Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 379 - Pledge II

Claire’s breath was stuck in her throat. Frozen in place, she stared at the middle-aged catgirl throughout her approach. The advance was but the briefest moment in time, spanning just a few seconds from start to finish. But it felt as would a veritable eternity. Her eyes and ears recorded every last detail, comparing them almost automatically to that which she had known.

They were so similar that they overlapped in her mind, that she couldn’t help but mistake them, even knowing that it was impossible.

Lia was gone. Claire had carried out her funeral rights herself. And yet, she was right there, standing tall and strong. Almost as if she had never caused her death.

Despite the stupefied moment, Claire was quick to recover. She regained control of her body half a second after the catgirl’s mother stopped in front of her. And after secretly taking a deep breath, she met her eyes and spoke.

“Has anyone ever told you that you resemble your daughter?”

The catgirl laughed. It was a silly, dorky laugh. Another trait that ran in the family.

“I get that a lot,” she said, wistfully. “Or at least I did.”

Claire clenched her fists. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? It’s not like yo—”

“I might as well have killed her.” She took off her glasses and presented them alongside the diary always on her person. The catgirl didn’t seem to know how to respond. Perhaps thanks to the harsh nature of Claire’s words, she was still frozen, so the lyrkress lifted her arms with a set of vectors and pushed both items into her hands.

“What’re these?” Her breath was half caught in her throat, but she squeezed the words out regardless.

“Her mementos,” said Claire. “Goodbye.”

The confused cat looked between the snake-moose, who had already started walking away, and the objects she was given. “Wait.”

Claire refused to listen. Not until Natalya’s mother chased after her and grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Wait,” she said, again. “At least stay for dinner.”

The moose was about to shake her head but stopped short as she saw—recognized—the look in the catgirl’s emerald green eyes. Again, they overlapped, and again, she felt a pang in her chest.

“Fine.” She paused to take a breath. “I am Claire Augustus, Caldriess, first princess of Cadria. Your daughter was a close friend.” Another pause. “We ran a shop together in Vel’khan.”

“Oh, where are my manners? My name is Liliya Vernelle, and I’m an Armidian shorthair.” Liliya smiled and extended her hand, which the lyrkress hesitantly shook. “I’ve heard much about you from my daughter, Claire. I’m sure she wouldn’t have blamed you for what’s happened.”

The lyrkress froze. “You’ve heard about me?”

“We were close, and she wrote a lot of letters,” said Liliya. “I know about your adventures, I know all about the MACC, and I even know what she said to you up on that hill.”

Completely bewildered, Claire blinked, twice at first, and then another three times for good measure.

“Now why don’t you come in? She’d throw a fit if she ever found out I let you leave without bed and breakfast.”

“I thought you said dinner.”

“Leaving after dinner would just be plain silly. Our house isn’t the biggest, so it might be a little cramped with all of you, but you’re welcome to stay the night.”

“I do appreciate the offer, Mrs. Vernelle,” said Arciel, “but there are other matters which require our attention. It shall be only Claire and Sylvia who spend the night at your residence.”

“I’d like it if you stayed as well, Arciel.”

“I could not possibly intrude,” said the queen.

“Please. It’d be no bother,” said Liliya. “Lia was always fond of you, and I’d love to hear about everything you did together firsthand.”

Arciel lightly tapped her chin with her fan. “Chloe. Take charge of the brigade for the night. I shall be taking a brief reprieve. You are free to tap into the secondary budget and spend whatever you feel is necessary. It is my hope that, come morning, we shall all be refreshed and ready to depart.”

The maid was a little hesitant, but she responded with a nod after another look from her mistress. Though some of the party’s members, namely Lana and Krail, seemed rather curious, neither said much before hopping back on the carriage. The only indication of their continued interest was the way that they stared as the turberi were put back to work.

Arciel, Claire, and Sylvia, in the meantime, followed Liliya indoors. Made of cement, like all the others in the area, the Vernelle house was a simple, two-story building sporting just six primary rooms. Its layout was almost entirely square, though the interior spaces themselves were generally more rectangular. The living room spanned the left side of the building, running from the entrance to the other end of the home, while the dining and kitchen sat on either side of a narrow corridor.

With it being the late afternoon, no one else was at home. It almost felt like the house was a little lonely despite the extent of its size.

“Have a seat.” Liliya led them to the dining room, where they found a small round table that stood roughly half a meter off the ground. The lack of chairs was an intentional design; the height was just right for the girls to tuck their knees beneath the wooden top. The only stool—a tiny thing just half the table’s height—likely meant for the home’s most feline resident, was temporarily shifted aside.

“Give me a second.” The host set her daughter’s things on the table before making for the kitchen. “I’ll make something to drink.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve got it,” said Claire. She engaged her authority skill and picked a drink from the list. With her divinity infused, the manifestation was instant; the Ancient Elven Wine had already appeared in her hand by the time she made the selection. It drained a full hundred thousand points of mana, but strangely enough, it didn’t cause much in the way of damage. It didn’t even hurt, despite the fact that a similarly expensive ice spell would have made her nails ooze blood.

The glasses, she quickly made of true ice. They were simple, conical structures with long necks and circular bases to keep them balanced. They were small enough that it only stung to make them, and she had further bolstered the efficiency by leaving bubbles of air between the glass’ interior walls. It was a trick she had only recently thought up. There was little reason for the things she crafted to be anything but hollow. She could hold whatever she wanted with her vectors, and the extra thousand-odd pounds that a solid block contained would hardly have any effect against a foe with the raw strength of a Cadrian warrior.

Blinking in surprise, Liliya returned her kettle to its shelf and joined the rest of the group at the table. The bottle’s sudden appearance was hardly the most surprising part. She had heard of alcohol magic, and though she hadn’t ever seen it in person, she was content with the seemingly apt explanation.

Far more confusing and eye-catching was the method by which the liquid was poured. The cork suddenly flew off the bottle without rhyme or reason, and the liquid within readily distributed itself to the four cups as each walked itself in front of a different person.

“Thank you for stopping by. I’d always wanted to meet you with everything that Lia’s said.” The catgirl forced a small smile as she addressed all three of her guests. “She used to send a letter every month. I didn’t think much of it when she missed the first two, but I started to fear the worst when the third didn’t come. So this doesn’t really come as a surprise.” She shook with every word; her lips quivered, threatening to shatter her already broken mask.

“I’m sorry,” said Claire, again. She slowly swirled the wine in her cup and lightly flicked her tongue. “It’s my fault.”

“Would you mind telling me how it happened?” asked the catgirl, after slowly taking a deep breath.

The lyrkress nodded. “Should we wait for her father? It’ll be a long story.”

“That’s… a good point. Lavrentiy would hate to miss it,” said Liliya.

“And it might be better if Sylvia tells it,” said Claire.

“Mmmnnn, yeah. I can probably throw together a song,” said the foxgirl. “Oh! I’m Sylvia, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Sylvia,” said Liliya. “Lia wrote a lot about you as well.”

“She did?”

“She had a section in each letter just to cover your antics, and they were always so detailed that it almost feels like I already know you.” She picked up her glass with a shiver and carefully brought it to her lips.

“Really?” Sylvia blinked, thrice. “I thought Claire was basically the only thing she ever thought about.”

“There was a lot of that,” said Liliya, with a laugh, “and I can see why.”

“Only because I’m cursed,” said the lyrkress. “Some old pervert made it so catgirls would be unnaturally attracted to me.”

“There is something about you that catches the eye, but that isn’t what I meant.” Claire tilted her head, but the catgirl only downed her wine and stood back up. “I’ll explain after dinner. My husband will be home within the hour, and it’s about time I get started.”

“I’ll he—” The lyrkress began to stand up, but Sylvia pressed down on her shoulders and kept her seated.

“Hey Ciel, can you go help in the kitchen? I think Claire’s probably just gonna set the whole house on fire if she tries.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s made of cement.”

“Oh, shush! You know that’s not what I really meant! You can’t cook for the life of you, and you know it!”

Claire frowned. “I made that thing for your birthday.”

“You wasted like a hundred fish and it was still kinda burnt! Oh, and before you ask, I know because I read your min—er, I mean one of the maids told me.”

“Liar.”

“D-don’t be silly! I never lie!”

“Liar.”

Liliya laughed as she pulled a pot out from under the sink and quickly rinsed it over. The water flowed as she pulled the spout off of the faucet and pressed down on the latch built inside of it. “I’m starting to see what Lia meant when she said they were a riot. Are they always like this?”

“It is far more frequent than not,” said Arciel.

“It must’ve been lively then, your adventures, I mean.”

“Quite so.” The squid briefly lowered the rim of her hat. “Might there be any way for me to assist?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be fine. You should probably head back to the table and make yourself at home. I couldn’t possibly ask a queen to help me with dinner.”

“Today, I am no queen. I am but your daughter’s friend and I wish to be perceived as such and no more. As one of Lia’s dearest, I wish to extend my aid to you, her mother.”

Liliya smiled. “You're going to have to fix the way you talk if you want that to sound even the slightest bit convincing.”

The queen raised her fan to her lips and blinked. “That would be… rather difficult. My manner of speech has been ingrained in me since early childhood. I do not believe it so simple to alter.”

“Just try it.”

The squid frowned briefly before clearing her throat. But though she stood tall, and though she looked ready to annunciate her thoughts, she remained dead silent.

“Is something wrong?”

“I have not the slightest clue as to what I am meant to say.”

The mumble was met with a laugh. Liliya lit the stove under her pot and covered its surface in a layer of oil. “How about you pass me some of the lotus roots while you figure that out? It should be in the first bag on your right down in the basement.”

“I shall seek it then.”

“You mean, ‘give me a sec, I’ll go grab it?’”

The queen blinked. “Yes, that.”

It was an interaction that repeated many, many more times throughout the evening. But in spite of the constant reminders, Arciel never did manage to shake the habit for long. And while one could certainly criticize her lack of adaptability, it was largely the catgirl’s fault—though she had tried showing off in front of the guests, it turned out that she was as hopeless of a cook as her daughter. Most of the work fell into Ciel’s hands, and though not the most experienced chef, she managed much of the prep work the cat was supposedly assigned.

Claire and Sylvia had expected to spend their time chatting with Lia’s father upon his arrival, but the man in question headed straight into the kitchen after a brief introduction. Kicking his wife out, and relegating her to entertaining the two halfbreeds, he worked with the squid to produce the evening meal.

Such was the norm in Paunse. The tampering that Alfred had done made it so houses were headed by matriarchs, and women were the main breadmakers while the men generally stayed at home and tended to the chores. The Vernelles were one of the rare exceptions who saw their roles reversed.

Dinner was served right as the final guest arrived. Signalling his entrance with a knock on the door, a human with a shining bald head and a half-grey beard strolled right into the house as the first dish was placed on the table.

“What’s with all the people?” he asked, as he found an empty seat.

“Hey, Bell. Did you just get back in town?” asked Liliya. “These are Lia’s friends. They… came to inform us of her passing.” Her voice shook, just the same as how her eyes wavered.

“I see.” The human closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. “I figured.”

For a while, the group stared at the food in silence.

“W-why don’t we get started?” Liliya clapped her hands together and put on her best, shaky smile. “Dinner will get cold if we keep sitting around. Arciel helped us prepare all of these wonderful dishes and it’d be a shame if they went to waste.”

“Mmmnnn, does that mean I should start telling everyone what happened?”

“Yeah,” said Claire.

“Mmk!” Sylvia pressed a hand to her chest, and taking a deep breath, slowly began to sing. The mellow notes were accompanied by vivid hallucinations—scenes taken straight from her memories and projected upon the world.

She sang of the ridiculous misunderstanding that came from their chance meeting, of the nine-headed beast that they conquered together, and of the lizard who had suddenly appeared in the midst of their conversation. She crafted an epic about the flaming duck and her flying dungeon, detailing everything from the evil, mind-eating shoggoth to the crossplay that came with their infiltration. Dozens of verses were dedicated to the winter that they spent together, to the beautiful festival they enjoyed in Vel’khan and even more to the time of peace that followed the squid queen’s coup. She precisely described the architecture that made up their shop and recalled the difficulties and friends encountered in its founding and establishment.

And then, finally, she sang of the bloody end that she met and the vengeance taken in her name.

Two hours had passed by the time the aria came to an end. The sun had set and the owls were out and about. No one had touched any of their food.

No one had considered touching their food.

They were all too busy with their feelings to even consider the option.