{ === + === }
…
Still awake?
…
Yeah.
You've been lying in bed for like 3 hours now, not sleeping.
…
I'm aware.
…
…
…
"Ash…you don't look good."
Nowi stares at my face during breakfast.
"I didn't sleep well." I shrug. "It happens sometimes." Even back on Earth I was a bit of a night owl…came with the territory of being a computer guy, I suppose.
"Are you sure?" Nowi pats my head.
She sits on our right, Ninya sits on our left; Cherche's already gone out to the Wyvern stables.
Cherche is impressively tough.
I smile. "Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks."
…
We're not really fine, for those of you wondering.
The fact that I erected a human shield without the humans knowing about the fact that they were a human shield doesn't sit well with me.
We're going to raise and equip an air force capable of fighting a one-million man army.
The thought is a hell of a lot different than the reality.
The reality is we're going to need resources to house and equip the riders that will be sent to us very soon.
I'm actually not sure how soon "very soon" is. Basilio's letter yesterday wasn't very clear, but at the very least it looks like we're making progress.
And? How willing are you to sacrifice a village for a squad in the future? This isn't a question we can put off, mind you, we're not good enough at split second decisions for that. If faced with the choice of abandoning, say, Cherche, in favor of a squadron, can we do it?
Likewise, can we abandon an entire squadron to save Cherche?
The best answer is obviously "Save both", but just because we want to doesn't mean it will work out that way. Hell, if we don't move fast enough the answer might even turn out to be "lose both."
"Ow!"
"You're not with us today, are ya?" Nowi grumbles.
She flicked us on the forehead.
"Sorry."
Nowi pouts. "Seriously. Something weird with you lately. Is it because of that Morgan?"
Yeah. "Something like that." I nod.
Morgan, by the way, has been adopted into our house for the time being. He left with Cherche early this morning (probably).
Morgan's super inquisitive and friendly. He's like a younger Lissa without the pranking…and male.
"I heard from Cherche." Nowi says. "You guys messed with an entire Risen army and walked out ok, right?"
"A lot of other people died so we could be ok." I scowl.
"I see." Nowi says. "So what would've happened if you left those things alone?"
I… "I don't know." I say. "And that's why it worried me."
Nowi sighs. "Ash."
She then bops me on the head. "You made the best decision considering the circumstances, so don't blame yourself for making a hard call, alright?"
She then gives us a tiny cool down hug.
Tiny because she feels really frail, despite, y'know, being a murder dragon in a travel-sized package.
…
I blame myself for making the hard call precisely because I don't know if the call was right; at the end of the day we sacked a fortress, a clear and valuable asset to the safety and well-being of the people, in favor of…well, Morgan, who is a potential asset to us, and only us.
Like…because the fortress was sacked, the local mines closed down to the Risen crawling in the mining tunnels.
The active mind is assuming that it was because the fortress was lost.
The fortress acted as a middle point between the mines and the nearby village. Without it the village guard was forced to hunker down and fight it out with the Risen attack with no expectation of friendly reinforcements arriving in the same day, and thus the mining tunnels were overrun…and naturally, no militia with any kind of self-preservation will dive into a deep dark tunnel full of an unknown number of vapor zombies.
We ARE going to make harder calls once the invasion of Valm occurs, you know? Depending on Walhart's policies as a conqueror and the integrity of his officers, the body count we're going to rack up is going to be pretty high.
…
*sigh* the active mind spends the rest of the day halfheartedly working, and as such not much got done.
…
…
…
Y'know, at this rate you're not going to get any sleep ever.
Ugh. I guess I might as well take Nowi's advice and go on a night walk…probably not very far though. Just onto the roof.
…
This is going to become a nightly occurrence now, I feel.
…
…
[Random Events Time]
…
…
While Ash is busy fighting his inner demons, let's take a look at the rest of the Ylissean Continent.
The civil war in Plegia is still going on strong, with ever decreasing losses every day due to the common people's desires to live despite serving under generals who are bloodthirsty enough to be considered clinically insane.
Well, it would be more accurate to say that the reason for the decreasing losses was because of excess food stocks in Plegia running dry, and thus all the Plegian Generals are tightening their belts when it comes to offense and defense. Some of them were smart enough to try and rob caravans, but when caravans between Plegian territories no longer exist…it's kind of hard to steal something from nothing.
As such, the civil war settled down to a less bloody version of itself, with small skirmishes happening and lives lost every day, but certainly not on the massive near-genocidal levels that it had before. While the Grimleal priests are constantly trying to fan the flames of war, fortunately even their influence has limits.
The civil war influences the other countries as well, as you might expect:
Ylisstol's Pegasus Knights spend their time patrolling the skies daily, looking for any potential bandit intrusions or refugees from Plegia due to the constant turmoil. The bandits are summarily dealt with, and any refugees are escorted to the nearest town, due to Emmeryn's decree that any refugees are to be assisted in every capacity. Unfortunately the local village leaders and town mayors tend to have less philanthropic ideas about the treatment of refugees, and Emmeryn's reputation suffers as a result.
Ferox isn't a whole lot better. The border towns have a general consensus to lock down their gates whenever Plegians show up, causing more than one accident every week as they mistake a trade caravan from not-Plegia as a caravan from Plegia. Eventually people wisened up and decided to approach the border towns from directions that are definitely not from Plegia.
It sucks to be a Plegian, is what I'm getting at.
The Risen are still appearing across the continent (and probably in Valm too) in sporadic numbers on a disturbingly rigid schedule (for example, Ylisstol gets a Risen drop every Wednesday at 00:34 in the morning, it's mostly Soldiers/Bandits and ninety percent of them always show up in the Southern Courtyard). Fortunately this means that towns experiencing Risen attacks have developed smarter and smarter ways to deal with the air-dropped undead.
The best anti-zombie quick fix award goes to an Ylissean fishing village that decided to place tough fishing nets over the drop site so when the Risen drop they just hit the nets at maximum speed and die due to Physics. It's a good thing they are all vapor zombies or the land underneath the Net of Death would be utterly soaked with blood and body parts.
…
…
[And the days go by]
…
…
[Point of Interest: Valm]
[Probably the Port City for Chapter 15]
…
…
The daily patrol is endless, and boring. Most of the guards placed on patrol are the ones too undependable to patrol the streets…especially after last night's massive alcohol-induced brawl.
One of the guards adjusted his hat. "To think that the guard captain would put us up here." He said, looking down from his perch on the watchtower. "You think he's angry at us?"
The other guard glared at him. "You tossed a fig at his head."
"It was an accident!" The first guard protested. "I was trying to hit the person behind him. You know, the man who was directly behind our captain using him for cover."
The second guard sighed. "See, stupid things like that are why we're up here instead of out on the streets."
"It's not like we can do anything on the streets; Valm's got eyes everywhere." The first guard sneered. "At least we can take some good shots from up here." He shook his bow for emphasis.
"Just don't send another Valm bastard to the healers again; we don't need that kind of attention." The second guard reminded him.
"I know, I know."
…
Unknown to both of them, a man wearing a hooded robe listened in to their conversation, and once he was certain nothing more of interest was going to be said (which was very fast) he made a quick getaway from the base of the tower.
Valm as a continent, fortunately, worships Naga, and although the populace can't be considered devotedly religious most people know to mind their own business if they see anyone wearing a sign of Naga.
As such, the hooded man made his way out of the town (towards the Mila Tree, house of the Speaker) without conflict.
Naturally, he didn't go to the Yggdrasil knockoff, but instead made a sharp left turn when he was out of sight of the town's gates, ducking into the entrance of a dense, dense forest.
After travelling for about another fifteen minutes, the hooded man came across a small camp.
"Ah…Gaius, how goes your trip?" Virion asked amicably, sitting on a small stool.
Gaius pulled back his hood. "About as good as usual; this disguise is impressively good."
Virion chuckled. "That's because it's authentic. I received it as a gift from a Priestess of Naga in my earlier years."
Gaius…looks at the sleeves of the robes with alarm, then disgust, then resignation. "Back when you actually succeeded in your skirt-chasing, I guess?"
Virion's shrug was noncommittal. "Fortunately the priestess was very open-minded…and enjoyed learning new things."
"Ok, no longer going down that path of thought." Gaius sighed. "Alright, so here's what I got for today."
Virion nods.
Gaius starts counting down his fingers. "The town port is badly maintained, and since it's a fishing village first and foremost any attacks from the ocean will have to be done with small boats; anything bigger will probably get stuck before it can reach the shoreline. The villagers are mostly content with their lives, though small disputes flare every now and then between them and the town guard…the town guard, incidentally, is made up of a small but elite Valm troop and a lot of local militia."
"So if we attacked carelessly it would only serve to alienate us against the local people." Virion mutters.
Gaius nods. "Yeah, and it also makes holding this territory easier…if this was Walhart's idea then he's got this conqueror thing figured out pretty well."
"That he does." Virion mutters. "Anything else?"
"The elites have well maintained gear, and the local guards have some reserve supplies. The granaries are pretty bare, and I didn't see anything that suggested a levy armory. If we were to arrive on land from here, then we'll need to leave almost immediately, and even if we do there's no guarantee Walhart will simply leave the town alone afterwards."
Virion laughed sadly. "I see…he leaves the bare minimum for the good people to survive on and as a result derives us of the chance to counterattack."
Gaius scratches his face nervously. "Well, not necessarily…we could use improvised weapons."
Virion glares at him in response, and Gaius holds his hands up as if to surrender. "It's just a possibility."
"Fortunately, not a possibility Lady Robin will jump on." Virion murmurs. "Alright, good enough; let's move on." He stood to remove a map of Valm pinned to the nearby tree.
Gaius opened his bag of goodies. "You sure? The locals gave me some pretty good stuff." He took out some kind of bread.
"Yes…we have a lot of ground to cover." Virion said as he poured over the slightly tattered map in his hands.
…
…
[Point of Interest: Kellam]
…
…
I don't know where he is.
I have consistently forgotten about him throughout the entirety of the story.
Seriously every time Kellam shows up it's because I go "Oh shit I forgot about Kellam."
I even lost him in the unit roster a few times.
We eventually found him though, so that's good.
…
…
[Point of Interest: Ylisstol]
[Ylisstol Castle]
…
…
Robin has felt a weird chill down her spine for the past…well, ever since the end of the Plegian war, as if someone was constantly looking at her from behind a nearby pillar.
Today she figured out who it was.
"Tharja…what are you doing?" Robin asked the black-haired woman staring hungrily at her from behind the nearest pillar.
"Observing." Tharja smirked.
Robin felt worried…about more things than one. "Observing…me?"
Tharja rolls her eyes. "Well, naturally; nobody else around here is interesting enough for me to care about."
"Thanks…I guess?" Robin felt the urge to find a small room and lock herself away for a few hours.
"Well…if I could have a closer examination that would be even better." Tharja murmurs as she seemingly creeps toward Robin (despite not moving an inch).
Robin felt as if the castle guards weren't doing their jobs.
The castle guards, for the record, did their jobs of patrolling the grounds properly, but when someone like Tharja (amazingly creepy) is dressed the way she is (amazingly hot) the guards feel the need to stay out of her way just so they don't find themselves dead by the next morning. The fact that Chrom vouched for Tharja's credentials as a Shepherd made them even less willing to interfere with the Creepy Attractive Robin Stalking Lady.
Thus Robin was left alone against Tharja, the queen of the personal bubble invaders, and right now she'd think of herself as rather helpless against this lady standing in front of her (well, not really; Tharja's still behind the pillar and well out of arm's reach, but you get the idea).
"Well…?" Tharja pressed on, with a smile on her face.
Robin saw nothing behind that smile but terror and agony. "Uh…I'm gonna…go. Over there." She said, pointing to a random direction away from Tharja…and then ran away.
Tharja, giggling like a madwoman, followed after her.
…
Behind Tharja, Miriel followed the two of them with her notebook, scribbling furiously and also giggling like mad.
…
Two guards watched the three women train with disinterest. "Do you want to stop them?" One of them said to another one, motioning toward Tharja.
The other guard stared at Tharja's stripperific outfit, then at Miriel's furious note-taking. "Nah, let them do their thing."
…
Chrom looked up in alarm when Robin ran into the training room and slammed the door behind her.
"Tharja." Robin breathed before Chrom got a word in.
"Ok, sure…but why did you run?" Chrom asked, perplexed.
"She creeps me out. No offense." Robin muttered. "Something about her doesn't sit right with me."
"Really now." Fredrick (who was training with Chrom) murmured. "Perhaps you can be of service to me for a small task, if Tharja is giving you trouble."
Uh oh. Robin thought, as Fredrick strode up to the door Robin had just closed and opened it.
As expected, Tharja was almost ready to pick the lock on the door. Now that the door's open however, she found herself face to face to the towering guardian that is Fredrick.
A Fredrick, it should be mentioned, with a terrifying glare and a calm smile.
"Tharja…how wonderful of you to join us." Fredrick said calmly.
"Uh…maybe another time." Tharja said quickly and turned to leave, before she felt the deathgrip of Fredrick on her shoulder and froze.
"Now now." Fredrick's smile made Robin feel sorry for the personal space invader. "Your Fitness Hour has waited long enough."
Chrom and Robin shared an alarmed look and tried to escape from the room as quickly as possible.
But it was impossible to escape from the Fredrick Fitness Hour.
(Unless you were Miriel, who was smart enough to call off the chase the instant Robin headed towards the training rooms).
…
…
[Point of Interest: Lucina]
[Location Unknown]
…
...
Lucina stared blankly at the mug in her right hand while her left absentmindedly played with her now red hair.
Sitting at the same table beside her, Yarne constantly shifts between glancing nervously at red-haired Lucina and at the entrance to the little inn they're sitting in.
"Uh…Lucina, you're sure we're not exposed here, right?" Yarne asks for the fifth time.
Lucina by now knows Yarne isn't asking for an answer, and simply nods slightly in response.
"It's really weird seeing your hair red." Yarne says again after another minute passes.
"Not many people have blue hair around here." Lucina says quietly.
"Not many people have your sense of cover, either." Laurent chides regally as he drops into an empty chair at the table. "Sorry to have kept you all waiting."
"My sense of cover? My cover was pretty good, if I do say so myself." Lucina smirks, visibly relaxing now that the person she was waiting for had arrived save and sound.
Laurent shook his head. "Really now? You are either the crown princess of Ylisse…or its greatest hero of yore. It's not very often we can just shout 'Marth' or 'Lucina' in a crowded space and not attract some form of ill-wanted attention."
Lucina shrugged. "The other me hasn't been born yet."
"For only a few more months…supposedly Queen Sumia is already deciding on a name." Laurent said. "Well, enough of that, I suppose."
"Yeah, yeah. This place makes me nervous." Yarne says quickly.
"Fine, fine." Lucina sighs. "So what did you learn?" She asks Laurent.
"Not much." Laurent admits. "This village supports a nearby fortress, and the fortress lord is supposedly a very cunning and underhanded individual, and his henchmen are all dropouts from the Plegian military. Compared to the rest of Plegia right now that's hardly newsworthy, but recently it seems as if they invited some venerable Armored Knight from the south…she and her apprentices." Laurent adjusts his glasses. "Sounds familiar?"
"Kjelle…I still can't help but feel like we missed Nah." Yarne says.
Lucina didn't seem bothered. "You know how Ash treated Nah. Between all of us she's probably the only one who can survive unaided on her own." She plays with the ends of her hair again. "Kjelle's master, huh…? What do you know about her?" She asks both of them.
Laurent self-consciously adjusts his oversized hat. "Again, not much: she's an armored knight and very skilled, but little beyond that. Given what the Boss told us of her, however, it might be safe to assume that she is a trusting person…very unfortunate given the current circumstances."
"Well, the Boss never told us about the civil war, either." Yarne grumbles. "Seems like a pretty big oversight to me."
"Plegia never fell to pieces during our time, Yarne." Laurent chides him. "Had you paid attention to your studies—"
"Ain't nobody got time for dat." Yarne grins, getting a deep 'why do I bother' sigh from Laurent. "So, what, are we saving Kjelle's master as well?" He asks Lucina.
Lucina nods. "If it is within our power to do so; scout around the fortress until Kjelle's entourage arrives, we can decide on what to do from there."
"I thought you didn't accept the Boss's ideology." Laurent says with some surprise.
Lucina scowls. "I don't agree with his methods, but I certainly understand his motivation to save as many lives as he can, and that I do agree with."
Laurent nods, satisfied with her answer.
…
The three of them exits the Plegian Inn for not more than a few steps when they were confronted by a band of drunks.
By the way guys? Don't drink (alcohol) during the middle of the day. Hydration's important but getting wasted before noon is bad.
This has been your ill-placed Public Service Announcement.
"Hey…pretty redhead. Come and play with us for a change, yeaH?" Drunkard A slurs.
Lucina, having been raised around Ash's aversion to alcohol, stared at the group with ill-disguised distaste.
"Ah…you don't know us, do ya?" Drunkard A continues to say. "We'RE PLEgian regulars…we keep pretTIEs like you from having your face bloodied up…we do GOOD work for the people, you know?"
"Let's go." Lucina says coldly.
"Hey, hey…" Drunkard B moves to block her path. "Our buddy wa being NICE, why are you ignoring him like thatUH!?"
"We're Pleggie soldiers…" Drunkard C grins. "So we take…and no askin' nicely."
All the Drunkards seem to realize by this point that they're, y'know, soldiers (sloshed out of their mind, sure) and move to grab Lucina.
Drunkard A lunges in first.
Yarne stops him with a solid punch to the chest.
Drunkard A is now no longer lunging and is on the ground.
"Sorry guys, but if I don't step in I'm going to have nightmares about Lucina's blade work again." Yarne mutters, getting an agitated look from Lucina aimed at his back.
"It's true. You are far too willing to use sharp pointed objects at our…well." Laurent says, suddenly realizing that the lady willing to use sharp pointed objects at man's greatest treasure (and weakness) is standing within arm's reach.
Lucina sheathes her half-drawn Falchion. "It's a perfectly reasonable form of defense." She huffs.
"OY….KIDs like you can just FUCK OFF!" Drunkard B snarls and lunges toward Yarne.
"You guys are empty handed." Yarne points out, adjusting his arm guards until tiny nubs appeared on the edges, just barely extending out from his fist.
Drunkard B then felt three lightning quick blows to his chest before the blur in front of him spun and kicked him into the wall of the opposite building (a good ten meters away (approx. 40 feet)).
"And I…am Yarne." Yarne smirks. "Come at me."
The rest of the Drunkards (C to F) felt that it was now ok to lunge at Yarne at the same time.
Yarne, in response, joins his two fists together (so the little nubs touched) and took on a ready stance. As the Drunkards got closer, Yarne focused his mind and punched the air.
The little nubs on the punching hand crackled with magical power and a CRACK resounded through the empty town square. The discharge from the little nubs sent all of the Drunkards back flying, the sudden flash of light still dancing in their head and making their alcohol addled senses go haywire.
"Heh heh. Yarne special: Bright Claw." Yarne says, grinning widely, as he re-adjusted his arm guards again to retract the nubs.
"You need to spend less time with Cythia." Laurent pointed out as he took off the magnetized sunglasses lens from his normal glasses. "She teaches you nothing but theatrics."
"Seriously." Lucina agrees; she had simply turned her head away when Yarne took his stance.
Both were trying to protect their eyesight from the bright flash of light.
"Does the trick, doesn't it?" Yarne grins. "Now let's get out of here before people start asking uncomfortable questions." He says with a jerk of his head towards the heads poking out of the inn...and all the other houses lined up along the street.
…
…
…
[October, Year 1]
[First Person Camera]
…
As Summer runs away from Fall (who will eventually run away very quickly for Winter who will stay for a long fucking time in Ferox before Spring finally kicks his lazy ass out of the house) I find myself…well, nothing much really.
Training and Politics, Politics and Training, day in, day out, pretty simple, pretty straightforward. We haven't seen anything else interesting happen since that day.
But it looks like it's going to change really damn soon.
Because we're making it change.
"Ah…Ash, it's been a while." Mustafa greets me as I hop off from Magna's back.
"Last time I came here was a week ago." I grin. "Miss me that badly?"
He laughs. "As you have so elegantly put it: 'fucking court pleasantries.' So, what can I help you with today?"
Down to business. "I've secured the land assets necessary to build the dry docks, so I'm here looking for people."
He raises an eyebrow. "That's pretty fast…"
I shrug. "Yeah, money talks; how does things look on your end?"
"A week is enough for experimentation." Mustafa nods. "Come with me."
…
I follow him out of his castle courtyard as we do a walkthrough of Mustafa's town.
There's nothing much to say. From an economic standpoint, the buildings lined up on the main streets of the town are well-maintained but not heavily decorated, and the people don't seem to be too worried about the oncoming winter.
Our two towns might as well be sister cities at this point, considering how warm the relations are between the merchants.
I'm pretty sure I also saw an Anna at one point or another.
Anyways, he leads us down the main street towards the docks while the common people greet us.
Not to toot my own horn, but I'm reasonably famous now.
Our reputation as a 'genius' is spreading.
A genius of intellectual theft, maybe.
…Anyways.
"As you can see…" Mustafa gestures to the skeleton of two ships currently dry docked on the sandy beach. "Construction is going well." He waves back to the dock workers who wave and call out to him.
Re-construction would be more like it: we're not really making the ships from scratch…just enough from scratch to change quite a few things.
I have to admit, I'm not a navy buff…like, not even close, so a lot of these designs are achieved due to collaboration between us, our shipwrights, and Mustafa's shipwrights (as well as input from your average fishermen and sailors).
Alright, so first up on the menu: these new ships are being built without sails.
Instead, they will use a modern-ish engine (adapted to use magic) as its primary means of propulsion. I've been testing the engine on and off for the past two months and it's…promising. I'm kind of banking on the fact that magic has consistently exceeded my expectations for this to work, though.
Anyways…secondly, the ships use a small amount of steel in its construction (we just don't have the forging power to make the quantity of steel required for a modern destroyer) and the steel is made out of the improved forges, designed to maximize oxygen intake and minimize the amount of impurities in the steel.
Disclaimer: we have no idea how any of this stuff works.
We have SOME idea of how it works.
"I have to admit I'm not familiar with ship construction, but it feels strange to see a ship without a mast." Mustafa says. "Are you sure this is feasible, foreman?"
For the record, he's asked this question every time we went to the docks.
"Well…it's not possible to follow this design concept exactly." The shipwright says (like he does every time Mustafa asks said question) "But with the modifications we've made it should be plenty possible."
We're still using wood (albeit with steel reinforcements) so there's a limitation to how the ship is going to look…not having welding sucks, I guess? But regardless they should be faster, stronger, and better than anything else on the high seas for a long, long time.
"So I take it the other dry docks are ready for service?" The foreman asks me, and I nod. "Good, good…I have crew ready to go, we can start bringing in material immediately, with your permission, of course." He glances at Mustafa.
"Naturally." Mustafa nods.
"Yeah…do you guys need anything? We have some free space in the Workshop for the next few weeks." I ask…it's a partnership, after all.
The shipwright nods. "Actually, yes, here." He hands me a small list. "If it isn't too much trouble."
Let's see…all small parts. I nod. "Yeah, shouldn't be a problem."
…
And we talk about more small things for some hours.
The fact that Flavia gave me a blank check to do whatever I want (plus me spending tons of money on the common people) really makes it easy to do whatever the hell I want for any reason whatsoever.
Including make technically illegal deals with former enemies of the nation.
But really nobody cares since it makes neighborly wars less likely.
…
Eventually we got roped into dinner. Mustafa's chefs are, I'm sorry to say, better than Ninya.
But then she's one person and he has a team, so it's no contest.
Plus she's cute and they're...I've never actually seen them so I can't make an objective judgment, but I'd imagine that she's cuter than all of them combined.
We're trying to avoid getting killed by Ninya if she ever finds out…not that she will, of course.
…
"Concerning the matter you brought up last week…about that girl, Nowi." Mustafa said after dinner. "I believe I might have a lead."
I had told him (rather offhandedly) that Nowi was looking for an important family heirloom of hers…specifically, an impossibly round, green jewel.
Or at least that's how Nowi described it.
I didn't actually think he would find anything. "What's up?"
"As you are aware…we Plegians often have unsavory contacts." Mustafa growls. "And it was brought to my attention by one of those contacts that a certain Feroxi noble has been dealing heavily with some of our slave traders of late."
I feel weird about talking Mustafa into regulating the slave trade in his territory. Like on one hand we gave support to the idea that slavery is ok, but on the other hand it lets Mustafa give slaves more official rights and greater protection under the code of law, so…
…Well, it's one more thing I mull over on my nightly walks. "That seems to be pretty normal."
Nobles everywhere don't exactly shun the purchase of slaves…Chrom being an exception, but then he has a castle and no obligation to maintain it. For the record we don't own any slaves.
If memory serves the Shepherds raided a desert about two weeks back, no telling what they found though. I'm getting sidetracked though: ok, slaves, buying, possible lead, go.
"Indeed." Mustafa nods. "However, this particular noble has been quite vocal about his exotic collection of rarities…of both trinkets and people." I take it from the snarl in his voice that he's not exactly happy about this noble.
Hmm…exotic people, huh? "Well, it certainly is better than letting Nowi bash her head against the wall. Thanks, man."
Non sequitur: most of the people in Mustafa's court don't like how informal we are with Mustafa.
Mustafa shrugs. "Concerning your other request, I have yet to be alerted of someone matching your description."
That 'someone' being, naturally, Noire.
I figured that if she was in danger of being kidnapped in her Paralogue, only to be saved by the player's timely entrance, then in this reality she's practically guaranteed to be enslaved and then sold. For a number of reasons I can't imagine slavery being good for her.
Quirky nature aside, Noire is pretty…and stacked, which means she's probably going to be hard to secure if she is ever actually captured and sold. Well, hard to secure and rescue without resorting to violence.
I'm personally more worried about Loud!Noire getting Quiet!Noire into trouble that she can't get out of. I'm operating under the assumption that future me would have done something about Noire's lack of melee power in case something like that happens but…having a plan that isn't just "pray" is nice.
For the record: what we told Mustafa to look out for is "girl with short hair, ample busom, a talent for bows, and the ability to switch from meek to insane at a moment's notice. He looked reasonably surprised at the last one.
I thought it was pretty accurate. "Well, thanks for keeping an eye out." I can't exactly run patrols myself since I don't have that kind of authority, but we're all trying.
I find it amusing that we're not worried about anyone else, like, say, Severa.
Severa should have the common sense to avoid running into a fortress full of promoted enemies in the real world, since she's not running on the NPC AI anymore. Really, we only worry about Noire because all of her strength revolves around that amulet of hers.
…
[Back home for us, next day]
…
Well, Mustafa did say something about a Feroxi Noble who enjoys collecting stuff, so let's see if we can find something out.
…after we stop this current thing. "Nowi, Morgan, what are you doing?!"
Nowi releases the stranglehold she had on Morgan's neck. "He stole my cookies!"
We heard something shatter a few minutes ago and came down to see this. It should be noted that Ninya is not in the house.
"I did not!" Morgan retorts. "You weren't supposed to have them!"
The two go into a staring contest again. Morgan's like…twelve…or something.
Point is Nowi's picking a logic fight with a child and losing. Nina is very strict about snacking.
More importantly though. I peer over Nowi's head to observe the vanquished cookie jar, and see… "Mag, stop that."
Magna withdraws his huge front claw from the table cookies in shame back out of the window.
He's outside and is reaching into the house in a manner much like a cat…a large, scaly cat.
"Who broke the jar?" I ask.
"I did." Morgan says…very proudly, actually. "I was trying to keep it from Nowi and it slipped from my hands. I'm sorry."
I can't say he sounds apologetic, but he certainly doesn't seem to be lying.
"And I'm helping him clean up!" Nowi supplies happily.
While we're not paying attention Magna sneaks a cookie away from the pile.
"Help by eating all the cookies." Morgan glares at her.
Nowi shrugs. "What? Don't get mad at me just because you haven't had any. Ninya's cookies are the best."
I feel like that last bit was an addition to…yeah.
Nina had walked through the front door (behind the two of them) and had put a hand on Nowi's shoulder.
I think she's learning from Cherche.
Nowi utters the smallest, highest-pitched "sorry" I think I've ever heard as Ninya drags her out of my line of sight, into the kitchen area.
…
What an idiotic distraction.
"Uh…boss, are you going somewhere?" Morgan asks after he pays attention to my attire.
As in, I'm actually dressed in clean civilian clothing.
Because you weren't cleanly dressed yesterday?
I showed up in Mustafa's court wearing armor, so no, not really.
"I'm going to do a little digging around." I reply. "I finally have a lead on Nowi's thing that she's looking for."
Nowi, meanwhile, is in timeout, with Magna watching over her (and protected against bribes by Ninya promising him treats for doing a good job).
Nowi has a surprisingly good track record for bribing Magna to do her bidding, unless treats or Minerva is involved.
"Really? She still doesn't have her Dragonstone?" Morgan says.
'Still', huh? "You want to come with me? I could use the help." I ask him.
Morgan's face just lights up. "Yes! I'll be glad to help! Just let me get my wHOA"
Morgan tries to rush down the stairs into the basement armory but trip before he even gets to the staircase. He gets up and dusts himself off before charging down the stairs.
I suppose it's good that we didn't save Morgan just to lose him to a goddamn staircase.
…
Hmm…
Well, this is going to take us some time, so why not move on for a bit?
…
[If you say so]
.
.
.
{ === + === }
Author Note:
The writing. It feels weird when done with a dose of Tired.