Chapter 21
Louise had a wolf. Tabitha had Sylphid. Montmorency's frog, and Kirche's salamander, however, were nowhere near the sort of size required for riding, and though Kirche was convinced that that might not be the case ten or fifteen years from now, in the case of her salamander, Montmorency's frog had little room for growth. And neither of them had taken Louise's approach of acquiring another sort of mount in the absence of their own familiar.
In theory, Rumia could carry one of them as she flew, but when it came time to decide who would take that option, it was discovered that they were all somehow uneasy about the prospect, though they couldn't say exactly why. But in any case, horses were still not an option, as the beasts would still begin to panic if the wolf was too near for too long.
They would do the same if Rumia were present, in point of fact. Probably wise of them.
But it should not be much of a concern, as both of the beasts present were capable of carrying double, and Rumia's flight did not seem to drain her at all, and so it was simply a matter of arrangement. Tabitha would, of course, ride Syliphid. And it would be something of a shame if the wolf became contrary and threw a rider off to savage on the way because Louise had not been there to keep it sternly in line. So, for those two, seating was already arranged.
The initial plan was for Montmorency to join Louise on the wolf, and Kirche to join her friend on the dragon.
Except Montmorency had not been pleased with this arrangement, for various reasons. Her stated one was the fact that she could not fully trust the beast, as it was not a familar of any sort, but sidelong looks stated plainly that while she might not be entirely convinced of the veracity of the sudden new spin of gossip regarding Kirche and Louise's relationship, she was keeping it strongly in mind, and the possibility made her somewhat uncomfortable as well.
She would not be reasoned with, and argued loud and long until Tabitha gave up in annoyance and Kirche decided to volunteer an example of Germanian Bravery by riding the savage beast. This left Montmorency joining Tabitha upon Sylphid in the sky, seating arrangements properly made to accomodate for two, and Louise uncomfortably feeling Kirche's significant assets press into her stiff back.
"This is surprisingly comfortable." Kirche notes along the way. "I would not have taken you for one to enjoy such simple hedonism as a cushioned seat~"
"Easier on wounds." Louise grunted, unwilling to say more, or be drawn further into conversation. It was apparently not a deterrent for the fire mage, as she was apparently used to far less responsiveness from Tabitha.
They made excellent time. By the end of the day, they had reached a distance that would have taken a troupe of foot bound vagrants or soldiers several, and quietly stopped at a rustic inn at a small hamlet to plan the entrance into Gallia. The lake was not far beyond the border, but it was firmly in Gallian territory, and so some care would have to be taken, to ensure they were not taken for miscreants planning something untoward upon entering the country.
More importantly, they had to stop for a meal. Montmorency was not pleased with the common fare, a weak sort of ale and a meat stew, and only gave in and partook once it became quite clear that there was no possible way to get anything better, as the peasants could not possibly have hidden away fine wines and cuts of the choicest and most expensive meats in preparation for their arrival. Even so, she picked at it, and was the last to finish, eating only half of her portion before turning her nose up at it and offering the bowl to Rumia, who made the contents disappear in what seemed like an eyeblink. Tabitha ate slowly, but methodically, not seeming to take particular pleasure in the meal, but not showing any disgust in it, either.
Kirche and Louise set upon their meal like ravenous hounds, neither noticing the similarity of their dispensation with high-class etiquette in the face of hunger, their surroundings, and practicality until Montmorency pointed it out, very mild offense clear in her tone, seeming affronted that they did not consider her important enough to eat properly in her presence, even if there was not a single noble in the room aside from those seated at their table.
"It was, um, our honor to serve you, miladies." The serving girl said, wide eyed. It seemed that nobility did not often pass through this little hamlet. "The meal is, of course... free of charge? With compliments of the staff. Though, um... if I can request... Can you tell a tale or two? Of the sort of things those with magic..."
"Is it the place of nobles to provide entertainment for the plebians, now?" Montmorency said, with a sniff.
It wasn't that Louise disagreed with the sentiment, in theory.
But on the other hand, Montmorency had been making an annoyance of herself all day, and Louise was more than in a mood to poke her in the eye, figuratively or otherwise.
"It isn't as though we cannot pay in coin." She said in response. "But simply talking is little enough of a thing, in exchange for a meal... and roof for the night?"
"But of course, milady." The girl replied eagerly.
"Logical." Was all Tabitha had to say about it, and Kirche nodded, mouthful of a heavy, doughy roll preventing speech.
Outvoted three to one, Montmorency frowned, but grumblingly agreed.
"Shall I regale the peasantry, then, of the intricate and intimate details of alchemical mixtures and the mystic effects of this herb, when mixed into that tincture?" She said, annoyance flavoring her tone.
"No need." Tabitha answered quietly.
She placed a marker, and closed her book, before carefully setting it away. Kirche blinked, and swallowed her roll.
"Oh! This should be good. Tabitha is always reading, so of course she'll be able to tell the best stories..." Kirche said, leaning forward a bit in interest.
Tabitha ignored her, lost in thought for a moment before nodding. As she spoke, her voice took up tone and inflection that was mostly absent in normal conversation.
"There once was a mage, on a journey, riding a fine white stallion." She began.
"Expensive." Montmorency notes in approval. "Assuming that his was pure white, and not just an exaggeration for poetic license."
"But the journey was long, and both the mage and the steed had cause to hunger. And so they came to a stop along the way, to rest and to feed themselves. It was poorly chosen, though, for as they ate, the local conversation showed that the village was beset by a monster, which demanded tribute. Calls to the lord had gone out for aid, and been left unanswered, as focus remained upon a more widespread group of slavers operating throughout the land."
"Well, that-" Montmorency began.
"Ssh." Kirche interrupted.
"The mage considered, and decided. There had previously been a battle which had nearly been lost, through trickery and deceit. Slaying the monster would prove an agreeable, and educational, challenge. And, in no small part, would salve the mage's wounded pride. But on arrival, the truth was discovered. The tribute demand had not been sent by a monster, but by an outpost of the slavers, a number of men led by a powerful mage of their own."
"And then?" Louise asked, interested enough in the tale.
"... And then, when battle was ready to be joined, the true monster, having heard that its appearance had been used for another's ends, arrived and fell upon the slavers. But fortune prevailed in their case, as the monster was merely the body. The mind was that of a man, who had seen his death coming in disease and, through desperation, enacted forbidden and powerful Water magics to transplant himself into the body of a monster rampaging in the nearby countryside. It was a painful endeavor, as the body rejected the foreign and human mind, and he was wracked with splitting pain of the skull from time to time. But his control was sufficient to only maim the mage of the slavers, and the journeying mage took them into custody, to be chained and delivered to the lord, where they would await trial for their crimes."
"A happy ending." Montmorency decided, seeming interested most of all in the mention of the Forbidden and Powerful water magic. As a water mage herself, though, such was only to be expected, and after consideration, Louise decided it was no cause for alarm.
"If the tale ended there, yes." Tabitha agreed. "The journeying mage returned, however, to pay a visit and speak further with the mage in the body of a monster. The arrival was unexpected, but the monstrous mage welcomed the visitor, only pausing to warn them away from a portion of the cave which was dangerous. This struck the journeying mage as odd, for though their grasp of the magics of earth was weak, there was sufficient ability to tell that the cavern was quite sound, and even were it not, the monstrous mage had enough ability to support any weak points. There was, however, something buried in that place. And so, of curiosity, and while the monstrous mage was distracted with another matter, the journeying mage went and dug in that spot."
"... What did they find there, milady?" the serving girl asked, and a quick glance revealed that very little of the rest of the room was, by this point, feigning not to be listening to the story.
"What they found there? Bones." Was Tabitha's morbid reply. "Fresh, and though in most cases they were stripped of flesh, there were traces which remained, not entirely rotten away. They had been buried recently. As the mage came to this realization, the monster blocked the exit to the cavern. Perhaps it was that the body had not been rejecting the mage's mind, but changing it, or perhaps it was that the mind had slowly been changing itself, to match the body. It mattered little, either way, for the end result was the same. The more time passed, the closer the monstrous mage became to a simple monster, which happened to be able to use magic."
Tabitha tood a moment to rest her voice, sipping at the last of the weak ale.
"The mage and the monster fought." She said, finality in her voice, details of the battle absent. "And the monster died, and the mage burned the body so thoroughly that there was scarcely any ash remaining to scatter to the wind. And then the mage rode on, continuing to their destination with no further stops."
"... Well, that's hardly an ending." Montmorency said, disgruntled, as Tabitha returned her attention to her book. The scattered applause, however, showed that while she wasn't alone in that opinion, there were more than one or two which disagreed.
"I think it's a fine ending to the story." Kirche argued. "Not a happy one, perhaps. But then, you were hardly promised a happy ending, were you?"
Montmorency sniffed, and Louise looked somberly into the bottom of her ale, mind on the one, carefully secured and sealed satchel that she had brought, finding herself unable, somehow, to leave... it behind. No happy endings. Wasn't that the truth.
When they retired for slumber, Louise dreamed of a valiant mage of more than a passing resemblance to the late Wardes, gallantly riding a charging white stallion into battle against a monstrous beast which was never quite the same twice, from eyeblink to eyeblink.
The hunger was manageable. But at the same time, it was all but unbearable, Wardes reflected to himself as he floated above the ground of Albion.
No spell! No expression of willpower to change the world such that one could fly, simply the active desire to move through the air rather than across the dirt... and that desire was made manifest. Though he knew hunger, in ways that he never had before, through the most strenuous campaigns of battle, and the most intense of grueling training, he never seemed to grow tired. One might consider it a fair trade for a belly that never seemed quite full, no matter what it was filled with, and new, strange cravings, that he could not find the strength to fight indefinitely.
He did not feel in control of himself. Not fully, with the aching need to inflict terror and death in his wake, fueling the nightmares of those he did not end...
He would be hunted. He knew that he would be hunted, that preying upon the commoners in the way that he was could not be tolerated forever, was only endured by the fact that Cromwell had siezed victory and thence immediately gone about his way to immediately and eagerly prove himself worse by far than the Monarchy had been, as he placed himself at the head of the group of nobles which had participated in the Coup and were now the ruling party in Albion, as a king in all but name. He did not care that something was preying upon his property, his chattel. Not yet, not until the effects began to reach him, and someone set him down to carefully explain that clean lavatories and fine wines didn't just happen, peasants were needed to do the gruntwork.
He knew full well that it would be wise to continue preying upon those he could find, when an opportunity arose. That it would be best to act as he would have before his death, and slip out of sight until the opportune moment to strike came again. Knew, intellectually, that it was not impossible that there was someone or something that would take offense to his actions, and prove themself more than his match, and be his end in truth. It was not wise.
But he could not stop himself. Could not control himself, or the part of himself which considered the rational, logical thought, that feared an opponent that might arise, and which said 'I'll believe they exist when we find them'. Once or twice, perhaps three times, he would see an opportunity and manage to painfully let it pass, to ignore the protestations of his craving need. But he was discovering he was not strong enough. That he could not, every time, keep himself in line, and that loss of control... it was more than abhorrent, though the result was mingled disgust and ecstasy.
Wardes hated himself. He hated what he had become. And he loved every moment of his existence with every fiber of his being. It was both difficult beyond measure and simplicity itself to reconcile the two.