GhostImageArt
patreon
The Waystation Ch.95
🕑 Added 2023-11-22 07:49:20 +0000 UTCChapter 95
Questing I
Milly Light-Foot stood in the middle of the roadway, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. On either side of her was an escort of extremely high-level personnel. A large carriage made of living wood rested on the side of the road as she glowered at the approaching Waystation.
It didn’t hurry, taking its time and slowly moving up the road towards her.
“Are the scouts deployed?” She asked.
“Yes, Assistant Guild Head,” The man on her left answered. “There is no sign of the Head Gardener attempting to leave the vehicle.”
“Good,” She chewed her lip for a moment. It was an old habit, one she had hoped to leave behind as she got older. It had returned in the weeks since her father had vanished, stowing away on the Waystation like a runaway child.
It was so frustrating to her.
Why couldn’t she have had a normal father? Even given his… eccentricities, could he not have chosen to run away with someone other than the damnable Fae?
The Waystation rolled to a stop a few feet away, a walkway sliding out of the side of the wood and steel carriage next to the giant crystal windows. Familiar figures strolled unhurriedly down the ground and approached their group with the relaxed ease that she had never managed to feel, even for a single moment of her life.
“Lord and Lady,” Milly bowed at the perfect angle to show both her respect and anger. She had practiced it extensively.
“Hey, Milly!” Bell waved happily. “Funny place to hang around.”
“I-” Milly began.
“You’ve come to get your Dad, I assume?” Bert said before she could say a word.
“I must insist!” Milly tried to get the situation under control again.
“Of course,” Bert said with a sympathetic smile.
Milly felt the blush start. She had been here to drag her father back… not to be welcomed as a friend, and then smiled at! Everything was going precisely opposite to plan! Again!
“Want a drink or something, fellas?” Bert asked her escort. “Maybe a meal?”
“Excuse me!” Milly tried to wrestle the situation back under control. “I am here to insist on the return of our Head Gardener!” She felt a thrill of triumph at managing to get the sentence out. “As well as an explanation on why you left with him!”
“Like we said,” Bell said with a shrug, “You’re more than welcome; why don’t we chat about it inside?”
“Now!” Milly snapped, feeling more and more blush creeping up her cheeks.
“Sure, sure,” Bert said placatingly, as if to an upset child.
Milly seethed, her magic reaching for the plants around her automatically.
“He hid in the supplies,” Bert said with an awkward shrug, “We didn’t even know he was there for a while; sorry about that.”
Milly stared at the pair with wide eyes.
“He stowed away?” She asked. “He… he hid?”
“Yup!” Bell said brightly, “He’s planted himself in one of Scruff’s fields at the moment, so if you could go get him, that’d be great.”
Milly felt one eye starting to twitch. The greenery around the sides of the road was starting to bend and wave as if in a high wind, despite the quiet skies.
She heard a cough behind her, then another one.
Then, there was a snigger, followed by a scream as a tree branch slapped the man into the distance with a vicious twist.
Damn!
Milly took long, calming breaths as she warred with the fury inside her.
“You alright?” Bell asked, “You’re looking kind of twitchy there.”
Milly fought hard to hold onto her temper as more coughs began to sound out behind her.
“Do you want to plant yourself for a bit?” Bert asked gently, “It really seems to help your dad.”
Her vision flashed a bright pink, and she lost control. The next few minutes were a blur of green and red, with a faint screaming in the background. All she could feel was the frustration and anger of years of trying to deal with her father.
It all came out in one glorious, heady rush.
She came to her senses a few minutes later, standing in the middle of a nightmare. All around her was a riot of twisted, overgrown trees and groaning bodies.
“No, no, no, no, no!” She gasped, feeling the dreadful anger receding. Then she heard the clapping.
“Do it again!” Bell was cheering from a spot on top of the Waystation. “Do it again!”
“What did I do?” She gasped, seeing broken and torn armor all around her.
“Well,” Bert said from where he was crouched over the form of one of her escorts, “Where I come from, we call it ‘having a paddy,’ or losing your shit.”
“Are…” She swallowed, afraid to even ask the question, “Are any of them alive?”
“All of them,” Bert said, “Don’t worry.”
Images started to come back to her of a pair of figures dancing through the chaos, snatching people out of the air, pulling aside roots, and a shield ringing under repeated strikes.
“Feel better?” Bell asked, appearing next to Milly without warning in her pixie form, “I always feel better after beating the shit out of people!”
“It’s true,” Bert nodded, “Of course, she rarely leaves survivors afterward.”
==============
Bert watched the over-stressed Milly arguing with her father. The old man had buried himself in the ground up to his neck. It was like watching a nanny trying to coral a recalcitrant child.
Occasional flashes of mana pulsed as one or the other lost their temper for a moment, but this was Scruff’s domain, so none of the plants responded.
“How’s it going?” Bell giggled as she fluttered over from the Bear’s Fall.
“I think she’s winning,” Bert admitted. “He’s digging in deeper, so I doubt Milly’ll get him out, but…” He shrugged. “How are the escorts?”
“Eating and drinking,” Bell said with a shrug, “Nothing but a lot of bruises left now.”
The fight between father and daughter dragged on long enough for Milly to look exhausted. He had a feeling this was how Bernhardt always won. He was simply too stubborn to give, and Milly ran out of energy to fight with.
Milly was currently waving and gesticulating wildly at the top of Bernhardt’s head. He was currently buried up to just below his eyes.
Bert took pity on her and stepped in to try and call a time-out.
As he gave her a drink and convinced her to eat something, he noticed the escorts shying away from her as she passed.
Milly noticed it as well, looking awkward and fidgety. She was explaining her frustration and problems while she kept a wary eye on the door, already anticipating the next round.
“Why don’t you just take over?” Bell asked, plopping herself down on Bert’s shoulder as they talked.
“It’s not that simple,” Milly complained, “The Guilds are as powerful as their Guild Head. My father is as powerful as he is infuriating.” She huffed, polishing her knife absently with a napkin. “I can’t just take over, and he refuses actually to be a leader.”
“Can’t you be his proxy?” Bert asked.
“What’s that?” Milly asked, “Is it a Fae thing?”
“No,” Bert laughed. “It’s something businesses do back where I come from. You nominate someone to act on your behalf. Make decisions, vote, do everything you would do… and then only need to do it yourself if you want to.”
“This is a recognized position?” Milly asked carefully. Leaning forward over the table for the first time. “A position that others understand?”
“Yes,” Bert explained. “All the big players have proxies, so they can get on with what is important to them.”
“Proxy,” Milly said, tasting the word in her mouth.
A couple of hours later, the Grower’s Guild had their first Proxy, and Bernhardt was happily wandering the fields while Milly preened. A conclave was called at a nearby town for the official recognition of the position by the other Guilds.
It was apparently a big deal, so Bert and Bell offered to take them there.
The escort seemed more than happy not to have to head out into the distance with nothing between them and Milly.
She had made an impression that Bert was betting would come in handy in establishing her power within the Guild.
The nearest town wasn’t huge by any standards, but it would do, apparently. It took the Waystation less than a day to travel there, and they kept to the roads the entire way. It was a pleasant enough trip, and Bert and Bell took the opportunity to spend a decent amount of time together, leaving Lily to run the Bear’s Fall.
=============
“Welcome to Branston!” The mayor called, a bead of nervous sweat running down his bulging cheeks. “It is a delight to have you here!” He swallowed noisily.
“Everything all right?” Bert asked, watching a vein pulse in the man’s neck.
“Fine!” The man squeaked. “Would you like some milk?”
“What?” Bert frowned.
“Never mind!” The man gulped, “What can we do for you, honored guests?”
“Friendly,” Bell said. “And terrified. I like that!” She grinned.
The Mayor paled.
“Stop teasing the man,” Bert laughed. “We are merely here to deliver the Grower’s Guild members to the conclave.”
“Oh!” The Mayor’s shoulders dropped noticeably as color slowly began to return to his voluminous form. “That is kind of you.”
“Stop groveling, man,” A stern voice called. “I’m sure they will leave your little town intact.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Bert asked, confused.
“Ask Avonburgh,” The man the voice belonged to was… Bert failed to find an analogy for the man as he stepped forward. He appeared to be several times more solid than the world around them.
“I would like to take this opportunity to point out that we do not have any slaves in this city!” The Mayor squeaked.
“Shut up,” The man growled.
“Yes, sire.” The Mayor bowed.
“Sire?” Bert asked, still trying to figure out what the man was. Human didn’t seem to be an accurate description. He stood at least eight feet tall and was almost as wide at the shoulder. His muscles appeared to have muscles of their own. He looked like the god of bodybuilders and had skin as tanned and leathery as Bert had ever seen. Had this man ever been indoors before?
His bald head gleamed as if polished, but he was dressed in an elegant, if simple, style with an ornate, sleeveless shirt, belt, and flowing trousers that struggled to hide the muscles coiled beneath them.
“Dagon, and I’m the King here,” Dagon said it simply, without flourish or grandeur.
“Really?” Bert said, “Did you eat the last one?”
There was a tense silence, followed by a loud bellowing laugh.
“I like you!” The king said, slapping Bert on the back hard enough that he felt like his spine shattered in the process. “Now, tell me. Why did you destroy my town?”
“I see,” Dagon said, tapping his mammoth fingers on the stone table. “That is regrettable.”
Bert didn’t say anything. The king was not what he seemed. When Bert had seen the muscles and heard the voice, he had assumed the king would be the affable lug sort.
He wondered how many had died for that mistake.
While they had spent the last couple of hours chatting and talking, it had become clear to Bert that the King was one of the smartest people he had ever met.
It kind of pissed him off.
That much strength and a mind like Machiavelli was just unfair.
People should choose one.
A flood of reports had passed under his hands as they talked, and each was dealt with with barely a glance. It was terrifying. You could feel the intelligence behind the eyes like a furnace that never dimmed.
“It seems they did nothing to actually break the law,” Dagon said with a frown. “The letter of it, at least.” His eyes flickered as if he saw a thousand documents all at once and read them all at the same time. “The crop must be tended, however, not just according to the rules, but the conditions.”
“Huh?” Bert asked, feeling lost.
Dagon smiled and laughed.
“They followed the law, but they fucking deserved it anyway!”
Bert felt himself let out a sigh of relief. He did not want this man as an enemy.
“However,” Dagon smiled. “Recompense is certainly due.” He winked.
“Ah, fuck,” Bert muttered.
Dagon roared with laughter again.
“Do not worry, Lord Fae,” A flash of a smile, “I will not ask much.”
“Call me Bert,” Bert said. “What did you have in mind.”
“Quests, Bert!” Dagon said seriously, “Quests!”
“Go on,” Bert said. “What kind of quests?”
“You and your people will complete five quests,” Dagon said. “And then the debt will be paid.”
“What if we fail?” Bert asked.
“I don’t care,” Dagon said with a smile. “As long as it makes a good story.”
“Come again?” Bert frowned, feeling like he had missed the thread again.
“The Five Quests of the Fae!” Dagon proclaimed. “It is perfect! My Kingdom is young and needs legends and tales, Bert.”
“Will these be dangerous quests?” Bert asked.
“Yes!” Dagon laughed, “Or strange or wondrous!” He looked Bert in the eye, “You can quit any of them at any time, but the Bards will talk about it for a thousand years!”
Bert sat there for a long time, thinking.
“You’re a bit of a bastard on the quiet, aren’t you, Dagon?” He said eventually.
“Very much, yes.” Dagon grinned. “One does not become a King otherwise!”
============
“Oooh, fancy!” Bell clapped her hands in joy. “Well done, Way Way!”
There was a new feature in the control room. A gleaming slab of black marble was placed on the wall next to the corridor.
Quest List
Rescue the captured Princess
Recover the Crown Jewels
Clear the Haunted Castle
Find the Missing Cow
Discover the Lost Temple
The white text almost shone against the black.
“Is this a joke, or are we actually going to do all this?” Wendy asked, waving at the list.
“Dagon seemed pretty set on this,” Bert admitted. “I think any alternative would be worse.”
“Is he trying to kill us or?” Scruff asked. “Find a missing cow. Is that one real?”
“Anything on this list could be deadly,” Bert cautioned. “The King thinks in circles and is a lot smarter than he appears. Assume each one is deadly.”
“Anything else?” Wendy asked. “You’re shifting around like there’s something you haven’t told us.”
“No, I’m not,” Bert said, trying to stay still. “But since we have a sec, we have to take a bard with us on each quest.” He looked at his bracer, “Oh, look at the time, got to go!”
“Freeze, mister!” Wendy cut off his attempted dash for the door. “A bard?”
“Oh, did I not mention?” Bert said, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face at the flat stares of his wife and daughter. “Dagon wants stories for his people. This whole thing is designed to be a big story thing called the Five Quests of the Fae.” He tried to sidestep Wendy, only to find a Multi-Bell in his way.
“So we go traipsing off on quests with some random idiot; who could be anyone?” Bell hissed.
“No!” Bert said. “Which is to say… yes?”
“I instantly dislike this idea,” Bud said flatly.
“We can always just say no,” Bert said.
“And then the Bards sing about how we refused a quest to find a missing cow,” Bell said flatly. “Not exactly great for our reputation.”
“Do we get to vet these Bards?” Bud asked.
“Yes,” Bert said. “And each will swear an oath to not harm us in any way. On Dagon’s honor.” He sighed. “I think that actually matters to him.”
“We’ll make it a Fae oath!” Bell grinned. “If they fuck with us, they die. Simple!”
“So we are doing this?” Wendy asked.
Everyone nodded.
“Dibs on the Princess!” Bell yelled, slapping the quest board. The quest changed blue.
“Cheat!” Wendy snapped.
“Dibs on the Castle,” Bud blurred as he moved and slapped the board.
“Hey!” Wendy complained.
“Only three groups at a time!” Bert yelled as everyone began to argue and fight to get to the board. “We have to be careful!”
Wendy blindly slapped at the board.
“Hah!” She crowed, “Got one!”
Scruff started to laugh.
“What?” Wendy moved her hand and swore.
Find The Missing Cow.
