Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 372 - Giants, Raccoons, and Giant Raccoons

Claire stared at the sun as it slowly worked its way over the horizon. Her position in the sky allowed a perfect view of the Skarnian city beneath her. It was one of the only five that dotted the tiny nation. But while certainly far from numerous, the massive bazaar towns remained hubs of mercantile activity. Even without raising her giant ears overhead, she could hear the streets, already bustling in spite of the early hour.

Both of the fuzzy triangles drooped, hanging off the side of her head with their tips angling down towards her shoulders. Had the incline been any steeper, they surely would have touched, but their natural springiness prevented them from falling all the way. They were dyed the same colour as her hair, a silvery, arctic blue tinted with a touch of silver.

To an observer that shared her nationality, they were her most striking features, even more eye-catching than the icy shard that protruded from her chest and the sapphire slit eyes that adorned her unsmiling face. While her expression remained ever cold and controlled, her mood could be read through the gentle embrace that captured the fox in her taloned arms. It was almost as telltale a sign as her mesmerizing tail. Covered in the same silvery-blue scales scattered across the rest of her body, it lightly waved to and fro, its fluffy tip swaying in the early morning wind.

It had been two days since they had escaped the Cadrians’ grasp. Pollux’s forces were dead, with everything from the servants to the military records to the ships themselves consumed by her favourite pet. Pollux’s mothership was no exception. The orange furball had eaten the whole thing in twenty-seven bites following the battle’s conclusion.

The scene was certainly comical, but it did nothing for the party’s mood. The group had remained downcast ever since its members were lost. Arciel and Chloe were especially shut down, with the former silently sobbing each night, and the latter forcing all her smiles. Jules and Lana were slightly better off. He was more broody than usual, and she was always quiet to begin with. Claire and Sylvia were the least affected. Neither had been particularly close to the traitor nor either of the two who perished, but they joined in the silence so as to give the others some time. It was only in the mornings, away from the rest of the party, that they could find the opportunity to shake off the gloom and relax.

In reality, it was only really the qiligon that benefited. The fox in her arms was still sound asleep, passed out in spite of the fact that she had been kidnapped and dragged through the Skarnian sky. Spreading her wings wide, Claire rose further above the city. She floated through the sky and above the clouds, assuming her true form once her body was fully obscured.

Her otherwise tiny frame extended. She went from a petite humanoid to a massive, serpentine creature whose precise classification not even the gods agreed upon. Her body measured just over ten meters long. She had two sets of legs, one clawed and the other hooved, and her snout was somewhere between that of a mystical deer and a dragon. Her ears, her horn, her sharpened teeth—all of her primary features were scaled up to match.

She upped her speed as her transformation completed and zoomed across the sky, swimming through it with all the grace of a brush upon a canvas.

Perhaps it was the cold that came with the altitude, or perhaps it was her raw speed. Whatever the cause, the fox, who had been moved to a seat on top of the caldriess’ head, slowly opened her eyes. It took a second for her brain to start working. Her eyes bleary and an adorable yawn escaping her lips, she pushed herself to her feet and stretched like a cat.

“Good morning, Sylvia,” said Claire.

“Morning,” mumbled the furball. She lay back down in her bed and rolled over, sprawling her limbs as she looked up towards the sky.

For a while, that was how they remained, simply enjoying each other’s company as they watched the morning sun, as they so often did.

“Hey, Claire?” It took Sylvia ten minutes of dawdling to finally break the silence. Having fully awakened, she got to her feet and crawled up to the spot at the very front of the qiligon’s face.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

The fox lowered her head. “I know. But…”

“No buts.” Manipulating one of her ears, Claire lightly poked the vixen right between the eyes. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Ughhh...” Sylvia sighed. “I swear, you’re as stubborn as a rock.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Sure.” Collapsing into a fuzzy puddle, she pressed her face into her best friend’s mane and let her tail flop over. “When are you gonna do it?”

Claire paused for a few seconds to stare at the sun before opening a brand new eye at the fox’s feet. “Let’s go right now. We have time.”

“Mmnnn… I guess we might as well,” muttered the fox.

Claire focused her eyes on the space in front of them and put her vectors to work. Joining the space between two random points was typically a fairly simple task, and it had only become simpler since she gained her administrator-level privileges. Connecting to Llystletein, however, remained a chore nonetheless. Alfred’s domain existed in a subspace cut off from the rest of the world. Joining it with the coordinates directly in front of her was less like folding a multidimensional cloth and more like dredging a second fabric through a veil of mud. Even with her abilities divinely empowered, it took some effort to weld them together.

The portal appeared after a brief delay. Despite the difficulty in its formation, it was just like all the others, a tear that allowed them to see through to the other side. Touching it delivered them straight to Llysteltein—the gaol that contained the world’s most powerful degenerate.

The pair emerged on the third floor. They were placed atop the cliff that served as its usual entrance and provided a solid view of the archipelago below. Sky Lagoon was as beautiful as ever; its beaches were clean and its oceans sparkling, but Claire paid it no attention. Her eyes immediately shot to the man who had appeared directly behind her.

Even in her true form, he somehow stood taller. His three-meter frame, which was by all means abnormal given his human roots, towered over her neutral, four-legged stance. He was dressed in a dark, brown robe, matching the crinkled, pointy hat that topped his frame. Its age was second only to his; the man’s skin was wrinkled as a toad’s and his hair and beard were both as white as snow.

He smiled when she met his twinkling blue eyes. It was the usual boyish grin, the teasing smirk that completely defied the demigod’s apparent age.

“Sylvia. Claire.” He looked at each girl in turn. “Welcome back.”

Claire didn’t give a verbal response, only responding with the lightest of nods, while Sylvia lightly waved her hand and smiled.

“Hey, Al.”

He immediately raised a brow. Tapping a finger against his staff, he carefully scrutinized the fox’s expression before he spoke aloud again. “Is something wrong, Sylvia?”

“H-huh?” The fox blinked. Thrice. “O-of course not, silly. Why would anything be wrong?”

The old man threw back his head and laughed. “I am your great-grandfather, child. Reading your mood comes as easily as siphoning a soul.”

“U-uhmmm… I don’t know what you’re talking about?” stuttered the orange dog. The behaviour earned her a skeptical look, but he refrained from commenting further.

“Well, in either case, it’d be best for the two of you to come inside.” The mage pulled a wand out of his sleeve and quickly cast a spell. Their surroundings distorted right after, warping the party into a familiar room. Rather than taking them into his living space, which would no doubt have been too cramped for the ten-meter moose, he transported them to the library and sat down in his chair whilst creating a bed of vectors for his guests. 

Claire readily seated herself atop it, waiting silently as the man popped a pipe into his mouth and lit its contents aflame.

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other in person,” he said. “You’ve grown, and more quickly than I was expecting, at that.”

The lyrkress nodded. “Your ether was helpful.”

“I could tell,” he said. “I made quite the hefty profit.” He took a long drag from his pipe and leaned back in his chair. “You’re not planning to ask for more, are you? I would advise against it. Your body wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

She lightly shook her head. “I need you to fix my magic circuits.”

“Hmmm…” Alfred tapped a finger against his desk as he looked her up and down. “No.”

“Why not?”

The celestial smiled as he lazily raised his wand and pointed it at the creature seated on top of her head. “Have you considered her opinion?”

“H-huh? Me?” Sylvia blinked.

“Yes, you, child.” Alfred stood up from his chair, paced over to the lyrkress, and grabbed her favourite hat. He spun her around and patted her on the head as he presented her to the giant serpent. “Don’t be shy, Sylvia. Tell her how you really feel.”

“H-huh?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I know how she feels.”

“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” asked the fox.

“Don’t worry about it,” said the almost-qilin.

“I wouldn’t be so concerned, child,” echoed the human.

“What the heck!?” The fox puffed up her cheeks. “You can’t just talk about me and then leave me out of the conversation!”

“We can, and we did.”

“I can’t say that there was much of a choice. It happened to arc right over your head.”

“The two of you being in sync is just weird,” muttered Sylvia, ears and tail both drooped.

“Very,” agreed Claire. She lightly booped the fox with her snout before meeting her great-grandfather’s eyes. “I’ve already taken her point into account.”

Alfred raised a brow. “How so?”

“Wait, you guys can’t just continue! Explain!” cried Sylvia. She started flailing in the old human’s arms, but she wasn’t able to break free; his grip was as strong as steel.

“This is my true form. There’s nothing for you to see,” she said. Surely enough, the only articles of clothing that decorated the caldriess’ body were the accessories upon her ears. The rest was covered in scale and fur, with everything important hidden away.

“Wait, that’s what you guys were talking about!?” cried the fox. “Why were you making it sound like such a big deal!?”

“You were fussing over it,” said Claire.

“I was under the impression that you were fairly concerned,” agreed Alfred.

“Okay, you guys really need to knock that off.” The fox sighed. “And uhmmm… I mean I don’t really see what it has to do with me.”

There was a moment of silence, wherein she was given a pair of looks. She returned them with confused blinks, only to be set down on the table, along with all of Alfred’s papers and parchments.

“All joking aside,” said Alfred, “I can fix you.” He slowly looked her over, his eyes shifting from blue to gold. “But with how little you’ve been resting and how broken you are, I doubt that I would be able to do it quickly enough.”

“How long?”

“Five or six months, at least,” he said. “There’s a fair chance of it taking even longer. I can’t say for certain.”

Claire frowned. She would be facing her father next year; there wasn’t any time to waste on an extended recovery. But at the same time, she knew that she couldn’t win with the rest of her abilities still locked. Her circuit damage was even more damning than the limitations that Flitzegarde had instated. She needed a copious amount of time and magic to produce a blade as potent as the one that had fallen on Tornatus.

“Five months is too long.”

“I figured as much.” A smile crossed the human’s lips as he walked back behind his desk, rummaged around in one of his drawers, and produced a series of glass tubes. The cylindrical constructs were not filled with the ether that Claire expected, but a bright red liquid reminiscent of a health potion. “You see, Claire. I unfortunately don’t have a quick and permanent solution to your problem, but I do have a decent temporary one.” He laid the potions across the desk as he spoke, arranging them in the shape of a fan. “But, as I am sure you’re already aware, I couldn’t possibly relinquish them to you without a significant charge.”

“Just say it. What do you want, Alfred?” The serpent narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s nothing complicated.” He leaned forward on his seat, and pushing Sylvia to the side, propped up his face with the backs of his hands. “All I would like is for you to return to Llystletein on the first day of each month and freeze the portal that leads outside, with true ice, of course. Or more specifically, I’d like you to transform the whole island it’s on.”

Claire paused briefly. “You’re attempting to circumvent Flux’s orders.”

“Her commands have done very little to benefit my plans, and I happen to be within a hair’s breadth of my goal,” said the celestial, as he toyed with his pipe.

“Because of the souls I gave you. And because everything Sylvia just fed you.”

“Precisely.” A dark grin crossed his lips. “At my previous pace, it’ll only be another seven centuries or so before I am free. I do thank you for that, Claire. And you too, Sylvia. Your combined efforts saved me over three hundred years.” He placed a hand on two of the tubes and pushed them towards her. “These are stabilizers. They will not repair your circuits or ease your pain, but they will allow you to spend five million points of mana without experiencing any deterioration. You have about five minutes before each one wears off. Assuming you are on time, you will receive two each time you offer your assistance, one if you are not. I do advise using one to encase the portal. It will likely be necessary.”

Claire nodded.

“I’ll also throw in an extra bonus each time you consign a thousand souls to the library,” he said. “I’d expect that you’re most likely thinking of banishing a few groups of monsters and calling it quits, but unfortunately, they are not in quite the right form to be processed. I will require the souls of intelligent, sentient creatures fully aware of themselves.”

There was another pause. “What’s stopping her from noticing and undoing my spell?”

“Nothing,” said Alfred. “She’s very likely going to notice right away and get us both in trouble.”

“I assume you have a contingency?”

“Naturally.” The old wizard chuckled as he stroked his beard. “It’s simple. All you need to do is make it into a sculpture of the unhappy goddess in question.”

Claire took a few moments to stare at the human’s face before she slowly nodded her head. “Fine. We have a deal.”

“Good, excellent.” Alfred laughed merrily, kicking back in his chair as his grin grew even wider. “Oh, and speaking of deals,” he looked at his somewhat troubled great-granddaughter. “Sylvia. Were you not going to accrue more charges of your ultimate?”

“H-huh!?” The fox, who had curled up, yawned, and closed her eyes, shot to her feet with a violent start. “O-of course not. I-it’s not like I really need it anyway.”

“Anything that is done here, while I bear witness, will count for twice, no, thrice its usual value.”

“Kn-knock it off, Al! Now you’re just being weird,” huffed the furball.

“As the celestial of life and fertility, I would say that maintaining a healthy interest in voyeurism is a normal part of the job.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “We’re leaving.”

She magically raised two of the tubes and handed them over to the fox, who quickly stashed them inside the subdimension hidden within her tail.

“Y-yeah, let’s get out of here,” agreed Sylvia. “Everyone else is probably gonna worry if we stay for too long.”

“Don’t forget to freeze the portal on your way out.”

“I won’t.”

Focusing briefly on the space in front of her, Claire opened another rift and escaped the celestial’s quarters.