Kit Falbo
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MwN Chapter 33/73
🕑 Added 2024-11-25 16:03:30 +0000 UTCChapter Thirty Three
Dinner was pleasant, in that no one brought up the stabbing and Harmony got to wear a pretty dress. That Poor duelist, Steven, was a tailor by profession. Ambrosia sacrificed one of her stage costumes, which she was tired of. The result made her feel sparkly and glamorous, not that Night wasn't both those things, but this was something different.
Tess, with her mechanical spider, worked on serving. That was more of a disaster. Two broken cups, wine spilled, thankfully not on her dress, and Maxwell's toes stepped on. Engineers rarely had physical skills, and neither did her magic-based class as a diviner. Perhaps something a skill stone could fix? Managing staff was Bates's duty.
Crash!
Harmony winced, adding a plate to Tess's tally. “You were saying that there is already a flood of young tourists arriving in town, hoping to reach the requirements for the Ascendant Games?”
“I'm surprised you didn't know. With your position and all.” Gregor laughed, the merchant was all excited about this new opportunity.
“That position is mostly for show. I have to focus on advancing to earn it. Tell me more.”
Max, Ambrosia, and her new staff could gather this information. But this was one way to please Gregor and more importantly his gabbing would occupy the time and attention of the table as dinner was ending.
“Rumors are that other kingdoms already have their favorites picked out, but there is always a chance for one or two more to get lucky. So everyone with a lick of potential is coming in and buying up resources, scrolls, skill stones, and things that are cheaper here. This might even be an annual thing!” He clapped excitedly at that. “Assuming not too many people die, and that the rewards are worth it.”
Oof. Harmony needed those skill stones. There'll be a better picture soon of what she could acquire. [Danger Sense] would be ideal. The synergies were clear in how it could add an extra layer to both defense and offense. Maybe more than a little time at dinner was spent fantasizing about what she could do with it. Surely they had to have enough gold for it now?
“But none of them will be able to compete with our best, this is after all our dungeon?“ Cedric asked snootily. Courtier, but profession only, according to Max’s notes he wanted to be close to royalty but no one would have him. Harmless, but annoying. Painful to think Adric might have shared his profession.
“If you want to bet against the evolved kingdoms. I have some bookies who’d love to meet you.” Gregor responded.
“Gentlemen, no talk of gambling at my table.” Ma Bell insisted.
It wasn’t polite when Harmony was one of the ones this topic covered. She’d bet against herself if it was appropriate. The Games were a social obligation, not an interest. It was a chore, like this dinner.
“It's all theoretical.” Gregor protested.
Except the man was a degenerate gambler. Information that made it into the bio Harmony had skimmed. He'd purchased his spot at tonight's table. There had been offhand comments about his disappointment in Harmony’s choice to not wear her armor tonight. It was doubtful that wagering was only theoretical.
“Let people have their fun, Madam Bell. Whatever thorough research Gregor has done on who is favored to win would be enlightening.” Harmony butted in.
Not only would this keep him talking, but maybe there would be something to learn. There had been plenty of time hearing about bets, and odds at Coodly Manor as the houseboys loved to talk about the commission pet battles. She’d even paid attention, back when she’d planned to raise Bowe to fight in it. Gregor was now practically obligated to speak on the topic with Harmony standing up for him in front of the host.
Ma Bell’s short defeated sigh, paved that way further as it was implicit permission even if it was bridged with disappointment at the topic.
The trapped look on the merchant's face amused Harmony since he’d willingly wandered into the topic when it clearly wasn’t planned.
“All the bets from Hazeldown are going your way, Lady White. They're proud of you. Current wagers are just that you land a title. We are all hoping for details of what exactly the Ascendant Games will be?”
“Only guild master Hemlock knows. If he hasn’t released the information now, I’m unsure if he will. Once I evolve, I’ll be sure to ask him. Don’t want to fill the grave before putting in the body.“
“I have no doubt you’ll meet the requirements in time,” Gregor assured her more bluster than faith.
“I’m sure there are wagers on that.“ Her level was a publicly known bit of information. “Not that you’ve ever betted on that.”
“What! No!”
Harmony would have wagered that evaluating her to decide if betting on her was why he was here today. “What of the evolved Kingdoms?”
Grateful for the topic change, Gregor expanded on the different kingdoms and bets. Harmony listened. The Broken Isles were favored by experienced bettors as they’d usually win any multi-kingdom competition. They don’t train their youths in Hazeldown or Naewauld, so all the information was second-hand through guild and trader resources. Most immigrants were from Calestia, so they got the next most bets. But all the surrounding kingdoms did not easily allow free travel to and from them, so there wasn’t a lot of information. You had to be evolved to even be considered for travel privileges. Gregor in all his travels admitted to being limited to the border trading hubs. At this point, Harmony lost interest as it was clear this all was based on rumor, conjecture, and guesses. She did let him continue to talk until dinner was done.
Gambling aside, the Ascendant Games bringing so many representatives from the other kingdoms was a big deal. Only five of the twenty-five spots were going to go to locals. Only, but also generous considering the size of the dual-city state.
But are people from Hazeldown actually betting on her? They shouldn't waste their money. This was something she was forced to do, they couldn't actually think that she'd win something from it? And if she did they'd probably throw her a parade. Maybe make a float the shape of Hyacinth? That would totally make it worth it. A silly fantasy.
One that lingered through dissert and up the stairs back to her room.
Harmony forced herself to sigh it all away as Ambrosia waited with an air of impatience in the middle of her suite.
“Do my hair now! I’ve got a gig to run to!”
The yell of her desperate friend nearly had her trigger [Stride].
“What?”
“News about what happened at the Harvest of Talents is spreading. It wouldn’t be so bad if your body hadn't stuck around for a minute before dissipating. Really scared most of the crowd. I think that's one reason the temples were so generous with their gift.”
A minute! She'd felt the death but imagined that other dissipated the moment she'd crossed that line. The perfect, -ha! I’m not really dead!- reveal. Leaving a body felt unseemly.
“I see.”
“Well get on with it. I've got songs to sing. Return of the immortal Harmony” Ew, Harmony made a face, “How about Eternal, you did say that guildie called you that?”
“I'd prefer you not pick any lyrics encouraging others to test how immortal or eternal I am. Say Adric saved me. He could use all the good press right now.”
"That's a great idea. Now Hair!”
Harmony did more than just her Hair. [Manipulate Dead] and [Beautician] combined to make her unrecognizable as anyone but the Songstress. Skin-shaded and colored, hair that rivals couldn't easily emulate. Shimmering tower of blue and larger than life, with golden nests for her birds.
Harmony suspected she'd be mending Ambrosia’s maid uniform back together after the stage crew cut her out of it at the venue in order to shove on the performance costumes while not messing with the hair. Wait. They had Steven now.
“Done!”
Not even a thank you and her friend was gone. Abandoned. No, that's unfair, Ambrosia deserved her passions. But it did make Harmony feel alone.
There were books. Thibodeaux on Evolution lay untouched. Maybe tonight wasn't the time to get riled up picking apart her favorite academic rival. Bates might have information on skill stones, but pressuring him to deliver it before he was ready was a waste of time. Waiting was the worst. Grabbing her journal, the least she could do was take notes on what she’d learned about her skills the last few days.
