Mireille stared at her shaking hands, willing them to calm. And they did, just for a moment, long enough for her to do one quick stitch, connecting another torn bit of Fayette’s muscle together.
Marie, who was holding the still-unconscious [Maid] in her lap, quivered a bit at the sight, but Olivia, standing next to Mireille, stayed calm. The [Doctor] let a drop of healing potion fall onto the spot, and the bits fused together. Mireille removed the thread, and then Olivia finished the job with a larger dose of potion on the spot.
The gaping wound healed one bit more. Only… quite a bit more to go.
So, they moved to the next bit, and Mireille’s hands were shaking again. It felt like the sun was making her hot and sweaty, but the wind across the clearing was making her cold and shivering at the same time.
Damn this! It’s just blood. Just blood. Fayette’s blood…
That visual certainly didn’t help her at all, and the shaking got worse. The [Seamstress] grew angrier and more unsteady until Olivia put an icy hand on her shoulder.
“Focus.”
And Mireille did. Her hand calmed. She managed another stitch, using her skills and delicate spider silk to make sure the connection was flawless and that the potion would heal things right.
“Hurry up over there!” One of the [Lord’s] men bellowed, and Mireille cursed under her breath. She spared one second to glance over at the [Lord], who was holding a salve-laced fabric to his own wound, sitting a bit away from them with his own group. Olivia had administered the salve so he would have time to wait, which was part of the deal. But Fayette first.
Still, it wasn’t the sight of the [Lord] that really soured Mireille’s thoughts, but rather what lay beside him. Armour. Gleaming, magic-enhanced, metallic armor, which had made most of Fayette’s strikes meaningless.
And she turned back, looking at her friend, so much frailer now, collapsed like that. Wearing only a [Maid’s] uniform. Sure, she had a skill to enhance it, but if that failed, then what? Mireille had made this particular uniform herself, even tried to reinforce it some, and seeing how easily the [Lord] had cut through it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Almost as bitter as Olivia’s. The [Lord] really hadn’t liked eating one, which at least made her feel a bit better.
Another stitch, another drop of potion, and more healing. Marie was staring, eyes red, as if willing them to go faster. But she kept quiet, letting the two do their work.
And Mireille’s thoughts ran on.
Armour—that was what they were really missing. None of their party were the type to really don a suit of metal, but frail dresses were hardly sufficient. Even if they were reinforced a bit here and there.
Mireille’s own clothing had been taken the furthest, with bits of leather padding being hidden here and there, all over. Especially on the bosom. She had added that bit in after Marie joined them, just so the contrast wouldn’t be as bad when they stood side-by-side.
But leather was leather, and she couldn’t really work that well with it, and besides, Fayette had refused to have any added to her own uniform. Went against the [Maid Code] or something. Idiocy. But… Mireille thought of the spider sleeping in her pack, growing rapidly. Starting to produce thread.
More stitches done, more potion, and the progress in the operation sped up.
Mireille noticed her stitching had grown calm and consistent, hands no longer shaking. Planning and thinking things over always did that. It made her feel in control. Even if the plans rarely worked out well in practice.
Which means I need to think things further. How can I improve this? Was spider silk alone enough to jump the gap? She remembered how the [Lord’s] armor had reacted to Fayette’s blow, a magic gem absorbing the impact. The work of an [Artificer].
She had learned a bit from Marie about how those things worked. You didn’t need magic of your own, just the right monster cores and a lot of experimentation. So… Could I do that too? What kind of class would I need for it?
How would it work together with her new spider companion?
Her hands were now a blur, stitching with confidence as if they were working from a precise design.
A design Mireille could almost see in her head. In her thinking, you had to approach a class like you would approach assembling an outfit. You needed little bits and pieces, things that would not necessarily fit together when separate, but when put together… they had a theme—forming something cohesive.
In this case, those bits and pieces were all the achievements she had made so far in her adventure. But they had led to the wrong theme so far—the uncommon class they had first offered her. A [Makeshift Seamstress]. Not sturdy enough for her.
What theme could she craft?
Spidersilk, beavermonkey pelts, fighting with her tools, everything else… that was what she had now. And although she did not have the chance yet, she wanted the potential for more. [Artificer] type stuff. Monster cores. What did all those things share? What did she need to make it cohesive, to make sure she would be offered the appropriate class on her next level?
Then, as she pulled the last stitch on the wound together, repairing the skin to how it should be, she finally found her answer, and her hands moved firm and sure.
A hunter, that was what she had become. And the theme… it would be using materials that she had gathered, hunted, or—she thought of her spider—captured? As long as I do it myself, it should fit in.
It felt right. And the potential felt like it was there. A class born from such a theme… the potential would only be limited by what she could gather.
She stood up from Fayette, moving back, and let the [Doctor] handle the rest of it, closing her eyes to focus. It would take some research before she could do anything with monster cores, proper magic stuff, but a class like that would hold the potential. And she was working in the right direction now—she only needed a few more nudges…
And her outfit, her theme, would be complete.
[Great work stitching up that nasty wound!]
[Progress towards next level: 70%]
The sound jolted her back to reality, and her expression soured once more. Only a 15% increase from last time, despite this being her first real attempt at something like this, and the stakes being high.
Trying to level a common class in the uncommon realm really is unfair.
Mireille stared at Fayette, still unconscious in Marie’s arms, and for a moment, let herself feel jealous. About the experience of course, not whatever else was going on between the two.
Just how much did she get from that ordeal? Again a leveling opportunity with the [Lady]—I just bet she’s going to gloat about a new level when she wakes up!
But then she saw Marie’s eyes, still dripping with tears, and looking at the [Maid] with more emotion than Mireille could imagine, and she calmed. Because maybe Fayette did deserve the levels.
But still, Mireille did worry. Because Fayette was not like her, planning things in advance. She didn’t worry about carefully assembling a proper theme before heading forward. And Fayette… might be headed toward a somewhat concerning theme.
She tried to judge the sleeping form, imagine what the [Maid] really thought of everything that had happened so far. Because talking with her wasn’t as easy as it used to be these days. What did Fayette really want to become? Did she think about that at all?
It had been a slow shift, and Mireille had barely noticed it—but Fayette talked a lot less about herself these days. The way she looked at things was different. Something had subtly changed, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
But… Mireille let herself look at the [Lady’s] sincere face one more time, remembering how their last encounter with [Bandits] had gone.
Maybe this wasn’t her problem to solve.
She shook her head, then turned to Olivia, who was busy readying her tools for round two. “Right—let’s go do the [Lord].”
—
Marie was still in quite a bit of shock, holding Fayette’s head in her lap, blinking out tears.
Of course she was. Her eyes kept going to that spot where a sword had pierced through flesh, releasing a tide of blood. All for her sake. There was no wound there anymore—the potion had dealt with that, but the crimson had burned into her eyes a bit. She could still imagine it there.
“Please… be fine, won’t you? For my sake…”
It took only a moment, or maybe it was an eternity, but finally, Fayette stirred in her arms, groaning and blinking. Marie shifted position, helping the [Maid] up to a semi-sitting position. She wasn’t saying anything yet, just staring around, looking confused. Weak.
It was the first time Marie had ever seen any weakness in her, really. The [Maid] had always seemed so implacable, as if nothing in the world could shake her. It was odd, but the weirdest thing of all for her was Fayette’s hair, which was now all messed up and tangled, far from the neat bundle she usually kept it in.
As Fayette slowly stirred awake, Marie's hands found themselves idly combing through that hair, straightening it out, and the [Lady] really couldn’t deny the tingles it sent to her heart any longer. All of this… the sight of Fayette walking forward to confront the [Lord], the bloody duel—it was just too much. She had to admit it.
This was more than just a passing crush. Quite a bit more.
Fayette’s head bent back, and she looked up, eyes finally focusing on the moment. They met Marie’s and she gave a wan smile. “Oh, I didn’t bleed out. Nice.”
Marie couldn’t stop herself from letting out a giggle at that, but halfway it turned into a sob, and she bent her head down, evading those eyes. “Dummy. I told you not to risk things like that.”
“Well too late for that now. You’ll have to accept it. I do what I want.” Fayette answered, trying to lift herself up to her feet, coughing.
She got up for just a second, then wobbled, and fell right back down, back into Marie’s lap. The impact stung a bit, but not that much. There were better things to focus on.
Fayette tried to wiggle back up, so the [Lady] took hold of her hand, keeping her in place. “Hey—no moving about yet. [Doctor’s] orders.”
Fayette glared forward, not at Olivia, but at the [Lord] who was just starting his own treatment. “I swear if he’s still using that stupid slippery ground skill—”
Marie poked her in the nape. “You’re just weak, keep down for a bit. Just a bit more.”
Not just because the girl really needed it… but this felt nice too. A bit of calm after all that. Positions reversed a bit, supporting the [Maid] in turn when she herself had been supported so much.
Fayette kept staring at the man. And eventually spoke, quietly, just for her. “I didn’t really expect it to be that tough—honestly. The other times were just so much… simpler. But one-on-one like that… it’s just so different. I think he could’ve killed me.”
Marie went back to combing through her hair, and spoke in a whisper, making sure it carried with her skills. “But he didn’t, you won. You did great.”
Fayette looked up and met her eyes again, and grimaced. “But this wasn’t a real fight. I was weak—weaker than I thought. Haven’t been taking things seriously enough I think. If I had lost—”
Marie blocked her mouth off with a finger. “But you didn’t. It’s over.”
“Is it really?” Fayette asked, quietly, looking back at the [Lord]. “He’s just one guy. Not even a proper fighter I think, more of a leader-type, and I got… handled. There are so, so many more out there.”
And finally, the [Lord] noticed the gazes coming his way, and looked up from his surgery. And he smiled. As if he didn’t have a gaping hole in his shoulder. No—he just leisurely raised his other hand in a wave and nodded at them. Skill carried his voice over to them. “A fine fight, you have spirit, miss. I really was serious before, if you want to come work fo—”
Olivia suddenly stopped administering the potion and prodded a finger at the now half-open wound, and the [Lord] winced, quieting instantly.
The [Doctor’s] voice had an edge to it. “Remember our deal. You swore on your honor as a [Lord] to let these things go, you’re not coming after us anymore. I can smash this potion into the ground if you feel opposed.”
The [Guards] standing by his sides tensed, and Mireille looked around carefully, crouched by the man as she was. But the [Lord] waved his men down, face regretful. “No… I am a man of my word. I just thought that as she had just woke up—”
“Go to hell,” Fayette shouted, then coughed, and fell back against Marie's bosom.
The [Lord] grimaced, then looked up at Marie, apologetic. “Then I apologize. But I do accept my defeat here. I’ll get rid of my side of the marriage contract. Can’t do much about your family though.”
Olivia suddenly stared into the air for a moment, grimacing, then poked the [Lord] again, face returning to its calm. “Stop moving your hands.”
But Marie didn't hear Olivia's words really, nor watch the operation proceed.
Because.., with that declaration, a weight suddenly left Marie’s chest, a weight she hadn’t even realized she was still carrying. A marriage that had been looming so long… just gone.
Just like that.
She looked down, and couldn't help herself from tearing up a bit.
Fayette really had kept her promise, about beating off any challengers. Marie laughed for a moment, looking at the riverside clearing they were still in. The sky felt so much bluer now.
And with that weight gone, something else flooded into its place, and her heartbeat quickened, and Marie suddenly realized she really was hugging Fayette against her chest. It felt like every inch of contact was suddenly burning hot.
Marie gulped. Yes, she really couldn’t deny this much longer. But…
She looked down at Fayette, who was now watching Mireille work, oblivious of what Marie was feeling. The [Lady]… felt paralyzed by indecision. What should I do about this?
Feeling emotions was easy, but actually doing something about them…
She could still remember the first time.
She had been more girl than woman at the time, giggling as she listened to a rather talkative young [Maid] gossip about other families. Then they came to the subject of boys, and she… had realized that she felt different. Very different.
And she had told the [Maid] so, and she had received a push forward from her. Support. The courage to go tell that one pretty girl who came over to visit every-now-and-then that she rather liked her, in more than the normal way.
Big mistake. That friendship never did recover, did it?
And then, much later, eventually after mother just kept hinting and asking after her interests… She had told her too. That none of the prospective suitors interested her. Nor would they ever.
Bigger mistake. Mother was very clear about what was appropriate to be known in public. Marriage arrangements got rushed forward quite a bit after that one.
And so… as she looked at Fayette, again combing through her hair—Marie bit her lip. Hesitated. And slowly—pulled her hand back. More hesitation. It was just… so difficult.
It had taken a lot of effort from her to get Fayette to open up, even this much. And they were a [Maid] and a [Lady], and she knew Fayette felt odd about that. And they were girls. That was maybe the biggest obstacle. Because…
For just a moment, Marie let herself frown at Fayette’s back, trying to pierce through that head and peer directly into the mind within. Because the [Maid] wasn’t responding to any of the hints she kept dropping! You have to know, right? Right? Is it even possible?
Especially just now… That rule I quoted for the duel, to grant the boon… The favour of a [Lady]—It’s practically a direct confession! You read stories, right? You have to have understood that!
But Fayette remained as implacable as ever. And so, Marie hesitated, because she just wasn't sure, and it was too risky. But—she couldn’t really fool herself. Isn’t this just another excuse? To put things off? To not have to face them right now?
Right now—her heart roiling, it felt like too weak of an excuse. She really wanted to say something. But she could not. Need a stronger excuse.
Could she find one?
And then Olivia was walking back over, and Marie was pulled out of her thoughts, back to reality. She looked, and saw that the [Lord] and his men were already gathering their gear, and starting to walk off. A relief, to see the man finally gone, for good hopefully.
But she still tensed. Because the [Doctor] certainly wasn’t smiling.
The gloomy woman pointed a single finger at Fayette, looming ominously. “You.”
Fayette looked down at her apron, still rather stained, then looked back up. “Me?”
Olivia advanced a step. “Yes, you. You used some doses of healing potions back at the mines, right?”
Fayette nodded slowly. “Well—yes. Had to after the whole explosion thing. Is something wrong?”
“With the amount you had to use today, you’re nearing the limit. And we’re heading toward a magical plague.” Olivia looked up, nodding at Marie. “A body can only tolerate a certain amount of magic in a certain amount of time, as you should well know with your training.”
Marie gasped. “Is she risking mutations?”
Olivia shook her head. “Not yet—but it’s getting there. Slowly. So!” She pointed her finger back at Fayette. “For the next five weeks, no more healing potions!”
Fayette grimaced at that, but then nodded behind her, at Marie. Together, with the [Lady] supporting her, they both got back up onto their feet.
Fayette didn’t wobble. Carefully, she let go of Marie’s hands, and stood there, trying to look confident. “Okay… I guess I’ll have to be more careful then.” She shrugged.
Olivia frowned, looking at Fayette’s not-very-steady footing. “Darnation. Guess we’re not moving today. Think you can move tomorrow?”
The [Maid] rolled her shoulders around, then flexed her arms. Marie stared as hints of muscle showed against her sleeves, realized what she was doing, then turned her eyes back up.
“I think I’ll be fine. Just need some sleep. It’s not a long walk there, right?”
“Only a day or so from here,” Olivia answered, then sighed. “No helping it then—let’s see if we can find a place to stay for the night.”
Mireille took the moment to step in, finished with winding up her threads from the [Lord’s] operation. She nodded towards the town. “There’s only one inn here, and the [Lord’s] men were saying that they were leaving right away. Should be plenty of space for us.”
Fayette nodded at her. “Lead the way then.”
Mireille started walking back, and Fayette took a step to follow. And then stumbled.
And Marie caught her, supporting her by the shoulder. She smiled up at the frustrated-looking [Maid].
“Hey, just for today, let someone support you for a change, alright?”
Fayette grimaced... but didn’t push away the help. “Fine—guess there’s no helping it.”
Together, they took a step forward. And Marie realized that just this much was nice too. Having something to dream about made the day seem a lot brighter.
Yes, for now, this would do. They were heading off to a dangerous situation anyway, it wouldn’t do good to upset team balance with any strange talk right now.
This should be a good, working excuse. She could wait.
So, anxiety gone, her step felt lighter. As they walked through the thicket, Marie couldn’t help her eyes from always returning to the moody [Maid] by her side. Peeking glances here and there. She couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face either. “Hey, how about I try cooking for you for a change?”
Maybe that would be enough of a hint.
Fayette just looked exasperated at that, turning to her. “You, cooking? Why, with how messy you keep things, I can’t even imagine—”
And so they walked off, ready to rest after a long day, mood brightening with every step.
But not everyone went. Not quite yet. They didn’t notice it, preoccupied with the hero of the hour as they were, but only three were walking back to town.
Olivia had let herself fade into the shadows, waiting for the others to get far off enough. Because she needed a moment, just for herself.
Once the clearing was empty, the [Doctor] finally let her skills end, and appeared back into sight, sure that nobody could see her. Her face bore no smile.
For a moment, she let her eyes follow the river, still passing flowing along languidly by the clearing, and finally focused on the bridge—just a bit ahead. Then she followed the road from there, all the way to the horizon where it faded past a hill, just out of sight. She imagined the city beyond there, waiting.
A thunderhead passed by her face, and she sneered, gritting her teeth, and threw the black pill she had been holding onto the ground with all the force she could.
She wanted to—but she didn’t shout or curse, so she just stomped onto the pill until it was crushed to dust. Had to be discrete.
Then she stopped, and breathed heavily for a dozen seconds, and slowly, calmed her face again. Olivia looked down, grimaced at the remains of the pill smashed into the muddy ground, then bent down to gather it all back.
Because the contents could not risk discovery.
It took her a moment to gather it all, but by the time she was done, her face had returned to its normal, gloomy countenance. And then she started making her way back to town, cursing the [Lord] for delaying them one more day, and cursing him for one other thing too.
Yes, Mireille had not quite gotten enough experience for a new level… but Oliva had. Not just a level, but a new skill too. But… tucking the pill away into the deep pockets of her jacket, she muttered one last curse.
“Another one gone. Just like that. Damnation.”
Because unlike the others, whenever her class decided to grant her a new skill—
She never celebrated it.
zechamp
After this the final arc begins!
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Mireille stared at her shaking hands, willing them to calm. And they did, just for a moment, long enough for her to do one quick stitch, connecting another torn bit of Fayette’s muscle together.
Marie, who was holding the still-unconscious [Maid] in her lap, quivered a bit at the sight, but Olivia, standing next to Mireille, stayed calm. The [Doctor] let a drop of healing potion fall onto the spot, and the bits fused together. Mireille removed the thread, and then Olivia finished the job with a larger dose of potion on the spot.
The gaping wound healed one bit more. Only… quite a bit more to go.
So, they moved to the next bit, and Mireille’s hands were shaking again. It felt like the sun was making her hot and sweaty, but the wind across the clearing was making her cold and shivering at the same time.
Damn this! It’s just blood. Just blood. Fayette’s blood…
That visual certainly didn’t help her at all, and the shaking got worse. The [Seamstress] grew angrier and more unsteady until Olivia put an icy hand on her shoulder.
“Focus.”
And Mireille did. Her hand calmed. She managed another stitch, using her skills and delicate spider silk to make sure the connection was flawless and that the potion would heal things right.
“Hurry up over there!” One of the [Lord’s] men bellowed, and Mireille cursed under her breath. She spared one second to glance over at the [Lord], who was holding a salve-laced fabric to his own wound, sitting a bit away from them with his own group. Olivia had administered the salve so he would have time to wait, which was part of the deal. But Fayette first.
Still, it wasn’t the sight of the [Lord] that really soured Mireille’s thoughts, but rather what lay beside him. Armour. Gleaming, magic-enhanced, metallic armor, which had made most of Fayette’s strikes meaningless.
And she turned back, looking at her friend, so much frailer now, collapsed like that. Wearing only a [Maid’s] uniform. Sure, she had a skill to enhance it, but if that failed, then what? Mireille had made this particular uniform herself, even tried to reinforce it some, and seeing how easily the [Lord] had cut through it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Almost as bitter as Olivia’s. The [Lord] really hadn’t liked eating one, which at least made her feel a bit better.
Another stitch, another drop of potion, and more healing. Marie was staring, eyes red, as if willing them to go faster. But she kept quiet, letting the two do their work.
And Mireille’s thoughts ran on.
Armour—that was what they were really missing. None of their party were the type to really don a suit of metal, but frail dresses were hardly sufficient. Even if they were reinforced a bit here and there.
Mireille’s own clothing had been taken the furthest, with bits of leather padding being hidden here and there, all over. Especially on the bosom. She had added that bit in after Marie joined them, just so the contrast wouldn’t be as bad when they stood side-by-side.
But leather was leather, and she couldn’t really work that well with it, and besides, Fayette had refused to have any added to her own uniform. Went against the [Maid Code] or something. Idiocy. But… Mireille thought of the spider sleeping in her pack, growing rapidly. Starting to produce thread.
More stitches done, more potion, and the progress in the operation sped up.
Mireille noticed her stitching had grown calm and consistent, hands no longer shaking. Planning and thinking things over always did that. It made her feel in control. Even if the plans rarely worked out well in practice.
Which means I need to think things further. How can I improve this? Was spider silk alone enough to jump the gap? She remembered how the [Lord’s] armor had reacted to Fayette’s blow, a magic gem absorbing the impact. The work of an [Artificer].
She had learned a bit from Marie about how those things worked. You didn’t need magic of your own, just the right monster cores and a lot of experimentation. So… Could I do that too? What kind of class would I need for it?
How would it work together with her new spider companion?
Her hands were now a blur, stitching with confidence as if they were working from a precise design.
A design Mireille could almost see in her head. In her thinking, you had to approach a class like you would approach assembling an outfit. You needed little bits and pieces, things that would not necessarily fit together when separate, but when put together… they had a theme—forming something cohesive.
In this case, those bits and pieces were all the achievements she had made so far in her adventure. But they had led to the wrong theme so far—the uncommon class they had first offered her. A [Makeshift Seamstress]. Not sturdy enough for her.
What theme could she craft?
Spidersilk, beavermonkey pelts, fighting with her tools, everything else… that was what she had now. And although she did not have the chance yet, she wanted the potential for more. [Artificer] type stuff. Monster cores. What did all those things share? What did she need to make it cohesive, to make sure she would be offered the appropriate class on her next level?
Then, as she pulled the last stitch on the wound together, repairing the skin to how it should be, she finally found her answer, and her hands moved firm and sure.
A hunter, that was what she had become. And the theme… it would be using materials that she had gathered, hunted, or—she thought of her spider—captured? As long as I do it myself, it should fit in.
It felt right. And the potential felt like it was there. A class born from such a theme… the potential would only be limited by what she could gather.
She stood up from Fayette, moving back, and let the [Doctor] handle the rest of it, closing her eyes to focus. It would take some research before she could do anything with monster cores, proper magic stuff, but a class like that would hold the potential. And she was working in the right direction now—she only needed a few more nudges…
And her outfit, her theme, would be complete.
[Great work stitching up that nasty wound!]
[Progress towards next level: 70%]
The sound jolted her back to reality, and her expression soured once more. Only a 15% increase from last time, despite this being her first real attempt at something like this, and the stakes being high.
Trying to level a common class in the uncommon realm really is unfair.
Mireille stared at Fayette, still unconscious in Marie’s arms, and for a moment, let herself feel jealous. About the experience of course, not whatever else was going on between the two.
Just how much did she get from that ordeal? Again a leveling opportunity with the [Lady]—I just bet she’s going to gloat about a new level when she wakes up!
But then she saw Marie’s eyes, still dripping with tears, and looking at the [Maid] with more emotion than Mireille could imagine, and she calmed. Because maybe Fayette did deserve the levels.
But still, Mireille did worry. Because Fayette was not like her, planning things in advance. She didn’t worry about carefully assembling a proper theme before heading forward. And Fayette… might be headed toward a somewhat concerning theme.
She tried to judge the sleeping form, imagine what the [Maid] really thought of everything that had happened so far. Because talking with her wasn’t as easy as it used to be these days. What did Fayette really want to become? Did she think about that at all?
It had been a slow shift, and Mireille had barely noticed it—but Fayette talked a lot less about herself these days. The way she looked at things was different. Something had subtly changed, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
But… Mireille let herself look at the [Lady’s] sincere face one more time, remembering how their last encounter with [Bandits] had gone.
Maybe this wasn’t her problem to solve.
She shook her head, then turned to Olivia, who was busy readying her tools for round two. “Right—let’s go do the [Lord].”
—
Marie was still in quite a bit of shock, holding Fayette’s head in her lap, blinking out tears.
Of course she was. Her eyes kept going to that spot where a sword had pierced through flesh, releasing a tide of blood. All for her sake. There was no wound there anymore—the potion had dealt with that, but the crimson had burned into her eyes a bit. She could still imagine it there.
“Please… be fine, won’t you? For my sake…”
It took only a moment, or maybe it was an eternity, but finally, Fayette stirred in her arms, groaning and blinking. Marie shifted position, helping the [Maid] up to a semi-sitting position. She wasn’t saying anything yet, just staring around, looking confused. Weak.
It was the first time Marie had ever seen any weakness in her, really. The [Maid] had always seemed so implacable, as if nothing in the world could shake her. It was odd, but the weirdest thing of all for her was Fayette’s hair, which was now all messed up and tangled, far from the neat bundle she usually kept it in.
As Fayette slowly stirred awake, Marie's hands found themselves idly combing through that hair, straightening it out, and the [Lady] really couldn’t deny the tingles it sent to her heart any longer. All of this… the sight of Fayette walking forward to confront the [Lord], the bloody duel—it was just too much. She had to admit it.
This was more than just a passing crush. Quite a bit more.
Fayette’s head bent back, and she looked up, eyes finally focusing on the moment. They met Marie’s and she gave a wan smile. “Oh, I didn’t bleed out. Nice.”
Marie couldn’t stop herself from letting out a giggle at that, but halfway it turned into a sob, and she bent her head down, evading those eyes. “Dummy. I told you not to risk things like that.”
“Well too late for that now. You’ll have to accept it. I do what I want.” Fayette answered, trying to lift herself up to her feet, coughing.
She got up for just a second, then wobbled, and fell right back down, back into Marie’s lap. The impact stung a bit, but not that much. There were better things to focus on.
Fayette tried to wiggle back up, so the [Lady] took hold of her hand, keeping her in place. “Hey—no moving about yet. [Doctor’s] orders.”
Fayette glared forward, not at Olivia, but at the [Lord] who was just starting his own treatment. “I swear if he’s still using that stupid slippery ground skill—”
Marie poked her in the nape. “You’re just weak, keep down for a bit. Just a bit more.”
Not just because the girl really needed it… but this felt nice too. A bit of calm after all that. Positions reversed a bit, supporting the [Maid] in turn when she herself had been supported so much.
Fayette kept staring at the man. And eventually spoke, quietly, just for her. “I didn’t really expect it to be that tough—honestly. The other times were just so much… simpler. But one-on-one like that… it’s just so different. I think he could’ve killed me.”
Marie went back to combing through her hair, and spoke in a whisper, making sure it carried with her skills. “But he didn’t, you won. You did great.”
Fayette looked up and met her eyes again, and grimaced. “But this wasn’t a real fight. I was weak—weaker than I thought. Haven’t been taking things seriously enough I think. If I had lost—”
Marie blocked her mouth off with a finger. “But you didn’t. It’s over.”
“Is it really?” Fayette asked, quietly, looking back at the [Lord]. “He’s just one guy. Not even a proper fighter I think, more of a leader-type, and I got… handled. There are so, so many more out there.”
And finally, the [Lord] noticed the gazes coming his way, and looked up from his surgery. And he smiled. As if he didn’t have a gaping hole in his shoulder. No—he just leisurely raised his other hand in a wave and nodded at them. Skill carried his voice over to them. “A fine fight, you have spirit, miss. I really was serious before, if you want to come work fo—”
Olivia suddenly stopped administering the potion and prodded a finger at the now half-open wound, and the [Lord] winced, quieting instantly.
The [Doctor’s] voice had an edge to it. “Remember our deal. You swore on your honor as a [Lord] to let these things go, you’re not coming after us anymore. I can smash this potion into the ground if you feel opposed.”
The [Guards] standing by his sides tensed, and Mireille looked around carefully, crouched by the man as she was. But the [Lord] waved his men down, face regretful. “No… I am a man of my word. I just thought that as she had just woke up—”
“Go to hell,” Fayette shouted, then coughed, and fell back against Marie's bosom.
The [Lord] grimaced, then looked up at Marie, apologetic. “Then I apologize. But I do accept my defeat here. I’ll get rid of my side of the marriage contract. Can’t do much about your family though.”
Olivia suddenly stared into the air for a moment, grimacing, then poked the [Lord] again, face returning to its calm. “Stop moving your hands.”
But Marie didn't hear Olivia's words really, nor watch the operation proceed.
Because.., with that declaration, a weight suddenly left Marie’s chest, a weight she hadn’t even realized she was still carrying. A marriage that had been looming so long… just gone.
Just like that.
She looked down, and couldn't help herself from tearing up a bit.
Fayette really had kept her promise, about beating off any challengers. Marie laughed for a moment, looking at the riverside clearing they were still in. The sky felt so much bluer now.
And with that weight gone, something else flooded into its place, and her heartbeat quickened, and Marie suddenly realized she really was hugging Fayette against her chest. It felt like every inch of contact was suddenly burning hot.
Marie gulped. Yes, she really couldn’t deny this much longer. But…
She looked down at Fayette, who was now watching Mireille work, oblivious of what Marie was feeling. The [Lady]… felt paralyzed by indecision. What should I do about this?
Feeling emotions was easy, but actually doing something about them…
She could still remember the first time.
She had been more girl than woman at the time, giggling as she listened to a rather talkative young [Maid] gossip about other families. Then they came to the subject of boys, and she… had realized that she felt different. Very different.
And she had told the [Maid] so, and she had received a push forward from her. Support. The courage to go tell that one pretty girl who came over to visit every-now-and-then that she rather liked her, in more than the normal way.
Big mistake. That friendship never did recover, did it?
And then, much later, eventually after mother just kept hinting and asking after her interests… She had told her too. That none of the prospective suitors interested her. Nor would they ever.
Bigger mistake. Mother was very clear about what was appropriate to be known in public. Marriage arrangements got rushed forward quite a bit after that one.
And so… as she looked at Fayette, again combing through her hair—Marie bit her lip. Hesitated. And slowly—pulled her hand back. More hesitation. It was just… so difficult.
It had taken a lot of effort from her to get Fayette to open up, even this much. And they were a [Maid] and a [Lady], and she knew Fayette felt odd about that. And they were girls. That was maybe the biggest obstacle. Because…
For just a moment, Marie let herself frown at Fayette’s back, trying to pierce through that head and peer directly into the mind within. Because the [Maid] wasn’t responding to any of the hints she kept dropping! You have to know, right? Right? Is it even possible?
Especially just now… That rule I quoted for the duel, to grant the boon… The favour of a [Lady]—It’s practically a direct confession! You read stories, right? You have to have understood that!
But Fayette remained as implacable as ever. And so, Marie hesitated, because she just wasn't sure, and it was too risky. But—she couldn’t really fool herself. Isn’t this just another excuse? To put things off? To not have to face them right now?
Right now—her heart roiling, it felt like too weak of an excuse. She really wanted to say something. But she could not. Need a stronger excuse.
Could she find one?
And then Olivia was walking back over, and Marie was pulled out of her thoughts, back to reality. She looked, and saw that the [Lord] and his men were already gathering their gear, and starting to walk off. A relief, to see the man finally gone, for good hopefully.
But she still tensed. Because the [Doctor] certainly wasn’t smiling.
The gloomy woman pointed a single finger at Fayette, looming ominously. “You.”
Fayette looked down at her apron, still rather stained, then looked back up. “Me?”
Olivia advanced a step. “Yes, you. You used some doses of healing potions back at the mines, right?”
Fayette nodded slowly. “Well—yes. Had to after the whole explosion thing. Is something wrong?”
“With the amount you had to use today, you’re nearing the limit. And we’re heading toward a magical plague.” Olivia looked up, nodding at Marie. “A body can only tolerate a certain amount of magic in a certain amount of time, as you should well know with your training.”
Marie gasped. “Is she risking mutations?”
Olivia shook her head. “Not yet—but it’s getting there. Slowly. So!” She pointed her finger back at Fayette. “For the next five weeks, no more healing potions!”
Fayette grimaced at that, but then nodded behind her, at Marie. Together, with the [Lady] supporting her, they both got back up onto their feet.
Fayette didn’t wobble. Carefully, she let go of Marie’s hands, and stood there, trying to look confident. “Okay… I guess I’ll have to be more careful then.” She shrugged.
Olivia frowned, looking at Fayette’s not-very-steady footing. “Darnation. Guess we’re not moving today. Think you can move tomorrow?”
The [Maid] rolled her shoulders around, then flexed her arms. Marie stared as hints of muscle showed against her sleeves, realized what she was doing, then turned her eyes back up.
“I think I’ll be fine. Just need some sleep. It’s not a long walk there, right?”
“Only a day or so from here,” Olivia answered, then sighed. “No helping it then—let’s see if we can find a place to stay for the night.”
Mireille took the moment to step in, finished with winding up her threads from the [Lord’s] operation. She nodded towards the town. “There’s only one inn here, and the [Lord’s] men were saying that they were leaving right away. Should be plenty of space for us.”
Fayette nodded at her. “Lead the way then.”
Mireille started walking back, and Fayette took a step to follow. And then stumbled.
And Marie caught her, supporting her by the shoulder. She smiled up at the frustrated-looking [Maid].
“Hey, just for today, let someone support you for a change, alright?”
Fayette grimaced... but didn’t push away the help. “Fine—guess there’s no helping it.”
Together, they took a step forward. And Marie realized that just this much was nice too. Having something to dream about made the day seem a lot brighter.
Yes, for now, this would do. They were heading off to a dangerous situation anyway, it wouldn’t do good to upset team balance with any strange talk right now.
This should be a good, working excuse. She could wait.
So, anxiety gone, her step felt lighter. As they walked through the thicket, Marie couldn’t help her eyes from always returning to the moody [Maid] by her side. Peeking glances here and there. She couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face either. “Hey, how about I try cooking for you for a change?”
Maybe that would be enough of a hint.
Fayette just looked exasperated at that, turning to her. “You, cooking? Why, with how messy you keep things, I can’t even imagine—”
And so they walked off, ready to rest after a long day, mood brightening with every step.
But not everyone went. Not quite yet. They didn’t notice it, preoccupied with the hero of the hour as they were, but only three were walking back to town.
Olivia had let herself fade into the shadows, waiting for the others to get far off enough. Because she needed a moment, just for herself.
Once the clearing was empty, the [Doctor] finally let her skills end, and appeared back into sight, sure that nobody could see her. Her face bore no smile.
For a moment, she let her eyes follow the river, still passing flowing along languidly by the clearing, and finally focused on the bridge—just a bit ahead. Then she followed the road from there, all the way to the horizon where it faded past a hill, just out of sight. She imagined the city beyond there, waiting.
A thunderhead passed by her face, and she sneered, gritting her teeth, and threw the black pill she had been holding onto the ground with all the force she could.
She wanted to—but she didn’t shout or curse, so she just stomped onto the pill until it was crushed to dust. Had to be discrete.
Then she stopped, and breathed heavily for a dozen seconds, and slowly, calmed her face again. Olivia looked down, grimaced at the remains of the pill smashed into the muddy ground, then bent down to gather it all back.
Because the contents could not risk discovery.
It took her a moment to gather it all, but by the time she was done, her face had returned to its normal, gloomy countenance. And then she started making her way back to town, cursing the [Lord] for delaying them one more day, and cursing him for one other thing too.
Yes, Mireille had not quite gotten enough experience for a new level… but Oliva had. Not just a level, but a new skill too. But… tucking the pill away into the deep pockets of her jacket, she muttered one last curse.
“Another one gone. Just like that. Damnation.”
Because unlike the others, whenever her class decided to grant her a new skill—
She never celebrated it.
zechamp
After this the final arc begins!
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