Chương 113: Chapter 134: Nurvedvu

Elica was still in front of her vanity when I returned, with Rinnie helping her put herself together.

"Are we in a hurry?" I asked. She rolled her eyes.

"Hardly. Neither of those two are early risers. And since we're visiting Larianne's domain, we're working on Larianne's schedule. I was going to have my girl pop down to the student center and bring us back something to eat while we wait." I glanced at Rinnie. She glared back at me. The idea of having Rinnie bring me anything from the dining hall made me glad I still have a poison-detection ring on.

I kind of suspect that inside of Rinnie there's a diamond-hard pit of hatred that grows a little denser and a little colder every time Elica calls her "my girl" in that manner. And I think the edges get a little sharper every time I don't say anything to rectify this.

"Say, you really don't need to do that, I'll go get us some carryout," I said.

"It'll be much faster that way." Elica gave me a snide glance.

"May as well. You're dressed more as a maid than a lady anyway."

"This is a perfectly good dress! There is nothing scruffy or homely about it!"

"It could use some lace around the collar-""Those designs were an abomination and you know it," I snapped.

"Starched lace? Just because four basement-dwelling prats decided so? You saw those buttheads. You can tell that every model they work with gets at least one full-palm boob-graze." Rinnie stifled a laugh. Elica hesitated.

"Probably not every - ""Come on," I cajoled.

"Fine, every! But they're the premiere designers of Fashion Week! And if you wanted to call the shots for the fashion world maybe you shouldn't have ignored that offer to collaborate on the collection!" Ugh. This again. Look, I remember playing Skyrim. I did the thing. Never got very far in it, but I remember the memes.

How you become the leader of the mages, and the leader of the fighters, and the leader of the thief's guild, and the assassins, and the bards, and the chosen of the gods and the champion of the demons and the dragon-hunters and general of the army and king of the hairdressers... those games are full of questlines for you to pick up and follow through and stack up a huge list of completed objectives.

But in those games, time going by just reflects which lighting effect is in place and what behavior the neutral mobs default to. If you tell the captain of the guard you'll look for the fugitive, then that mission just sits around until you find the fugitive. So yes, I would pick up every quest and never refuse to collaborate on a fashion collection. But I don't have a quest log, I've got a to-do list that is spiraling out of control.

I've got people counting on me and most of them would really like to believe that they're a high priority for me. The rest of the world has millions of hands and millions of mornings, they can take care of their own shit without me holding literally everybody's hand for them.

"I didn't feel like lining up for my own boob-graze," is what I said out loud instead. I portaled over to the dining hall and got us some easy to-go orders, and brought them around. Bagels, boiled eggs, small paper cone of cream cheese, and some wax-paper-pressed bacon. I handed off two plates to Rinnie and Elica, then started assembling mine. With conjured knives I cut the bagel and spread the cream cheese, then cut the egg into slices, and lined them up around the cut half of the bagel.

"What are you doing now?" Elica asked, frowning. I didn't answer her and just added bacon on top, then closed it up. It is so weird to me that this world has no concept of sandwiches. All the components are there. They definitely understand bready wrappings for savory foods. They just only cook it all together and bake the shell around. My innovation is taking breads that are already baked and opening them to put ingredients inside.

And every time, Elica looks at me like I've invented a sexual perversion there is not even a name for. Screw it. Bagel sandwiches are an amazing breakfast. Elica was almost entirely gussied and adorned when Larianne stumbled out of her room, still yawning.

"Mmmnnghff. Tired. Natalie, do my hair?" She was not carrying the small purse she'd had with her in Tarcelle or Dandston, but the duffel she had with her when we went to Uchislowi Jungle. I could ask about that later- my skills as the king of the hairdressers have been called upon. Most people in Hearstcliff you see with hair that dark have silky-smooth hair that likes to lay flat. Larianne's hair is dense and buoyant and likes to fluff up.

It looks good when she puts the work in, but if she's feeling low-effort it is unforgiving. I brought out my trusty Hundred Comb Attack! and started sorting, untangling and styling her hair for her. She stood, hood-eyed, while a swirl of silver trinkets orbited her head and reshaped bed-head into something to show off. She never wore silver in her hair, that's my style not hers, so I went with braiding and folding rather than pinning her 'do in place.

"Thanks," she said when I recalled my combs and spiraled them into my handbag.

"I think we're ready to go as soon as Vancy stumbles back and forth through her wardrobe enough times for something to stick." As if she herself was not nearly that bad off, the hypocrite. I chuckled.

"I presume our first stop is going to be a coffee shop?" I hazarded. Is it a goth joke or is it just that she's very bad at mornings? I'm not sure I could say.

"Presume whatever you want," she said, shrugging. Larianne was done talking for a while. She doesn't have much of a social battery at the best of times. This was those best of times. I headed downstairs to where our escorts were waiting. Even Trazom had shown up before Vancy was ready to go. He gave me a smile and a weary nod.

"Morning," he said.

"I trust that a plague of owls was not required to flush me from my quarters."

"It was one time," I said in my own defense, but I was laughing.

"Morning Trazom. Morning Yheta." Yheta shifted his feet. Something was up.

"Morning. No Nunxio today?"

"We have sort of fallen into a specific group, haven't we? But- no, no Nunxio today. Apparently he's not excited about heading back to Tumnassed unless I'm dropping him off at his friend's place to hang out for a day. I'm not ferrying people to other locations to pick up later, that's a line I'm not crossing. As soon as I open that door, I'm going to be called on to take every single person to some specific destination to get picked up at some specific hour, and I'm just not having it. We travel together.

So he said he'd rather spend the day in Hearstcliff and find his own trouble instead of tagging along for the same old usual trouble."

"What does that mean?" Trazom asked, a frown crossing his intense-looking features.

"Search me," I said, shrugging.

"Finally! The invitation!" Yheta cackled, stepping forward with his hands out to frisk me. I laughed.

"Down boy!" and I gestured one hand in 'stop' position as the air hardened into a wall between him and me. Trazom was frowning, like he didn't like seeing that kind of banter between us. Not like he's the only one- I'm pretty sure Yheta really would get pretty grabby if I did not have the capacity to shut him down hard. And I'm glad I do, for sure. Yheta is usually pretty okay, but every so often things take a turn and I am glad that I do not have to rely on his good intentions and sense of restraint.

I'm not sure if Trazom just has some principled stand against men like Yheta, or if he's just feeling possessive towards me. I'm not fully certain what I am to Trazom. On the one hand, the kid that snuck him extra cookies. The flautist with the flawed quarter-notes. The girl who walks with him to some classes. The hostess that is opening him up to a world where people appreciate something besides musical talent. The composer that embraces these new styles of music that he hates.

If he were to put those roles in order, what would it be? Am I something special to him, or just the friend that is broadening his horizons for him? He and I are basically the only musical prodigies in the kingdom. Him for performing, me for composing. And yet we never really interact at that level. It never winds up being the important thing between us. I have to wonder why that is. In any case, I'm glad our trip out is being kept small.

If he's feeling possessive, and Yheta's still feeling obsessive, I would not want to drop another love interest in the mix. I've got enough crap going on. The door flung open behind me.

"I am quite sorry about that taking so long," Elica declared.

"I had to take Vancy back and get her dressed properly. Poor dear was too tired to match her colors." Larianne and Rinnie were in the front of the foursome, Elica had pinned Vancy's arm and was towing her along.

"Morning Vancy," I said.

"I bet this'll wake you up." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The portal opened, and we started hustling everyone inside. Vancy groaned and tried to hide her eyes behind her hands but I know from experience, that much light goes straight through flesh and bone too, the best bet is to shove your face into the crook of your elbow.

I closed the door behind us, and took us away to Nurvedvu, the specific region of Tumnassed that Larianne had motioned for me on a map. We let out onto a plaza again, and this time we made a huge dramatic arrival on purpose, not just coincidentally like back at Dandston. Also unlike Dandston, nobody seemed to care.

"Ground rules," Larianne said.

"Don't bother anyone. Don't get curious. Don't speak to anyone that doesn't speak first."

"Ground rules?" Yheta scoffed.

"You can not be serious." Larianne smiled sweetly, and reached over to pat him on the cheek. Her fingernails swished together like scissors next to his ear.

"I'd like for all of you to make it back to Hearstcliff. Be a dear and make that easy on me." Yheta stared at me in shock. I returned his gaze with a level and implacable look of my own.

"She's not kidding," I assured him.

"We should mind our own." I don't know Nurvedvu in particular, it was never part of the game. But I know a lot about Tumnassed from my studies, and from the game I do know a lot more than I should. Recently Larianne realized how much more I know about her situation than I'm supposed to, and while she's clearly not happy about it she's not going to make a thing of it. The plaza was faced by four rows of buildings with streets at the corners, and dotted with stalls that sold whatever the merchants had.

One or two seemed to serve hot food, but three others just took anything that might be worth money and spread it out on a blanket. The sun beat down, and the day was almost warm; weather for a light jacket. The buildings were all pressed tightly together, no alleys or verges between, and there were no windows that faced southwest. That portion of the sky glowed a seething orange, like a sunset that never quite gave up.

The rest of the heavens were painted light blue, but the direction of the frontier pulsed like rust and pumpkin.

"Oh, we are close," Trazom said, awed, as he stared in that direction. The light from the border was ominous, but not ugly.

"Not that close," Larianne said.

"The glow carries further than you expect. I have an errand to run at the library, why don't you all stop for breakfast at the bistro?" She shuffled the bag over her shoulder. It sounded like shoddy windchimes and clinking bottles.

"Right," I said, stepping up to take the place of a tour guide.

"We'll be over at the bistro. If you're not back before we're done, then we should...?" She shrugged.

"Try the Frontier Gate. Visitors seem to like it." She nodded and walked away, blending into the crowd. Elica looked repulsed.

"But.. she's the countess! This is her town! She's just... walking?!"

"Looks like," Yheta said.

"Oh! I smell fish. They serve fish at this bistro?" I waved them towards the restaurant Larianne had indicated.

"We're still a few good hours from the ocean, so it's probably river-caught fish." There is a river that pours out of Hearstcliff, but the water is basically just filtered well-water. No fish in that river, so we've all been months without any seafood. You start craving it after a while. Something tugged at my sorcerous senses. Across the plaza, I saw a dozen hooded figures trooping along in perfect lockstep, carrying a wagonload of goods between. Headed southwest, to the Gate of course.

I watched them as much as I could without calling the attention of my friends. And I saw the way everyone pretended not to notice them but gave them a wide berth. Enefiat Trazom was staring all around.

"I've never been to any of the Marches. Only at the cities at the duchy borders. My father does all my bookings and he insisted. He's always been scared of the Marches." Vancy laughed.

"That's silly! The Marches are safe! Right up to the border! You know what they say, we haven't lost any ground in a hundred years!" They say that Hearstwhile is a very safe kingdom. It has not been invaded any time in recorded history, over a thousand years and probably twice that long. It is surrounded by shallow seas and linked to the rest of the world at four narrow junctures. Land bridges, isthmuses, and an archipelago connected our land to the wild, untamed land of the world.

Monsters and savages abounded there, any humans beyond the frontier were little more than monsters themselves. Hearstwhile culture and polity has a really shitty way to view any human settlements outside of their own land, political system and hierarchy. Anyone that doesn't fit in, anyone that needs to get outside the system, off the grid, is branded a heretic and a barbarian.

People often get taught that the barbarians are actually a form of monster, only resembling humans to trick them into coming close enough to kill. That this is just another part of the outside world that is trying to kill all the good people of Hearstwhile. The need for all the constant vigilance and effort and expenditure to keep the threats at bay. Each March has its own strategy.

In Stableholt they hire wizards to smash the border with firestorms and then throw waves of soldiers and fighters and hunters into the wilderness to kill and destroy and push back any of the enemy that slips through. In Fidiange, the locals have carefully bartered with the barbarians and smarter monsters, pitting them against their own kin to defend humanity's lands for them. Wanfarrun invests in large-scale magical defenses and wards, and in Tumnassed they're building a wall to hold back the wilderness.

Thankfully, the frontiers and the world full of monsters they held back was never part of the game. Nothing I need to worry about, except in the most academic sense. No, all of my future troubles were all already very much a part of Hearstwhile. Still, possibly valuable social context? At the bistro, the special of the day was smelt, pan-fried, on a bed of noodles and chard. The local were dipping them into a vinaigrette sauce, but I went with a plate of crayfish instead with a tomato salad.

Elica could not find anything on the menu that looked like exotic delicacies, so she resigned herself to eating cake. From her reaction, the cake was at least pretty good. The four of them were chatting amiably enough, gossiping, small-talking. Four of them, that is, with Rinnie sitting on the side and refusing to participate. I mostly stayed out of it.

I was stuck in a strange place- I had just finished my chat with the Duke of Hearster, an important and noteworthy step in my plan to overthrow the king and queen, and when we were done here in Tumnassed I would be headed for the last evening of Fashion Week to finish bookending the social event.

"You're distracted," Yheta said, distracting me from my distractions.

"Accurate," I said. I leaned back, scooting away from the table some.

"You've been kind of off all week," he pointed out, turning in his seat.

"Someone poisoned two of my cousins," I said.

"I saved one but ignored the other. She died on the floor, puking blood. Yheta, I'm sorry but that's the kind of thing that is gonna fuck up my mood for a long time." He scuffed a foot against the ground.

"I'm sure that it doesn't really mean that much. It was probably just a mistake or something." I sighed.

"A mistake? Yheta, this goes way beyond that. And I don't know what I'm going to do about it." Yheta tucked his collar.

"It's probably not even that big a deal." That made me flinch hard, a double-take.

"How so?" He started to blurt something out, reconsidered, and I watched him take a second figuring out how to phrase this.

"Well, you have always been good at turning situations to your advantage, especially really extreme situations. So, with the right framing, this could even be a good thing for you."

"Yheta," I sighed, "how would that even work?" His face scrunched.

"You wer-" he stopped himself. No. I fixed him with a hard look.

"Yheta?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Sorry. You're right, you've had a really hard week. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was asking you to put that aside." I know what I heard. I know his voice. I know what he had stopped himself from saying. You were supposed to understand.

"Yheta, I could use some air," I said firmly.

"And so could you."