…and then we come to the role of the church. Their role is a necessity, of course, to guide and oversee. Classes like [Murderers], [Criminals], and [Villains] have to be curtailed, and that’s not even taking into account the truly sinister plague and disease classes… But I digress. Is the Chruch not overstepping its bounds? Directing instead of guiding? Perhaps even causing harm. Forcing someone into an unsuitable class has many times led to the person taking on a darker path in their leveling, as can be seen in the case of the famous…
-Excerpt from Friend of the people, vol. 15, by P. Marat
—
The inn stood silent and dark, a tomb under fading sunlight. The wind rattled at the windows in a growing gale, with some of the draft managing to get through the loose boards of the wall, which sent a chill through everyone inside. The floorboards creaked eerily.
Marie sneezed.
“Achoo!”
Mireille jolted up in her seat, eyes going to the [Lady].
“Sorry,” Marie said. Didn't want to interrupt her.
They were sitting in the inn’s common room, a wide place with two long tables laid out inside. Mireille was working on new clothes, sitting near the outer windows with a blanket in her lap while Marie was just... waiting. Opposite her. Food was due soon.
The [Seamstress] checked over her needlework. “Ah—don’t worry about it. This isn’t a sensitive part, a few missed prods won’t matter much.”
Marie felt relieved and let out a held breath. “I’m glad. Would hate to ruin your work.”
Mireille put her needles down on the table, looking out of the window. It was starting to get dark outside. “Are you really feeling that cold? Would be a shame for you to catch the flu now.”
The [Lady] paused for a second—do I? No, not really—then shook her head. “I doubt I’ll get anything—I haven’t gotten sick once since I received [Picture of Health].”
The [Seamstress] sighed. “Your skills really do feel a bit unfair, you know. Still, you really aren’t cold? At al?”
“Well—a bit,” Marie admitted. They were right by the window, and the frame wasn’t that airtight. She turned her head, looking at the other side of the common room, towards the kitchen where the nice [Chef] woman was preparing the stew. “I think the stew will warm me up enough though—you don’t need to bother.”
Mireille quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I would be glad to give you a blanket. Or is it just that… you don’t want to receive a cloak or blanket from me?”
Marie looked back. “W-what are you implying there?”
“Please, don’t try that with me,” Mireille said, snorting. She waved an arrogant hand, waving away all objections before they even came. “You are being really obvious. Stammering like that at a little handkerchief attention…”
Handkerchief attention? She noticed that? The [Lady’s] cheeks reddened. “It’s not like that! I was just… exhausted in the morning. Don’t imply I’m a creep or anything.”
Mireille snorted. “I don’t care about stuff like that. Just spare me the excuses. It’s fun to watch you struggle.”
Watch me what now? Marie froze in place, staring. “Me, struggle?”
“We’re not all blockheads you know,” Mireille said, tapping her head. “But that one… you’ll need to be a lot less subtle.”
The [Lady’s] face fell to the table with a thud, and only a whimper left her. Yeah… this isn’t really going anywhere, is it? “Uuuuu—what am I going to do?”
Mireille hesitated, started to respond—
And then the door opened, and a delicious scent filled the space.
Both women raised their heads up, towards the now-open kitchen door, and felt hunger pangs. A smiling [Chef], a woman in her mid-thirties with her hair tied up and a relaxed smile, stepped inside, carrying a large pot of stew.
“I’m finally finished. Are you going to wait for your friends to come?” she said, kicking the door closed behind her.
Marie and Mireille looked at each other, an instant communication passing between them. They turned back.
“We’re fine starting early.” They said, synchronized by hunger.
The other door opened, and the [Innkeeper] stepped inside, carrying bowls. “I told you the wait would be worth it—if there’s one thing I’m sure of in life—my wife can cook.”
At least based on the smell, Marie agreed. “I look forward to it,” she said, giving a polite bow.
The man smiled, then set bowls in front of Mireille and Marie, then one for himself, at the end of the table. His wife set the pot in the middle of them, used a ladle to give everyone a serving, brushed sweat from her brow, then turned back.
“I’ve still got to finish one dish, so I’ll be back in just a bit!”
There’s going to be more food? Marie looked at the generous helping of stew in her own bowl and felt it would be quite enough on its own. It looked meaty. Lots of juicy chunks floated inside, cooked just right. The stew itself had a rich aroma, and the potatoes and other vegetables inside sealed the deal.
She took her spoon in hand, scooped a good spoonful in it, making sure she got a nice big chunk of meat in it, then brought it to her mouth. Before eating, she took a moment to just enjoy the aroma. Hmm, even my Family’s [chefs] rarely made stuff this appetizing. What’s the secret?
Anticipation building, she brought the spoonful to her mouth—
Then the door was smashed open. “Don’t touch that soup!” Came a [Doctor’s] orders, as Olivia jumped inside, body poised to jump and boots filthy from mud. Fayette followed her in, skirts also wet from mud, and looked in Marie’s direction.
The [Maid] made a quick hand-signal, covering her mouth, and nodded at Marie. She needs me to use [Control Conversation]?
Marie activated it, kept her mouth low to the table, then spoke a quick word. “What?”
The [Maid] kept a hand in front of her mouth, then nodded to the side, towards the [Innkeeper] who was staring with surprise. “[Appraise] him. Fast. And be ready for a fight. [Murderer] somewhere nearby.”
Marie tensed, felt out at her power source to make sure her magic would be ready, then looked at the man. It was a gross violation of privacy, but if Fayette was like this… she used the skill, and the man suddenly shivered as an invasive cold wave went through his body. Information came to the [Lady’s] mind.
[Innkeeper of Lonely hHarths — level 25]
He tensed along with everyone else, staring at Marie. The [Lady] looked around the room, then relaxed her tensed muscles. “Sorry mister—maybe my friend made a mistake.”
Everyone relaxed, and Marie sneezed again, covering her mouth.
A fake sneeze this time, she quietly spoke to only allies. “Not yet. Just a moment…”
I’ve been fooled once before—the wait period is not too long…
She took the hand off, smiled gently at the man, and gave him a small bow. “Pardon my rudeness.”
He leaned back in his chair, spoon in hand. “Ah—don’t worry about it. There have been dark rumours…”
Marie nodded, bringing the spoon back to her mouth. Waiting. Just a moment more—for the cooldown—
Then she used [Appraise] again and the [Innkeeper] shivered, more this time.
[Innkeeper of Eternal Rest — level ??]
And then everything rushed to motion. The [Innkeeper’s] face hadn’t changed, but his eyes…
Something was appearing by him, dark spectral figures. Then, the windows slammed shut one by one, and the room’s doors disappeared. Not good. Nobody was quite by the man, and he was on his feet, getting up and reaching for something—
Marie reached for that one ability, the best way to buy time.
“[Elegant Tea Party]”
—
Her hunch had been right.
Fayette gripped her broom tight as she looked around the room. Everyone had frozen in place—activating a capstone skill tended to do that.
That short moment, when everyone was waiting for something—a reaction. The [Innkeeper] most of all. He was very carefully standing in place, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.
Nobody moved.
Silence. Silence dragged on and on—only the wind giving instrumentation as it rattled at the windows. And then it was broken.
A chair slowly being dragged over the wooden flooring. Then being slammed into place in one violent motion. It cracked onto the floor loudly, and as Fayette instinctively glanced at it for a split instant, the [Innkeeper’s], face shifted. When she looked back, there was no more carefree smile, nor a nervous readiness—just a vicious sneer.
Then he sat down onto that chair and started laughing.
“Ah—etiquette. I feel it. A skill like this, I've only seen it once. Not against me, no—a [Lady] stopped a fight that was about to erupt. I remember marveling at that feeling. Such power. To adjust... Force others to stop—to bend them to your will.”
His eyes shone “True power.”
Fayette just stared. At the man whose veil had been ripped off so fast. But he did not seem bothered in the least. If anything, he was the most at ease out of everyone in the room. Utterly confident—an [Innkeeper] inside his inn.
But not just an [Innkeeper]—a [Murderer].
It had been quick for her and Olivia to figure out. Nobody from town missing, but there was still a steady stream of victims. Travelers. And where did travelers stay in these corners? At what place did all travelers gather? Where would it be easiest to catch travelers unaware, then dispose of them quietly?
The inn.
Still, speculating was one thing, and seeing it confirmed another. Olivia’s glare was dark, Mireille was frozen, eyes wide, and Fayette felt her skin crawling. A [Murderer]. One of the foulest things she could imagine… And she had just been right next to him, even leaving Mireille and Marie here?
She gripped her broom tighter. I can handle this. Just another piece of trash corrupting this world.
But just how should they handle this? In that brief instant, she had sensed him activate something. Phantasmal figures had appeared by him. How dangerous was he? And his wife was also somewhere nearby… Would the [Elegant Tea Party] help?
Can we get him angry? To break etiquette?
Fayette turned, and Marie nodded at her. At least she was safe—can she get him mad?
The [Lady] turned, then spoke, not even looking at the man. Her voice dripped venom. “[Innkeeper of Eternal Rest]. I don't know his level. But that class... There is no doubt about it.”
He nodded calmly, a confident smile on his face. “Yes, you are correct.” A simple admission. No hesitation. No backpaddling he was just… at ease.
Fayette felt it was too much. Why is he so smug? “You have no shame for what you are?” she asked, glaring.
He quirked up an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face as he turned to her. “You, out of all of you, ask that question, [Maid]?” he winked. “I know my kin. We’re not that different, who are you to judge me?”
Those words… Judging—Fayette tried to deny them—but found she couldn’t speak. Me? Like a [Murderer]? It unsettled and outraged her—but she couldn’t get the words out. Something held them back.
But Marie was not silenced. She scoffed, outraged. “Really? The ‘we’re not so different, are we’—cliché talk? Really? Think of something better.”
He chuckled, turning back forward as he put a spoon into his bowl. “What’s wrong with the truth? Yes, you have discovered my nature, sadly. Very inconvenient for us all. I had no ill designs for you, you know? I’m not a fool.”
The [Innkeeper] looked around the room, giving everyone a polite nod. “I can see you are important people. I wouldn’t have done anything to you, had you not done this. Really, I don’t understand why my kin are ostracized so—killing for power and levels is the way of the world, is it not?”
Fayette still couldn’t speak, but… she had to do something. Face grim, she used [Dry Laundry] on the hems of her dress, getting the wetness of the mud out. The stains still remained, which was annoying, but it was a bit better. She approached the table.
Etiquette—she could help. There was a skill active. She would do what she could.
Silently, she took out a cup of tea, placed it in front of Marie, and started filling it. The [Lady] looked up, and met her eyes briefly. She had a piece of chalk in hand, and a sneaky vine of magic was extending out of her sleeve.
She also saw the silent plea on Fayette’s face. Tell him, please.
Marie nodded, took the cup, and turned back to the [Murderer]. He was just watching it all. Calm, but wary. His eyes never relaxed, even if the rest of his body did. Still waiting.
“It’s pretty obvious why your kin are reviled, you know,” Marie said, lacing her voice with scorn. “You kill the innocent, all in a perversion for levels. A backstab in the dark after breaking bread. No honour.”
He let the words wash past him, unruffled. A smile tugged at the man’s lips as he nodded up, at Fayette. “Really now? Has your friend there only killed those truly deserving of it, then? Has she ever used deception to kill?” He saw the answer in how Fayette froze in place and shook his head. “Ah—tut tut. Always so eager to lecture and preach, your type.”
Olivia was circling to his side, and Mireille was keeping her hands below the table, doing something. Just needed to buy a more time. But why is he so confident?
The [Innkeeper] smiled wide, then took a spoonful of the soup into his mouth and gulped it down. Fayette felt her stomach drop. What is in that? She looked Olivia’s way, and the [Doctor] shook her head. Guess I don’t want to know.
The man wiped some spilled soup off his lips, then chuckled. “Really, you should consider what I do a public service. I am pretty high up in levels, which makes me an asset to the country. And besides, I don’t kill randomly. There are many [Vagrants], [Beggars] and [Vagabonds] out these days—costing everyone money and resources. I just—” he looked at the [Maid], winking knowingly. “—clean out the trash.”
Those words shook her, and she froze in place. It was just a provocation, but something about them… No—that is… different. I don’t just—
The [Murderer] smiled, turning his gaze to the [Lady]. He gestured at the soup in front of her. “Now, I’ve taken the first spoonful, so why are you all hesitating? I am providing you hearth, home and food. Not accepting it would be rude, don’t you think? Breaking hospitality....”
Marie looked down at the soup and covered her mouth—grimacing.
Except she didn’t. The [Lady] quietly used [Control Conversation], and her allies heard her words. “This isn’t working. I have to stop the skill, or I’ll take even more backlash. Be ready.”
Fayette finally unfroze, forcing the man’s words out of her mind. She gripped her broom and looked around the room, taking quick steps forward. He can talk all he wants, but the end result won’t change.
Fayette started to circle the table slowly, and Olivia was doing likewise on the other side. The [Murderer] rose up from his seat, and reached forward for the soup pot. “Hey—no rudeness here. In fact, I’ll give you a bigger serving—”
The skill ended.
Fayette lunged.
The [Murderer] flung the pot of hot soup at Olivia, then jumped back and spoke. “[Sweet Dreams.]”
Something dark appeared in front of her, and Fayette—blinked.
Something…
Dark…
Fayette blinked herself awake. She was still standing, right there, it had been only a moment—did I just—
A chair was flying at her.
She ducked low, and it flew above, clattering into a wall. Her eyes raced forward, searching for her target. The [Innkeeper]. He was retreating—backing up into the room’s furthest corner, but around him—
Fayette blinked. Ghosts? Seriously, damned ghosts? No, the skill was about dreams… these are—
Nightmares.
Dark, phantasmal shadows were materializing around the [Murderer], the last dreams of those condemned to eternal rest. Coiling tentacles spread out, a goopy, fleshy form was dripping bits of itself all over the place, an enormous spider—
That made rage fill the [Maid’s] heart, and she snapped out of the revery, jumping forward. She whipped forward with her broom, swatting at the spider which hissed, eight legs spreading out—
And the broom went right through the form.
It hit the [Innkeeper] on the shoulder, and he stumbled back, cursing. But the spider-ghost prodded forward. A limb reached for her faster than she could block, and she started to…
feel…
sleepy…
Fayette smacked herself on the head with the broom and jumped back, jolting awake. She glared at the ghastly forms, which were still holding position around the [Innkeeper]. “This ability is bullshit.”
The [Murderer] was wiping blood from his shoulder blade, wincing. He gave her a malevolent glare, then nodded at his assembled creations. “Forward.”
The dark forms all shambled forward, and Fayette turned back. The others—what are they…?
Olivia was fighting the… soup? The [Maid] stopped for just a half-second to stare as the [Doctor] sliced carrots and wiggling bits of meat that were flying at her. Right. The wife. There was a [Chef] too—of course.
Mireille was by the back wall, Char on her shoulder, doing something with near-invisible spiderwebs. Marie was next to her—drawing a quick symbol on the wall. She finished and a cupboard appeared on the wall, and she turned towards the others. “To me!”
Fayette didn’t need the encouragement.
She ran back, spectral figures right at her back, and turned at the wall to face them, Olivia arriving by her side too. Fayette readied her broom for a hit, timing it just as the giant tentacle reached out, then—
It never came.
All the nightmares stopped in place, crashing against something, like there was an invisible barrier there. Fayette stared.
Marie giggled nervously, keeping her hand back at the [Hidden Cupboard’s] handle. “I-it worked. Yay—lucky.”
She had a slight nosebleed and stood unsteady. Backlash? Did we break etiquette too much? But this…
“What did you do?” Fayette asked, still keeping her broom ready. The nightmares were prodding at the barrier, but it did nothing. Then a sausage flew through, and Olivia sliced it with her scalpel.
“His ability only works in his inn,” Marie said, taking deep breaths. She looked at the sausage, now wiggling at her feet. “[Saints], I almost ate that. But. Yes. This is my cupboard, not his, and I guess that works out? Claim and all that.”
Fayette nodded. “...That sort of makes sense.”
Then the nightmares flickered, as a chair flew through them, high speed. She got her broom in both hand, steadying it, and blocked it, shunting it away. Then another came. Fayette cursed. “It’s not saving us! He’s going to keep throwing stuff at us! Can you make it bigger? Anybody, you got anything?”
“Give me a minute,” Mireille said, eyes closed.
“I need to get close,” Olivia said. She was eyeing the food on the ground suspiciously.
Then the [Murderer] laughed. Fayette could hear him moving, behind the barrier of nightmares. Not out of the room, but behind the—table?
Right, I should—
Fayette called forks and knives into her hands with [Cutlery Control], then sent them out at the laughter. They thunked against wood. Damn, too slow, he took cover. Should I spice him up? But there’s a [Chef] messing with food…
Too risky.
A spray of hot soup flew out next, and Olivia hissed as it hit her skin.
“Enjoy your cupboard!” A scornful voice sneered from behind the nightmares. “My [Poltergeist] won’t run out! How long can you keep this up?”
Then another chair flew in, and this time, Fayette tried to grab it from mid-air. If I take all his ammunition…
It hit her ready hands hard, and she felt the crash against her bones, and fell back, falling against the wall. Her back hit it hard, then the chair flew out of her hand, and flew back.
“Ow!”
“Do you need the boon?” Marie asked, giving Fayette a hand. The [Maid] took it but shook her head as she got back up.
“Save it. But—this sanctuary you made—it’s about claiming territory from him, right?”
Marie nodded, steadying the [Maid] onto her feet with both hands. “Yes—do you have an idea?”
Fayette looked over the room. Her view was blocked by the nightmares crowded around them, but she could just about make out spilled soup on the floor under them. And quite a bit of dust.
She took a step forward, and Marie let go. “I think I do.”
Because her skill was a type of claim too.
She reached out mentally, for that well of power. [So Fresh, So Clean]. Alright, skill—let’s do this.
Another careful step forward, closer to the nightmares, but staying just out of their range. The wall of tentacles, spider limbs, and eyeballs hissed at her, but she wasn’t swayed.
She had never really had nightmares.
Carefully, she reached out with her broom, made sure her capstone was ready and waiting—
And swept some bits of potato further away, into a little pile.
The monsters were shoved back a half step.
A chair flew at her.
Fayette smiled. Cleaning the battlefield—she was in a way claiming it. A [Maid’s] work.
She dodged the chair and heard a curse behind her as it hit Olivia. Another step forward, then she used [Sweep Dust]. Grime and spilt soup was sent further away, and the nightmares fell back again.
For a moment, she saw the [Innkeeper] through them, and he was no longer smiling. He reached into a cupboard, and took up a frying pan into one hand, and a knife into the other, falling into a stance.
Is that [Tavern Brawling]?
“Keep him off me!” Fayette shouted, and ducked down, dodging the frying pan as it flew at her head.
Olivia stepped behind her to guard, scalpel ready, and Fayette began running forward. Cleaning.
She first made a wide sweep to her left, which cleared a swathe of space for Olivia to work with, then started cleaning to the right. Dusty spots were easiest, so she focused on those, ignoring the bits of spilled soup around. Every swipe cleared off more of the floor, and the nightmares were steadily pushed back against an expanding wall.
They were being split apart.
Fayette got to the opposite wall, and with that—the room was split in two by a swathe of clean floor. Her broom was starting to gather energy, and she had to duck another chair.
Olivia was fighting the man, a clash of knives and pans, and Marie was sagged against their safe spot, still weak, but keeping an eye out. And Mireille was still doing something.
Fayette picked the chair up, put it back in a spot neatly, and claimed a bubble of space around it. Then it flew back at her again.
Damn. She kicked it, getting distance, and it lost the power for a moment. Do I have to hit it to stop the effect? But seems they are no good. Now—
She surveyed the room again. Nightmares split onto the two sides. Let’s clear one side first.
Fayette quickly swapped to her mop and got to work on the side where the [Murderer] couldn’t interfere. The nightmares were right by her, just an arm’s length away—but her cleaning was keeping them just out of reach.
She mopped up spilled soup, getting nearer to the tables, and bent to mop under it—
Then three bowls of soup hopped off the table and flew at her.
She sensed them with her [Dustsense], some change in the air, and jumped back to dodge—just managing to get out of the way.
The boiling-hot soup spilled behind and in front of her, just missing her by an inch. Fayette breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the monstrous forms advanced, no longer blocked, reaching out from three sides.
No! It spoiled my cleaning!
Cursing, she jumped back, but a coiling tentacle was faster and gripped her arm, and she…
started…
to…
fade…
Suddenly, a pinch from her uniform. Fayette jolted back to awareness, and jumped back behind her barrier of cleaning.
She was panting—that was too close! What was tha—?
Looking at her uniform, she saw it relax from the constriction it had done, and a long thread attached to it, going back to—Mireille, of course.
The [Seamstress] still had her eyes closed, standing next to Marie, but Fayette could just barely make out tiny threads spreading out from her fingers. Thanks for the save.
Still, the flying soup was an inconvenience, as it messed with her cleaning. But...
She was faster. She looked over the room. There really wasn't that much space. I don’t really have to get things perfect right now, do I?
Fayette swapped back to her broom, deciding to ignore everything it couldn’t clear. Just the dust should be enough to corner him.
She moved back to the side Olivia and the [Murderer] were fighting on. He was jumping in and out from behind his barrier of nightmares, trying to disturb the cleaning. Fayette moved in, [Sweep Dust] ready.
It was fast. Focusing only on dust she could sense, she cleared out large swathes of space, gradually driving the nightmares against walls as her skill claimed their space. She had to dodge frying pans, more soup, chairs, and even knives, but [Dangersense] and a subtle Waltz in her steps helped her dodge.
And as she dodged the pans and knives, she caught them, then she sorted them back to their places.
More territory claimed.
Quickly, most of the nightmares on this side were squeezed against walls, and she started cleaning against the walls, following them.
And the forms vanished when they ran out of space.
Her broom was feeling pretty powerful by now.
Fayette turned around and looked over the fight for a moment. Olivia was fighting defensively, taking her time. And the [Innkeeper] was looking around desperately. Mireille looked back at the [Maid] and nodded. Whatever she’s done, it’s ready.
They had managed to close off his paths of retreat. He only had a small bit of free territory around him
It’s time.
Fayette pointed her broom forward. “Everyone, all at once—get him!”
And she ran forward, following the wall and using [Sweep Dust] ahead of her on all the room’s dusty corners.
Mireille jumped forward, throwing out needles, and the [Innkeeper] dodged back, shielding his face with a frying pan. He retreated behind his wall of nightmares, but Mireille kept up the barrage, and Olivia joined in too, throwing vials of… something?
And Fayette was circling behind.
He can’t both shield his front and guard his back at once.
There was a wall of nightmares in front of her, but they were being pushed back with every one of her steps, and she could hear the [Murderer] already, just ahead of her. He was cursing.
She rounded the last corner, the [Innkeeper] just ahead. She brought her broom back, ready for a clean hit.
Then a panicked Marie shouted in her ear.
“Behind!”
Fayette spun around and saw that a dark-haired woman with an apron had slid out of a panel in the wall, knife in hand. Right behind her. Oh yeah, the [Chef].
The woman grinned ominously, and her flesh started bulging out as countless arms and fingers started growing out in an expanding forest.
“[I Am What I Ea—”
Fayette finished her spin, brought her broom with her in a half circle, and unleashed it on her head. Also a valid target, if less so.
“[So Fresh, So Clean.]”
A flash of blue, and her head caved in, a dome impression on it. A loud crack, like splitting wood, and a spray of blood on the wall. She fell down to the ground. Dead.
Fayette breathed out. I am not dealing with whatever that skill was.
But her skill was used.
She spun back around—how was the [Murderer]—?
Trapped. The nightmares were all gone, and the man was caught in a web, a victorious [Seamstress] waving a needle at his face. “Careful where you back up mister—really shouldn’t lose focus.”
Fayette relaxed. It’s done.
He was trapped against the wall in a web of threads, eyes wild. The thud from Fayette’s broom had alerted him, but he only looked at his dead wife for a second, and then his face calmed. His eyes relaxed.
As if he wasn’t cornered. As if he was still in control.
Fayette couldn’t help but feel shivers. We are still inside his inn…
The man looked over them quickly, licking his lips, finally turning his eyes to Marie, the [Lady]. “Nobody will believe you.”
She stopped approaching him, gait still unsteady, giving him a look of disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
He was smiling again. “The villagers know me—my reputation is good. They won’t judge me. You are vagrants, suspicious individuals. Once you try to tell them—”
“I don’t judge,” Fayette said, walking closer. She held out her broom, and the [Murderer] paled just a bit at the pieces of skull lodged in the wooden shaft. “I’m a [Maid]. I just clean. No need to ask questions or anything more.”
He licked his lips. “If you kill me—”
“Look, I’d do it for just the experience,” Fayette said, taking another step forward. She brought her broom back readying it for a blow. “Only reason I need really, simple and easy, so just stay still and—”
“Wait, Fay,” Mireille said, and held up a hand, blocking her advance.
Fayette stopped. “What, are you saying we should spare him?”
The [Seamstress] scowled. “Of course not. It’s just—” She pointed at herself. “—I want experience too.”
Fayette stared.
Mireille held the gaze. She was putting on a calm front, but Fayette could see the subtle unsteadiness in her form.
“Are you sure you want to do it? Do you even need to do this for experience?” she asked her.
“I caught him, and I think it matters. So yes,” Mireille answered, turning to Marie. After a brief hesitation, the [Lady] nodded. Finally, Mireille turned to the man.
She looked at him, at the [Murderer] who had suddenly fallen very silent, and hesitated for just a moment, looking him in the eyes, judging.
Fayette knew she would not have hesitated.
Then Mireille nodded. “You confessed already. A [Murderer]. And you are high-level. I don’t know the details, did he kill many?”
“Many,” Olivia answered, looking over the proceedings. “Not all have been found yet.”
The [Seamstress] nodded. “Then this is easy to judge. Traditional.”
The [Murderer] started to speak “Wait, I can—”
Mireille pulled on a thread, and a loop tightened around his neck. “The hangman’s rope.” She tugged at another, and the other strings were released, and the man dropped, staying up only by his neck.
No longer calm. Finally, he was panicking, eyes flailing wildly as he grasped at his neck. But it was sturdy as iron.
Mireille looked for a dozen seconds as his face grew redder and his arms weaker, then turned, a grimace on her face, and walked out the room. The doors were no longer blocked. Olivia also followed her out, muttering something about spoilt food.
Fayette stayed until the end. Until the man’s body stopped moving. So did Marie. The [Lady] watched too, though her face was uneasy. She wasn’t enjoying it.
Fayette found that… she really didn’t care at all. Why even bother with this judging and ceremony? He was just something to be cleaned away. Not something for [Maids] to think about.
[Great Job! Get that Trash! More more more!]
[Progress towards next level: 80%]
Right, I did get a bunch at the end of all that too. So close…
Fayette made a celebratory fist, smiled, then turned to Marie, and—
But the [Lady] wasn’t smiling. She was still looking at the motionless body, face just a bit green. Fayette tapped her on the shoulder, and Marie jumped.
“Hey, you okay?” The [Maid] asked, slow and calming.
Marie paused for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s nothing big. Still feeling a bit unsteady. Backlash is nasty. But—“ She looked back to the body, “—I hope I never get used to this.”
“Why do you watch if you don’t like it?”
“Because it is a [Lady’s] duty,” Marie said, and in that moment, there was strength in her eyes. “So often, we give the order to be carried out. To give out the order—that means we judge too. Decide who lives and dies. I think we should see the result too.”
Fayette started to respond—need something encouraging—
And then the ache in her class was back.
Stronger than ever.
She stumbled, looked away from Marie, taking a step back. No, not her. Why now?
“Hey, what was that?” The [Lady] asked, taking a step forward.
Fayette let the hand touch her shoulder, let it steady her feet, and then let out a sigh of relief. It’s gone. Just a momentary lapse. But why—?
She looked up, at the concern on Marie’s face. Need an excuse.
“It’s just—we have two bodies to deal with now. Can’t really leave them here can we?”
Marie jolted, suddenly realizing she had a hand on the [Maid], and took two rapid steps back. “Oh—um—just that. Right.” She turned, looking down at the [Chef] with a smashed-in head. “Yes, it might be bad if we leave these here. What should we—?”
Fayette relaxed, an idea coming to her. Right. Hadn’t this all started at the swamp, when she had seen something familiar?
“I think I have an idea…”
zechamp
This whole scenario is based on a real, historical murder case. Google the chapter name for more info. Wild stuff. Beware the Innkeeper.
Also, some top soldiers in my discord cooked up some ai images for me. I am sorry.
Discord: https://discord.gg/7VAe483QfP
…and then we come to the role of the church. Their role is a necessity, of course, to guide and oversee. Classes like [Murderers], [Criminals], and [Villains] have to be curtailed, and that’s not even taking into account the truly sinister plague and disease classes… But I digress. Is the Chruch not overstepping its bounds? Directing instead of guiding? Perhaps even causing harm. Forcing someone into an unsuitable class has many times led to the person taking on a darker path in their leveling, as can be seen in the case of the famous…
-Excerpt from Friend of the people, vol. 15, by P. Marat
—
The inn stood silent and dark, a tomb under fading sunlight. The wind rattled at the windows in a growing gale, with some of the draft managing to get through the loose boards of the wall, which sent a chill through everyone inside. The floorboards creaked eerily.
Marie sneezed.
“Achoo!”
Mireille jolted up in her seat, eyes going to the [Lady].
“Sorry,” Marie said. Didn't want to interrupt her.
They were sitting in the inn’s common room, a wide place with two long tables laid out inside. Mireille was working on new clothes, sitting near the outer windows with a blanket in her lap while Marie was just... waiting. Opposite her. Food was due soon.
The [Seamstress] checked over her needlework. “Ah—don’t worry about it. This isn’t a sensitive part, a few missed prods won’t matter much.”
Marie felt relieved and let out a held breath. “I’m glad. Would hate to ruin your work.”
Mireille put her needles down on the table, looking out of the window. It was starting to get dark outside. “Are you really feeling that cold? Would be a shame for you to catch the flu now.”
The [Lady] paused for a second—do I? No, not really—then shook her head. “I doubt I’ll get anything—I haven’t gotten sick once since I received [Picture of Health].”
The [Seamstress] sighed. “Your skills really do feel a bit unfair, you know. Still, you really aren’t cold? At al?”
“Well—a bit,” Marie admitted. They were right by the window, and the frame wasn’t that airtight. She turned her head, looking at the other side of the common room, towards the kitchen where the nice [Chef] woman was preparing the stew. “I think the stew will warm me up enough though—you don’t need to bother.”
Mireille quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I would be glad to give you a blanket. Or is it just that… you don’t want to receive a cloak or blanket from me?”
Marie looked back. “W-what are you implying there?”
“Please, don’t try that with me,” Mireille said, snorting. She waved an arrogant hand, waving away all objections before they even came. “You are being really obvious. Stammering like that at a little handkerchief attention…”
Handkerchief attention? She noticed that? The [Lady’s] cheeks reddened. “It’s not like that! I was just… exhausted in the morning. Don’t imply I’m a creep or anything.”
Mireille snorted. “I don’t care about stuff like that. Just spare me the excuses. It’s fun to watch you struggle.”
Watch me what now? Marie froze in place, staring. “Me, struggle?”
“We’re not all blockheads you know,” Mireille said, tapping her head. “But that one… you’ll need to be a lot less subtle.”
The [Lady’s] face fell to the table with a thud, and only a whimper left her. Yeah… this isn’t really going anywhere, is it? “Uuuuu—what am I going to do?”
Mireille hesitated, started to respond—
And then the door opened, and a delicious scent filled the space.
Both women raised their heads up, towards the now-open kitchen door, and felt hunger pangs. A smiling [Chef], a woman in her mid-thirties with her hair tied up and a relaxed smile, stepped inside, carrying a large pot of stew.
“I’m finally finished. Are you going to wait for your friends to come?” she said, kicking the door closed behind her.
Marie and Mireille looked at each other, an instant communication passing between them. They turned back.
“We’re fine starting early.” They said, synchronized by hunger.
The other door opened, and the [Innkeeper] stepped inside, carrying bowls. “I told you the wait would be worth it—if there’s one thing I’m sure of in life—my wife can cook.”
At least based on the smell, Marie agreed. “I look forward to it,” she said, giving a polite bow.
The man smiled, then set bowls in front of Mireille and Marie, then one for himself, at the end of the table. His wife set the pot in the middle of them, used a ladle to give everyone a serving, brushed sweat from her brow, then turned back.
“I’ve still got to finish one dish, so I’ll be back in just a bit!”
There’s going to be more food? Marie looked at the generous helping of stew in her own bowl and felt it would be quite enough on its own. It looked meaty. Lots of juicy chunks floated inside, cooked just right. The stew itself had a rich aroma, and the potatoes and other vegetables inside sealed the deal.
She took her spoon in hand, scooped a good spoonful in it, making sure she got a nice big chunk of meat in it, then brought it to her mouth. Before eating, she took a moment to just enjoy the aroma. Hmm, even my Family’s [chefs] rarely made stuff this appetizing. What’s the secret?
Anticipation building, she brought the spoonful to her mouth—
Then the door was smashed open. “Don’t touch that soup!” Came a [Doctor’s] orders, as Olivia jumped inside, body poised to jump and boots filthy from mud. Fayette followed her in, skirts also wet from mud, and looked in Marie’s direction.
The [Maid] made a quick hand-signal, covering her mouth, and nodded at Marie. She needs me to use [Control Conversation]?
Marie activated it, kept her mouth low to the table, then spoke a quick word. “What?”
The [Maid] kept a hand in front of her mouth, then nodded to the side, towards the [Innkeeper] who was staring with surprise. “[Appraise] him. Fast. And be ready for a fight. [Murderer] somewhere nearby.”
Marie tensed, felt out at her power source to make sure her magic would be ready, then looked at the man. It was a gross violation of privacy, but if Fayette was like this… she used the skill, and the man suddenly shivered as an invasive cold wave went through his body. Information came to the [Lady’s] mind.
[Innkeeper of Lonely hHarths — level 25]
He tensed along with everyone else, staring at Marie. The [Lady] looked around the room, then relaxed her tensed muscles. “Sorry mister—maybe my friend made a mistake.”
Everyone relaxed, and Marie sneezed again, covering her mouth.
A fake sneeze this time, she quietly spoke to only allies. “Not yet. Just a moment…”
I’ve been fooled once before—the wait period is not too long…
She took the hand off, smiled gently at the man, and gave him a small bow. “Pardon my rudeness.”
He leaned back in his chair, spoon in hand. “Ah—don’t worry about it. There have been dark rumours…”
Marie nodded, bringing the spoon back to her mouth. Waiting. Just a moment more—for the cooldown—
Then she used [Appraise] again and the [Innkeeper] shivered, more this time.
[Innkeeper of Eternal Rest — level ??]
And then everything rushed to motion. The [Innkeeper’s] face hadn’t changed, but his eyes…
Something was appearing by him, dark spectral figures. Then, the windows slammed shut one by one, and the room’s doors disappeared. Not good. Nobody was quite by the man, and he was on his feet, getting up and reaching for something—
Marie reached for that one ability, the best way to buy time.
“[Elegant Tea Party]”
—
Her hunch had been right.
Fayette gripped her broom tight as she looked around the room. Everyone had frozen in place—activating a capstone skill tended to do that.
That short moment, when everyone was waiting for something—a reaction. The [Innkeeper] most of all. He was very carefully standing in place, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.
Nobody moved.
Silence. Silence dragged on and on—only the wind giving instrumentation as it rattled at the windows. And then it was broken.
A chair slowly being dragged over the wooden flooring. Then being slammed into place in one violent motion. It cracked onto the floor loudly, and as Fayette instinctively glanced at it for a split instant, the [Innkeeper’s], face shifted. When she looked back, there was no more carefree smile, nor a nervous readiness—just a vicious sneer.
Then he sat down onto that chair and started laughing.
“Ah—etiquette. I feel it. A skill like this, I've only seen it once. Not against me, no—a [Lady] stopped a fight that was about to erupt. I remember marveling at that feeling. Such power. To adjust... Force others to stop—to bend them to your will.”
His eyes shone “True power.”
Fayette just stared. At the man whose veil had been ripped off so fast. But he did not seem bothered in the least. If anything, he was the most at ease out of everyone in the room. Utterly confident—an [Innkeeper] inside his inn.
But not just an [Innkeeper]—a [Murderer].
It had been quick for her and Olivia to figure out. Nobody from town missing, but there was still a steady stream of victims. Travelers. And where did travelers stay in these corners? At what place did all travelers gather? Where would it be easiest to catch travelers unaware, then dispose of them quietly?
The inn.
Still, speculating was one thing, and seeing it confirmed another. Olivia’s glare was dark, Mireille was frozen, eyes wide, and Fayette felt her skin crawling. A [Murderer]. One of the foulest things she could imagine… And she had just been right next to him, even leaving Mireille and Marie here?
She gripped her broom tighter. I can handle this. Just another piece of trash corrupting this world.
But just how should they handle this? In that brief instant, she had sensed him activate something. Phantasmal figures had appeared by him. How dangerous was he? And his wife was also somewhere nearby… Would the [Elegant Tea Party] help?
Can we get him angry? To break etiquette?
Fayette turned, and Marie nodded at her. At least she was safe—can she get him mad?
The [Lady] turned, then spoke, not even looking at the man. Her voice dripped venom. “[Innkeeper of Eternal Rest]. I don't know his level. But that class... There is no doubt about it.”
He nodded calmly, a confident smile on his face. “Yes, you are correct.” A simple admission. No hesitation. No backpaddling he was just… at ease.
Fayette felt it was too much. Why is he so smug? “You have no shame for what you are?” she asked, glaring.
He quirked up an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face as he turned to her. “You, out of all of you, ask that question, [Maid]?” he winked. “I know my kin. We’re not that different, who are you to judge me?”
Those words… Judging—Fayette tried to deny them—but found she couldn’t speak. Me? Like a [Murderer]? It unsettled and outraged her—but she couldn’t get the words out. Something held them back.
But Marie was not silenced. She scoffed, outraged. “Really? The ‘we’re not so different, are we’—cliché talk? Really? Think of something better.”
He chuckled, turning back forward as he put a spoon into his bowl. “What’s wrong with the truth? Yes, you have discovered my nature, sadly. Very inconvenient for us all. I had no ill designs for you, you know? I’m not a fool.”
The [Innkeeper] looked around the room, giving everyone a polite nod. “I can see you are important people. I wouldn’t have done anything to you, had you not done this. Really, I don’t understand why my kin are ostracized so—killing for power and levels is the way of the world, is it not?”
Fayette still couldn’t speak, but… she had to do something. Face grim, she used [Dry Laundry] on the hems of her dress, getting the wetness of the mud out. The stains still remained, which was annoying, but it was a bit better. She approached the table.
Etiquette—she could help. There was a skill active. She would do what she could.
Silently, she took out a cup of tea, placed it in front of Marie, and started filling it. The [Lady] looked up, and met her eyes briefly. She had a piece of chalk in hand, and a sneaky vine of magic was extending out of her sleeve.
She also saw the silent plea on Fayette’s face. Tell him, please.
Marie nodded, took the cup, and turned back to the [Murderer]. He was just watching it all. Calm, but wary. His eyes never relaxed, even if the rest of his body did. Still waiting.
“It’s pretty obvious why your kin are reviled, you know,” Marie said, lacing her voice with scorn. “You kill the innocent, all in a perversion for levels. A backstab in the dark after breaking bread. No honour.”
He let the words wash past him, unruffled. A smile tugged at the man’s lips as he nodded up, at Fayette. “Really now? Has your friend there only killed those truly deserving of it, then? Has she ever used deception to kill?” He saw the answer in how Fayette froze in place and shook his head. “Ah—tut tut. Always so eager to lecture and preach, your type.”
Olivia was circling to his side, and Mireille was keeping her hands below the table, doing something. Just needed to buy a more time. But why is he so confident?
The [Innkeeper] smiled wide, then took a spoonful of the soup into his mouth and gulped it down. Fayette felt her stomach drop. What is in that? She looked Olivia’s way, and the [Doctor] shook her head. Guess I don’t want to know.
The man wiped some spilled soup off his lips, then chuckled. “Really, you should consider what I do a public service. I am pretty high up in levels, which makes me an asset to the country. And besides, I don’t kill randomly. There are many [Vagrants], [Beggars] and [Vagabonds] out these days—costing everyone money and resources. I just—” he looked at the [Maid], winking knowingly. “—clean out the trash.”
Those words shook her, and she froze in place. It was just a provocation, but something about them… No—that is… different. I don’t just—
The [Murderer] smiled, turning his gaze to the [Lady]. He gestured at the soup in front of her. “Now, I’ve taken the first spoonful, so why are you all hesitating? I am providing you hearth, home and food. Not accepting it would be rude, don’t you think? Breaking hospitality....”
Marie looked down at the soup and covered her mouth—grimacing.
Except she didn’t. The [Lady] quietly used [Control Conversation], and her allies heard her words. “This isn’t working. I have to stop the skill, or I’ll take even more backlash. Be ready.”
Fayette finally unfroze, forcing the man’s words out of her mind. She gripped her broom and looked around the room, taking quick steps forward. He can talk all he wants, but the end result won’t change.
Fayette started to circle the table slowly, and Olivia was doing likewise on the other side. The [Murderer] rose up from his seat, and reached forward for the soup pot. “Hey—no rudeness here. In fact, I’ll give you a bigger serving—”
The skill ended.
Fayette lunged.
The [Murderer] flung the pot of hot soup at Olivia, then jumped back and spoke. “[Sweet Dreams.]”
Something dark appeared in front of her, and Fayette—blinked.
Something…
Dark…
Fayette blinked herself awake. She was still standing, right there, it had been only a moment—did I just—
A chair was flying at her.
She ducked low, and it flew above, clattering into a wall. Her eyes raced forward, searching for her target. The [Innkeeper]. He was retreating—backing up into the room’s furthest corner, but around him—
Fayette blinked. Ghosts? Seriously, damned ghosts? No, the skill was about dreams… these are—
Nightmares.
Dark, phantasmal shadows were materializing around the [Murderer], the last dreams of those condemned to eternal rest. Coiling tentacles spread out, a goopy, fleshy form was dripping bits of itself all over the place, an enormous spider—
That made rage fill the [Maid’s] heart, and she snapped out of the revery, jumping forward. She whipped forward with her broom, swatting at the spider which hissed, eight legs spreading out—
And the broom went right through the form.
It hit the [Innkeeper] on the shoulder, and he stumbled back, cursing. But the spider-ghost prodded forward. A limb reached for her faster than she could block, and she started to…
feel…
sleepy…
Fayette smacked herself on the head with the broom and jumped back, jolting awake. She glared at the ghastly forms, which were still holding position around the [Innkeeper]. “This ability is bullshit.”
The [Murderer] was wiping blood from his shoulder blade, wincing. He gave her a malevolent glare, then nodded at his assembled creations. “Forward.”
The dark forms all shambled forward, and Fayette turned back. The others—what are they…?
Olivia was fighting the… soup? The [Maid] stopped for just a half-second to stare as the [Doctor] sliced carrots and wiggling bits of meat that were flying at her. Right. The wife. There was a [Chef] too—of course.
Mireille was by the back wall, Char on her shoulder, doing something with near-invisible spiderwebs. Marie was next to her—drawing a quick symbol on the wall. She finished and a cupboard appeared on the wall, and she turned towards the others. “To me!”
Fayette didn’t need the encouragement.
She ran back, spectral figures right at her back, and turned at the wall to face them, Olivia arriving by her side too. Fayette readied her broom for a hit, timing it just as the giant tentacle reached out, then—
It never came.
All the nightmares stopped in place, crashing against something, like there was an invisible barrier there. Fayette stared.
Marie giggled nervously, keeping her hand back at the [Hidden Cupboard’s] handle. “I-it worked. Yay—lucky.”
She had a slight nosebleed and stood unsteady. Backlash? Did we break etiquette too much? But this…
“What did you do?” Fayette asked, still keeping her broom ready. The nightmares were prodding at the barrier, but it did nothing. Then a sausage flew through, and Olivia sliced it with her scalpel.
“His ability only works in his inn,” Marie said, taking deep breaths. She looked at the sausage, now wiggling at her feet. “[Saints], I almost ate that. But. Yes. This is my cupboard, not his, and I guess that works out? Claim and all that.”
Fayette nodded. “...That sort of makes sense.”
Then the nightmares flickered, as a chair flew through them, high speed. She got her broom in both hand, steadying it, and blocked it, shunting it away. Then another came. Fayette cursed. “It’s not saving us! He’s going to keep throwing stuff at us! Can you make it bigger? Anybody, you got anything?”
“Give me a minute,” Mireille said, eyes closed.
“I need to get close,” Olivia said. She was eyeing the food on the ground suspiciously.
Then the [Murderer] laughed. Fayette could hear him moving, behind the barrier of nightmares. Not out of the room, but behind the—table?
Right, I should—
Fayette called forks and knives into her hands with [Cutlery Control], then sent them out at the laughter. They thunked against wood. Damn, too slow, he took cover. Should I spice him up? But there’s a [Chef] messing with food…
Too risky.
A spray of hot soup flew out next, and Olivia hissed as it hit her skin.
“Enjoy your cupboard!” A scornful voice sneered from behind the nightmares. “My [Poltergeist] won’t run out! How long can you keep this up?”
Then another chair flew in, and this time, Fayette tried to grab it from mid-air. If I take all his ammunition…
It hit her ready hands hard, and she felt the crash against her bones, and fell back, falling against the wall. Her back hit it hard, then the chair flew out of her hand, and flew back.
“Ow!”
“Do you need the boon?” Marie asked, giving Fayette a hand. The [Maid] took it but shook her head as she got back up.
“Save it. But—this sanctuary you made—it’s about claiming territory from him, right?”
Marie nodded, steadying the [Maid] onto her feet with both hands. “Yes—do you have an idea?”
Fayette looked over the room. Her view was blocked by the nightmares crowded around them, but she could just about make out spilled soup on the floor under them. And quite a bit of dust.
She took a step forward, and Marie let go. “I think I do.”
Because her skill was a type of claim too.
She reached out mentally, for that well of power. [So Fresh, So Clean]. Alright, skill—let’s do this.
Another careful step forward, closer to the nightmares, but staying just out of their range. The wall of tentacles, spider limbs, and eyeballs hissed at her, but she wasn’t swayed.
She had never really had nightmares.
Carefully, she reached out with her broom, made sure her capstone was ready and waiting—
And swept some bits of potato further away, into a little pile.
The monsters were shoved back a half step.
A chair flew at her.
Fayette smiled. Cleaning the battlefield—she was in a way claiming it. A [Maid’s] work.
She dodged the chair and heard a curse behind her as it hit Olivia. Another step forward, then she used [Sweep Dust]. Grime and spilt soup was sent further away, and the nightmares fell back again.
For a moment, she saw the [Innkeeper] through them, and he was no longer smiling. He reached into a cupboard, and took up a frying pan into one hand, and a knife into the other, falling into a stance.
Is that [Tavern Brawling]?
“Keep him off me!” Fayette shouted, and ducked down, dodging the frying pan as it flew at her head.
Olivia stepped behind her to guard, scalpel ready, and Fayette began running forward. Cleaning.
She first made a wide sweep to her left, which cleared a swathe of space for Olivia to work with, then started cleaning to the right. Dusty spots were easiest, so she focused on those, ignoring the bits of spilled soup around. Every swipe cleared off more of the floor, and the nightmares were steadily pushed back against an expanding wall.
They were being split apart.
Fayette got to the opposite wall, and with that—the room was split in two by a swathe of clean floor. Her broom was starting to gather energy, and she had to duck another chair.
Olivia was fighting the man, a clash of knives and pans, and Marie was sagged against their safe spot, still weak, but keeping an eye out. And Mireille was still doing something.
Fayette picked the chair up, put it back in a spot neatly, and claimed a bubble of space around it. Then it flew back at her again.
Damn. She kicked it, getting distance, and it lost the power for a moment. Do I have to hit it to stop the effect? But seems they are no good. Now—
She surveyed the room again. Nightmares split onto the two sides. Let’s clear one side first.
Fayette quickly swapped to her mop and got to work on the side where the [Murderer] couldn’t interfere. The nightmares were right by her, just an arm’s length away—but her cleaning was keeping them just out of reach.
She mopped up spilled soup, getting nearer to the tables, and bent to mop under it—
Then three bowls of soup hopped off the table and flew at her.
She sensed them with her [Dustsense], some change in the air, and jumped back to dodge—just managing to get out of the way.
The boiling-hot soup spilled behind and in front of her, just missing her by an inch. Fayette breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the monstrous forms advanced, no longer blocked, reaching out from three sides.
No! It spoiled my cleaning!
Cursing, she jumped back, but a coiling tentacle was faster and gripped her arm, and she…
started…
to…
fade…
Suddenly, a pinch from her uniform. Fayette jolted back to awareness, and jumped back behind her barrier of cleaning.
She was panting—that was too close! What was tha—?
Looking at her uniform, she saw it relax from the constriction it had done, and a long thread attached to it, going back to—Mireille, of course.
The [Seamstress] still had her eyes closed, standing next to Marie, but Fayette could just barely make out tiny threads spreading out from her fingers. Thanks for the save.
Still, the flying soup was an inconvenience, as it messed with her cleaning. But...
She was faster. She looked over the room. There really wasn't that much space. I don’t really have to get things perfect right now, do I?
Fayette swapped back to her broom, deciding to ignore everything it couldn’t clear. Just the dust should be enough to corner him.
She moved back to the side Olivia and the [Murderer] were fighting on. He was jumping in and out from behind his barrier of nightmares, trying to disturb the cleaning. Fayette moved in, [Sweep Dust] ready.
It was fast. Focusing only on dust she could sense, she cleared out large swathes of space, gradually driving the nightmares against walls as her skill claimed their space. She had to dodge frying pans, more soup, chairs, and even knives, but [Dangersense] and a subtle Waltz in her steps helped her dodge.
And as she dodged the pans and knives, she caught them, then she sorted them back to their places.
More territory claimed.
Quickly, most of the nightmares on this side were squeezed against walls, and she started cleaning against the walls, following them.
And the forms vanished when they ran out of space.
Her broom was feeling pretty powerful by now.
Fayette turned around and looked over the fight for a moment. Olivia was fighting defensively, taking her time. And the [Innkeeper] was looking around desperately. Mireille looked back at the [Maid] and nodded. Whatever she’s done, it’s ready.
They had managed to close off his paths of retreat. He only had a small bit of free territory around him
It’s time.
Fayette pointed her broom forward. “Everyone, all at once—get him!”
And she ran forward, following the wall and using [Sweep Dust] ahead of her on all the room’s dusty corners.
Mireille jumped forward, throwing out needles, and the [Innkeeper] dodged back, shielding his face with a frying pan. He retreated behind his wall of nightmares, but Mireille kept up the barrage, and Olivia joined in too, throwing vials of… something?
And Fayette was circling behind.
He can’t both shield his front and guard his back at once.
There was a wall of nightmares in front of her, but they were being pushed back with every one of her steps, and she could hear the [Murderer] already, just ahead of her. He was cursing.
She rounded the last corner, the [Innkeeper] just ahead. She brought her broom back, ready for a clean hit.
Then a panicked Marie shouted in her ear.
“Behind!”
Fayette spun around and saw that a dark-haired woman with an apron had slid out of a panel in the wall, knife in hand. Right behind her. Oh yeah, the [Chef].
The woman grinned ominously, and her flesh started bulging out as countless arms and fingers started growing out in an expanding forest.
“[I Am What I Ea—”
Fayette finished her spin, brought her broom with her in a half circle, and unleashed it on her head. Also a valid target, if less so.
“[So Fresh, So Clean.]”
A flash of blue, and her head caved in, a dome impression on it. A loud crack, like splitting wood, and a spray of blood on the wall. She fell down to the ground. Dead.
Fayette breathed out. I am not dealing with whatever that skill was.
But her skill was used.
She spun back around—how was the [Murderer]—?
Trapped. The nightmares were all gone, and the man was caught in a web, a victorious [Seamstress] waving a needle at his face. “Careful where you back up mister—really shouldn’t lose focus.”
Fayette relaxed. It’s done.
He was trapped against the wall in a web of threads, eyes wild. The thud from Fayette’s broom had alerted him, but he only looked at his dead wife for a second, and then his face calmed. His eyes relaxed.
As if he wasn’t cornered. As if he was still in control.
Fayette couldn’t help but feel shivers. We are still inside his inn…
The man looked over them quickly, licking his lips, finally turning his eyes to Marie, the [Lady]. “Nobody will believe you.”
She stopped approaching him, gait still unsteady, giving him a look of disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
He was smiling again. “The villagers know me—my reputation is good. They won’t judge me. You are vagrants, suspicious individuals. Once you try to tell them—”
“I don’t judge,” Fayette said, walking closer. She held out her broom, and the [Murderer] paled just a bit at the pieces of skull lodged in the wooden shaft. “I’m a [Maid]. I just clean. No need to ask questions or anything more.”
He licked his lips. “If you kill me—”
“Look, I’d do it for just the experience,” Fayette said, taking another step forward. She brought her broom back readying it for a blow. “Only reason I need really, simple and easy, so just stay still and—”
“Wait, Fay,” Mireille said, and held up a hand, blocking her advance.
Fayette stopped. “What, are you saying we should spare him?”
The [Seamstress] scowled. “Of course not. It’s just—” She pointed at herself. “—I want experience too.”
Fayette stared.
Mireille held the gaze. She was putting on a calm front, but Fayette could see the subtle unsteadiness in her form.
“Are you sure you want to do it? Do you even need to do this for experience?” she asked her.
“I caught him, and I think it matters. So yes,” Mireille answered, turning to Marie. After a brief hesitation, the [Lady] nodded. Finally, Mireille turned to the man.
She looked at him, at the [Murderer] who had suddenly fallen very silent, and hesitated for just a moment, looking him in the eyes, judging.
Fayette knew she would not have hesitated.
Then Mireille nodded. “You confessed already. A [Murderer]. And you are high-level. I don’t know the details, did he kill many?”
“Many,” Olivia answered, looking over the proceedings. “Not all have been found yet.”
The [Seamstress] nodded. “Then this is easy to judge. Traditional.”
The [Murderer] started to speak “Wait, I can—”
Mireille pulled on a thread, and a loop tightened around his neck. “The hangman’s rope.” She tugged at another, and the other strings were released, and the man dropped, staying up only by his neck.
No longer calm. Finally, he was panicking, eyes flailing wildly as he grasped at his neck. But it was sturdy as iron.
Mireille looked for a dozen seconds as his face grew redder and his arms weaker, then turned, a grimace on her face, and walked out the room. The doors were no longer blocked. Olivia also followed her out, muttering something about spoilt food.
Fayette stayed until the end. Until the man’s body stopped moving. So did Marie. The [Lady] watched too, though her face was uneasy. She wasn’t enjoying it.
Fayette found that… she really didn’t care at all. Why even bother with this judging and ceremony? He was just something to be cleaned away. Not something for [Maids] to think about.
[Great Job! Get that Trash! More more more!]
[Progress towards next level: 80%]
Right, I did get a bunch at the end of all that too. So close…
Fayette made a celebratory fist, smiled, then turned to Marie, and—
But the [Lady] wasn’t smiling. She was still looking at the motionless body, face just a bit green. Fayette tapped her on the shoulder, and Marie jumped.
“Hey, you okay?” The [Maid] asked, slow and calming.
Marie paused for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s nothing big. Still feeling a bit unsteady. Backlash is nasty. But—“ She looked back to the body, “—I hope I never get used to this.”
“Why do you watch if you don’t like it?”
“Because it is a [Lady’s] duty,” Marie said, and in that moment, there was strength in her eyes. “So often, we give the order to be carried out. To give out the order—that means we judge too. Decide who lives and dies. I think we should see the result too.”
Fayette started to respond—need something encouraging—
And then the ache in her class was back.
Stronger than ever.
She stumbled, looked away from Marie, taking a step back. No, not her. Why now?
“Hey, what was that?” The [Lady] asked, taking a step forward.
Fayette let the hand touch her shoulder, let it steady her feet, and then let out a sigh of relief. It’s gone. Just a momentary lapse. But why—?
She looked up, at the concern on Marie’s face. Need an excuse.
“It’s just—we have two bodies to deal with now. Can’t really leave them here can we?”
Marie jolted, suddenly realizing she had a hand on the [Maid], and took two rapid steps back. “Oh—um—just that. Right.” She turned, looking down at the [Chef] with a smashed-in head. “Yes, it might be bad if we leave these here. What should we—?”
Fayette relaxed, an idea coming to her. Right. Hadn’t this all started at the swamp, when she had seen something familiar?
“I think I have an idea…”
zechamp
This whole scenario is based on a real, historical murder case. Google the chapter name for more info. Wild stuff. Beware the Innkeeper.
Also, some top soldiers in my discord cooked up some ai images for me. I am sorry.
Discord: https://discord.gg/7VAe483QfP
