NOVEL SIMPLE Easing Her Into It
There are two other big documents that are available to patrons of all levels. One is a 3,000 word overview of Kissuara's history, its creator Goddess, and how Magi and Djinns work. The other is a 1,100 word document about how Bard magic works in my series! With that said, all of the prework for the spinoff is done except for the first arc outline, which is coming along great!
I have not yet decided how I'm going to post the new series yet, whether I'm going to put some of it behind patreon for a while until I have enough chapters to dripfeed it out. Probably wise to become at least a $5 patron if you want to read it early though.
Some notes about the new series. Unlike RotGM, it's not going to be a super long ongoing romp. It will only be four arcs long, and these arcs are nowhere near the arc lengths of RotGM lol. It has an end point, but the characters will still see use once the main story is done most likely in the form of short stories. There will be lewd, but no actual sex until the finale. I promise the payoff for that will be worth it, though! I hope everyone is as excited as I am to expand the setting just a little bit more, and that you keep in mind this is just the first of many ideas I have in store for the future.
On my way back to the Guest room, I run into Bertrand as we ascend the secret stairways. Despite my displeasure at the sight of him, he makes up for his presence by giving me the writ of business Solomon promised to have squared off for me. Not only that, but the young noble informs me that the promised gold has been deposited into my account. Having never had so much money before in my entire life, I pull out my magic wallet and check the balance without a care for my current company.
Bertrand laughs at the number, a little bit over one million gold, but when I ask him how much money a lowly Baron even makes compared to someone like a Count, he shuts his cunty little trap. His family likely owns a chunk of land, maybe a few hamlets or so, but Barons are nothing to write home about. Wealthy merchants tend to have more power than Barons these days- when they aren't buying the title of 'Baron' for themselves, that is.
The time I spend with Bertrand is mercifully kept short. Feeling like torturing the bastard a little before going on my way, though, I thank him for his service and announce my intention to visit Abigail. He promptly excuses himself from my presence, cursing and chattering his teeth like a man on his way to the gallows.
Sweet, sweet satisfaction.
The chair I used when talking to Abigail has been placed back where it belongs, with only one key difference. A particular bastard has riddled the seat with tacks. At this point, I'll court the damn girl just to make Bertrand suffer, that little bitch... though that's probably too shallow of me.
I clear up the traps and dispose of them in a bin in the guest room, then go back out to talk with the young Lady. I realize until now she's been the one to catch my attention and tell me she wishes to speak. Would it be overstepping my bounds to knock on her door and say something? I could slip a piece of paper through her doggy door and hope she sees it, but... no, I'm overthinking it.
I'll just knock.
At the sound of my fist on wood, Woe barks at me from inside Abigail's room, and he's far from alone. I also hear the screeching caws of a raven, the neighing of a horse, and some other distinct animal noises that I can't make out. Her friendly dog rushes outside to greet me while Misery walks straight past us to sit her feline bones down on top of the chair. "Mind telling your Mistress I'd like to talk?" I ask of the calcium canine while giving his non-existent ears a good scratching. He barks, then trots back inside.
Woe returns as always with a note, although the speed at which it’s delivered implies Abigail prepared it one ahead of time. 'I'm so sorry about my father and what he did to you.’ She writes. ‘You shouldn't have had to experience him at his worst... he's a sweet man, I promise. I hope you don't hate him now...' Seems like we're going to be making things complicated right away this time, fantastic.
I slink back to the chair and sigh as I scrawl out a conflicted reply. 'No, I don't hate your father... But it's hard to say I like him, knowing how volatile he can be. Not to mention the things he's done to you in the name of keeping you safe doesn't add much to his charm.'
'I don't understand... Father keeps me safe and gives me everything I could ever need to be happy.'
'Except for freedom.'
'I could leave my room if I wanted to. I just don't because it's dangerous.'
I'd like to think a fully-fledged Necromancer could damn well take care of herself, but I don't say as much. The more I openly confront Abigail on her father gaslighting her, the more likely she is to want to hide away from the world. It'll only have the opposite effect. For her situation to improve, Abigail needs to realize she has to take the first step herself, which may take a while.
'Speaking of dangerous, I'm due back in my Guild tomorrow morning, and I'm dreading the flight home. I learned quickly how much I detest flight the last time. I think I'll swallow my pride and let Opalina knock me out with a spell beforehand this time around.'
'I'm going to miss being so close to you...' She writes shakily. 'Speaking of which, I have something for you. Come to my door and stand outside it, please?'
Interesting. I do what she asks but try and not to get my hopes up. I'm not expecting her to let me in or anything, but the thought crosses my mind whether I like it or not. "I'm here,"
The mail slot opens up, and a dark violet velvet-gloved hand extends out from the room. From what I can tell, she's wearing an incredibly frilly dress with purple trim and black lace on the cuff. She holds a thick journal, black, sturdy, and stacked with pages in her hand. The raven of House Gloomcrest and 'Abigail Gloomcrest' is displayed in fancy gold ink on the cover. If I'm not mistaken, it's definitely Opalina's handwriting. I take it in my hand, and the girl lingers. As we hold the object together, we're connected, if only for a brief moment in time. Then, she lets go and retreats back into her comforting darkness.
I open it up on the spot and find nothing but empty pages, except for the front where a few lines have been written. 'I asked Opal to make us this, and she laughed because apparently, you asked her if she could make us something similar. She dropped them off after talking to my father and heading off to see you. It makes me happy knowing you were thinking of me, too... go sit down and write something.'
Where did Opalina find the time to make this? Hmm... no, I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Knowing how my burgeoning interest in Abigail is all some elaborate game of romantic chess for Opalina, that meddling probably made this journal before either of us even asked.
Once at the chair, Woe lays down at my feet and curls up into a skeletal ball. He doesn't look like he intends to get up any time soon. 'Does this do what I think it does?' I ask in writing, even though I'm confident I already know the answer.
Handwriting begins appearing stroke by stroke below my response. 'Yes. I have a matching journal with your name on it, and whenever one of us writes something, the other will see it no matter how far away we are from each other.'
I feel the need to test a little something, so I tease Abigail by writing, 'Wonderful, this is everything I hoped it would be. Though... I can't help thinking that this gesture is a tad romantic, you know. Two people separated by miles and miles, yet in their desperate attempt to get to know each other better, they resort to magic.'
This allows me to watch Abigail adorably scratch at her journal for myself. Her shaky handwriting nervously materializes one letter after another as she replies, 'Oh. I see. You could maybe take it that way... if you wanted to... I don't know...'
'Then maybe I will.'
'Oh... Ok...'
I find myself smiling at the journal, enjoying the feeling of teasing this girl, even if it's through text. To balance it out, I tell her something sweet. 'When I get home, I'll start writing to you as much as I can throughout the day. Whenever I find myself with a spare minute, it'll be yours. I'm a busy man, so I can't guarantee it'll be for hours at a time like we've done until now, but it should be often enough. At any rate, it's better than having to rely on Mailmages once a day.'
'I'm grateful for any time you're willing to spend with me. It still baffles my mind that you'd enjoy talking to me, of all people...'
'Of course I enjoy it. You've been nothing but a sweet, genuine, and caring friend thus far. And besides, you've done me a great service. You didn't have to donate all that stuff of yours to the Guild, but I'm deeply humbled that you did.'
'Oh, that was nothing... you don't need to think much of it. I just wanted to help you any way that I could... really, it's nothing. Your dream inspires me, and I want to help it anyway I can...' Without actually leaving my room, she leaves out. ‘I don’t have a dream of my own, so I guess this helps me feel like I’m living vicariously through you...’
'It's not nothing. 500,000G is a lot of gold, Abigail. You just changed my life for the better, and I want you to come and see the Guild you helped me renovate. No matter how long it takes, I promise my doors will always be open for you.'
'Thank you.' She responds curtly but nervously, trying to avoid commenting on the prospect of leaving her room.
I just had an interesting idea, so I put it to paper for her as fast as possible. 'You know... now that we have this, do you think you would be interested in ‘meeting’ the other members of my Guild? I could let one of the girls write to you whenever they feel up to it so that even when I'm not available, someone else could get to know you and keep you from ever feeling lonely.'
If Abigail were to become friends with Sam and everyone else, she might slowly become more tempted to leave the safety of her room to meet everyone. That’s my plan, at least.
Abigail's response is slow as she takes her time thinking about what to say. 'I don't know about that...' Is all she manages to come up with.
'Are you scared?'
'Yes... new people terrify me...'
I think back to my discussion with her father, the one that led to his sudden outburst. Fourteen years ago, a mob broke into the bedroom right in front of me and killed all of Abigail's beloved pets. It’s no wonder the poor girl ended up with a pretty severe case of anthrophobia... still, she’ll never improve if she doesn't get more exposure to people who don't mean her harm.
'These girls are different. Each and every last one of them means the world to me, and they're all fun, interesting people. It doesn't have to be right away. We could slowly ease you into it at first, even if it takes a while. Does that sound ok to you?'
'I... I don't know... even if I manage to find enough courage to say yes, would any of them even want to? Would they even like me? I'm just a gloomy girl with nothing interesting to talk about...'
'They'll love you, I'm sure of it. Besides- even if you don't know what to talk about, you can just let the girls do the talking. Ask them all about their adventures and their lives, and I'm sure they'd love to tell you all about themselves. Doesn't that sound nice?'
'It does... I don't hear much about the outside world and all, but... but I'm still scared. Can you maybe... tell me about them?' Abigail asks with what I believe to be genuine interest.
