Chapter 184 - The Castle in the Sea V

A small frown on her face, Claire sat up from her bed and looked around the familiar room. Everything was in its rightful place. She was wearing her nightgown, her canopy bed’s curtains were closed, and there was a servant standing by just outside the door. The few birds dumb enough to make their roost in the manor’s garden were chirping, and the sun was already on the horizon. Even without access to the window, she could see it through her curtains. Just like she could every other morning.

The only difference, if she was to really call one to attention, was that everything was more vivid than she was accustomed to. Her enhanced eyesight provided the opportunity to see just how soft and silky her bedding and clothing really were. She had already known, of course. She had long made her runecloak take on all the same properties, whenever she wished to rest and relax.

She yawned after taking in her surroundings again and scooted to the foot of her bed. A brief hint of annoyance passed through her mind when she realised that the negligee draped over her shoulders lacked the ability to magically transform into a blouse or dress of her choosing. Fortunately, she was at home, where dressing herself had never been her own responsibility to begin with.

Her body felt just as out of place as the last two times she had dreamt about the manor. Her arms were still noodly, and her bones still nonpresent, but the lack of structure didn’t stop her from reaching for the bejeweled bell sitting upon her rosewood nightstand. She stared at it briefly, and looked at her own flat-chested reflection in its beautiful platinum handle, before ringing it and calling for the maids.

“Good morning, My Lady.” The cottontail servant outside her door entered immediately and greeted her with a curtsy.

“Good morning, Amanda.”

The maid appeared taken aback at first, but quickly recovered and pulled the curtains apart. Without a word, she continued along with the rest of her duties and wrapped Claire in one of the near countless dresses that lined her wardrobe. Following the game of dress up was the combing of the lady’s hair. Amanda lacked Beatrice’s exemplary skill, but her work was by no means subpar. She compensated for her poor dexterity by selecting a simpler style, a set of knots and braids that wrapped around the back of her head. It would not have been fancy enough for a social gathering, but on an ordinary day, it was arranged well enough to ensure that the lady would not be disgraced.

“Breakfast will be ready as soon as you make it to the dining hall,” said the maid. “The professor will also be joining you this morning, I believe, for a private discussion.”

“I understand. Please inform her that I will be down shortly.”

“Right away, My Lady.”

Unlike the maid, who hurried out of her room, Claire took her sweet time, looking herself over in the mirror. Though her frame had defaulted to the shape she had possessed just a few months prior, she found that she had a surprising amount of control over the goop that she was. It adjusted as she desired, even more easily than her real body, and with far greater flexibility and malleability. Even growing a hand from her forehead seemed to work, though it wound up throwing her off balance.

After a few bouts of playing around, she attempted to switch to her new humanoid default, in spite of the accompanying discomfort in the area around her chest. The clothes were slightly too tight, tailored to perfectly fit her previous form. Her tail also appeared to suffer from a problem of sorts. It was unable to grow to its usual length, and forcing it to scale came with an unintended reduction in her height. As she didn’t think it right to have feet but no legs, she eventually gave up and allowed it to remain at a moderate length. Heaving a small sigh, she tucked it under her dress, where it was invisible, and set out to see her tutor.

Some of the servants were rude enough to find themselves surprised when she greeted them on her way down the hall, but she ignored the strange reactions and continued through the manor, proceeding as usual until she arrived at her destination. Her senses began to distort when she stepped into the dining room. Her head started to spin and the various sounds she heard grew distant. The voices lost volume with each step she took, like she was going deaf.

Her mind wandering, she began to consider the possibility that the dream was meant to be some sort of premonition—that deafness was one of the fates that rear its head in the near future. The suspicion lasted until she sat at the table, right across from the cottontail that awaited her, a number of files and documents in hand. She began talking about something or another, but Claire could not be bothered to pay attention. Her lack of a response had nothing to do with the state of her hearing. The magus’ words still came through, albeit as quietly as whispers, but her mind resisted the thought of processing them, of turning them from sounds to concepts that she could understand.

There was no purpose in wasting her brain power. All of Allegra’s lectures always ended with one of the two still speaking and the other sound asleep. While no one else quite seemed to agree, Claire had long understood that the greatest witch in all the northern lands had chosen the wrong career. She was much better at attending to cribs than she was capable of teaching any students.

Claire’s behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary. She conducted herself the exact same way she always had in Allegra’s presence, but found herself the subject of a strange look regardless. The professor raised a brow and adjusted her wide-rimmed glasses, as she would when observing a spell that failed to perform its function.

It certainly annoyed her, but Claire ignored it the same way she did everything else. Thanking the servant that delivered her breakfast, she focused all her attention on the plate’s contents instead. It was the first time in a long while that she had been served one of Amereth’s dishes. At a glance, the breakfast platter appeared to be made of simple ingredients. It was just an omelette with a sausage and a side of soup, but she knew that the master chef would never fail to impress.

Claire started with the bowl, dipping her spoon into the sparkling pumpkin bisque. Its colour was almost perfectly uniform, save for the greens sprinkled on top, but its flavours were outstanding. She could very easily taste the squash that was its base, the onions and coriander that went into enhancing it, the liquid chocolate whose bitterness downplayed the concoction's almost excessively sweet flavour, and the countless spices that blended together, complimenting each other in a way that made it truly delicious. A work of art in a bowl, unlike everything else she had eaten in recent times.

The other foods she had been delivered were no different. The sausages were packed with herbs and meaty mushrooms, and the omelette had a blend of flavours from the deep south, rare seasonings that could only be found in the desert beyond the great forest.

Upon finishing her meal and asking for seconds, she looked towards Allegra, whose eyes had practically popped out of their sockets. The witch was muttering under her breath at an incredible pace, background sounds that left the lyrkress incredibly annoyed.

She focused her gaze on the rabbit-eared tutor and activated the magic imbued in her eyes at full strength. The spell didn’t feel quite right. Her eyes lit up, but not with as much energy as they should have, and the rabbit was only paralyzed, not frozen despite her intentions. It was an irksome, unplanned outcome, but not necessarily one that failed to serve her purposes.

Her tail lashing out, she prodded the annoying lecturer in the cheek and applied an ample dose of bee venom.

“Serves you right.” Claire stuck out her tongue, and freezing the rabbit’s hands to the chair, lightly jabbed her again, and again, and again, and again. The attack grew less playful and more violent with each repetition, as her resentment began to leak. Allegra was the one that had put everything together. And she had known, from the very start, why Claire was made a ritual mage.

There had been pity in her eyes when the decision was first made, but it soon vanished into the ether. She fell into her duties as if they were nothing out of the ordinary, as if she wasn’t condemning the unknowing child to an inevitable demise. And she never tried to correct her father’s abuse despite always pretending to care. She was the one that fussed over her before her functions, the one that pretended to lend her ears and lap, the one that tried to dress herself up as someone that could provide comfort. She loved to play the role of a false foster mother. But she never did anything to ease any of the pain and frustration. It was all for her own ego, so she would think she was doing the halfbreed a favour, by turning her into an expendable tool.

The urge to strangle her bubbled up from within the lyrkress’ chest, but she lacked the power, just as how she lacked the power to do any harm with her tail. Allegra was completely unbothered by the attacks. Even with the longmoose lashing out at full force, and her hands around her neck, she continued to observe, her eyes twinkling with curiosity and interest.

It was a sight that only compounded the blue blood’s frustration, one that confirmed she was not seen as an individual, but the subject of the witch’s research. She could feel her tears flowing down her cheeks, even though she didn’t know that she had them to begin with. Allegra had never felt like someone to cry over, someone whose affection she had pined for, or even an opinion that mattered. But through the confrontation, she realised that she was. She hated admitting it, but even if only for self-serving reasons, the cottontail had treated her as would an incompetent, clumsy mother.

And it was with that realisation that the last vestiges of her strength left her body. Her mind went with it; she began to float higher and higher, further and further away from the scene, with her speed constantly ramping. Soon, everything began to blur. She felt as if she could have easily visited the phantom’s home if she wanted, from her state of transition, but decided to shelve it for another night. There was little she could glean from him with her mind in the state it was. So she closed her eyes and went back to where she belonged.

A small frown on her face, Claire sat up from her bed and looked around the unfamiliar room. She had already spent several nights in the huskar-owned building, but still found it foreign and uncomfortable. Pinpointing the problem was impossible, but it certainly was not a lack of luxury. The building was fancy enough to satisfy any noble guest, and it was also for that reason that its bookings were so infrequent. Commoners could not afford the price that came with its service. They too could not have afforded it if not for Olga’s generosity.

With a stretch and a shake of the head, she scanned the room and confirmed the usual, almost obscene pet count. Sylvia was right by her pillow, curled with her head on her tail, Boris was lying flat on the ground, sunbathing right next to the window, and Marcelle was floating around in midair, sound asleep, with her flippers resting on her belly.

It had been a full week since they decided to ignore the revelation of the sea cow’s unintended affiliation. The group had spent their days picking up tasks from the job board and completing whatever happened to catch their eye. Because they had no idea when they would be called back to the castle, they had stuck to simpler tasks. All their assignments were brief missions that could be finished in anything from a few hours to a day.

Despite Natalya growing accustomed to air travel, they were unable to get far enough from the city to gain any significant experience. She had gained no levels in their downtime, and yet, the moose-snake had found their day job strangely fulfilling. It was a long overdue break from risking her life around every corner. She had enjoyed herding cattle, hunting local beasts, and functioning as a guard for a local ball. On one occasion, she and Natalya had even split up to do different things, only to reconvene at night and merrily discuss their respective achievements over dinner.

They had been attacked by Glarchst’s devotees at least three times throughout their miniature adventures, but each entourage was weaker than the last. The villains almost seemed more like entertainers than they did threats, minor inconveniences present only to spice up their lives and add extra colour where it was missing.

All the various elements came together to give Claire the impression that Vel’khagan made for a fine place of residence. It was nowhere near as advanced as Valencia, lacking many of its crucial technologies, but it was not without everything required for it to come together as a cohesive, enjoyable unit. And while they were certainly on guard against anything that even vaguely resembled a centaur, its people were a major contributor. They were incredibly friendly. Some of those that shared in their morning commute would even recognize and greet them along the way—though Claire suspected that it was only because they were a pair, or sometimes a trio, of lovely maidens. Her beauty was unparalleled, after all.

She smiled to herself as she got out of bed, changed, and stepped out of the room. There would be some time before the others rose. The sun was only barely above the horizon, its rays dyeing the city in a beautiful yellow-orange splendor. Only Natalya would sometimes rise early, and even that was unlikely. The lazy cat often preferred to sleep in when she could—a bucket of cold water was the only way to force her to her feet.

While the longmoose was certainly tempted to deliver just that, she decided, for once, to let her off without any harassment. Stepping out onto the veranda, she stretched her wings and took off, a quick morning flight to greet the day ahead.