Rain Harlow
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Chapter 30: The Question of Letting Go
🕑 Added 2023-07-19 05:58:44 +0000 UTCAs she expected, as soon as that loud sound blared, all of the other frogmen hastily departed, often from unshuttered windows, leaving the great house burning in twenty different spots and superficially looted — as well as completely wrecked.
Damn it, what can I even do, now? I was too late…
Sammy caught a scene in a hallway of a frogman blocked off by an unarmored soldier with a spear, intent on keeping him back. As the frogman stalked forward he was passing by the mirror, so Sammy flashed a distraction:
A cartoon frog with a black top hat and a small cane danced flamboyantly on a table, singing loudly, “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaal! Send me a kiss by wiiire-”
The frogman could not help but to look in stunned amazement, with a puzzled expression and one little croaky noise that surely had to be their version of ‘what the fuck?’
It was at that moment that the soldier dashed forward and shoved a spear over the lowered shield into its neck and out in a spray of dark blood.
Sammy simultaneously banished the image and turned away from the ensuing gore, closing her eyes briefly and grimacing. She saw the soldier look up at the mirror a moment in wonder before he jammed his spear down a final time. He knew something had been there, but he wouldn’t have been able to see it clearly, just hear it.
She was continuously checking on Estara, but she was simply waiting and worrying in the closet in the relative dark. None had seemed to try and get through the barred door by all indications. There didn’t seem to be any fires in their area, either.
Not thinking it likely, Sammy nonetheless cast her perceptions out in each direction from the manor, looking for mirrors the frogmen might’ve been carrying…
Yes!
She got multiple hits. She couldn’t access them though, because they were inside of something. A sack probably. Two were hand mirrors, and some distance from it, an enclosed, smaller mirror. The final one was very tiny and circular, perhaps a locket on a necklace.
They looted a few mirrors. I can track them, at least.
When she flipped back to the Marchioness’s room, she couldn’t see much through the shard except for a man cursing as he looked out the window, and the sound of others cursing and lamenting as well.
The angry man turned from the window, shouting, “Get the horses ready! We pursue!” He had a dab of blood on his shirt and a sword in his hand, but seemed unhurt.
Another voice called, “But Sir, their numbers-”
“To hell with their numbers! What else can we do?! That’s our liege lady, you idiot! Go!”
“A-at once, Sir Thadeus!”
The knight walked by, briefly scowling at the smashed mirror, but didn’t linger. He was scowling at everything equally like it was painted on his face. His eyes brushed across her shard without stopping.
Sammy opened her mouth and almost spoke to him, but she just… let him go… taking a deep breath and wondering if she should have. There just didn’t seem to be a vibe. And she had a foundation already, right? There were only so many chances she should take with people.
But I want to help her, damn it! Gah. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I have to let it go. If they took her alive and they stole things while here, it must be for a ransom, right?
The frogmen had quickly vanished from her perceptions. A middle-aged man she was pretty sure was the majordomo was rushing around with some sort of giant pearlescent blue conch shell to face the fires. When he spoke a command word, water exploded out in a spraying torrent, flooding the area and squelching the fire. He spoke the word again to stop it and moved on to the next.
Various fire fighting commenced, as the conch-user couldn’t be everywhere at once… which soon everyone was helping with as the frogmen were gone. The servant girls were brought out and began assisting, Estara included. Various bits of bad news on deaths made the whole matter miserable and interspersed with mourning.
Several servants were dead, including the cook as well as Mr. Taemon, the old man that Sammy had caused to faint when she first appeared. He died in a death charge protecting Estara’s mother, thinking she was Margaret. She’d used the struggle to come up behind the frogman and stab him in the back repeatedly, but unfortunately, the old man had already been mortally wounded.
You died a hero, old man… hope you meet your Margaret in the next one, too.
Estara’s sisters were perfectly fine, and her mother was only minorly wounded. Sadly, they lost an aunt and a cousin, which had them all mourning, particularly the younger girls.
By appearances, the Marchioness’s men all left in pursuit of the frogmen, all except for the wounded and her servants, who looked as if they’d lost a loved one as much as anyone. It only contributed more to Sammy’s determination that she had to find a way to help.
“Hey, did anyone hear weird shit from a mirror?” she overheard the spear-wielder from before ask in a room converted to an infirmary of sorts, as he lay on a bed. He had a leg injury wrapped up in bandages.
“All I heard was that banshee screaming,” another man said. “Then that damn croak noise that made ‘em all retreat.”
“Swear this place is haunted…”
“A mirror?” queried an older servant lady, who was acting as the best medical practitioner there, apparently. “Sweet old Taemon, the stars guide his soul, he saw his dead wife in a mirror, not long ago. But then he thought he was seeing her everywhere. Confused me for her once. Had to thwack him for it, too. Oh, stars bless the poor man…”
“Aye, aye, that’s hauntings, all right. Better have this place cleansed.”
The old lady scoffed. “You mean by a sage? Fat chance of that out here, dear. Maybe a witch or a hedgewizard.”
“Those are rare these days. Would’ve had one with us, to tell the truth, but he was too sick to come along. Shittin’ himself and such. Worthless, lazy wretch.”
“Is he a milk drinker?”
“Maybe. Probably, ma’am.”
“Well, tell him to try cutting out the milk. Some can’t tolerate it suddenly in life.” She sighed terribly. “You wouldn’t want to see what happens if I suddenly started again. It sure isn’t pretty, dear.”
“I think I get the picture, ma’am. I’ll definitely tell him.”
I keep adding more mirror rumors. Maybe it was stupid of me to help some random stranger and risk so much. But he might be dead if I hadn’t. So many are dead when all I could do was sit and watch. It’s maddening sometimes.
Drumming her fingers on the chair arm, Sammy observed the destruction, chaos, and death, observed the faces of mourning and worry, and decided she was in fact not going to let it go. She just couldn’t.
Connecting with Estara, who seemed to be helping in the infirmary herself, she sent, “What will your lord do when he arrives? Chase after? Is he a good man?”
“He will try to help, I’m certain of it, Your Majesty. He is a good man and honorable, just very private, and prefers seclusion when he is home, which is not often. His men will be with him. Some are very gallant knights. They are all veteran warriors, Your Majesty. Bordermen.”
“Does he have a great love for the sages?”
“I don’t think he thinks either way about them.” After a pause, Estara said matter-of-factly, “I think he is a good fit, Your Majesty. If you help with the marchioness, his liege lady, he will be in your debt. A debt he will honor, I’m certain.”
“Shrewd of you to understand my intentions, Estara. Wouldn’t such a responsible figure consider me dangerous to his estate?”
“The sages mostly ignore the affairs of the marches, it’s been that way for generations I think. As long as the wild things stay at the borders and as long as the mountain passes to the Southlands are quiet, which they watch closely, they have no interest here. Only the occasional traveling magistrate comes through.”
“So these frogmen… they aren’t usually a threat here?”
“Never! There’s no one alive that remembers such a thing. We aren’t right on the border, here. This is fairly safe territory. Or was. How they escaped notice this far north is something no one can fathom.”
“I see. One more question: would the lord accept mercenary aid?”
“Of course, Your Majesty. He wouldn’t turn away extra hands if they were available, especially capable ones.”
“Alright. Inform me when Lord Carlisle returns, Estara. I’ll leave you to the rest for now. I’ll provide you with a buff to keep you going.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s going to be a long night. Farewell.” This time, Estara sent a mental hug.
Sammy returned it. “Farewell, Estara.”
After disconnecting and arranging for an alertness/wakefulness buff for Estara, Sammy tried connecting with Dax… who was asleep, so she was more or less woken up. “Change of plans, Dax — if possible. How quickly can you swing back to Lord Carlisle’s estate?”
There was more like a long mental groan of tiredness at first. “Hrrrrngh… is this really neces-... What happened, then? Your girl got in trouble?”
“The marchioness of… Oldaster… fuck, I don’t know her name. Anyway, she got kidnapped by frogmen while visiting, and Carlisle wasn’t there yet. The whole place got ransacked and almost burned down.”
“Agatha? I told that old bat to stop doing those stupid tours… got her in trouble, sure enough…”
“You know her?!”
“Sure. Met her in the old days when her husband was alive. And after I became a merc, I worked for her a bit. Beat her at a drinking contest twice. Crazy old lady. With a jerkass of a captain, sadly. That’s why I stopped working for her.”
“Sir Thadeus? He rushed off after her with every able-bodied man.”
Dax scoffed. “Hard to get anywhere with a stick up your ass. So don’t hold your breath on him succeeding. But yeah.”
“I was hoping you’d rush there in time to meet Lord Carlisle tomorrow and join him in the rescue. I can currently track the froggies.”
After a brief pause, Dax sighed and sent, “Sure. We largely angled that way already. I’ll have to cut our sleep short to make it by the afternoon and push hard, but work is work. Not only will the lord pay guaranteed, but if we succeed, the old bat will shell out a reward.”
New Quest unlocked: “The Noble March to Rescue” — Help rescue the marchioness.
● Rewards: +50 FE, 5 exp credit to most relevant sub-class used during quest, Free Minor Divine Enchantment (Accessory).
Dax had an immediate reaction that was a cross between a bubble of curses and a whimper. “Fuck my fucking life, this is going to be a pain in the ass!”
Sammy swallowed a lump in her throat. “I take it your rewards are looking serviceable.”
“I’ll bloody level, that’s for sure! If I live!” After calming down a bit and sighing again, she continued, “Don’t get in the habit of thinking these are a guarantee to succeed, Goddess. I’ve failed my share of quests like this in order to keep breathing. Discretion is the better part of valor.”
“Right. I don’t want you to die for it, Dax. Just do what you can.”
“Yes, well… Merril will be thrilled. He’s always wanted more high-risk, high-reward than I ever agreed to. And… your buffs do change things. Have you figured a good combat one out yet?”
“I think so. It lasts 5 minutes but gives a whole level equivalent and negates a wound.”
“Oh, that’s nice… very nice… staying alive after being stabbed is definitely high on my list of favorites.”
“I had someone use it deceptively. He killed Danomeir, the King of Murder, thanks to it, after a duel.”
Dax was flagrantly shocked. “Who could stand toe-to-toe with him, then?”
“Ah, well… there’s more to it than that. Another buff… but it's random, last resort. Can curse you. It uses the System Deck.”
“Never heard of it… which is saying something… anyway, I better get a couple of hours more sleep. Care to be my sunshine and wake me up, Goddess?”
“Sure. Rest well. Sorry.”
Dax sent something like a comforting pat on the shoulder. “It’s alright. Really. Sometimes you have to take a big chance to get anywhere. I guess I’ve been avoiding it, and that’s why I’ve been nowhere for so long. We’ll find out. I’ll see it through unless it’s suicide. Goodnight, Samantha.”
Disconnecting, Dax returned to her rest, Sammy blessing her with a ‘restful, peaceful, regenerative sleep’ buff, which largely knocked her out immediately.
The quest was worrisome, but Sammy held out hope all would work out for the best. She’d acquire powerful allies who’d be in her debt if she succeeded. A ransom was nothing to count on and might be catastrophic for the territory on multiple levels if paid. Moreover, men were already going after them and might lose their lives.
She was confident she was doing the right thing. All that remained was to execute. If she lost any she dragged into the matter, she’d never forgive herself.
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