Halkegenia Online – Chapter 6 – Part 3
After two days of surveillance, and two nights of clandestine reconnaissance by the Vespid Knight Botan and a particularly stealthy Tabitha. The detachment of musketeers hidden in the forests outside the home of Terrance de'Martou were left with an unpalatable truth.
From this distance, the manor proved stubbornly resistant to any attempts to delve its secrets. Every night, lights were seen in the house, but during the day, it remained rare to see anyone save at a distance. Certainly no one coming and going.
And though Botan was able to infiltrate parts of the building and confirm that it was indeed inhabited, the Vespid Knight had been barred from others. Size granted the Pixie access to a number of places, but it also kept other places off limits. Places such as the parlor where much of the conversations had been taking place, and the cellars where it was expected they were storing some sort of special package.
There had been plenty of rooms that Botan had not yet been able to search despite her best efforts. Their simply wasn't a path that would allow her to move about un-spotted.
They had exhausted the last of their covert options. Now it was Kirche's turn.
Where covert methods failed, sometimes the overt was necessary. That was good, Kirche was nothing if not overt. Which was why she wasn't even trying to be subtle as she strolled up the dirt road that serviced the small manor house, traveling bag tossed over one shoulder. She looked quite the catch, or so she thought.
Kirche surveyed the small estate with a critical eye, and found it badly wanting.
Up close, the de'Martou manor looked even more miserable than it had at a distance. Rotting window frames, ill maintained pavings overgrown with weeds, birds nesting in the thatch roof. She would have guessed it abandoned if not for the lights they had seen for the past two nights and Botan's reports of hearing and smelling people moving about inside when she had crept in through the roof to conduct her initial exploration.
A shame really, a little . . . well, a lot of work and it would have been a handsome building, as it once no doubt had been. In all likeliness it had all come apart like this under the neglect of its current master.
The lack of care did not speak highly of Terrance de'Martou, nor did she expect it to. But then, that seemed to be the trend of the weak willed Nobility of Tristain. Marriage to Germania might have even done them some good. Not that it seemed at all likely now. She thought back to the rumors that had been circulating around the Royal Palace, carried by word of mouth among the maid servants.
Of course, said rumors had been quickly and ruthlessly squelched. But that only threw kindling on the fire and seemed to confirm what everyone already suspected. Kirche quirked her lips ever so slightly. That the line of succession of Albion might soon be secure for another generation.
Ah, but that was beside the point! She'd finally made it to the front porch, stepping up into the shade offered by the entry. The front door was no better than the rest of the manor, varnish long since faded and only now remaining thanks to the stubborn durability of its hardwood oak construction.
A badly tarnished brass knocker sat at the center of the door, shaped into the visage of a roaring lion. Somehow, Kirche suspected that de'Martou didn't really live up to the prestige of the symbol that graced his door.
She took the knocker, lifting it, and then stopped, tilting her head. Why was she doing this again?
Well, she had grown rather fond of Botan and her sisters since meeting them. It didn't hurt that the Vespid Knight had been the one to save her, the Count of Tarbes, and the children from the deranged Vespid Knight Sayuri. It was hard not to be charmed by the child-like creatures, the Little Sisters especially when they were together, and the thought of any harm coming to them was enough to motivate her to action.
And then, there was also the way that his would help Louise. Not that she would have done this just for Louise. But the Valliere already had a hard enough time of things, she didn't really need a Zerbst flaunting her obvious superiority at a time like this.
The brass knocker struck the door three times, three heavy, deep, -knocks-. Kirche stood back as if expecting the door to burst open at any moment. She didn't really know what to expect. The help probably. Whoever was being payed to, badly, maintain the manor and its environs.
What she didn't expect was to be left waiting so long.
First, Kirche stood patiently, then she tapped her foot. Finally, she began to pace back and forth. She knocked again, and again she was left to wait, an almost insufferable insult in her personal opinion. Kirche was used to a lot of things, but being ignored was not one of them.
'They'd probably come faster if they knew what was waiting.' She thought irritably and not without a hint of pride. A few strategic buttons left unbuttoned and even traveling clothes could draw the eye of every man within thirty mails.
She was just about to strike the knocker again when she finally heard the footsteps on the other side of the door and gave a small, indignant snort. Well it was about time!
The steps stopped on the far side of the door to be replaced by a distant muttering. It was only then that Kirche noted a small, glass covered peephole set into one of the Lion's eyes. She had to admit, as far as the de'Martou family had fallen, the past generations had certainly had good taste.
A clicking issued from the door, like the turning of locks. Lots of locks. At first Kirche was curious, then she grew worried as the sound went on for entirely too long, occasionally accompanied by the jangling of chains or -clacking- of a metal slider.
The sound of metal striking metal stopped and was replaced by the sound of it creaking, the door opening on ill oiled hinges with all the grace and charm of a crypt.
Without opening so much as a hand span, the door stopped. A pair of dark brown eyes looked out. Kirche looked back.
"Oh. Ekscuse me?" Kirche began. "I appear to vee . . ."
"Wha'd ya want?!" The voice growled suspiciously.
Fair enough, Kirche thought. She was trying to lie her way into the house in order to look for evidence, evidence that would of course be incriminating to this man and his colleagues.
"Good day kind Zir." The Germanian let her accent carry far more heavily then normal. She bobbed forward at the waist, not quite a bow, but enough to flash a hint of cleavage.
The results were as expected. The man blinked rapidly before shaking his head. "Come again, Girl?"
"Vhy, I zaid good day. Or vould a how do you do be more in order? I muzt zay all of zese Tristanian customs are most confuzing!" Time to lay it on nice and thick. Grabbing her arms, Kirche wagged from side to side. "Oh, von't you pleaze help? I've been on the road for dayz now with -ardly a vriendly vace!" As acts went, it was ditzy, disgracefully composed, and paper thin. And the man was eating it all up like a babe at his mother's breast.
Deciding that she almost certainly wasn't any sort of threat, the door opened a little wider, allowing her to see the man clearly for the first time.
He was altogether average, indistinct in a way that was almost itself exceptional. Average height, but with broad shoulders, the right choice of clothes would certainly have given the impression he was taller or shorter than he in fact was. Brown hair that in the right light or with a little grease could be turned black or with the application of the proper powders could be mistaken for a dirty blonde. Brown eyes, or were they black?
Handsome, Kirche supposed, or he would have been if not for the way he looked on like a lost pup.
'It figures.' She thought. Men could be weak willed, but this sort of weakness was pathetically common among the Tristanian breed in particular. Kirche could only ascribe it to too much soft living and too many prudish women raising their sons and daughters to live like monks and nuns. Of course all that pent up desire was going to find a way out, and not by the most pleasant avenues.
"Come again, Miss?" The man asked.
"Ah, how rude of me! To not even introduce mein zelf!" Stepping back, she curtsied her skirt delicately. "I am Kirche August Fredericka von Anhalt-Zerbst and I -ave been attending at great honor at the Tristain Academy of Majiks." Proud expression turned to distress as she pouted. "Vut, vith ze Faeries now inahbitting ze countryside, mein family was most inziztant zat I make a hasty return, vut -" She covered her face with with her forearm, an action that, incidentally, did wonders for her bosom. "I vear I have become lozt in zee countryside!"
"Lozt?" The man asked and then shook his head.
"Yez, Lozt." She said with a hint of very real irritation. Wasn't this how everyone thought Germanian's spoke? What good was a stereotype if the one person she ever bothered to use it on had never heard of it?!
"You mean lost!" The man realized, standing a little straight.
"Yez!" Kirche had to actively fight the urge to role her eyes. How stupid could this man be?
The man looked a bit uncomfortable, shifting from side to side as the gears in his head worked to find a solution. He cringed as another voice called from deeper inside the house.
"Chadrick, who's there?"
"Ai, it's just some Noble Girl who's gotten herself lost. I'll have her on her way in just a minute."
Not good, Kirche thought quickly, she needed to get in to the house if she was going to look around. Fortunately, they'd planned for this too. "Ach, Nein! Certainly not zis late in ze day?!" She pointed out at the sky where the sun was beginning the long decent towards the horizon.
"Shorely you'd not make a young voman brave ze elements with all of ze vicious Faerie creatures!"
The man's mouth opened and then fell further open as she clasped her hands together and leaned just a bit further forward. She could almost see the scales working behind his eyes, weighing the nuisance she would be to house for the night versus the pleasure of her company.
Of course, Kirche hardly planned to allow things to go that far and she had more than enough experience with men that wouldn't take no for an answer to have prepared a few tricks for tonight as well, just in case. And, in case that didn't work, well, Tabitha was quite the escape artist and would be keeping watch once night fell.
"Y-yes. I suppose, I suppose that wouldn't be very proper of me, would it." The man whose name was Chadrick said quickly as he licked his lips.
"Oy, Chadrick, how much longer will you be at that blasted door?! We need you in here." Another voice, higher pitched, asked impatiently.
"Just a moment longer!"
"Not a moment longer! You're the only one who knows how to work the blasted . . ." The first voice trailed off as a second man, shorter than the one named Chadrick came into view.
Shorter, and older, with the sort of small, powerful build that must have left him fighting a constant battle with pudginess. The fact that he didn't look fat at all practically screamed to Kirche that he was some sort of soldier or bodyguard, the fact that he was so well conditioned and also a Mage, judging by the wand hanging from his belt even more so.
The man blinked owlishly and then shook his head, trembling with anger. "What the blazes is this!" He barked. "I thought you said you were getting rid of her!"
"Enough, Digby!" The younger man snapped back with sudden certainty and an admirable amount of bite. Well then, not quite as pathetic as he looked. "The young Miss has simply been on the road most of the day and lost her bearings."
"And the young Miss's predicament is hardly our business." The man named Digby countered before turning to appraise Kirche. "I'd say she can take care of herself, let her go on down the road and take refuge with some of the local peasants. Not like we're living in luxury here."
"Oh, pleaze kind Zir!" Kirche repeated, careful not to make an overt advance and alienate her new thrall. "I promiz I'll ve no trouble. Only vor ze one night and I shall go tomorrow."
Chadrick's lips thinned as he nodded severely. He gestured to Kirche. "As she's said, she'll keep out of the way. And de'Martou left us well stocked, we're hardly lacking for food and drink. Where would our propriety be if we turned her away?"
Though Kirche might have been mistaken, she almost thought that she'd caught Digby's reply. "A good few leagues higher than this place." She thought he said before he added. "And besides Chadrick my boy, do you forget that we are guests in your friends house. It is not our propriety to show."
Chadrick's only reply was to wave a dismissive hand. "Bah! Hardly at all. I'd say it would reflect ill on de'Martou if his friend's fail to show their hospitality in his stead. And besides, it's only for the one night. The company will do us good I think."
At that point Kirche clenched a fist beneath the cover of her cloak. Even spending so much time with Louise, she still had it. She allowed Chadrick to take her small travel bag, nodding her head politely as he apologized for the poor condition of the manner.
"We're doing this as a mutual favor your see." The man explained. "Terrance's job with the Royal Tax Office keeps him far from home and we lot have fallen on hard times. The Old Boy's never been much of a fighter besides, so we get a roof over our heads for guarding this place until the Faeries can get their blasted creatures under control."
Several more faces poked out into the hall, a man and one petite looking woman who would have been pretty if her face hadn't been pinched into a perpetual frown. That just about matched with Botan's estimates made the night before. There would probably be one or two others, but no more than that. None of them seemed at all pleased to see Kirche, but the young man at her side was by all appearances oblivious to the resentment being projected at her. Either that, or he was very good at ignoring it.
Kirche allowed herself to look about as she was led towards the stairs with promises of a cot and a dry room for the night. The inside of the manner was, if anything, worse than the outside, everything covered in a fine layer of dust, water damaged walls covered in marks and ruined paint, ancient Spackle flaking from the ceiling. She'd thought the Count of Tarbes had kept a poor household, but he'd had the decency to at least maintain his largely dormant home, this was simple decay, the product of decades of neglect.
But that didn't matter now. It wasn't the first time she'd spent the night in such poor surroundings and for much more petty reasons besides. What mattered was that she was in. And that tonight, she looked up at a particularly large hole in the ceiling where she thought she had briefly glimpsed movement, she and Botan would have the run of this place.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Not long ago, Botan would have been petrified by the Dark.
When she had been a Little Sister, head full of stories woven by Hinagiku and the other Shaman's to keep her and her siblings in line, the Dark had been a frightening thing made up of all manners of strange monsters. Giant bugs, cold blooded lizards, and all manners of evil beings that just wanted to gobble up little Pixie Girls who strayed too far from the safety of the Garden.
But then she had blossomed, waking in a new form with a new clarity, and she had begun to understand that there was nothing about Darkness to be frightened of, no danger that didn't also exist during the day, especially for her.
A being might have been blind in this gloom, and even a Faerie would have had some trouble, but Botan didn't need to see to find her way. She had a sense that was much superior for that.
Inhaling deeply through her nose once more, Botan determined, with renewed confidence, that she was heading in the right direction. Just following this path a little farther would deposit her where she needed to be. The slowly lightening gloom up ahead seemed to confirm her suspicions, as did the whispered voices.
A faint rustling from further ahead, a rat. The long haired beast squeaked angrily before retreating when the Vespid Knight unsheathed her sword. She'd had problems with them the nights before, but it seemed they'd finally begun to learn that she was not food.
At last she came to the place she had been looking for, navigating between rafters and long forgotten structural beams, squeezing through the cracks in interior walls like a particularly limber mouse. She uttered a soft curse as her skirt caught on the tip of a rusted nail and was torn.
She pushed on, she'd just have to mend it when she got back to Schwartz and the supplies she kept in the saddle that the Count had given her as a parting gift.
The voices got louder, and now, she could finally pick out one voice in particular. She didn't know why Kirche was talking so funny, she didn't sound that way when she was talking normally or when Botan heard her speaking the language she called Germanian. Maybe because the Germanian words used lots of those sorts of sounds anyways.
Dim candle light was shining up through cracks in the ceiling and a conveniently placed rafter made the perfect spot to settle in and observe without revealing herself with the glow of her wings.
Laying down on her stomach, Botan peered down through the cracks and into the beings' world. What she saw was rather strange.
Of course Botan had seen Kirche undress before. They had bathed together on several occasions in the palace baths and there was nothing at all strange about her appearance save her size and lack of wings. In fact, Botan had been a little surprised by how similar Pixies and humans were at first, at least externally.
It was the room's other occupant that was odd to look at. 'A male.' She thought. For some reason the idea flustered her, probably because seeing as human and Fae females were so similar to Pixies, the idea of 'Males' seemed like an unwelcome intrusion.
She understood that humans and Faerie had genders, and what the roles of males and females were. After all, she'd helped with tending the Dagger Dog packs and taking care of the Willow Wasp hives in the forest. But she just couldn't see the appeal for herself. She didn't think any Pixie could.
"You've veen mozt kind to me, Monzieur Chadrick." Kirche said as she left her blouse and trousers hanging from a rickity looking chair in one corner, standing straight in nothing but her undergarments.
Opposite Kirche, seated atop an old mattress, the human male named Chadrick resolutely remained facing the other direction, clutching the neck of a bottle of wine in one hand, a plate of bread and fruit sitting on a tray beside him. He was likewise undressed down to trousers, displaying bare back and chest, which Botan was willing to admit, displayed admirable signs of physical conditioning. That much she could appreciate having seen it in her self and the other Knights.
'He's almost certainly a soldier.' She thought to herself.
Chadrick chuckled softly. "It was hardly anything at all Miss Zerbst. And as I've said, your company has been enjoyable enough this evening. I didn't expect another devotee of Shakes Pierre to make herself known in this backwater."
"Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the doth move his aides . . ." Kirche said, letting her accent recede a little to speak clearly.
"Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love." Chadrick finished with another laugh. "Really, a shame not to see his plays as they were meant. He wrote them for the Globe Theater in Londinium, they say, there really is no place else to see them."
"Zuch a shame, truly." Kirche pouted as she crawled up onto the bed, wrapping arms around the man from behind and purring. "Alzough, I do zink part of ze vun is in acting zem out meinzelf."
"Is that so?"
"Yez, juzt zo!"
The male gave the comment a moments thought as he watched Kirche from the corner of his eye and then began to slowly turn over, Kirche leaning back until she was pressed into the sheets of the bed, chin tucked against her chest as she smiled up at him.
What came next . . . what came next . . . 'Nnnnn! Gross!'
Botan covered her eyes as the sounds floating up from the room become a good deal more animal in nature. Morbid curiosity got the better of her and she peaked out with one eye to see Kirche in the midst of pressing her lips, the entirety of her upper body really, against Chadrick, one leg bending and pushing against the bed until the male relented and switched positions with her.
The kissing went on for a while longer, both participants apparently quite occupied with the whole affair. Chadrick fumbled with the straps of Kirche's bra but never quite seemed to get his fingers to move the right way. Slowly, his efforts subsided, hands falling away until they rested limply at his side.
Kirche drew back, sitting up atop the man with a look of mild disappointment as she carefully wiped her lips. "Sorry, but if you can't even last this long, you're not really worth my time."
Climbing off the bed, Kirche carefully arranged the male's hands on top of himself and stepped gingerly back to where she had left her clothes, a low snoring starting up from deep within Chadrick's chest.
The Germanian dressed quickly but neglected her boots in favor of a pair of soft soled slippers, better for what they needed to do tonight. Finally, she looked up at the ruined ceiling, lips quirking ever so slightly.
"Hope I didn't keep you waiting." Kirche frowned. "You are there, aren't you? I'd feel a little silly if I'm talking to myself."
Botan sighed as she rolled off of the rafter and dropped through the hole in the ceiling, wings spreading to arrest her fall as she came to hover just before Kirche. She crossed her arms irritably. She really didn't want to speak with the human girl after seeing all of that icky stuff, and more importantly . . .
"What's the matter?" Kirche asked.
"You sure seemed to be enjoying yourself." Botan narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Honestly, I thought you were really going to go and mate with him."
"Really?" The Germanian looked on with amusement. "And what gave you that idea? Talking with Louise I suppose . . ."
"No." Botan shook her head. What did Louise have to do with anything? "He just smells healthy is all. I would have thought that . . ." Well, it made sense, the Dagger Dogs and other animals certainly tried to reproduce with the healthiest males.
Kirche tilted her head back towards the unconscious man as she finished removing the lipstick. Being's must have had a terrible sense of smell not to be able to tell that there was something wrong with the stuff that Kirche had been wearing on her lips.
"I do admit he turned out to be quite a bit more of a gentleman than I was expecting. You can't imagine how long it took to get him up here." She shrugged her shoulders and smirked. "Maybe there will be time to do this properly later."
Botan was too busy gagging at the thought to notice the way that Kirche smiled mischievously.
"I guess that doesn't matter right now." Botan decided quickly. "W-we should just hurry up and do this while we have the chance. The others just switched watch before I came down here and the rest are asleep in the other rooms." Six of them in total, two up on the roof keeping an eye for any intruders and one making the rounds inside. The same pattern from the last two nights. The other two were already fast asleep and with the way that Kirche had so casually sauntered off with Chadrick, the others wouldn't be expecting to see much of him until dawn. Botan nodded back to the drugged man. "How long until he wakes up?"
Kirche gave Chadrick one last look. "Oh, probably not until morning. This stuff gets more powerful the more you drink, and I made sure he was the only one drinking after the first bottle. He'll feel a little tipsy all of tomorrow, but he'll probably have made up a happy story in his mind by then about how tonight went."
"You must have a lot of experience with that stuff." Botan said under her breath.
She didn't expect the Germanian to snort so humorlessly. "Believe me, you have no idea. But it does keep the ones that turn out to be boors entertained. So, are you ready to show me the way?"
Botan took a breath and then nodded. This was risky, really the whole thing was a risk, but Kirche had been willing to take it on her behalf, acting her way in here and sneaking about, quite possibly among people who had something to do with the theft and sail of her sisters, so she couldn't back down now.
Her first night hadn't uncovered much. She'd spent most of it just worming her way though the walls and finding paths to where she wanted to go, marking her routes out with some of the luminescent fungus that Hinagiku had packed for her. Frustratingly, her next night's excursion hadn't proved much more fruitful. Although she could move about and follow the denizens of the manor from the safety of the walls and ceiling, she couldn't gain access to the lower floors without exposing herself to possible detection, either skirting the floor on foot or revealing herself with the dim light of her wings that would stand out like a beacon in the darkness.
But despite that, she had found something. A door, a very particular door on the first floor. She had seen the others coming and going through that heavy iron door several times during the night, never carrying anything with them. It wasn't food or water storage, she'd found the pantry easily enough by following her nose. More importantly, the door looked well maintained, unlike anything else in this miserable place. That smacked of suspicion from the moment she saw it.
At a guess, it was the entrance to the cellar and probably where they were storing anything really valuable, just like Giant Mole Rats kept shiny trinkets in their dens. At least, it made sense to Botan. If there was anything important here, that was where it would be, and maybe, just maybe, if Terrance de'Martou smuggled contraband, that was where she'd find her sisters.
But her efforts to find some other method of entry had gotten her nowhere. There was nothing on the surface, no windows or vents, that lead beneath the house. The rest of the place might have been as drafty as a sieve, but the sub level was for all intents and purposes a fortress.
Drifting close to Kirche, the Vespid Knight settled on the Germanian's shoulder as she slipped silently out into the hall, moving lightly on the balls of her feet. The hall was like the walls and ceiling writ large, pitch black, but Botan knew the way well enough and her eyes had been given time to adjust to the gloom.
The second floor was connected to the ground level by a pair of curving stairways in the main foyer, or at least, it had once been a pair, one had rotted into ruin long ago, but they didn't dare use that route in case they ran into the guard on patrol. Instead they traveled along the length of the hall to the far end of the west wing to where the servant's stairway lay abandoned.
Kirche had tried the route earlier in the evening and determined that they wouldn't make too much noise treading the old floor boards, moving away from the windows and into the safety of the cobwebs and deeper shadows.
There was another reason to use this route. The door was locate directly adjacent to the kitchen on the first floor, so this was the fastest way to get there without being seen.
Standing carefully out of the candlelight, Botan observed as Kirche examined the door and its locking mechanism for a time. Frustratingly, it had defeated all of her effort. The door sealed flush with its frame and the locking mechanism and keyhole were much too small for her to entertain the idea of squeezing through, even if she had still been a Little Sister.
"Well?" Botan asked impatiently.
"Well." Kirche began softly, not a whisper, but a murmur that was swallowed up within inches of her lips. "I'm no Earth Mage, but this doesn't seem to have anything but basic anti tampering wards. It'd stop a dot and maybe deter a line mage, but . . ." Carefully tapping her wand and muttering a chant, Kirche stepped back as a faint, heavy -click- issued from the door.
The Pixie Knight's heart leaped at the noise, she could feel her wings rubbing together in anticipation.
Both infiltrators looked about quickly to make sure that they hadn't been spotted, and then, carefully, pushed their way though the door, Kirche shutting and locking it behind them before descending into complete pitch blackness.
Darkness, silence, stagnant air, then a soft -snap- and a light had appeared at the end of Kirche's wand. The Fire Mage kept it dim, but it was still enough to dazzle the two of them until their eyes adjusted once more.
Botan's suspicions had been proven right, they found themselves at the top of a narrow stairway that descended steeply downward, but much too far and too deeply to be a mere cellar, this seemed almost like the catacombs that Louise had told her were buried underneath the Royal Palace.
"Old construction." Kirche muttered to herself. "Maybe a castle that was here before. This was probably a dungeon or storage of some sort."
"You think?" Botan whispered.
"We have places like this in some of the wealthier manors back home." Kirche explained. "Boltholes in case a feud gets a bit too bloody. Usually they're a bit better hidden." She shook her head. "But I never expected to find something like this here."
Reaching the bottom of the stairs Kirche hissed as she stopped in her tracks.
"What?" Botan looked down to where Kirche pointed. A thin thread had been run across the foot of the stairs, and through the gloom, Botan was able to follow it to a mallet that hung before a large brass bell.
"Someone must have been thinking that if there was Mage good enough to get past that door, they'd only be looking for magic traps. Sometimes a mundane trick is worth every spell in a Magician's bag." Kirche stepped over the thread carefully, both her and Botan now on alert for any more surprises.
They were safe for the time being as they at last took the opportunity to look around.
The room was big, bigger than Botan would have expected, the high, vaulted, ceiling just a reminder of how far underground they must have been. And it was also crowded, jam packed with crates and casks, barrels that smelled faintly of wax and other, more chemical odors that she had scented in the labs of the Count of Tarbes.
"These have shipping seals on them." Kirche muttered under her breath. "Gallia, Germania, . . ." She stopped as she reached a partially opened crate and stopped, sucking in a breath.
"These are . . ."
Botan nodded, grimacing. "Dagger Dog Teeth, and that Dagger over there has the Old Runes on it, the knife of a Conen Sydhe warrior." Botan pointed to a short knife that glinted a foggy silver in the light, thinly etched markings along its blade glowing softer and brighter.
"You can read them?" Kirche asked.
Botan shook her head. "No." Botan said. "But I know of them."
The Conen Sydhe, fierce, almost feral demi-Fae of the deep forests. They, like the Dwarves and Nyriads, had fallen from both the Song of Mother Yggdrasil and the Path of their New Lords, minds regressing until they had lost all magic but their powers of flight and a few simple charms passed down by rote. A dagger like that would have been a cherished heirloom, which meant it's owner would never have parted with it while they drew breath.
"Well, I guess this proves it." Kirche muttered. "Our friend de'Martou really is smuggling trinkets of ALfheim. Then, your Sisters?"
Botan felt her fists ball up. "I don't know."
"But . . ."
"I don't . . . I don't smell them here." It stung to say it. Because, because if they weren't here, then where else could they be? 'Please, Yggdrasil-sama, just let them be here, no, let them be safe.'
"Let's just . . . keep looking . . ." Kirche suggested, receiving a small nod from Botan.
They tread further through the accumulated goods and de'Martou's side business soon began to unveil itself. More ALfheim goods, but also things that Botan couldn't identify. Now it was Kirche's turn to give names to what they were seeing.
"Bugbear Liver." She said as they passed a large jar filled with something red and indistinct. "Dragon's bladder . . . Earth Drake by the size of it." She let out a soft whistle. "Don't tell Louise about that. The Valliere Estates are the only ones in Tristain where they range naturally."
"He already . . . 'poached' . . . my Sisters from their home. I don't think this de'Martou will care if he does it to another Mage's pets." Botan observed, feeling her anger beginning to rise.
It had been growing steadily harder to suppress since she'd become a Knight. Kigiku had told her it was a natural part of what she was now. She was born to fight, it nagged at her constantly, and every fiber of her being wanted the solution to be violence. She just wanted to leave this place, travel back to the Capital, and threaten this wretched Being, preferably by gouging him with her sword.
"Yeah." Kirche admitted, you're probably ri-yaah!" Kirche's reply transformed into a yelp of surprise that was quickly masked by her own hand.
Botan hissed angrily. They couldn't afford to be caught now!
Turning to see what had startled Kirche, she almost recoiled herself as she was confronted by the . . . the thing that hung partly unpacked from a straw filled crate.
In the dimness it resembled a person, probably why Kirche had nearly shouted. But on closer inspection, the similarity vanished. Sure enough, it had two arms, a head, and legs. But the head was a smooth and featureless ovoid, the arms and torso equally vague and indistinct, ending in hands like mittens with only a fat, joint-less thumb, and a wide pad to replace the fingers.
"By Yggdrasil's Reach what is that thing!" Botan breathed as she approached cautiously, leading with her sword. She poked at the arm experimentally, feeling her sword meeting resistance before leaving a shallow divot when she drew it back. The consistency was like unfired clay.
"Some sort of Golem it looks like." Kirche decided, leaning around to inspect the shipping crate. "No markings. Wonder where it came from."
"A Golem? Like the ones the Earth Mages and Gnomes can make?" Botan had seen a few of course, and heard the stories of animated suits of armor and ancient golems wondering the land without a master, but never anything like this.
"Oh yes. There's all different kinds." Kirche explained. "The Academy even has a whole army of them, little ones, that don't need a mage to direct them. They're used to help with cleaning and repairs I think."
"I . . . see." Botan turned away, and then frowned.
"What now?" Kirche asked as she wormed her way out into another open space.
This area appeared to have been recently cleared. A large, roughly cut table dominated the center of the space and was surrounded by maps, stacks of books and letters. All sort of important stuff, but it didn't really interest the Vespid Knight. Letters were okay, she supposed, but her interest in learning to read, started and stopped at how it would help her fight and besides, it wasn't what had her attention at that moment.
Racks of weapons filled every available space. Sword-wands, heavy battle staffs, spell lances, rows of gleaming throwing knives and viciously tipped arrows. Botan felt her mouth going dry. It was an arsenal.
"Someone's compensating for something." Kirched decided. "Well, obviously not Chadrick, but maybe our friend de'Martou. Looks like someone's been using this as a meeting place. Our friends upstairs and maybe a few others." She gestured to one corner where several cots had been closely spaced, their thin pillows and blankets left folded at one end.
Botan shook her head as a sense of deja vu overcame her. Getting close to the cots, she thought she could smell something. But it was vague, indistinct. It nagged at her, like she'd smelled something like it before, but she couldn't quite place where. It must have been very faint, at least a couple of days old.
She told Kirche who could only hold her hands up helplessly. Humans might as well not have been able to smell, so she wasn't much help.
"You said that there were people using this space. But how? We've been watching the roads. Nothing should have been able to get in without us seeing it. Right?"
The Germanian gave one last nod. "Well, that's our problem. Walking past the table and its accumulated papers, she gave a few a passing glance before muttering something about a 'cypher'. "If this is anything like a Germanian safe room. And I'm betting it is. Then . . ." She stopped in front of another Iron door against the far wall and tapped her wand once.
Another -click- as she pushed the door open and gestured into shadow that stretched off seemingly forever. "There will be another way in and out." She finished with an unamused look. "We never saw anything, because there was never anything on the surface to see."
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