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Chapter 14 - Chapter 13: Interwind

Thunder shook like the marching step of the Crystal King as it swept the land. Harriet shivered, sheltering her shaken sodden skin, sitting still, separated from the fire by futile mists of drying heat. For every drop evaporated, ten more fell. The Manor was a magnificent failure in weather resistance.

"Hehehehehe," Harriett giggled happily, "I'm gonna get hypothermia."

"Then JOIN us under the TARP!" Petra said, "I know that you're not going to the ball with us, but that doesn't mean you have to be on the other side of the fire from us. We're just planning over here."

Wind whistled and broke across the foundations of Reflection Manor. The tarp had given up covering the whole kitchen, and Petra had pulled it down into a tent. There they had piled their belongings, what didn't fit in a locker anyway, on top of the table. Petra and Clara talked on raised ground around an admittedly cheery fire despite the downpour, surrounded by the cuddling kittens. They were downright cozy. 

Disgusting, Harriett thought.

Harriett hissed and huddled closer to the fire. They just didn't get it. Being trapped out in a storm? Beautiful. Why couldn't this storm have come a few days ago while they were traveling?

It's a shame, Harriett sighed, The world has such a bad sense of timing.

Harriett shivered and said, "Why can't I be out desperately searching for Jasson again? He could be out there, dying."

"If he's dying then check the river down the mountain," Petra said, "No reason to go all the way to town with this downpour sweeping everything our way."

"I think I saw a bunch of cabbages floating by," Clara said, "The poor vendor has lost his produce. I hope he'll be alright."

"Hmmm…" Harriett said, "Okay."

Harriett stretched and stood, shedding water as she moved. The river, eh? Crying as she searched? That sounded properly dramatic.

"Oh," Petra said, "Uh…have fun?"

"I will not!" Harriett sniffed and shuffled her way to the door, "I will have a miserable, desperate time as I search in the wreckage for the bloated corpse of my friend!"

Clara said, "It's mostly sewer down there. Lots of…that stuff. No giant rat bodies, oddly enough."

Petra said, "They probably just swam away."

Harriett frowned as she hunched out the door. The rats…there hadn't been any quests for that on the board. Not since they left for Smill. That was odd…

Harriett tried to slip on her way down the mountain. She didn't want to make it purposeful. It's not heroic to throw oneself down the mountain. But the one time she managed to slip she found herself perfectly balanced a second later.

"Curse my superhuman skills," Harriett said, "Can I not suffer anything?!"

At least she was cold, although even that was waning from exercise.

Harriett looked over the swollen river, the rushing water keeping her several feet back from the edge. Ever since that incident in the cave Harriett had been…careful around rivers. They were the only thing that had ever been faster than her.

"Wow," Harriett sat down, "That's a lot of cabbages. Must have been a whole warehouse. Prices will go up soon. I should fish out what I can. I can't imagine them going bad already."

Yet she didn't move. This was nothing she hadn't seen before. There had been a storm a few years earlier that would have engulfed where she was sitting. It was the warm air from the western ocean. Generally, once a year, it brought fall with winter in the wings.

It was a week early but…this is what she'd been waiting for. Right? Struggle, difficulty. Making something of herself away from her protective parents.

But then she'd gone and used her father's name back in Smill. She'd adored how pale that puny lord had turned. Pettiness bowing before sheer reputation. After all, in a contest of your word versus mine, who would dare to go up against the eldest daughter of the Baron Butcher? The man that had taken the sagging battlefront and rammed a spine through it. A spine of a dead greater dragon to be specific. 

Harriett couldn't stop herself from grinning. She loved that thing. It towered in the remains of the final town to ever be destroyed by the Broken Dungeon. The Dragon's Spine. A bony pole, a symbolic flag to all those marching to war. Every soldier stood taller in sight of that monument. An unspeakable call that said…something. 

Harriett was determined to figure what that 'something' was that called so many.

Harriett felt the presence behind her long before it spoke. She recognized the feel of it. The…comfort. Harriett didn't need to ask how she'd found her.

"Greetings mother," Harriett said, "Slipped out of the castle to inspect the flooding waters yourself?"

Duchess Primrose Peckishire glided beside her daughter and sat on the air, long dress billowing gracefully in the storm. Every drop of water lingered on her before being absorbed into her perfect composure. She was the type of person that "raven-haired seductress" comes naturally to, save for the fact that "seductress" was too…intentional. A Temptress. Someone that causes the mind to linger with their mere presence.

"It's hard not to," Primrose said, "Your father would be out here as well, but he got called to the front. A new wave of monsters have flanked our lines and are threatening towns further back."

"A pity," Harriett grimaced, "Do you think it's them?"

"Hard to say," Primrose said, "They're the type that would have done it. However, there is nothing suspicious about this incident in general. Still, with your father gone I have sent an order to the guild. Every available adventurer will be scouring the city for nests tomorrow. Hopefully nothing will happen to interrupt our…guests."

Harriett froze. She knew that tone. That…implication.

"There's someone unexpected coming to this ball?" Harriett said, "Someone with an Isolator?"

Duchess Primrose's face gave nothing aways as she said, "I can't properly listen in on conversations if the air does not even move. It's someone from the Tast'er house, possibly a representative of the king."

Harriett snorted and Primrose allowed the faintest crease of a smile.

"So you want me to listen in," Harriett said, "Get the details on them."

Primrose said, "There are other things. I hate to call you back from your friends but…"

Harriett glanced back at her mother and said, "Have you figured them out?"

"I have my suspicions," Primrose said, "But…I would like to finish this puzzle myself. You're not the only one who likes a challenge."

Harriett snorted and said, "I'm hardly a challenge for you."

"Oh?" Primrose said, "Do you think I was always so good at laying traps for my runaway daughter?"

"Yes," Harriett said, "You were just taking it easy on me."

"Well, yes." Primrose said, "But only the danger of the trap was 'easy'. You were a toddler when you went on your first adventure, and you've always been good at seeing things you shouldn't. You'd get better every year, and what started as my exceptional trapping ability has grown to be second only to my observation abilities. Children force their parents to grow. That is the way of the world. Don't count yourself out that easily."

Harriett frowned.

"If you say so." Harriett said, switching subjects, "Can I at least wear a mask to the ball?"

****

Scott wasn't one to let a storm stop him. He had finally found peers that he didn't feel…used by. Petra's reluctance to ask him for aid sparked a charity that had long since died.

I should have never gone home, Scott thought. But I did meet them there, so perhaps fate is taking place.

When you can build an entire house in a day, you find a lot of people at your door with stories. Sad stories. Sob stories. Keep you up at night stories.

Petra had been blunt, possibly to save time, while they planned their escape in Smill.

The twins had lost all they had known. Family, home, inheritance. Now they didn't even have a roof over their head. They didn't even ask him for one, merely brought it up as a temporary fact of life. 

Because there was no reason to pity them. They had their health, their strength, and a dream. Everything that makes a man float on life like a ship on the water.

Most of all, although they would gladly accept his help, he was not needed. They would find a way to do it without him. Only Jasson seemed to need Scott, but as a friend not a "do it for cheaper" construction company. An arch mage in need of a "bro". Then there was Harriett…

Scott was not unfamiliar with that kind of attention. He got it out east. But the way Harriett toyed with what it meant to be alive…Scott picked up his pace.

Roots writhed from the sole of Scott's feet, planting him on the road with every step. He held his wooden umbrella against the wind. He had made good time, and was nearly fully recovered, but this storm had been so sudden. Like the monsoons out east. Still, he didn't stop to make a house. They were expecting him as soon as possible.

Fate has a funny way of making people late.

In the flashing lightning, between blinding gusts of wind, Scott could make out something on the road ahead. As big as a nice carriage, made of wood like a carriage, and had wheels spinning idly like a carriage on its side. Come to think of it, that's what it was.

Scott paused briefly. They needed help. He was help. But he had somewhere to be. Other promises to keep.

Scott approached cautiously. The lightning flashed and illuminated luxury turned sideways. Guilt and gravitas in gold and green. An unfamiliar house crest in the flung open door, one of a tree with golden apples. Horses tied and stuck to the carriage, nickering nervously at the storm.

Footprints leaving the scene.

Scott pulled out one of his earth crystals. It glinted green in the lightning, like a drop of the forest itself. Scott's mind had never been normal, which lent itself quite well to wood.

The carriage righted itself, the wheels flew back together and the little door slammed shut. Scott walked up and untangled the horses, then led both them and the carriage to the side of the road. 

With a quick thought, Scott felled a dozen trees and cleared the ground, compressing it into a suitable foundation. Then he split the trees into usable materials and shaped them into what he wanted. A high roofed canopy, an enclosed stable, and a firepit. A rest stop for those that would come after.

Scott stabled the horses then emerged back into the storm and said, "Now, where did these nobles go?"

Scott was a tracker. He could follow a mouse through a jungle. But even the most inexperienced could follow the footprints of these people. Two sets, both large but one heavier than the other. Probably a third person being carried, or perhaps a trunk. Maybe both.

Scott followed until the footprints ended abruptly, disappearing into thin air. Like they'd walked through a door into another world.

"Oh thank goodness," Scott raised his hand, "They're safe."

Scott knocked on the air.

"Come in!" A voice called.

A door opened to a foyer beyond and Scott shook off his umbrella and stepped inside, bowing respectfully.

"Welcome to the Wet Rat Inn!" The attendant behind the desk said, "How can I help you-Oh! Scott! How are you?"

Scott smiled and set his umbrella to the side before stepping up to the counter.

"Good evening, Sarah." Scott said, leaning on the counter, "And how has Larethos's Rest been handling recently? I see you got new floors."

"Had some blood that stained the oak," Sarah sighed, "Thankfully, the group of sewer rats earlier didn't stain anything. I hate how fixed we have to be when we bring in craftsmen. So, did you want to stay for the night? Because we're-"

"I'm actually here to speak with one of your occupants," Scott said, "I'm not sure who they are. It's two men and one woman or modestly large trunk. I just fixed their wrecked carriage and took care of their horses. Can you get a message to them?"

"Ah, of course," Sarah said, "Do you have a name that I can give them? Scott? Sī Kē Tè? Or are you going by something else right now?"

"You make it sound like I go around giving false names," Scott laughed, "That's just what the people out east called me. Let's see…"

Scott hesitated. The twins could use all the help they could get. These people might become allies from his aid. Or at least more favorably inclined. But his name was connected with the twins now, and he wanted these nobles to be able to reach out. It just didn't make sense to leave his name and depart, especially without seeing what type of people they were.

"I would like to speak with them," Scott said, "Did they request a wake up call?"

"Let me see," Sarah flipped through her books, "I believe so. Yes. The manservant requested a wake up tomorrow morning. About two days too early to avoid the full storm, but I understand they have places to be."

"All right," Scott said, "Do you have a room available?"

"Unfortunately not," Sarah said, "I keep telling Larethos to add more rooms at this time of year. We don't need that many year round, but we can shut them down for the off season. Ah, well. You can sleep in the foyer if you want."

"No, thank you." Scott said, "I'll be waiting for them out this door."

Scott paused and turned back and said, "Even room ten? I wouldn't say no to the extra rate."

"Full as well," Sarah said, "One of the first to be filled."

"Was it by these nobles?" Scott said, raising his eyebrows. If these nobles had landed room ten without all the other rooms being filled first…

"No," Sarah said, "It was strange. A humble looking boy. Larethos only charged him one crown as well. I think he's some sort of lost heir or something."

"I wish I could ask Larethos," Scott shook his head, "But the god of the road and messengers is also the god of secrets. I'm going to make myself a house by the carriage. Let them know I'll be waiting for them in the morning. See you later!"

Sarah waved goodbye and Scott picked up his umbrella and waved back. The storm awaited. Scott grinned to himself as he opened the door. Time to build. He could make this house specifically for storms, with a peaceful garden in the middle and…

****

The city poured, gutters overflowing as the soldiers retreated to inns and taverns. Thusly, space needed to be made within these taverns. So the soused shadow was thrown out, thin patience snatching at the first excuse to be free of the lout.

Areth barely felt the cold, he giggled and swayed and wandered the city. Life wasn't that bad. Not so long as he didn't have to think about it. 

Areth found an overhang deep in the city and slumped against the wall. Then he brought out his crystal. There, on repeat, was what he had spent his entire reward on. From that goblin killing quest that had-had-had-

"Hah," Areth giggled to himself as a cat failed to make a jump, "Dumb cat."

After another hour, Areth had finished the whole video. Again. And he was starting to feel the cold. He needed to go home.

Areth pushed himself to his feet and took one step before collapsing again, laying flat in the gutter. Areth stared at the rain, barely blinking as drops hit his eyes.

Why should he go home? It was nothing more than a rented crawlspace anyway. He'd have been better off staying in the army. But he and his friends had gone and gotten a dishonorable discharge. They could make more as adventurers after all, and the army gruel was terrible.

He'd buried his friends two weeks ago.

Those *&%^ goblins. Goblins were easy. But why did they have traps? Murder holes to pour boiling water down and-and-and-

If only I had had a Healing crystal, Areth thought, then I could have saved them. Or an Earth crystal, I could have collapsed the cave on those evil buggers. Or a Water crystal, I could have caught that boiling water and-and-and-

He'd never tried those crystals before. He was a poor farmboy after all. He'd only ever touched a Light crystal, and gotten no more than a lamp to sew his gear with. So he could only dream of all the ways he could have saved his friends.

I should just die, Areth thought as lightning arced slowly across the sky, I'm a sellsword who sold his sword. Good for nothing. A failure in every way.

The cat videos played on repeat in his limp hand as Areth started to drift off to sleep. The water rushed around him, like laying in a cold shallow river. So…tired…

Maybe if he didn't wake up, his friends would…be…okay…

Bonk!

Areth groggily felt above him. Something had hit him in the head. Something had been washed down the gutters and rolled right into him. It was heavy enough to hurt when it hit, and Areth felt around. It was a rock, cold and smooth.

Areth grabbed it and sat up. Then he stood and stumbled toward one of the city lights. Areth gaped in disbelief. This must be fake. A prop. Maybe from the local theater. Or a back alley scammer's stock and trade. It could not be real.

A blue crystal, imperfect in shape and hue, glittered gently in his hands. It felt strange. Like…like the grip of a well worn sword. The haft of a beloved spear. The handle of a generational plow.

It belonged in his hands.

Areth didn't dare to hope. It couldn't be true. He should just laugh and sell it to the next dumbest person.

Instead he held it up like a child waving their all important stick. A stubby wand half a foot long, having washed out from some forgotten gutter out there. He raised his hands and imagined exactly what he wanted in that moment, closing his eyes to postpone the disappointment.

"Stop."

He said it with the last shred of optimism he had left in his body. The final thread of that bright eyed farmboy that had followed the Butcher Baron to war. There was no world in which this would work, that this would be his fate. Yet he could see it perfectly in his mind, every droplet frozen in the air like time itself had stopped. 

Somehow, despite every shred of reason, when Areth opened his eyes his vision was there.

The rain had frozen in place around him, a torrential downpour frozen in the air as the wind tugged at it. More rain tumbled through, hitting and merging with the drops suspended in a sphere around him. Every growing raindrop glinted in the light of the streetlamps, a chandelier of power. Potential. Control.

"Beautiful," Areth said, open mouthed, "So…beautiful."

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