Chapter 177 - Beneath the Fractured Moon III

Claire’s group was not the only one whose focus had been stolen by the Cadrian warship. Every street was packed with people, and the canals were hardly any different. Those that filled the various buildings had gathered outside to get a better look at the unidentified flying object floating through the city. Foot traffic was effectively at a standstill, and any that took to the air, and subsequently blocked the view, were jeered at, insulted, and dragged back down to the earth or water.

Most of the crowd spoke in whispers. The individual voices were quiet and hardly detectable, but when put together, they formed a wave of sound loud enough to disrupt a casual conversation. It was a feedback loop with the volume growing with time, spiralling out of control as the locals struggled to convey their thoughts to those beside them.

“What’s going on? And what is that?”

“I don’t know. Rak’cille might know. Anyone see her?”

“Right, her husbands were with the guards!”

“No idea where she is, but I heard someone say it was Cadrian!”

“Cadrian? What the hell is a Cadrian?”

“They’re the warmongers up north, you dumbass!”

Claire tried listening in on the conversations nearby, but failed to pick up on anything worth noting. The townsfolk were just as confused as she was, and the guards hardly knew any better. Though they shouted for the crowd to stay calm, they offered no answers when asked for more information, with many of their members openly remarking that they hadn’t the slightest clue as to the status quo. That particular claim did little in the way of calming the crowd, but neither did it incite any hysteria.

The few worried citizens were silenced with the affirmation that the queen would have made an announcement had they any reason to panic. While Claire thought the assumption rather absurd, the crowd bought it like candy and dispersed as quickly as it formed; each individual returned to his or her daily lives satisfied after exchanging a few remarks and speculations with their friends and neighbours.

Once the roadblock was out of the way, the group was quick to arrive at its final destination. Vel’khagan’s job board was nothing like Vel’rulm’s. The number of listings available differed by at least two orders of magnitude and the structure had been adjusted to accommodate the seemingly countless tasks. It was made of several slabs of a dark shiny stone as opposed to the wood employed by its less-popular cousin, and its requests were not posted on pages of parchments, but written with a magical, waterproof chalk.

The stones were sorted based on the categories of work they covered, with their titles engraved directly into their centers. There was one for menial household tasks, one for military recruitment, one for acquiring rare goods, and even one expressly labeled “Adults Only.” There were at least a dozen different categories in all, and sorting through them was a pain in and of itself.

Not wanting to devote any unnecessary brainpower, Claire began wandering towards the bounty board, which covered requests for monsters, bandits, and missing children in kind—any individual that happened to have a cash prize for their live capture—a stark contrast from the otherwise similar requests listed on its neighbour.

“The investigation is going well. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any further details as you are not my direct superior.”

“That is certainly a fair point. It would not do for us to violate any military regulations, after all.”

A pair of familiar voices caught Claire’s attention before she could reach the stone. Turning just her eyes towards its source, she spotted Nymphetel standing in a nearby alley, accompanied by both his skeletal companion and a centaur with a distinct, pencil-thin beard.

“Claire? Why’d you suddenl—ow!”

The catgirl following behind her began to protest, but she was quickly silenced with a flick. Putting a finger to her lips, Claire pointed one of her ears in the elf’s direction and signalled with the other for the feline to follow.

Silently, they walked through the crowd, stopping just in front of the narrow side street with their backs to the wall and their ears peeled. Lia tried peering around the corner, but a magical pull reeled her back before she could give them away.

Log Entry 6326

You have acquired the Sneaking skill.

The cat made a number of impatient gestures, but the halfbreeds ignored her protests and used only their ears to spy.

“Need I inform the general of any key news on your behalf?” The centaur scratched his exposed belly as he spoke, his nails digging against the curly patch joining the hair on his two chests.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already sent word,” said Nymphetel. “He is already aware of everything likely to hold his interest.”

“Excellent. If you are already so close to completing your mission, would you like to consider joining us on ours? I am sure that the men would be overjoyed to bask in the beauty of a woman as appealing as yourself.”

“Unfortunately, Sir Pollux, I will have to refuse. The foe that I have been charged with eliminating is currently beyond my means, and I must make the necessary preparations.”

“That would be all the more reason to join us.” Claire could practically hear Pollux’s sneer. The old conniving marquis knew that he had the elf in check. “The local queen has been kind enough to commission us to perform an initial sweep of an unexplored dungeon on her behalf. It is said that the monsters are rather fearsome, powerful enough to render her knights defeated. It will be excellent practice for one such as yourself.”

Nymphetel could only frown as he cast an eye at his companion, but alas, the skeleton’s face was unreadable. “Understood, Sir Pollux. Thank you kindly for the offer. We will be accompanying your team.” Claire could tell that he was unhappy with the result of the negotiation, but knew not how he was meant to deny the old stallion, a thought that brought a small smile to her face. “We’re staying at the Drunken Dryad. Send word of the date of departure, and we’ll ensure that we join up with you in short order.”

Knowing that the conversation was coming to a close, Claire stepped away from the alley with her cat, her fox, and her lizard in tow. Marquis Pollux was not the sort of individual with sharp ears, but not wanting his spies to take notice, she remained perfectly silent until they arrived at their original destination.

“What was that about?” asked Lia.

“Nymphetel. I thought he stopped working for the Cadrians, but I misread him.”

The claim was one that came with a shroud of doubt. She had the feeling that the elf had been trying to pull one over the other man’s eyes, but no evidence to support it. Explaining the hunch to Lia, however, sounded like far more effort than it was worth.

“Does that have anything to do with us?” asked the cat.

Claire pursed her lips and frowned before shaking her head. “Nothing. But I was curious.”

The rest of the afternoon went by rather quickly. They took an hour or two to scan the job board’s entries, with Natalya noting down anything of interest in her notebook. Claire had also tried to commit them to memory, but most of the tasks were miscellaneous enough for her to think them not worth the effort. The bandits that they had previously eliminated were the only big names in the region, and all the other requests had pitiful rewards. There were few obvious dangers, given the capital’s relative security. Both the bounty and subjugation boards consisted primarily of menial tasks such as eliminating wolves in the nearby forest and returning pets gone missing. There were also requests from other territories, often accompanied by more lucrative prizes, but they required travel, and Claire had no idea where any of the locations listed were.

When they eventually picked out a few quests and retired for the night, right around when the sun started to set, they found themselves a pair of rooms in one of the city’s higher-end establishments. According to the cat, it should have been far outside of their budget, but the luxury hotel was owned by none other than the huskar that was effectively her godmother. Silkroad, Olga’s company, dabbled in all sorts of goods, and the fancy shop that they had visited just a few days prior was only one of her many storefronts. Olga was a fan of demonstrating her wares in real world situations, and her hotel was crafted for exactly that, doubling as both another source of income and a showroom for all the novelties she had in stock.

That was why the trio found themselves seated in front of a floating table with an automaton serving as their waiter. Though entirely mechanical, the wooden doll lacked the awkwardness expected of an inanimate object, carrying itself instead with the grace of a seasoned butler. Speech was beyond the scope of its abilities, but no words were needed to convey its intent. After presenting a menu, it stood by their table with a quill in hand, ready to take their orders.

The menu’s presentation was lovely, written neatly with its text well aligned, and yet, despite the excellent penmanship, the dining room’s various offerings were impossible to decipher. Each was placed under a category and given a unique identifier in the form of a number, but that was all. No names, descriptions, or illustrations were anywhere to be seen.

“Uhmmm… can you tell us anything about these dishes? I can’t really tell what’s what.” The group’s forest critter voiced the question on all their minds, but received no clear response. All the marionette did was turn its neck towards her and stare blankly until she gave up and returned her eyes to the menu.

“Lia. What is this thing?” Claire closed her pamphlet and looked at the catgirl sitting on her right. But like the puppet, she did little in the way of explaining.

“I have no idea. This is my first time seeing it, or even being here.”

“Useless.” The lyrkress voiced an insult just loud enough for the cat to catch before turning to the wooden doll. There was no purpose in idling any longer. The other guests had already long completed the ordering process, and none of the dishes placed in front of them looked the least bit offensive. She very well could have asked them for the numbers they chose, but all the patrons were rich or powerful, and she was not foolish enough to interrupt them in the midst of their meals.

“I would like a meat five.”

The false butler nodded and stuck its quill into several holes in its hand, one after another, before suddenly growing to three times its previous size. Its stomach opened like a cabinet once the transformation was complete, revealing a large open flame with a dish already in progress.

Its hands extending, it put together the various pieces of meat and produce that hung from its interior and assembled a plate with a perfect presentation. A lone cut of fine ham sat in the center, accompanied by two drumsticks and a side of a chopped salad doused in cream and pepper.

With both her companions watching skeptically, Claire cut a piece of the meat and placed it into her mouth. Her eyes lit up as she chewed slowly, with her hands cutting another piece before she even swallowed.

“I wouldn’t say that it is delicious, but it’s certainly passable. The flavour composition is finely crafted, despite the rather bizarre process.”

“I’d like a meat five too!” Sylvia practically sprang out of her elevated seat as she waved both paws at the butler-cum-chef, her eyes twinkling with all the excitement that the booster seat was expected to contain.

“Sylvia, calm down! You’re going to bother the other guests,” said Natalya. “Auntie Olga’s only letting us stay here because we promised we wouldn’t.”

“I know but I can’t!” shouted the vixen. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard Claire say that something actually tastes good! I’m so excited I could eat the whole building!”

“I-it is?” The cat looked between the lyrkress and the dish sitting in front of her. “Now that you mention it, she does usually say that everything is awful.” Sylvia’s excitement began to infect her; her voice grew slightly louder and rose in pitch as she continued glancing between the two. “In that case, I think I would like a meat five as well.”

Both their orders, the butler quickly acknowledged. It pressed down the buttons in its quill once more and produced two dishes identical to the first.

While Natalya had managed to retain some degree of sanity, Sylvia stained the tablecloth with her drool. She opened her mouth wide and prepared to devour the dish in one go, only to have it pulled out from under her right before she closed her jaws.

“That would be a waste,” said Claire. “Eat small bites. Savour it.”

“How am I supposed to eat small bites when I’m this excited!?” cried the vixen.

“Stupid fox.” Sighing, the lyrkress pinned the furball to her seat with a force and manipulated her utensils with another. Slowly, the knife cut through the ham and produced a tiny piece, only two centimeters long and one across. “Chew slowly.” A magical flick sent the meat towards its salivating beholder, who listened obediently only because her mouth was under the other girl’s control.

“Wow, this is tasty!” Sylvia spoke as soon as her invisible muzzle was removed.

“Are you sure that this is only passable, Claire?” asked Natalya. “This is even better than what I was served at Baron Volkov’s wedding.”

“Barons are poor and can hardly afford the ransom an excellent chef requires,” said the lyrkress.

“Right…” The cat looked like she had quite a few comments to make, but awkwardly laughed them off in favour of returning to her meal. Claire also ate hers in silence; Sylvia was the only one to make her voice heard, constantly commenting on the dish in one way or another while her companions nodded or spoke short sentences in response.

When they finished dinner and sought their rooms, they did so in the usual arrangement, with Sylvia and Claire sharing one, and Natalya having another to herself. The bedroom was incredibly fancy, featuring a large glass door that led to a beautiful veranda and a magical device that could submerge either of the room’s halves for those partial to sleeping beneath the waves. The bed, like the butler they had met previously, was an artifact that could move or fold up on its own, depending on the user’s specifications, and the soft, fireless torches that lined its walls were perfectly tuned to highlight the deep blues and velvety reds that adorned the carpet and furnishings.

Claire was not particularly tired, but turned her cloak into a nightgown and sat down on the bed regardless. Boris, who had been previously strapped to her back, was set down on the carpet and given a monopus steak. Normally, he would have been fed the scraps from their table, but there was no room for such an inelegant display before the other guests; he had been forced to wait until they were out of sight.

She kicked back and laid down as he finished crunching through his dinner. The day had been a long one; she was unsure if she slept at all the previous night, and she was yet to finish adjusting to her newfound body. There were still a few things about it that felt off and her tail often got in her way. Its length was simply excessive. Others would step on it if she failed to pay close attention to its position, and she herself had nearly tripped over it on more than one occasion.

“Good night, Sylvia,” she said, to the fox curled up beside her.

“Good night!”

She closed her eyes, but sleep never came. Her mind was too busy racing with thoughts of her abilities and their various combinations. But as enthused about her new powers as she was, she soon found her musings straying from those of battle.

The sudden Cadrian presence was bothering her. The marquis was one of her father’s subordinates, and though he was not the most faithful of subjects, he was a fine warrior in his own right. She had no doubt that he was one of the scouts her father had sent out into the world to keep an eye out for her presence. She would have to be especially careful while they were in Vel’khagan, or perhaps even relocate until the storm passed her by. There was no telling what would happen if she was discovered—assuming that she wasn’t already.

The worried thoughts continued until late into the night, when they were rudely interrupted by the sound of a pair of metallic greaves, clanking against a carpeted, wooden floor.

“Claire.”

“I know.”

Someone was approaching their room, even though the moon was already starting to fall.

“I’ll handle it.”

There was no doubt in her mind that the individual approaching was one with no good intentions.

“Are you sure?” asked the fox.

She paused for a brief moment, but followed by a firm nod. “I’m sure.” Pulling the sheets over her head and leaving only the tiniest gap through which she could peek, the cervaitur awaited the intruder’s advent with her breath stuck in her chest. She could tell from the sounds that there were no hooves; it wasn’t a centaur. But it very well could have been one of the thorae, or perhaps a cottontail or even a misshapen lamia.

But when the door swung open, with its lock picked, the intruder was revealed to be an acquaintance. Fully dressed for battle, with her sword drawn and her cheeks stained red, stood the cat that was meant to be their companion.