Chapter 141 - A Day in Vel’khan
The former lady of House Augustus stifled a yawn as she rose from a bed of straw. Looking around, she confirmed that everything was exactly as she had left it the previous night. Alfred’s top secret box was stashed in one of the room’s far corners, her weaponry was still stuffed in her half-closed walk-in closet, and her dreary bedroom was no less dull or depressing than usual. She had fallen asleep inside an abandoned fortress, the very same one she had used since her first night in Vel’khan.
Made of large stone bricks and hardened mortar, the miniature castle was about two hours’ ride from Vel’rulm, a small landlocked city located near the country’s western border. Her new home’s location proved less than convenient, but it was the only piece of real estate that she was able to acquire. Purchasing property within the city was impossible with her almost nonexistent funds, and she doubted that any of the nearby villages would have been willing to host her. Like most other Ryllians, Vel’khan’s locals were known for their generosity and overall welcoming attitude, but Claire was neither an elf, a crustacean, nor a creature of the sea. It was almost a given that, as an obvious foreigner, she would be regarded with at least some degree of suspicion.
Her self awareness was what had led the lyrkress to look for an alternative. A few options had come to mind, but in the end, she chose to acquire an older piece of property from a group of local outlaws, all of whom had been happy to part ways with not only the building, but also their lives. The most powerful among them was a measly level 150. It took the battlemage not even two minutes to wipe them all out and commandeer their residence.
As none of its previous owners had cared much for its maintenance, the property was not in the most pristine of states. Its roof was so leaky that Claire could see the sun peeking through its cracks, and the walls were hardly any better off. Some of its holes were big enough to qualify as windows, or even doors in the worst of cases. Fortunately, the frostblight lyrkress was impervious to the almost nightly storms. She cared little for changes in temperature or moisture, and any raindrops that fell on her would slide right off her skin, scales, and hair. Her roommate was not as fortunate. The fox had to spend her nights in a magical bubble if she wished not to be disturbed.
Looking around the shared room, Claire found the aforementioned vixen at the foot of her bed. Sylvia was curled up into a ball, sleeping soundly with her head resting atop her almost excessively fluffy tail.
The lyrkress scratched one of her companion’s ears, heavily enough for her to purr in her sleep, but lightly enough not to wake her. Only with her need for fluff satiated did she stretch out her back, get to her feet, and channel her magic through her nightgown. The enchanted item was quickly transformed from a thin silken dress into a casual blouse with a simple design featuring only whites and blacks. She would have preferred something with more colour, but she didn’t think it a good idea. Standing out would only draw attention, and her more-than-evident beauty was already doing far too much of that.
Yawning again, Claire silently crept out of the bedroom and walked down the stairs. The band of thieves she murdered had a fair number of supplies at the ready, but most were beyond the half-cervitaur’s means. Essencethief had consumed her less-than-impressive cooking skill upon its evolution, and she had no idea how she was meant to prepare any of the local ingredients in the first place. That was why breakfast would have to be summoned, not cooked.
Kicking a sack of vegetables aside with her centaurian hooves, she sat down at the table, opened Llystletein Authority’s menu, and summoned a pair of monopus steaks.
Though she was well rested, her eyes remained groggy and she nearly fell asleep in her seat. In Llystletein, her nights were filled with vibrant lucid dreams, but she had only one such experience since her departure, and the ghost had not been involved. The phantom that haunted her nocturnal hallucinations was back to being as sporadic as he had been before she was driven from Augustus Manor.
A very sleepy fox descended the staircase as the dishes in Claire’s hands phased into reality. Led by her nose, Sylvia stumbled over to the table, climbed on top of it, and laid her face down atop the wooden surface.
“Morning, Claire,” mumbled the pet.
“Good morning,” replied her owner.
Sylvia started by slowing chewing on her steak, but her energy levels rose rapidly as her stomach began to fill. It didn’t take her very long to go from taking the occasional tiny bite to wolfing down her breakfast at top speed.
“What are we gonna do today?” she asked, as she finished the first of the five entrées on her skewer.
“I don’t know,” said Claire. “Maybe explore another dungeon?”
“Didn’t we get them all already? I thought the one we knocked out yesterday was the last one. I mean, I guess the map we found was kinda janky but I didn’t happen to spot any others while we were wandering around.”
Unlike the band of thieves, who had to periodically rob passing caravans for their supplies, the half-bred pair was unbothered by the state of their provisions. They had as much food and water as they did magical energy, and the vixen had a near infinite supply. Clothing was also a moot concern. Claire had her magical, self-mending cloak, and Sylvia was literally a fox. She had only a few articles hidden inside her tail, for when she took her other forms, but they were equipped with such infrequency that neither her elven tunic nor her tiny fae dress showed any signs of wear.
The state of their finances was equally as irrelevant. They did have a bit of spare change lying around, thanks to the corpses piled outside the fort, but it wasn’t by any means a significant amount. And because they cared so little for all the things that made the world go round, the pair was able to invest all their time into their newest hobby, adventuring.
Claire had always wanted to try living the adventurer life, courtesy of all the ideas put into her head by the bards, playwrights, and recruits that came to the manor, and her time in Llystletein had failed to dissuade her in any which way. Likewise, Sylvia found herself entertained by the prospect of following in her father’s footsteps. She had been disinterested when he first told her of his travels, but hearing the moose-snake’s accounts had inspired her to share in the experience first hand.
The dungeons around Vel’rulm were not particularly impressive, with all of them consisting of only tiny domains populated by the weakest of monsters. Nearly everything they found was a goblin or a variant thereof. Each of the scrawny, green-skinned pests was about as strong as a four year old child, and less than half as smart. A farmhand could have easily cleared out an entire population with nothing but a wooden stick.
While the local greenskins were less than thrilled by their presence, both halfbreeds thoroughly enjoyed the leisurely experience. It was akin to taking a walk through a park, delightful precisely because it was so laid back and low effort.
“Then we’ll have to go ask where the others are,” said Claire.
“You mean we have to go back to the city? Ugh… I hated dealing with the guards! Those guys were jerks!”
Claire nodded. “I’ll punch them harder next time.”
“Stop! No! Bad Claire! We’ll get in trouble again!”
“It’s fine. They’ll forget. If I hit them hard enough.”
“That doesn’t make it okay!”
“Yes it does,” said the lyrkress, with a dark smirk.
“No it doesn’t! And don’t smile like that! It gives me the creeps!”
“Too bad.”
The pair had already paid Vel’rulm a visit, the first day after they left Llystletein, but they were denied entrance. The guards, a pair of kelpfin warriors, had rejected them immediately upon first contact. Claire had been deemed suspicious because she refused to peel back her hood when asked, and Sylvia was chased away for the heinous crime of being a fox. Apparently, her ability to speak hadn’t clued the musclebrained sentries in on the fact that she wasn’t just a wild animal, as her appearance may have otherwise suggested. I bet one of them was named Marc.
“Oh, yeah, that reminds me!” said Sylvia, after another disproportionate bite. She spoke with her mouth full and her face still glued to her plate.
“What?”
“Why haven’t you ascended yet? Didn’t Al give you a whole 250 levels?”
Claire set down her utensils, creased her brow, and frowned. She didn’t speak until she made up her mind, a few moments later. “Flux told me not to.”
“Huh?” Sylvia blinked. Thrice. “What’s that supposed to mean? And isn’t that the opposite of what she told you to do last time?”
“I exceeded her expectations.” A small smile crept onto the lyrkress’ face. “She told me to wait three weeks. Two now.”
“Huh… that’s really weird,” said the fox. She polished off her meal with one last bite before lying down with her face resting on her paws.
“I was also told to avoid Kael’ahruus’ temples.
“I guess that must mean that the goddess of the flow and the god of the hunt got into a fight.”
The former blueblood shrugged. “Not my business.”
She glanced at a particular entry in her quest menu as she returned to her less-than-wonderful breakfast.
A Test of Patience
Primary Objectives:
- Do not ascend or distribute any levels granted by Alfred Llarse until another 301 hours have elapsed.
Rewards:
- 500 ability score points
- Additional options for ascension will be unlocked
It was her first divine quest. Even with the goddess’ demand serving as a constant reminder, Claire was itching to open the floodgates. The potential benefits did little to hamper her temptations. Five hundred ability points was nothing next to the 3000 she already had lying around, and the other reward was too vague. It would have helped if she was told what her options would be, but the goddess had refused to answer on account of keeping it a surprise.
Stupid Box.
Cursing the divine internally, she cut another slice off her steak and shook her head free of her impending growth. It couldn’t tempt her if she didn’t think about it. Or if a silly pet fox didn’t suddenly decide to bring it up for no reason, the day after she finally managed to forget.
Her brow twitching, she reached across the table and grabbed the woodland creature in question by the cheeks. “This is all your fault.”
“H-huh?” Sylvia tried to push Claire’s hands aside, but she was met with firm resistance. “Why did you suddenly get mad!?”
“Figure it out.”
“I can’t!” said the flailing fox. “At least give me a hint!”
“No,” said Claire. She put the cat-brained dog back on the table and lightly pinched her nose. “And I’m not mad.”
“Yes you are! You just pinched my cheeks for no reason! You only do that when you’re mad!”
“There was a reason. I felt like it.” The rogue scratched the underside of the critter’s chin with one hand and ate one last slice of steak with the other. She set her fork down shortly after and pushed the plate towards her companion. “You can have the rest.”
“Really? Thanks!”
Sylvia dug in right away and ate the other three pieces on the plated skewer in an instant. Claire magically lifted the plates off the table once she finished and flung them into one of the room’s far walls. Being made of a less-than-durable material, the dishes shattered to bits as soon as they hit the bare stone and joined their precursors and predecessors atop an ever growing pile of broken ceramic, a feature that had, for one mysterious reason or another, not existed prior to the lyrkress’ arrival.
“Uhmm… you know, that was okay back in Llystletein because the dungeon cleaned up after us, but I don’t really know if it’s as good an idea anymore,” said Sylvia.
“It’s not my fault. We get new plates every time I summon food.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to break them!”
“They’d take up too much space if I didn’t,” said Claire, as she averted her gaze.
The problem, of course, could have been easily remedied by Shoulderhorse, but Claire couldn’t be bothered to summon the malformed spirit. Its ability to consume just about anything certainly came with a dire cost. She would be forced to taste whatever the phantom consumed, and she doubted that a pile of moldy, broken plates would please her palate.
“We’re gonna need to do something about it sooner or later, or this place is gonna be unlivable,” complained the fox.
“We can hire a maid,” suggested Claire. “Maids are good at making problems go away.”
“How the heck are we supposed to get a maid out in the middle of nowhere!?”
“We can hire one in town. Maybe at one of the taverns,” said Claire, matter-of-factly. Frankly, she had no idea if it would work, but the bards had always said that the tavern was the best place to go, if one was ever in need of a helping hand.
“I uhm… really don’t know if we can actually afford one. Didn’t you say we didn’t have a lot of money?”
“Then we can rent one for a few days.”
“Yeah, but think about where we live! How are we supposed to convince her to make the trip if we’re not even hiring her for real?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “You can teleport her in. Obviously.”
“Yeah, but I’m not allowed to help yo—”
“We’re not in Llystletein anymore.”
“Oh yeah!” Sylvia’s ears perked up. “I forgot.”
“I know. You’re bad at thinking.”
“Hey! You didn’t have to put it like that! It’s not my fault I keep forgetting!”
“If that isn’t your fault, then I don’t know what is.” Claire retracted the icy spike sticking out of her chest, swooped the critter up in her arms, and lazily navigated her way through the oversized house.
“Oh, shush.” The fox puffed up her cheeks and pouted. “You’d totally forget too, if you spent your whole life as a Llystletein fox!”
“No I wouldn’t.”
“You’re only saying that because you know I can’t prove it,” grumbled Sylvia.
“Exactly,” said Claire, with a smile.
Giving the fox a bit of a squeeze, she stepped out of the abandoned fort and made for Vel’rulm. To find a maid that would meet the Cadrian standard.
Chapter 141 - A Day in Vel’khan
The former lady of House Augustus stifled a yawn as she rose from a bed of straw. Looking around, she confirmed that everything was exactly as she had left it the previous night. Alfred’s top secret box was stashed in one of the room’s far corners, her weaponry was still stuffed in her half-closed walk-in closet, and her dreary bedroom was no less dull or depressing than usual. She had fallen asleep inside an abandoned fortress, the very same one she had used since her first night in Vel’khan.
Made of large stone bricks and hardened mortar, the miniature castle was about two hours’ ride from Vel’rulm, a small landlocked city located near the country’s western border. Her new home’s location proved less than convenient, but it was the only piece of real estate that she was able to acquire. Purchasing property within the city was impossible with her almost nonexistent funds, and she doubted that any of the nearby villages would have been willing to host her. Like most other Ryllians, Vel’khan’s locals were known for their generosity and overall welcoming attitude, but Claire was neither an elf, a crustacean, nor a creature of the sea. It was almost a given that, as an obvious foreigner, she would be regarded with at least some degree of suspicion.
Her self awareness was what had led the lyrkress to look for an alternative. A few options had come to mind, but in the end, she chose to acquire an older piece of property from a group of local outlaws, all of whom had been happy to part ways with not only the building, but also their lives. The most powerful among them was a measly level 150. It took the battlemage not even two minutes to wipe them all out and commandeer their residence.
As none of its previous owners had cared much for its maintenance, the property was not in the most pristine of states. Its roof was so leaky that Claire could see the sun peeking through its cracks, and the walls were hardly any better off. Some of its holes were big enough to qualify as windows, or even doors in the worst of cases. Fortunately, the frostblight lyrkress was impervious to the almost nightly storms. She cared little for changes in temperature or moisture, and any raindrops that fell on her would slide right off her skin, scales, and hair. Her roommate was not as fortunate. The fox had to spend her nights in a magical bubble if she wished not to be disturbed.
Looking around the shared room, Claire found the aforementioned vixen at the foot of her bed. Sylvia was curled up into a ball, sleeping soundly with her head resting atop her almost excessively fluffy tail.
The lyrkress scratched one of her companion’s ears, heavily enough for her to purr in her sleep, but lightly enough not to wake her. Only with her need for fluff satiated did she stretch out her back, get to her feet, and channel her magic through her nightgown. The enchanted item was quickly transformed from a thin silken dress into a casual blouse with a simple design featuring only whites and blacks. She would have preferred something with more colour, but she didn’t think it a good idea. Standing out would only draw attention, and her more-than-evident beauty was already doing far too much of that.
Yawning again, Claire silently crept out of the bedroom and walked down the stairs. The band of thieves she murdered had a fair number of supplies at the ready, but most were beyond the half-cervitaur’s means. Essencethief had consumed her less-than-impressive cooking skill upon its evolution, and she had no idea how she was meant to prepare any of the local ingredients in the first place. That was why breakfast would have to be summoned, not cooked.
Kicking a sack of vegetables aside with her centaurian hooves, she sat down at the table, opened Llystletein Authority’s menu, and summoned a pair of monopus steaks.
Though she was well rested, her eyes remained groggy and she nearly fell asleep in her seat. In Llystletein, her nights were filled with vibrant lucid dreams, but she had only one such experience since her departure, and the ghost had not been involved. The phantom that haunted her nocturnal hallucinations was back to being as sporadic as he had been before she was driven from Augustus Manor.
A very sleepy fox descended the staircase as the dishes in Claire’s hands phased into reality. Led by her nose, Sylvia stumbled over to the table, climbed on top of it, and laid her face down atop the wooden surface.
“Morning, Claire,” mumbled the pet.
“Good morning,” replied her owner.
Sylvia started by slowing chewing on her steak, but her energy levels rose rapidly as her stomach began to fill. It didn’t take her very long to go from taking the occasional tiny bite to wolfing down her breakfast at top speed.
“What are we gonna do today?” she asked, as she finished the first of the five entrées on her skewer.
“I don’t know,” said Claire. “Maybe explore another dungeon?”
“Didn’t we get them all already? I thought the one we knocked out yesterday was the last one. I mean, I guess the map we found was kinda janky but I didn’t happen to spot any others while we were wandering around.”
Unlike the band of thieves, who had to periodically rob passing caravans for their supplies, the half-bred pair was unbothered by the state of their provisions. They had as much food and water as they did magical energy, and the vixen had a near infinite supply. Clothing was also a moot concern. Claire had her magical, self-mending cloak, and Sylvia was literally a fox. She had only a few articles hidden inside her tail, for when she took her other forms, but they were equipped with such infrequency that neither her elven tunic nor her tiny fae dress showed any signs of wear.
The state of their finances was equally as irrelevant. They did have a bit of spare change lying around, thanks to the corpses piled outside the fort, but it wasn’t by any means a significant amount. And because they cared so little for all the things that made the world go round, the pair was able to invest all their time into their newest hobby, adventuring.
Claire had always wanted to try living the adventurer life, courtesy of all the ideas put into her head by the bards, playwrights, and recruits that came to the manor, and her time in Llystletein had failed to dissuade her in any which way. Likewise, Sylvia found herself entertained by the prospect of following in her father’s footsteps. She had been disinterested when he first told her of his travels, but hearing the moose-snake’s accounts had inspired her to share in the experience first hand.
The dungeons around Vel’rulm were not particularly impressive, with all of them consisting of only tiny domains populated by the weakest of monsters. Nearly everything they found was a goblin or a variant thereof. Each of the scrawny, green-skinned pests was about as strong as a four year old child, and less than half as smart. A farmhand could have easily cleared out an entire population with nothing but a wooden stick.
While the local greenskins were less than thrilled by their presence, both halfbreeds thoroughly enjoyed the leisurely experience. It was akin to taking a walk through a park, delightful precisely because it was so laid back and low effort.
“Then we’ll have to go ask where the others are,” said Claire.
“You mean we have to go back to the city? Ugh… I hated dealing with the guards! Those guys were jerks!”
Claire nodded. “I’ll punch them harder next time.”
“Stop! No! Bad Claire! We’ll get in trouble again!”
“It’s fine. They’ll forget. If I hit them hard enough.”
“That doesn’t make it okay!”
“Yes it does,” said the lyrkress, with a dark smirk.
“No it doesn’t! And don’t smile like that! It gives me the creeps!”
“Too bad.”
The pair had already paid Vel’rulm a visit, the first day after they left Llystletein, but they were denied entrance. The guards, a pair of kelpfin warriors, had rejected them immediately upon first contact. Claire had been deemed suspicious because she refused to peel back her hood when asked, and Sylvia was chased away for the heinous crime of being a fox. Apparently, her ability to speak hadn’t clued the musclebrained sentries in on the fact that she wasn’t just a wild animal, as her appearance may have otherwise suggested. I bet one of them was named Marc.
“Oh, yeah, that reminds me!” said Sylvia, after another disproportionate bite. She spoke with her mouth full and her face still glued to her plate.
“What?”
“Why haven’t you ascended yet? Didn’t Al give you a whole 250 levels?”
Claire set down her utensils, creased her brow, and frowned. She didn’t speak until she made up her mind, a few moments later. “Flux told me not to.”
“Huh?” Sylvia blinked. Thrice. “What’s that supposed to mean? And isn’t that the opposite of what she told you to do last time?”
“I exceeded her expectations.” A small smile crept onto the lyrkress’ face. “She told me to wait three weeks. Two now.”
“Huh… that’s really weird,” said the fox. She polished off her meal with one last bite before lying down with her face resting on her paws.
“I was also told to avoid Kael’ahruus’ temples.
“I guess that must mean that the goddess of the flow and the god of the hunt got into a fight.”
The former blueblood shrugged. “Not my business.”
She glanced at a particular entry in her quest menu as she returned to her less-than-wonderful breakfast.
A Test of Patience
Primary Objectives:
- Do not ascend or distribute any levels granted by Alfred Llarse until another 301 hours have elapsed.
Rewards:
- 500 ability score points
- Additional options for ascension will be unlocked
It was her first divine quest. Even with the goddess’ demand serving as a constant reminder, Claire was itching to open the floodgates. The potential benefits did little to hamper her temptations. Five hundred ability points was nothing next to the 3000 she already had lying around, and the other reward was too vague. It would have helped if she was told what her options would be, but the goddess had refused to answer on account of keeping it a surprise.
Stupid Box.
Cursing the divine internally, she cut another slice off her steak and shook her head free of her impending growth. It couldn’t tempt her if she didn’t think about it. Or if a silly pet fox didn’t suddenly decide to bring it up for no reason, the day after she finally managed to forget.
Her brow twitching, she reached across the table and grabbed the woodland creature in question by the cheeks. “This is all your fault.”
“H-huh?” Sylvia tried to push Claire’s hands aside, but she was met with firm resistance. “Why did you suddenly get mad!?”
“Figure it out.”
“I can’t!” said the flailing fox. “At least give me a hint!”
“No,” said Claire. She put the cat-brained dog back on the table and lightly pinched her nose. “And I’m not mad.”
“Yes you are! You just pinched my cheeks for no reason! You only do that when you’re mad!”
“There was a reason. I felt like it.” The rogue scratched the underside of the critter’s chin with one hand and ate one last slice of steak with the other. She set her fork down shortly after and pushed the plate towards her companion. “You can have the rest.”
“Really? Thanks!”
Sylvia dug in right away and ate the other three pieces on the plated skewer in an instant. Claire magically lifted the plates off the table once she finished and flung them into one of the room’s far walls. Being made of a less-than-durable material, the dishes shattered to bits as soon as they hit the bare stone and joined their precursors and predecessors atop an ever growing pile of broken ceramic, a feature that had, for one mysterious reason or another, not existed prior to the lyrkress’ arrival.
“Uhmm… you know, that was okay back in Llystletein because the dungeon cleaned up after us, but I don’t really know if it’s as good an idea anymore,” said Sylvia.
“It’s not my fault. We get new plates every time I summon food.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to break them!”
“They’d take up too much space if I didn’t,” said Claire, as she averted her gaze.
The problem, of course, could have been easily remedied by Shoulderhorse, but Claire couldn’t be bothered to summon the malformed spirit. Its ability to consume just about anything certainly came with a dire cost. She would be forced to taste whatever the phantom consumed, and she doubted that a pile of moldy, broken plates would please her palate.
“We’re gonna need to do something about it sooner or later, or this place is gonna be unlivable,” complained the fox.
“We can hire a maid,” suggested Claire. “Maids are good at making problems go away.”
“How the heck are we supposed to get a maid out in the middle of nowhere!?”
“We can hire one in town. Maybe at one of the taverns,” said Claire, matter-of-factly. Frankly, she had no idea if it would work, but the bards had always said that the tavern was the best place to go, if one was ever in need of a helping hand.
“I uhm… really don’t know if we can actually afford one. Didn’t you say we didn’t have a lot of money?”
“Then we can rent one for a few days.”
“Yeah, but think about where we live! How are we supposed to convince her to make the trip if we’re not even hiring her for real?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “You can teleport her in. Obviously.”
“Yeah, but I’m not allowed to help yo—”
“We’re not in Llystletein anymore.”
“Oh yeah!” Sylvia’s ears perked up. “I forgot.”
“I know. You’re bad at thinking.”
“Hey! You didn’t have to put it like that! It’s not my fault I keep forgetting!”
“If that isn’t your fault, then I don’t know what is.” Claire retracted the icy spike sticking out of her chest, swooped the critter up in her arms, and lazily navigated her way through the oversized house.
“Oh, shush.” The fox puffed up her cheeks and pouted. “You’d totally forget too, if you spent your whole life as a Llystletein fox!”
“No I wouldn’t.”
“You’re only saying that because you know I can’t prove it,” grumbled Sylvia.
“Exactly,” said Claire, with a smile.
Giving the fox a bit of a squeeze, she stepped out of the abandoned fort and made for Vel’rulm. To find a maid that would meet the Cadrian standard.
