#AN: I didn't realise this chapter was happening until I wrote it. I'm still not sure it's necessary and I'm not pleased with it per se, but I at least took advantage to accomplish a few things.


Chapter 25: Measured Responses

It was back.

Again.

Not even a day after they'd had returned to the comforting banality of academy life (and Louise had finally allowed herself to be seen by a proper healer) and the thrice-be-damned mechanical brasswork owl was back. Or if not the same one, a similar enough one

Similar enough, but for several modifications.

First, and most obviously, was the doll head. (And wasn't that an unsettling change?) Second, annoyingly, were the electric shocks it delivered when she tried to touch it. Tabitha glared at it and grabbed her insulated alchemy gloves. It was then that it revealed it's third trick and nearly ate an anti materiel slug.

"Charlotte!"

It was her mother's voice.

"Charlotte is so cute!"

The demented, caricature version of her mother that only recognised her as a doll after drinking the mind poison intended for her.

"Ah, I love you, my dear little Charlotte!"

I knew that doll head looked familiar.

As she faltered, it kept up a vapid loop of calls to her birth name that were escalating in volume. She tore the head open, yanked the message tube out, and threw the awful thing into her empty wardrobe with a hasty silence paling.

Yes, with those small modifications, it had become a declaration of war. Or maybe an invitation to murder the sender? A sort of "suicide by lethal blueberry" note?

Something to fantasise about later. For now, it appeared she had another assignment from The Bastard. She read it twice before setting it down and rubbing her temples.

The markings said it was from him directly and it was certainly his penmanship, but... why did he care about the affairs of a greater elemental that wasn't even in his borders? It was even more outlandish than his usual suicide errands.

Quell the Lagdorian lake spirit?

Insanity.

The breeze from the window jostled the message tube and drew her eye to the second sheet, this time on some elegant embossed stationery.

What kind of brute mutilates the messenger? Why, it's the behaviour I'd expect of some inept child with nothing to lose! Truly, my poor creations don't deserve such awful treatment. I'm sure you'll make sure this new one comes back in one piece so I don't have to build another one. Isn't that right, Charlotte?

There was a small caricature of The Bitch making a rude gesture in place of a signature.

Oh yes, she was going to make that woman's death excruciating. Her pain would be legendary. There would be songs- a small twine of calm and concern brushed against the edge of her awareness. Louise. Yes, the dark direction her thoughts were taking might have left her pinkling paramour perplexed if not perturbed. She took some deep breaths and focused on their bond, drawing strength from it and threading her own skein of gratitude and affection through.

Something no book had ever captured was how much easier it was to make a gesture like that without the terror of giving it voice or the uncertainties inherent to language. They cared for each other without need of a definition to shackle it to. It was... safe. Safe and warm.

Then her paling started to collapse and spoiled her moment of mingling.

Vexing.

She sighed and fetched the etchant from her enchanting kit. Half an hour later, the exquisitely vile hellspawn was hobbled to her desk corner with some silver wire in sweet silence.

She sagged into her chair with a groan.

It bothered her. The implications of that extra note bothered her.

She had hoped she was mistaken from the moment the idea popped into her head, but the more she tried to find evidence against her odd conjecture, the more seemed to pile up in support of it.

She needed to pay a visit to Colbert.


The knock at the door startled him. He had a reputation for burning the midnight oil and had told all of his students that they could visit at any time. That's the sort of thing an educator is supposed to do, right? But an unexpected visitor so late in the evening was, if not a first, something close to it. He tensed, consciously resisting the urge to covertly palm his wand under his desk. That wasn't him, not anymore.

"Come in!" His voice was a touch raspy after a day of lecturing; no amount of water could seem to prevent it. A constant reminder of what he was and who he had been. The door swung open quietly and he tensed further.

Tabitha was a brilliant student, for sure. Too brilliant. She was a year younger than most second years, but outperformed all of them handily in practicals and nearly in all theory as well, but for Vallière's obstinacy. That much would be obvious to any average educator, he thought. But he'd seen her dossier when the news came that she was transferring and he'd received the shocking additions that had been revealed recently. Even without that insider information, for someone who knew what to look for, her mannerisms were those of a soldier.

And now she was here with an uncharacteristic expression. She didn't emote often in the presence of others, so he wasn't sure how to feel about her troubled mien. While he struggled to break the silence, her expression firmed.

"Reference notes on Void Familiars, please."

He stared. She met his gaze evenly.

"I'm afraid I have no such document, young Tabitha," he finally ventured. "Might I ask why you're interested?" No sense getting worked up. Maybe she was-

"Please be serious, Frere Jean-Baptiste."

-his thoughts ground to a screeching halt. He winced internally because he was sure he flinched visibly. You used to be better than this, Jean, he chided himself. In your heyday, she would already be ash.

He looked down at the mess of his desk and sighed. I cast that mantle aside for a reason. He looked back up.

"How do you know that name?" he asked sharply. His wand hand twitched. She tensed.

"The Princess mentioned an agent. For young nobility, it must be a trusted one. A former Freres vox Honten fits." That was sound. Very well reasoned. But...

"If you know that much, you know the Foxhounds don't officially exist. And yet you're remarkably well informed."

She nodded slightly in concession. Slowly, she turned up her left hand and brushed over it with the fingers of her right. A glow? She held the palm up and...

"I see you're familiar with not officially existing. You realise I can't not report this, yes? Realistically, I should be taking you for interrogation."

"Peace, Flame Snake." She clenched the fist, concealing the rapidly fading monogram insignia of the Paladins and flipped it over to show a different kind of marking. "I've a higher calling, now." If it was an act, it was a damn good one. She injected more emotion into that declaration than all the other times he'd observed her combined.

"I suppose. Her orders were to trust you, so I will. For now." The aggressive manner of veiled threats laced into politeness came far too readily for his taste. So much time spent trying to be the affable and slightly loopy Professor, dismantled in seconds. Still, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a scroll after several seconds of rummaging, placing it on the desk in offer. "You already know the significance of your own brand, I presume. Has something unexpected happened?"

It was subtle, but the small shifts of expression revealed the earlier uncertainty was still lurking as she swiftly scanned through what he'd condensed from excerpts of a dozen different tomes of lore on the Founder. Evidently, she found what she was looking for. She rolled it neatly and put it back with a curt nod of thanks, eyes flinty.

"Message for Her, priority coded." He felt his eyebrow climbing up his brow but took out a fresh sheet of parchment and nodded for her to go ahead. "Have reason to believe Joseph de Gallia is a Void mage STOP Further believe he has summoned the Mind of God STOP Rub-al-Khalid woman of slight build and average height, moniker 'Sheffield' END" His hand was trembling by the end of the short missive.

"That's... a mess. Do you think the church is aware?" Tabitha frowned ever so slightly, shifting her weight between feet.

"Inconclusive but a threat. Could cement his claim." The part of him that was an educator responsible for the next generation of youth lamented that she had any reason to think about such matters, but it was a fair point.

"Acknowledged. Thank you for you this information. The Crown... appreciates your cooperation." It was a concession, but she'd earned some grudging respect from the Flame Snake of old, too. He barely heard her response as she nodded again and ghosted out of his office:

"It's not for your sake."

Yeah, it didn't take a genius to see where the taciturn girl's true allegiance lay. Oh well, young Louise is probably incorruptible. His thoughts went to Wardes and he shook his head. That we could all hold such a standard.


Carefully, Tabitha used some of the leftover etchant to sharpen the edges of every feather on the messenger Alvis and imbue a small durability rune in enough places that the motion of the cross resonance should compromise the overall construct once it stopped moving.

Tabitha briefly considered going back to ask if the Flame Snake had some good poisons on hand, but thought better of it; too suspicious if she had the Good Stuff that could bring down a horse with a pinprick and subtlety wasn't his MO anyway. To be fair, it wasn't hers either, not enough guarantee. As something of a prank unlikely to be fatal, a double concentrated belladonna tincture mixed with a touch of boar grease would have to do for coating it.

She scribbled a hasty note to The Bitch to go with her official correspondence:

I took the liberty of improving this unit's defences against interception. You're welcome.

... and several minutes later, it was off. Assuming Sheffield didn't do her the tremendous favour of dying horribly from this entirely measured and reasonable response, the next escalation might be rather nasty. But her plans were maturing well enough that she felt confident she could deal with it when it came.

She buried the thought. It was time to...

... she looked longingly at the stack of strange, thin books she'd salvaged from the Tristanian Reliquary. Books in a language she couldn't even read where the text was accompanied by shockingly realistic colour paintings! She found herself reaching for them unconsciously and forced herself to stop.

It was time to study. She had to get stronger. She had failed Louise once and that was...

... the brush of something like "beckoning warmth" in the back of her mind had her look down at the bland magic text in her hands.

On third thought, she admitted, I could use a nap.


She stared blankly at the parchment. There was so much to be said, so much to be communicated, but all she had managed was three words. Dawn was approaching; she had to-

Tabitha flinched as a hand came to rest on top of her head.

"Going somewhere, Tabby Cat?" Kirche crooned.

Looking up to the mirror, Tabitha could see lines of worry on Kirche's face that didn't match the tone of the question, forestalling the eye roll that was her first impulse. Instead, she nodded down at the message she'd written and Kirche moved into her space, loosely wrapping her up in warm arms so she could peer over the shorter girl's shoulder. She was looking at it again too so she didn't see the face Kirche made but the low hiss made her displeasure known.

"Dear, surely this isn't all you intend to write?"

She closed her eyes and a little puff of an almost-sigh escaped. It wasn't, really. There was so much to be said and so much to be processed before that. Truthfully, she was almost glad that she'd have some space and time to recentre and properly contemplate... everything about Louise.

"Okay, fine, fine, I'll fill in some more details, grab a few things, and then we'll go."

...Wait.

Waiiiiiit.

What.

She felt, more than heard, Kirche's low chuckle reverberate through their close contact. "What, you didn't think I'd just let you leave all alone, did you?"

But she wanted to be alone, she was supposed to be alone, Irukuku would be there so she wasn't alone, she needed... she sighed for real this time. Kirche was a friend. Kirche was safe. And, in all honesty, Kirche was much smarter and more perceptive than she let on. Tabitha knew arguing was a lost cause at this point.

"And you're sure you're okay with leaving Louise alone like this?"

She stiffened involuntarily. Yes. Too perceptive by half. She let the silence linger, trying to put her turmoil to words.

"You're worried about her."

She nodded slightly in agreement. That was true enough.

"You're worried about her so you're leaving her behind and you're doing it on the quiet because... this is a dangerous one, isn't it," Kirche whispered, and Tabitha felt Kirche's slow nod from the press of their bodies- when had she gotten so close!? "You don't want the argument because you don't want her to know and she'd end up coming along anyway." Tabitha slumped, still wordless.

Damn this woman... she thought half-heartedly. How? Was she so predictable?

"Now, now, chin up, love. I'll be there to watch your back and make sure you star-crossed lovers reunite at the end of this!"

Lovers!? In spite of herself, she felt a tinge of pink blossom over her cheeks. Kirche disentangled from her person and flounced off to powder her nose for adventure or whatever, leaving Tabitha to stand stock-still as she had a mini crisis about that label.

Maybe Louise was on to something when she called Kirche detestable...