.
Dispelling the bubble around her body, Sylvia casually fluttered her way through the town. She was small enough that most people didn't notice her, even though she remained at shoulder height. The same, however, could not be said for the cat that ruled the northern wharf. He sprinted towards her as soon as he spotted her, pawing and biting in an attempt to capture the seemingly delectable meal. The fairy wasn't worried much about the attempt on her life. She giggled instead as she flitted out of the way, occasionally meeting the cat's pounces with a boop on the nose. Over the hills and under the arches she went, with the persistent, hungry feline chasing her to the ends of the world. When it eventually followed her into a dark alley, she assumed her full size and freaked it out to earn herself another fit of laughter.
At her leisurely pace, it took almost an hour to reach her second destination—not that it was a problem. Both the catgirls that worked in the city's most prestigious brothel were still sound asleep by the time of her arrival. Sylvia didn't exactly keep tabs on them, but having checked in on all the local catgirls' on occasion, at a certain celestial's behest, she more or less understood the schedules that fueled their daily lives. Izolda and Ira were late risers. They woke in the early afternoon, ate a healthy meal unlikely to damage their physiques, and spent the remainder of their day on marketable hobbies or other forms of self-improvement. Exercise, song, dance, art. They did everything they could to bolster their value so that only the most high-class customers would be able to afford their nightly services.
While such additional properties were prized by many, Sylvia only really cared for their bodies. She slipped into their shared bedroom and carefully scanned each, once again collecting their loose hairs and preparing a series of verses that would perfectly capture their forms. Again, it took a few minutes, but she soon slipped out of the adult-only entertainment centre and made for another destination.
The fourth and final catgirl that resided within the city’s bounds was the most difficult to stalk. She lived in a creepy manor that bordered the capital’s southern treeline. It was surrounded by several layers of spells. Only two of them were physical barriers. The other seven were all configured to notify the caster of any possible abnormalities.
Individually, they were fairly easy to sneak past. She was a level one, maybe two hundred caster—not anything that registered on the fox’s radar, but with all seven thrown together, they served as something like a puzzle that needed to be solved each time the fox wished to venture through the gate.
Like the courtesans, the social recluse was still sound asleep by the time of her arrival. Sylvia recorded her slightly chubby figure, retrieved a sample from her bright pink tail, and continued on her way.
With all the samples finally gathered and all the verses refined in her mind, Sylvia floated up into the sky above the city and lightly hummed a tune. She opened and entered a pair of portals, one to get her into Llystletein, and a second that took her straight to Alfred’s abode.
The ancient human was already waiting for her, relaxing by the fireplace with a slice of cake crammed into his undersized pipe. Somehow, he was smoking it, enjoying the desert as one would a batch of herbs. It wasn’t quite her first time seeing the behaviour, but she questioned it nonetheless. There was no reason to ingest it so slowly when he could just as easily devour it in a single bite.
“Hey Al. Happy Birthday,” she said. As was clear from all the gifts lying around on the floor, she wasn’t his first visitor, and though it was already past lunch, she was unlikely to be the last. It was still too early in the day for everyone to have risen.
“Thank you, Sylvia,” he said, with a happy puff. “And welcome home. Would you like a slice of cake?”
“Maybe a little later. I had a pretty big breakfast today,” said Sylvia.
“Right. The maid’s cooking, yes?”
“Mhm. We had some leftovers from last night that Claire froze, and they were super tasty.”
Alfred chuckled. “I’m sure they were.” He closed his eyes, leaned back into his chair, and clasped his hands in his lap. “Have you been well lately?”
“Mhm!” said Sylvia. “Wait, shouldn’t you know? I thought you were keeping an eye on us ‘n stuff.”
“I was, until Flux started running me into the ground,” he said, with a chuckle. “We had to spend a full two weeks sorting out the aftermath of that stunt you pulled with that murder-happy friend of yours. And now we’re stuck catching up on the rest of the work we were putting off.”
“Oh uhmmm… right,” said Sylvia, with a giggle. “What happened to all the souls we gave you anyway?”
“The same thing that happens to all the souls I get my hands on,” he said, with a small smile. “What else?”
“To be honest, I kinda thought for sure that Flux was gonna confiscate most of them,” said the fox. “Since she doesn’t really like it when people rip them out of the system.”
“She wasn’t exactly in a position to complain after feeding Claire the rest.” He popped open a small box and skimmed through a book’s worth of text at light speed. “Speaking of, it looks like she’s still not recovered.”
Sylvia’s tail flopped over. “Yeah, at the rate it’s going, it might take a few years before she gets back to normal. Is there really no way for you to fix her?”
“None that she would be willing to endure,” he said. “Pretty much everything I can think of involves telling her too much or shoving her into one of the tanks.”
“Mmmnnn… yeah, that probably isn’t gonna fly,” muttered the fox.
The so-called tanks in question were the large, cylindrical pods that Alfred kept in his lab. They were divine relics, system-defying creations born of his ability to embody the concept of creation. Any object or individual placed inside could be analyzed and tweaked at his discretion. Time, divinity, and the strength of the individual’s mind were the only limiting factors.
The only problem? Because the capsules were tied to his skills, and because his skills were as cultured as he, there existed a number of additional conditions. Each pod would be occupied by a single entity at any given point in time regardless of the input, and it just so happened that clothes were technically considered entities as well. It was impossible to avoid nakedness within the capsule lest one was willing to be combined with their garments.
“Oh yeah, before I forget. I have a present for you.” Sylvia reached into her tail and retrieved all the fur she had recently procured. There were only a few dozen strands, but the celestial’s eyes sparkled nonetheless.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Sylvia nodded. “Mhm. I grabbed a bit from all four of the catgirls that live in Vel’khagan.”
Alfred smiled. “Thank you Sylvia, that was very thoughtful of you.” He magically yoinked the fur out of the fox’s hands, and crammed it into his pipe with the cake. “I’ll be enjoying it to the fullest.”
“I also made a bit of a song to go along with it. One sec.” She floated up into the air, pressed a hand to her chest, and took a breath. The lyrics that followed were delivered alongside a bright, upbeat tune. The notes soon induced a shared hallucination. A group of miniature catgirls frolicked through an imagined field, each a picture-perfect recreation of the model that served as the base.
She didn’t know what most of the girls’ voices sounded like, but she made one up for each of the four and sang an accompanying verse. Her great-grandfather had teared up by the time the song was completed. He even lifted his handkerchief out of his pocket, lightly dabbed at his reddening eyes, and blew his nose for extra effect.
“That was wonderful. The only suggestion that I have for improvement is to ma—”
“I’m not making them do anything weird, Al,” said Sylvia, with a huff.
“Too bad,” he said, regretfully. That, however, was about as far as he played the role. He snapped to attention as soon as she faced him again and met her with his most serious look. “So? Why are you here? I’m sure it wasn’t just to celebrate, was it? This is hardly an important year.”
Birthdays were common enough for Alfred that he didn’t care all too much for them, save for when they ended in a multiple of ten. Taking a day-long break from work was about the extent of his celebration. And Sylvia, of course, knew that as well.
“Mmnnnn, I think so?” Sylvia lightly swished her tail back and forth before suddenly perking up. “Oh wait, I remember now! I was supposed to ask you about something super important.”
Alfred gestured for her to continue.
“Have you ever heard of the Langgbjern Mountains?”
“I do know of them,” said the old human. “They were considered fairly perilous even when I was still an aspect, and I’d imagine they've only ever gotten worse since.”
“Right so uhmmmm... I think we're going there soon.”
The celestial raised a brow. “And why is that?”
“Well, apparently Claire has to get really strong really quickly, and it was pretty much the only place she could think of.”
“I’m glad to see that she's about as insane as ever,” he said, with a chuckle. “But I‘d advise that you refrain from participating. I doubt that even you will be able to survive.”
“Really?” asked the fox, with her eyes wide open.
“Let’s confirm, shall we?” The celestial popped open a series of boxes and quickly scanned their infinitely scrolling contents. They were filled with images and numbers, but they flashed by too quickly for the fox's mind to register the details. The only thing she could really make out was the sheer amount of white. Alfred had no such trouble, however. He hemmed and hawed as he looked over the data, with its details only accelerating the gears in the back of his mind. “I’m fairly certain, Sylvia, that if you are foolish enough to visit the Langgbjerns, you will no doubt die within three days. It will only be sooner if you task yourself with the others’ protection.”
Her eyes opened wide. “It’s that bad?”
“It is one of the three places in Mara where an aspect might become a celestial, and a celestial might become a god,” he said. “You should discourage your friend from going. The base might have been fine for her to explore in perfect condition, but with her magic shackled, and her body in pain, she is sure to die.”
“I don’t really think she's going to listen to me even if I tell her that,” said Sylvia. She paused for a moment to think. “Oh, I know! Can you make the old ones a bunch of bodies? We’ll probably be fine if they incarnate.”
“I wouldn’t be against it,” said Alfred, with a grin, “but I would like you to do me a bit of a favour in exchange.”
“Uhmmm... what kind of favour?” asked Sylvia.
“Don’t worry,” said Alfred. “It’s nothing too difficult, just something that only you can do. We can even call it a quest, if you’d like.”
Though she doubted the claim, Sylvia continued to listen, even as the blush that appeared on her face spread past her cheeks and through her elven ears.
