Hoo boy, people. I am rather shocked myself to admit it, but I believe we've gotten over the two thirds mark for the completion of this story. We'll have us a quick "establishing action" entry next update and then we'll get into the "ending plot" of this piece of the saga.
Might give this a break after that, put another project in the lineup and then start on "Book Two" sometime later. We'll see how things go. That said, hope you enjoy the chapter!
It was about midday by the tie Bell and Wiene made it back to Daedalus Street. The duo were a good deal more sedate traversing the streets at this point. This was mostly at Bell's insistence, the young man urging his ward to curb her enthusiasm.
Wouldn't be good for Wiene to be quite so zealous considering she was armed now.
After leaving Miach's shop, making a swift detour to drop off their cargo back at home, the pair had more or less wandered. While Bell had some ideas of what they should acquire, he'd been divided on where to go. This ultimately meant they just kind of went wherever Wiene's fancy took them.
This, unfortunately, lead them back to a certain textile vendor.
Bell had not been happy to see Nessa's jubilant face. The amazon repaid his distaste with a wink and a kiss which only soured the by's mood further. None of this was helped by Wiene's absolute joy in seeing a familiar face. When Nessa asked to get a good look at the girl in her new outfit, Wiene happily spun in place and started up a little dance.
The smile that graced Nessa's face was… fading in propriety.
"So what are you and your daddy doing today?" And now Bell was conflicted between feeling pleased to be called Wiene's father… and a little icked out by how gross it sounded coming from the amazon.
"We're getting ready! Tomorrow, I'll be a hero in the dungeon!"
That statement caused a change in Nessa. The unabashedly perverse grin stretching over her features sobered considerably. Now looking contemplative, Nessa held for a silent moment before her expression perked.
The amazon skipped off quickly, thrusting her palms towards the pair and squawking at them to give her just a moment. Then she took off into the depths of her shop, the rough sounds of rummaging flowing out from within. Honestly, Bell was quite ready to ditch before the troubling woman came back. But something about the look she'd given Wiene just now had him rooted in place.
Nessa was quick, reappearing around stacks of fabric with a youthful hop in her step. Her smile was so innocent it was almost mocking, Bell beginning to regret his choice to stick around. She kept her hands behind her back as she bounced into position beside Wiene.
"Have something for you, little one."
The grinning amazon swung her arms around, presenting a fine, if rather plain, rectangular box. The vessel was about as long as Bell's forearm from wrist to elbow. The perturbing thought that the case was just about large enough to contain a flirtatious rose had the boy's heckles raised.
What was actually inside the thing was both better and worse than Bell imagined. Nessa lifted the lid to reveal a short, slightly curved blade. Like the angular housing it was carried in, the velvet sheath was fine but plain. The wrapping of the handle was pitch black, the broad guard and circular pommel cast in a coarse layer of gold.
Wiene's eyes shined as she gazed upon the offered knife. She remained still, her left hand twitching at her side as though aching to reach for the treasure. Nessa allowed this adorable display for a short time, clearly getting her rocks off. A growl from Bell prompted her on, the fabrics vendor pressing the gift towards the dragon girl.
She almost moaned when Wiene turned those mesmerizing eyes on her. The amazon widened her smile and nodded at the girl's silent question, suppressing the need to squeeze her thighs together.
Subconsciously, Bell felt his hatred for this woman grow.
Not needing further encouragement, Wiene practically snatched up the weapon. Bell raised his hand in warning but halted seeing the blatant awe in the girl's expression. With one hand on the grip and another on the sheath, Wiene tugged the two apart, revealing a sliver of polished saffron.
"I was never an adventurer," Nessa supplied, "not the sort that went into the dungeon, at any rate. But my father liked to travel, he had real merchant blood in his veins. Anything can happen on the road, so my mother and me took it upon ourselves to act as bodyguards."
The amazon nodded to the partially unsheathed dagger, "That knife was the last one my father ever gave me, right after he'd hit the motherload of all trade deals. Said I should use it to 'secure my future.' I was maybe eleven or twelve at the time, bout as old as Wiene looks."
Bell stared hard at Nessa for a moment. He didn't have the best opinion of her overall but… this seemed pretty sincere. And he couldn't help his own interest. Before he could stop himself, Bell posed the question, "So is your father…"
Nessa looked a little stunned that the boy was even interacting with her, but quickly threw on a smile and waved her palm dismissively. "He's not dead or anything. Get a letter from him about every other month. Should be somewhere to the northeast right now, between the coastline and the mountains."
The dungeon delver nodded, quite familiar with that region himself. Nostalgic thoughts of home flittered through his mind.
Bell's musings were interrupted by the short, repeating sound of something sliding apart and then together. Glancing at the source, he spotted Wiene fiddling with the sheathed knife. Specifically, she was drawing the blade half out of its scabbard… then sipping it all the way back in. It seemed she quite enjoyed the small clack when the weapon settled fully into its housing.
"Come on Wiene," the rookie adventurer softly chided, seeing her actions as rather disrespectful to Nessa. This notion was rejected the instant Bell turned to face the fair haired amazon.
Nessa was watching Wiene, her attention undivided. She was also sporting a full blush, her eyes half lidded as the dragon girl started ramping her sheathing/unsheathing to a rapid pace. The fabrics vendor was starting to squirm, giving her plump lips a salacious lick.
It was at this point Bell realized how… suggestive Wiene's actions could be seen. And instantly that speck of respect he had for Nessa evaporated.
Without a word the young man touched the blunette's shoulders. Pausing to look at her savior, no words were needed. The dour look on Bell's face set the tone cleanly. Wiene ceased her repeated actions… by fully drawing the golden dagger.
For a moment Bell marveled at the clearly southern design, the curved edges more suited to slashing than stabbing. He wondered what kind of metal it was made out of, actual gold would have been impractical.
"Farah."
Against his better judgment, Bell spared Nessa a look. The curiosity on his and Wiene's faces was plain to see.
"It's not a terribly special blade, but my father still wanted it to have a name."
"So," Bell ventured, a thoughtful note in his voice, "he named it after your mom?"
"Nope," Nessa grinned, "named it after the woman he dodged marrying. Said she would have shackled him in place and killed his merchant dreams outright. In his own words, 'A beauty on the surface, but a vicious bitch beneath'."
Bell needed to gather himself for a second. Wiene was looking at her new knife like it was suddenly a storied heirloom. And then Bell inquired, "Your dad… named the weapon he gave you, his daughter… after the woman who could have been your mom?"
"Yep! Mama thought it was hilarious!" There was a certain far-away quality to Nessa's amusement, the blonde glancing off into the midday sky. Bell leveled a flat stare at the tanned woman, Wiene's gaze shifting between the silent "adults." She moved her hands into position to resume her sheathing/unsheathing ritual.
Bell caught the dragon girl's hands as the dagger was fully covered. His expression remained blank – perhaps a shred of annoyance peeking through – as the young man wheeled Wiene around and began to usher her out of the area.
As they retreated, Nessa started up a round of soft, absent chuckles. They carried remarkably far, pushing Bell to flee with a certain haste around a distant corner, where the haunting melody was overtaken by the bustle of the city proper.
The less time Bell spent around this woman, the better.
They grabbed food on the way back to the church, navigating rougher roads of Daedalus Street. Wiene had demolished a six inch wrap, one laden thick with various meats, in a matter of seconds. Bell graciously gave the girl half of his own. Wiene rewarded him with her stuffed cheeks and a happy little jig.
Bell could almost ignore the scarlet clad knife bouncing on her hip, swaying along with the dark fabric of her sarong. Dear gods, Wiene was fucking armed…
That's what had brought the pair to this more secluded alley. Though merely a side street between two buildings, it actually opened up to a surprisingly wide space. One wall and corner of the modest square was covered by a sizable stack of weathered crates. A couple smaller boxes and a single large barrel were set sporadically about the area.
To Bell, this seemed like as good a place as any. "Wiene," he called to the dancing dragon. With a hop and a spin, the girl landed in a crouch, facing her hero with a bright smile.
The boy gave her one back. "Draw your knife," Bell swiftly drew his own, twirling it into a loose grip, "I'm gonna show you how to hold it."
Wiene "oooh'd," the picture definition of an overeager child. She almost fumbled the dagger out of its sheath as she grabbed it, some concern marring Bell's features.
In the depths of this forest, you could barely tell it was midday. The leafy canopy obscured the sky almost in its entirety, casting the woods into shadow. It made for a rather intimidating hunting ground.
Well, not for the Artemis Familia, it seemed.
Foust stood on a bare patch of ground, amongst a mess of gnarled tree roots. The tree responsible towered behind him its upper reaches shrouded by a curious mist. Foust paid no mind to the strange fog, his eyes closed and his studded boots planted firmly in the dirt.
Quick as a whip, the mage's arm shot up to the side, pointing into the shrubbery. "Ten o'clock, thirty meters out." Foust's voice hardly carried over the chorus of wildlife and rustle of leaves. It took only a second before the young caster got a response.
From the mist covered tree above, the sharp twang of a loosed arrow pierced the forest air. The swift bolt whistled into the bush, vanishing from view with a short spray of leaves. About two seconds later, a dull thmp sounded in the distance followed by the solid thud of something falling to the ground.
As Foust opened his green eyes, a person dropped onto one of the large roots nearby. Garbed in her signature blue and white, Artemis smoothly rose from her deep crouch. As she reached around for her quiver, Foust drifted a somewhat vibrant, "Nice shot," towards the divine archer.
Artemis hummed in acknowledgment as a second person dropped down, notably between the short male and the goddess. The red headed figure fixed Foust with an "obligatory glare," no real heat behind it.
"Of course the shot was good," Rethusa spoke, following after Artemis, "my goddess never misses." Foust might have had a contradiction for that, but the hassle wouldn't have been worth it. He set off silently beside the two women.
And as they departed, the veil of fog around the tree behind them vanished quickly.
Rethusa was tightly garbed in hues of earthen red, darker strips of mahogany running up her sides and limbs. Her attire was a smooth, leather uniform, the padded outfit strapped and buttoned flush against her lithe form. The bent, curved form of a kopesh rested in a thick sheath across her lower back, the grip extending out to her right.
To Foust's amusement, she was still keeping her hair long. And also in that thick braid. Magna would get a kick out of that… whenever she decided to catch up to them, at least.
Artemis kept an arrow notched as the trio pushed through the bramble, her head scanning the shaded wood. Rethusa overtook the archer, a hand on her sword's hilt as she scurried ahead. Foust was mostly nonchalant, his "earth sense" still in effect and alerting him to a lack of "threats" nearby.
They'd scored a buck, a good sized one with some impressive antlers. Foust made a mental note to saw the things off, he could think of a few familia members who'd be happy to have them. Artemis' shot had pierced through the deer's breast, probably right through the heart. The blue haired goddess crouched nearby, bow up and at the ready, as Rethusa knelt over the still corpse.
"Dead and gone," the red clad woman declared as she drew a thin knife from a holster on her hip. She placed a palm flat across the animal's brow, covering its eyes as she mumbled a short prayer. Foust stood nearby at a respectful distance.
For a little while, the group stayed quiet, only the sound of Rethusa's blade slicing through the buck's pelt to break the stillness. Then Artemis intoned, "You don't feel anything nearby, right?"
Foust didn't turn to answer her, keeping the brief smile hidden. "Nothing to be concerned about," he said in response.
Artemis stood up, relaxing the draw on her bowstring and rolling her head for a moment. Though she still kept some awareness of her surroundings, the goddess appeared much more at ease.
"Thank you for your help, Foust," the archer said, turning a light smile on the young man. In the background, Rethusa drifted a soft, "Yeah, thanks," of her own, preoccupied with sorting out the carcass.
Foust held up his stoic countenance betrayed only by a light dusting of his cheeks. "No thanks needed goddess. Not for something this trivial." The steel haired made was gazing off into the distance, not facing Artemis.
The divine archer's grin grew a touch more serene. "I wouldn't call it trivial. Not a lot of mortals have access to a repertoire of spells so extensive as yours."
Though subtle, Foust couldn't help but preen slightly at the sudden praise. Being seasoned huntresses, the two women easily picked up on his body language. Artemis stilled a giggle as Rethusa, carving off layers of meat, rolled her scarlet orbs.
"I just practice a lot," the caster recovered, "anyone can get where I am with a little discipline. Plus, its not like I got this far all on my own."
Artemis, knowing a tiny bit of Foust's past, allowed her interest to show. "How long were you at the college? You've said before that you weren't a 'traditional student'."
"Born there, far as I'm concerned. My earliest memories were in those halls. I've been around magic my entire life."
"… I think Odd was very lucky to find you."
This caused Foust to lock green orbs with Artemis. She had a certain wistful look on her features and coupled with her tone of voice…
It almost sounded like she was a little jealous, like she would have jumped to have the short magus in her familia. Not for the first time, Foust had to really marvel how much she'd changed sine their familias started linking up.
Something crashed into the distant shrubbery. Foust had lost focus on his "earth sense" so he had not noted the approach. Artemis widened her stance, whirling on the sound's source with an arrow notched and ready. Similarly, Rethusa dropped her knife, spinning around her goddess to rest between her and the incoming threat. Her kopesh was drawn before her, the thin, curved blade giving an audible shing.
They didn't have to wait long before they spotted it. The dark, massive shape crashing towards them through the underbrush was a lurching, graceless thing. The most they could tell about it aside from its size was that the beast was furred. Artemis was ready to loose a shot.
But then she noticed Foust's lack of care or action. And the goddess recalled the caster's report from earlier, that there was "nothing to be concerned about" nearby. Cautiously, Artemis began to stand down.
Rethusa didn't quite get the message. As the dark beast broke into the clearing, unleashing a ragged roar of exertion, the red head launched herself into the foe.
Artemis reached out to halt her, her movements too slow to catch the young huntress. Foust didn't even move, a nearly humored grin pulling at his lips.
The shadowed mass toppled forward, plopping onto the ground with a heavy thud. The now recognizable frame of Ghiran stood with arms stretched out, howling in relief at the loss of his burden. He barely registered the steel edge which screamed to a halt right in front of his throat.
Ghiran smacked his lips to cap off his euphoric yawp. Then, with arms still spread wide, the ponytailed warrior stared down at the widened gaze of Rethusa. A long pause followed in which neither party moved.
Then Ghiran started to haltingly inch his arms inwards. It was clear the handsome fighter was indicating his willingness to embrace the sword wielder, watching the red head for any sign of rejection. He hadn't even made any real progress when Artemis bit back a tiny snort.
This returned Rethusa to active mode. The young woman instantly withdrew her weapon. She scrambled out of Ghiran's range with an indignant screech and flailing limbs. Now Artemis sputtered, always happy to see her captain's flustered side.
"Wh-What the hell were you doing!?" Rethusa had gone so far as to cross one arm over her very garbed breasts. The fact that she wasn't jousting her curvy blade in the man's direction was something of an improvement to how she used to be.
Ghiran, still holding his arms in a curled in half-hug, tilted his head in confusion. "So… you weren't holding a sword to my neck because you longed for my embrace?"
Rethusa's face instantly matched with the rest of her, turning a burning scarlet. Artemis fully lost composure here, sinking to a kneel and flinging her arms around her blushing child. The enthused praise and cuddles that followed would have been embarrassing if Rethusa wasn't already at max capacity.
Just kind of sitting back and watching, Ghiran slowly began to lower his arms. They shot right back up as Foust's fist crashed into the warrior's hip. A very undignified little yelp accentuated the moment.
"Keep it together, man," Foust recommended, a smug grin marring his features. Ghiran's wide eyed expression quickly narrowed at the mage's attitude.
A wooden staff whacked the brunette lightly on the dome. The shock of it sent him tumbling forward, Foust's grin now showing teeth. Odd stepped into the clearing, his staff helping him to navigate the bramble.
"What are you throwing your arms up for," the old god chastised, "Makes you look like a deer. Was about to pike you for a second there." In spite of his "admonishing" tone, the bearded god was all smiles.
Before Ghiran could recover, a heavy palm collided with the back of his head. This time there was enough force to drop the beautiful warrior onto his front Ghiran caught himself before his face could make impact.
Then the same, meaty mitt that knocked him down pressed into the back of his head. He barely got out a surprised gawk before a sudden weight plopped onto his back, driving his chest flush against the forest floor.
"Hey, wait a sec," Ghiran bubbled up, "I recognize this butt!"
And, to Foust's mixed fortune, so did he. The eruption of bright orange curls that looked ready to swallow the small boy attached told all that was needed. "Magna," the steel haired caster breathed out.
He hadn't spoken softly enough, the comparatively diminutive figure of Magna turning to face Foust. Her rather round, tanned features twisted into a winning smile, the expression stretching the smattering of freckles across her nose.
"Did you miss me, little brother," Magna chirped, her tone overly saccharine.
Foust's features scrunched up, the mage holding up a halting palm. "Don't call me that, we're not related. I'd rather not have 'established' family ties with you."
Magna slapped a palm over the section of her chest where a heart would reside, releasing a long hiss of dramatized pain. The impact did scandalous things to those oversized mounds of hers, that skimpy crop top barely managing to hold them. Foust supposed, at least, that it was better than the bikini top she used to wear.
Now if only she could find a color scheme that wasn't tiger stripes…
"That's hurtful," the curvy woman intoned, "Why would you hurt me like that? We're familia, that is family! Right Daddy!?"
Odd just sort of stalked around the area, stabbing his staff into the ground as he went. "Sure, sure," the wizened deity spoke, clearly not paying attention to the interaction. He was much more focused on Artemis absolutely gushing over her mortified child, Rethusa having been all but wrestled into her goddess' lap.
It was just the right combination of distressing and adorable to be a spectacle.
Magna jabbed a finger towards the inattentive Odd, shifting her weight and grinding Ghiran's front into the dirt. "See? Daddy knows best!"
Foust smacked his lips, not convinced in the least. "I'm not calling you sister." To this, the red head smacked the back of her palm against her brow, tipping backwards in "devastation."
"Hey," Ghiran piped up, raising an arm to be acknowledged, "I'll call you big sis, I'm happy to be family!"
To this, Magna grabbed the prone fighter's arm with both hands, playing with his fingers. After a brief study, the short woman folded Ghiran's arm down against his side, reaching over to lightly slap his face.
"You're a chair, sweetie. Chairs don't get to be family… or talk."
Ghiran stayed quiet for a moment. "That's just cold, Magna-"
Quick as a flash, "big sis" snatched at a handle poking over her left shoulder. She drew the chuck of steel attached just as fast, whipping her scarlet curls into a flurry. Ghiran flinched back as the dark, scuffed mass of a spiked ball mace slammed into the ground next to his head.
"Chairs," Magna practically sang, "don't get to talk~."
There was another lull in the "conversation." Then a wicked smile split Ghiran's face as the vertically inclined man threw out his arm, knocking the mace away. With a strong twist Ghiran had turned onto his back, dislodging Magna from her seat.
She snarled as she threw herself at the pretty warrior. A round of "play wrestling" ensued.
Foust glanced at the odd display laid out in front of him. On one side, Artemis sat knelt in a state of utter serenity, brushing a caring hand over the scalp of her silent child. Rethusa was lain out across the forest floor, partially curled in on herself, her face buried in her deity's plush lap. She was probably still awake, unwilling to let anyone see her blush.
Right in front of them were Magna and Ghiran, the former slipping free of the latter's headlock and then, somehow, catching the much taller male in a suplex. Ghiran scrambled and performed an accidental sweep kick that threw Magna onto her ass. The pair flung themselves back together, roaring and laughing in equal measure.
It was a damn wonder that Magna's bits never popped out of her poorly chosen top.
Odd came to a rest next to Foust, planting the end of his rod solidly into the earth. "Indeed, this is the optimal viewing angle." In saying such, he too took in the scene with considerably more humor than Foust.
The steel haired caster planted his face into his hands, again lamenting his life choices.
Someone training in knife play, be it for theatrics or combat, will be no stranger to getting their knicks and scratches. Bell would consider himself intimately familiar with such matters, his own prowess with small blades – while commendable – nowhere near the level of a veteran.
Wiene, being more of a novice with weaponry in general, even compared to Bell in his farmhand days, had acquired a plethora of cuts across her hands and fingers in the past few hours. Bell relaxed, Wiene mirroring his stance as the pair disengaged.
The rookie adventurer rolled his neck, long over the impulse to check if his charge was okay. She herself provided less and less of a reaction to these wounds as the session went on, a quick wince or a surprised jolt about as far as things got. As the two separated from their latest exchange, Wiene shook the slight pain out of her hand before drawing the injured digit up to her mouth.
All this was just another reminder to Bell that Wiene was not just some girl playing at being an adventurer. On her journey to the surface, she'd likely contended with obstacles that would give a level two pause. For someone so small to accept and ignore pain so readily spoke volumes.
But Bell could see there was more even than that. As the young man briefly stretched, he again kept focus on the dragon girl's hands. True they were marred with numerous scratches, each marked with dull crimson… but they weren't really bleeding. Wiene had been quick to suckle every injury she sustained so maybe it was something in her saliva? Bell knew that a lot of animals had a habit of licking their wounds.
But he couldn't ignore the memory of this morning, the information written on Wiene's status. Abnormal Form…
As the little monster continued to suck the side of her finger, she rather deftly spun her newly acquired knife in her off hand. Then, with an almost lackadaisical air, she lashed out with that arm. Farah sheared through the air at breakneck speed.
The golden blade pierced into the top section of an old barrel, the higher of a set stacked to stand at the height of a grow man. Farah had struck just over the upper iron band of the container, sinking halfway into the rounded wood.
A myriad of past punctures dotted the two barrels, evidence of a long practice session. Bell was pleased to note that a fair number of those lied within a "center mass" region. Wiene was fast becoming quite adept at armed combat.
Thinking back, Bell remembered being told similar things by his grandfather and some of his village's militia when he was learning. They were an oddly similar duo in that regard, "like father, like daughter."
Wiene pulled her hand away from her mouth and started towards the stacked barrels. After the girl took two steps, Bell tightened the grip on his own weapon.
Dipping down, Bell swung his open palm into the edge of an old crate resting next to him. His maneuver sent the box tumbling across the cobblestones, skipping directly into Wiene's legs. The young dungeon delver already had his fingers poised against another crate, preparing for a follow up shot.
Wiene hopped the first projectile, drawing her legs up as the wooden vessel sped on beneath her. She landed heavy in a deep crouch. Tilting forward, Wiene shot ahead as the second box tore through the space behind her, where her head was once sitting.
The blunette bounded forward at speed, tapping the side of a third crate as she vaulted over it. Landing beside the stacked barrels that housed her knife, the dragon girl spun as she snatched Farah from her weathered perch. The top barrel clattered to the ground behind her as Wiene whirled to meet her next obstacle.
Bell was bearing down on her, cleaving in with a falling slash. Wiene caught the strike with Farah's curved edge, holding the handle with one palm gripped over the other. But rather than get locked in place, the monster girl turned the blow aside, Bell's arm bouncing off her shoulder as she dashed past.
Wiene didn't stop to check on her opponent, leaping ahead to gain distance as Bell spun around on her. The blunette made a short twist around the bottom barrel of the former two-stack, putting the container between them.
Thinking quick and harking back to Bell's own strategy, Wiene swiftly kicked the barrel at him. The boy shored up his stance before batting the vessel away with a great sweep of his left arm. The old barrel cracked from the sheer show of force.
Then Bell was backpedaling. Wiene had surged in with a flurry of strikes, both using her blade and her off hand. The girl's barehanded swipes were curious, more akin to the clawing strikes of a beast. Recalling the lengthy talons – and seeing first hand their effectiveness – Bell could understand the tendency.
As Wiene came in with another slash, the rookie adventurer parried her knife with his own. The sharp clang and clash of sparks made the girl wince, her ears not used to the harsh sound. Bell capitalized, stepping in closer.
Wiene's free hand shot forward, palm flat in a blunt strike aimed for his sternum. She was trying to make space, gain distance so she could utilize her superb maneuverability. For a hit and run fighter, it was pretty much standard doctrine.
And it was a strategy Bell was quite familiar with.
The dungeon delver caught his foe's incoming palm at the wrist. Quick as he could, Bell side stepped the blow, dragging Wiene forward before tossing her away. He barely kept his footing as the blunette swung her leg into one of his in passing.
She really did fight like a beast.
To further cement this, Wiene recovered from her scramble by tucking into a swift roll. She bounced out of the tumble, landing in a low stance, one hand on the ground and legs spread wide. Farah was drawn up in front of her, the golden dagger brandished towards Bell.
Or at least it was supposed to be aimed towards Bell. When Wiene glanced across the small square, she found it empty of a certain young man. The surprise hadn't even filled her eyes when the touch of cold steel pressed against her throat.
Bell was crouched beside her, the flat of his knife tucked under Wiene's chin. For a good bit of time, the pair remained still and silent. Then Wiene's cheeks puffed out, an annoyed groan rumbling up from her throat.
The white haired adventurer chuckled at the pouty display, removing his weapon and popping up to full height. As he lightly stretched himself, Wiene started a wide circuit of the area, absently twirling her knife around her finger as she calmed down. Again, Bell had to marvel at how adept she was becoming.
Voices reached him, reminding Bell that they'd gained themselves a bit of an audience. It wasn't a surprising outcome, their spars hadn't exactly been quiet and while the area was a little rough, it was far from uninhabited. The buildings surrounding their little arena were a few levels high, quite a few of the off ground windows open and playing host to various onlookers.
Wiene had waved when she first noticed them. After their latest bout, Bell could spot a few viewers tossing money back and forth between each other. The rookie adventurer gave his head a few shakes, some hushed chuckles pushing through his lips.
Then Bell started towards Wiene. The sudden burst of motion was powerful and harsh. It was also over instantaneously, the boy having barely taken a threatening step towards the dungeon child. He was poised in a low crouch, his knife drawn into a ready position and his gaze razor sharp.
Wiene, by contrast, seemed quite relaxed, still twirling Farah and not even looking at her foe. But as murmurs rose up among the audience, Bell allowed a brief smirk to cross his lips. He could make out a few encouraging comments amongst those watching, likely people who'd seen or taken part in plenty of fights. They could make out the subtle tensing of muscles, the slight widening of stance.
Bell credited himself with noting the way her ears perked back. He wasn't gonna surprise Wiene so easily.
She was ready.
Tomorrow, they were going for a soft run in the dungeon.
I wanna start with something for my readers since this is a topic that mostly relates to them. I'd mentioned it in the revised edition of chapter 10, but I caught the fact that I'd been wrongly referring to Artemis as Athena during the original draft of that entry. It caught me so off guard when I re-read that because that chapter had been up for months and nobody ever called me out on it! Compare my story Cloudchasing where one of my readers blasted me for the main character having his "hook-shot" mechanism mounted to the wrong arm.
Step your game up, Danmachi fans, come on!
Since we've mentioned Artemis, we'll start the discussion with that section of the chapter. So we see here that, as expected from last we saw them, Artemis' and Odd's familias are in close cooperation/alliance. To the point where the chaste goddess is quite comfortable in Foust's presence, even her captain being "critical" more out of habit than anything else. From the earth mage's own musings, Artemis has come a long way from where she used to be, probably more in line with how she was in the movie where she's generally agreeable with everyone.
And we get the added bonus that she isn't slowly dying/hasn't lost her entire familia to achieve this state. Great Success!
Rethusa is a canon member of Artemis' familia. Pretty sure she's the figure we see as the last one standing against Antares just before the monster utterly obliterates her. I believe she gets more of a highlight in the DanMemo game but… I'm just not interested in playing/watching that so I'm going to just make up a lot in regards to her personality and such. I know her name comes from a water nymph, hence I gave her some "aquatic" abilities, as seen in her mist veil. The thought of giving her a kopesh was 1000% drawing back on my playthrough of Dying Light. Just a sexy sword design and a show of how well traveled the Artemis Familia is, carrying such an exotic weapon.
And her goddess goes ga-ga for her vulnerable side. The entertainment factor is a big part of why Odd established such close ties to their familia.
On the note of making up characters, that's probably something I'm gonna be doing with the majority of Artemis' group. The woefully bare Danmachi Wiki only lists one other member of the familia and there isn't even a picture/physical description of her so I'll probably "import" characters from other series once the group becomes more relevant to the story. I've yet to play Horizon: Zero Dawn (despite owning it) but I'm thinking a fantasy rendition of Aloy would fit in well…
Magna, on the other hand, is actually part of Odd's familia and she's a character I've had plans for since very early on in the story. She's very much the "Toph" of the group: brash, loud, and utterly uncaring of the concerns of others. Beyond being some extra muscle as we head towards the end of this book, she won't have much prominence until later.
Some Nessa backstory starts us off overall. Much like the girl herself, her background is very light and carefree, despite the more troubling elements. And Bell almost managed to send a little favor her way…
Wiene is fucking armed! Of course it's a gift from the sex pest, but as far as starter weapons go, it's more than serviceable. "Farah" is – aside from the in-story reason given by Nessa – named after your female companion from Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. In both cases: "beauty on the surface, vicious bitch beneath." Between this and the kopesh, guess I was just feeling in an eastern mood.
We get a little training sequence and Wiene displays not only her adept sense for combat but also her quick study in knifeplay. For the former, tis to be expected of someone who survived upwards to a month escaping from the middle floors. It lends itself to the latter, her adaptability making her a fast learner in other aspects of fighting. I liken to as a trait she shares with Bell, even in canon he seems to grasp things very quickly, beyond the nature of his Fast Growth.
And I couldn't resist the old "like father, like daughter" moment.
Our girl is ready to return to the dungeon.
Next time: the father/daughter duo make a short run of the underground, Hestia pushes through the end of her forging efforts, and a certain festival is about to begin.
