Chapter 158 - Farenlight’s Den VIII
Two pieces of metal glimmered as they crossed paths beneath the light. One was a shining blue blade, a beautifully crafted, gem-laden rapier that left a deep, clean cut in its target, and the other, a literal lizard. The metallic ikarett crushed its target’s skull and splattered its brains all over the unfortunate catgirl positioned beside it.
“Not again…” Lia grumbled as she wiped the grey matter off her face and looked towards the executioner.
“Don’t blame me.” Claire approached from behind, her steps a slow trot. “You stood too close.”
Unlike the berserker, who had pressed the attack at point blank, the lyrkress had magically launched her weapon from afar. An assortment of spells had gone into manipulating the metallic lump, one to transfer the momentum from her running start, another to alter its velocity, and a third to redirect it, so it wouldn’t crash into the cat that stepped into its path.
Because they had both held back, the giant klimgor was still alive. It was certainly incapacitated and likely robbed of its ability to think, but its limbs were still twitching. To rectify the issue, the lyrkress coated one of her hooves with ice and lightly kicked it in the side. The attack was weak, a light poke that need not be mentioned, but it removed the last remaining bit of the monster’s health and wrought its demise.
Log Entry 5633
Your party has slain a level 317 Klimgor Tyrant.
“Couldn’t you have hit it somewhere else? Like maybe in the gut?” asked the cat.
“I had an angle on its head.”
Flicking the blood and gore off her blade, Lia sheathed it and spun around. The motion was smooth until her eyes fell on the lyrkress’ face, most notably, the teasing grin. Her cheeks reddening slightly, she turned back to the monster and looked over the injuries covering its body. Its legs were broken, its carapace was bent out of shape, and there were dozens upon dozens of cuts lining its frame. Its overall condition appeared to suggest that they had struggled through a hard-fought battle. But a difficult foe, their prey was not.
As per their earlier demonstrations, Claire could take it down without the magic the catgirl assumed to be her signature, and Lia had proven herself capable of splitting it in half with a single mighty blow. To only the Pausean’s surprise, Claire was not satisfied with being outdone. She was so irritated that she had Shoulderhorse assassinate the third with a magical explosion.
Naturally, her stubbornness did not facilitate their teamwork. The two had to sit down after the kill and discuss a few mutual limitations before jumping in again. It was a process repeated seventeen times in total, with each requiring more effort than the last. Neither of them quite knew why, but they found themselves warping the training exercise into something of a contest. They put less power into each of their attacks, as if to finish the beast with the most pathetic strike they could conjure.
“I think we’ve got the hang of it now. Want to move on?” asked the cat.
With a lackadaisical nod, Claire grabbed the two living creatures that constituted her equipment and made for the stairs. Neither did much in the way of reacting. Boris was feigning death as usual, and Sylvia was sound asleep. The fox had curled up and declared that it was time for her afternoon nap after the tyrant’s seventh death; the barrier she erected around herself kept the lyrkress from wearing her as a hat, so she wound up held in her arms instead.
“On second thought, maybe we should take a bit of a break.” Lia cast the halfbred pair the occasional backwards glance, but otherwise kept her eyes focused on the steps in front of her. The hall was unlike the rest of the dungeon; the passages were much narrower and the illumination wasn’t anywhere near as omnipresent. The cat could still move around comfortably, but Claire found the bottom half of her body slightly too wide. Her rear fins brushed against the stone, which had turned from a misty grey to a light brown, and left small scratches along the walls. It didn’t help that the entire structure was made up of a series of incredibly tight turns. She had to reorient after each step, just to take the next without running into a stone boundary.
“Maybe,” said the moose-snake. “How long did we spend fighting?”
“Let’s see…” Lia retrieved a small pocket watch from the inside of her cloak, a military model issued to every notable Paunsean soldier. The design itself wasn’t too far out of the ordinary. It had a circular shape, a small knob on top, and a chain to keep it secured to her clothing, but unlike most foreign models, it wasn’t made of metal. Instead, it was constructed from the wood of an ironbark tree, known for being just as durable, slightly more flammable, and twice as shiny. “About three hours.” She closed the watch and put it back in her pocket. “It’s getting pretty late into the evening, and I just realised we skipped lunch.”
“We did,” said Claire, nonchalantly.
“Then it might not be a bad time for us to stop for a quick bite.”
“Okay.” The lyrkress popped open her authority skill and scrolled through some of the options. She was tempted to feed the cat a plate of borrok brain sashimi, just to see how she would react, but stopped short of bringing the prank to fruition. The thought of anyone consuming a borrok was enough to make her feel the urge to vomit.
She continued contemplating the various options as they descended the stairs, but found herself incapable of coming to any conclusions by the time they reached the bottom. “What do you want to eat?”
“Can you make something sweet, maybe? I think it’d help us keep our energy up.”
“Okay. Anything? As long as it’s sweet?”
“I don’t see why not. I’d be glad to try anything.”
“Okay.” The smile that accompanied the foolish statement was so bright that it inspired Claire to pull her hood over her eyes. A twinge of annoyance had come alongside the reply, which had completely failed to narrow down her choices, but the catgirl’s phrasing left little room to follow the question with another.
Resorting to the previous morning’s tactic, she waved her finger up and down with her eyes closed and her lips pursed into a frown. The expression only deepened when she opened them again and found herself staring down the eldritch eclairs. She was almost tempted to try again and select something else, but she wound up following through. Entirely on a whim.
It drained a full twenty thousand mana. The exuberant cost was more than half of her total, but she was unconcerned. The room at the bottom of the staircase was empty and devoid of monsters, just like the start of every other floor. There was, of course, always the possibility that the catgirl would turn on her, but she was ready. She kept Sylvia’s impenetrable but seemingly defenseless bubble right beside her as she watched the plate slowly manifest in her palm.
“Is that how you cook?” The cat leaned in and focused her eyes on the magical blob. She tried to sniff it, but the only scent she picked up was that of the blood that still stained the halfbreed’s hand. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Can I try touching it?”
Claire took a moment to eye the cat suspiciously, but eventually consented with a nod. “First. Use this.” She fired a small stream of stale water from one of her fingers and rinsed both their hands, just in case the dish was completed in the midst of the cat’s investigation. The Llystletein mage had no idea how long the sweet treats would take; different items took different amounts of time, and she had no history with the eclairs.
“It doesn't even feel like there’s anything there.” Lia gasped in wonder as she moved her hand in and out of the magical mass. “I still can’t believe you’re making food from nothing. How much mana does this cost?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Lia blinked a few times as she looked between the still formless dish and something invisible in the air. “Twenty? Like a two with two zeros, and then two more zeros behind it?”
“Twenty.”
“It must be nice to be a mage. I don’t even have ten thousand MP, let alone twenty to spare.”
“You’re a dark knight. You don’t need mana.”
“My blademaster skills still need it. One of them costs so much that I can only cast it twice in a row, three times if I don’t have to enrage.”
“Mages are like that too. Some spells can eat half your mana. Or more.”
“But those are at least incredibly powerful, right?” asked the cat.
“Maybe.”
Claire turned her eyes back to the magical blob whose shape had finally stabilized. A sweet, tempting aroma drifted from atop the fine, glass plate. There were only five of them in all, each much smaller than the average pastry. Two could easily fit side by side in her palm.
So alluring was the scent that Sylvia’s nose began to twitch. She didn’t open her eyes until she dispelled the bubble and gave her body a quick shake. “Is it food time already?” Her legs were still unsteady; she fell back into her mount’s one-armed embrace after failing to stifle a yawn.
“Good morning, Sylvia,” said the cat. “We were just thinking of having a bit of a snack.”
“Wait, morning?” The fox blinked awake and shot to her feet. “It’s morning already!?”
“No. Idiot.” The less-than-accurate assessment earned her a flick to the forehead, an assault enacted with the tip of a soft, feathery tail. “You were only asleep for a few hours.”
“Oh, whew… You had me worried for a second there. I thought I missed a couple floors or something.”
“The only thing you missed was a stairwell,” said Lia. “We haven’t moved much since you fell asleep.”
“Oh, okay!” She stretched out her spine and poked her head over Claire’s shoulder. “You mean the one right behind us?”
“Yup,” confirmed the cat.
“You can look at it later. After trying these.” The lyrkress passed one eclair to the fox and presented the plate to the Paunsean.
“These look delicious. Thank you, Claire.”
“They smell really good too!”
Despite knowing that neither girl’s tastebuds were functional, the fake chef kept a careful eye on both parties. They wouldn’t be able to tell her if the dish was delicious, but they were likely to sound the alarm if it turned out to be revolting.
“Wow, this is nice! It’s nice and sweet, but also kinda fishy!” said Sylvia, after swallowing the whole thing in one bite. “What’s it made out of?”
“The lord of the slough.”
“Huh?” The fox blinked and tilted her head as she pulled Claire’s arm, and the dish, back towards her. “Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s weird. I don’t think I remember making it so tasty…” She mumbled aloud as she grabbed another bite. “It was just supposed to be a big nightmare frog.”
Shrugging, the moose looked towards the other taste-tester, who was slowly chewing on the pastry with her eyes closed and her tail flicking back and forth. A light blush spread across her face when she opened them again and realised that both halfbreeds were staring. “It’s very delicious,” she said, as she hid her face behind the half of the snack that remained. “I love how sweet and creamy it is.”
Though Claire knew better than to take their praise at face value, she couldn’t help but think that there was an off chance that the dish was really as delicious as they claimed. It had cost a whole 20,000MP, more than enough to cast vector storm at full power, and yet, it had only produced a paltry five thumb-sized pastries, presented like a series of fancy hors d’oeuvres. It was an exchange that couldn’t have possibly made sense, had the confections been lackluster. Or so she hoped.
Flicking her tongue only served to build up her expectations. There was a sweet, almost chocolatey taste in the air. The powerful fragrance was backed by a series of subtle add-ons, extra flavours that ranged from fruity to nutty. But putting the dish in her mouth provided all the usual disappointment. Despite what its scent profile seemed to say, the sweet was nothing but just that. Sweet. It consisted of nothing but an unrestrained overdose of sugar, powerful enough to mask all the other wonderful flavours that should have been present.
“I should have stuck to stale bread.”
Mumbling the complaint under her breath, she set down the plate and summoned a monopus steak.
___
As the only one of the three to pay etiquette any mind, Claire was inevitably the last to finish her meal. She cleaned off her face with a napkin-shaped piece of klimgor hide and looked at the less-than-empty plate seated atop the bubble floating in front of her. Two of the sword-sized skewer’s features were still attached and uneaten.
Neither of her travelling companions looked to be in the mood for any more food. Sylvia had already started dozing off atop her back, and Lia was sorting through her diary with a feathery quill in hand. Shoulderhorse would have gladly consumed the leftovers, but she saw no reason to please the pony, especially not with the others around.
That left her with only one option, the lizard still frozen on her back. She set the ikarett variant down on the ground and placed its meal directly in front of its mouth. It didn’t quite seem to understand that she was feeding it, even when she prodded it in the back with a klimgor fang, so she rolled her eyes and raised her voice.
“Eat.”
It slowly turned around and eyed her for a solid few moments before hesitantly opening its mouth. It took a small nibble at first, continuing only after she gave it another explicit nod. It sped up after a few more tiny bites, and soon scarfed the rest of the dish down with all the speed and vigour of a hungry fox.
Seemingly satisfied, it turned back around and slowly stepped forwards. It stared at Claire briefly before lightly bumping its head against her leg.
Log Entry 5634
You have tamed a level 117 Ikarett Steelclaw.
Log Entry 5635
You have unlocked the Llystletein Beastmaster class.
Log Entry 5636
You have unlocked the Llystletein Ranger class.
A frown crept up on the lyrkress’ lips as she listened through the unexpected entries. Neither appeared to be worth her consideration. Tamers and their variants were frowned upon in Cadria, valued far beneath the personal power that most would typically employ. The only accepted variants were beastriders, as not all members of the calvary had four hooves of their own. Cottontails would occasionally learn to ride horses, griffins, and other strange creatures, if they wished to serve in the same capacity as their centaurian peers, but even then, they were expected to invest more heavily in their knight classes than their mounted ones.
Adding to the half-Sthenian’s displeasure was the lack of benefit. Taming the creature had done nothing for either of them. Boris hadn’t suddenly evolved or become a more effective weapon, and they didn’t suddenly develop a psychic link, like the one she shared with her pony and her snake. It felt like the log did little but attest that the lizard had acknowledged her as its master, a fact she had already understood from its post-feeding behaviour.
Claire was not in the mood to humour the beast. She ignored the pleased, almost inspired look it gave her, picked up her plate, and silently presented it to the group’s maid. Lia didn’t immediately react, so she pressed the ceramic dish into the side of her face.
The cat responded with a furrow of the brow. She backed away from the dish, looked up from her book, and gave the lyrkress a confused blink. “What is it, Claire?”
“Maid duties. Do them.”
“Maid duties? What are you talking about?”
The blueblood paused, briefly, before applying the plate with more force. “We agreed. You have to do all the housework.”
“Oh… right. Just give me a second.” She quickly scribbled down another note or two, shut the book, and stood up. “Do we have any buckets? Or something else we can use?”
“Oh, I have something!” said Sylvia. She cupped her paws together and blew half a bubble. Somehow or another, the bowl-shaped delusion retained its shape, even as it was touched and fiddled with. It was already filled about a quarter of the way with warm, soapy water.
“Thank you, Sylvia,” said the catgirl. She went around the room with the bubble in tow and threw in all the plates. The one in Claire’s hand was the last she took. Lia didn’t throw it in the makeshift sink nearly as quickly as all the others. She held onto it until everyone else looked away and slowly brought it closer to her face with a blush creeping up onto her cheeks. The fork was what held most of her attention. There was nothing she could do to stop her nose from twitching in tandem with the three-pronged object’s approach.
But it was smacked out of her hands before she could bring it in reach of her lips. The tail’s owner said no words. Her judging stare was all that was required to convey the unspoken sentiment, and the cat appeared to know it well. Hanging her head in shame, she muttered something or another about a lack of an escape, followed by a contemplation of the reality that she was, in fact, a pervert.
Log Entry 5637
Charm Catgirl has reached level 19.
And for reasons she didn’t understand, she found herself a lot less bothered by the label than usual. Her face flushed an even deeper shade as she looked at Claire with her eyes moistened and upturned.
She wasn’t the only one whose mind was affected by the unplanned activation. The lyrkress clenched her teeth as she tried to bear with the foreign urges running rampant through her brain. She didn’t know why they’d been suddenly set off, after calming for so long. She had been confident in her ability to deal with them, to hold them at bay and resist. But she couldn’t.
Mind hazy, she fell to her knees and clutched her ears, hard enough for them to bleed. Not hard enough to silence the purrs and meows.
“Claire? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Lia snapped out of her trance as she realised that the lyrkress was in distress, but something sent her flying away when she tried to approach. She didn’t know what had hit her. All she could tell was that it was Claire’s doing. The collapsed chimera had one palm extended and held in her direction, as if she was firing some sort of beam.
“Stay away.” The plea was spoken under her breath, so quietly that it was barely audible. “Leave me alone.”
“It’s okay, Claire. It’s okay, I’m here.” Without moving from her place on the lyrkress’ back, Sylvia turned into an elf and gently wrapped her arms around her. “She gets like this sometimes.” Her smile changed from gentle to awkward as she raised her head and looked towards the cat. “She’ll get better soon. She just needs a moment.”
“R-right…” Still a little confused and shaken, Lia tore her eyes off the moose and returned to her dishwashing duties. All while contemplating the nature of the magic employed.
Chapter 158 - Farenlight’s Den VIII
Two pieces of metal glimmered as they crossed paths beneath the light. One was a shining blue blade, a beautifully crafted, gem-laden rapier that left a deep, clean cut in its target, and the other, a literal lizard. The metallic ikarett crushed its target’s skull and splattered its brains all over the unfortunate catgirl positioned beside it.
“Not again…” Lia grumbled as she wiped the grey matter off her face and looked towards the executioner.
“Don’t blame me.” Claire approached from behind, her steps a slow trot. “You stood too close.”
Unlike the berserker, who had pressed the attack at point blank, the lyrkress had magically launched her weapon from afar. An assortment of spells had gone into manipulating the metallic lump, one to transfer the momentum from her running start, another to alter its velocity, and a third to redirect it, so it wouldn’t crash into the cat that stepped into its path.
Because they had both held back, the giant klimgor was still alive. It was certainly incapacitated and likely robbed of its ability to think, but its limbs were still twitching. To rectify the issue, the lyrkress coated one of her hooves with ice and lightly kicked it in the side. The attack was weak, a light poke that need not be mentioned, but it removed the last remaining bit of the monster’s health and wrought its demise.
Log Entry 5633
Your party has slain a level 317 Klimgor Tyrant.
“Couldn’t you have hit it somewhere else? Like maybe in the gut?” asked the cat.
“I had an angle on its head.”
Flicking the blood and gore off her blade, Lia sheathed it and spun around. The motion was smooth until her eyes fell on the lyrkress’ face, most notably, the teasing grin. Her cheeks reddening slightly, she turned back to the monster and looked over the injuries covering its body. Its legs were broken, its carapace was bent out of shape, and there were dozens upon dozens of cuts lining its frame. Its overall condition appeared to suggest that they had struggled through a hard-fought battle. But a difficult foe, their prey was not.
As per their earlier demonstrations, Claire could take it down without the magic the catgirl assumed to be her signature, and Lia had proven herself capable of splitting it in half with a single mighty blow. To only the Pausean’s surprise, Claire was not satisfied with being outdone. She was so irritated that she had Shoulderhorse assassinate the third with a magical explosion.
Naturally, her stubbornness did not facilitate their teamwork. The two had to sit down after the kill and discuss a few mutual limitations before jumping in again. It was a process repeated seventeen times in total, with each requiring more effort than the last. Neither of them quite knew why, but they found themselves warping the training exercise into something of a contest. They put less power into each of their attacks, as if to finish the beast with the most pathetic strike they could conjure.
“I think we’ve got the hang of it now. Want to move on?” asked the cat.
With a lackadaisical nod, Claire grabbed the two living creatures that constituted her equipment and made for the stairs. Neither did much in the way of reacting. Boris was feigning death as usual, and Sylvia was sound asleep. The fox had curled up and declared that it was time for her afternoon nap after the tyrant’s seventh death; the barrier she erected around herself kept the lyrkress from wearing her as a hat, so she wound up held in her arms instead.
“On second thought, maybe we should take a bit of a break.” Lia cast the halfbred pair the occasional backwards glance, but otherwise kept her eyes focused on the steps in front of her. The hall was unlike the rest of the dungeon; the passages were much narrower and the illumination wasn’t anywhere near as omnipresent. The cat could still move around comfortably, but Claire found the bottom half of her body slightly too wide. Her rear fins brushed against the stone, which had turned from a misty grey to a light brown, and left small scratches along the walls. It didn’t help that the entire structure was made up of a series of incredibly tight turns. She had to reorient after each step, just to take the next without running into a stone boundary.
“Maybe,” said the moose-snake. “How long did we spend fighting?”
“Let’s see…” Lia retrieved a small pocket watch from the inside of her cloak, a military model issued to every notable Paunsean soldier. The design itself wasn’t too far out of the ordinary. It had a circular shape, a small knob on top, and a chain to keep it secured to her clothing, but unlike most foreign models, it wasn’t made of metal. Instead, it was constructed from the wood of an ironbark tree, known for being just as durable, slightly more flammable, and twice as shiny. “About three hours.” She closed the watch and put it back in her pocket. “It’s getting pretty late into the evening, and I just realised we skipped lunch.”
“We did,” said Claire, nonchalantly.
“Then it might not be a bad time for us to stop for a quick bite.”
“Okay.” The lyrkress popped open her authority skill and scrolled through some of the options. She was tempted to feed the cat a plate of borrok brain sashimi, just to see how she would react, but stopped short of bringing the prank to fruition. The thought of anyone consuming a borrok was enough to make her feel the urge to vomit.
She continued contemplating the various options as they descended the stairs, but found herself incapable of coming to any conclusions by the time they reached the bottom. “What do you want to eat?”
“Can you make something sweet, maybe? I think it’d help us keep our energy up.”
“Okay. Anything? As long as it’s sweet?”
“I don’t see why not. I’d be glad to try anything.”
“Okay.” The smile that accompanied the foolish statement was so bright that it inspired Claire to pull her hood over her eyes. A twinge of annoyance had come alongside the reply, which had completely failed to narrow down her choices, but the catgirl’s phrasing left little room to follow the question with another.
Resorting to the previous morning’s tactic, she waved her finger up and down with her eyes closed and her lips pursed into a frown. The expression only deepened when she opened them again and found herself staring down the eldritch eclairs. She was almost tempted to try again and select something else, but she wound up following through. Entirely on a whim.
It drained a full twenty thousand mana. The exuberant cost was more than half of her total, but she was unconcerned. The room at the bottom of the staircase was empty and devoid of monsters, just like the start of every other floor. There was, of course, always the possibility that the catgirl would turn on her, but she was ready. She kept Sylvia’s impenetrable but seemingly defenseless bubble right beside her as she watched the plate slowly manifest in her palm.
“Is that how you cook?” The cat leaned in and focused her eyes on the magical blob. She tried to sniff it, but the only scent she picked up was that of the blood that still stained the halfbreed’s hand. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Can I try touching it?”
Claire took a moment to eye the cat suspiciously, but eventually consented with a nod. “First. Use this.” She fired a small stream of stale water from one of her fingers and rinsed both their hands, just in case the dish was completed in the midst of the cat’s investigation. The Llystletein mage had no idea how long the sweet treats would take; different items took different amounts of time, and she had no history with the eclairs.
“It doesn't even feel like there’s anything there.” Lia gasped in wonder as she moved her hand in and out of the magical mass. “I still can’t believe you’re making food from nothing. How much mana does this cost?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Lia blinked a few times as she looked between the still formless dish and something invisible in the air. “Twenty? Like a two with two zeros, and then two more zeros behind it?”
“Twenty.”
“It must be nice to be a mage. I don’t even have ten thousand MP, let alone twenty to spare.”
“You’re a dark knight. You don’t need mana.”
“My blademaster skills still need it. One of them costs so much that I can only cast it twice in a row, three times if I don’t have to enrage.”
“Mages are like that too. Some spells can eat half your mana. Or more.”
“But those are at least incredibly powerful, right?” asked the cat.
“Maybe.”
Claire turned her eyes back to the magical blob whose shape had finally stabilized. A sweet, tempting aroma drifted from atop the fine, glass plate. There were only five of them in all, each much smaller than the average pastry. Two could easily fit side by side in her palm.
So alluring was the scent that Sylvia’s nose began to twitch. She didn’t open her eyes until she dispelled the bubble and gave her body a quick shake. “Is it food time already?” Her legs were still unsteady; she fell back into her mount’s one-armed embrace after failing to stifle a yawn.
“Good morning, Sylvia,” said the cat. “We were just thinking of having a bit of a snack.”
“Wait, morning?” The fox blinked awake and shot to her feet. “It’s morning already!?”
“No. Idiot.” The less-than-accurate assessment earned her a flick to the forehead, an assault enacted with the tip of a soft, feathery tail. “You were only asleep for a few hours.”
“Oh, whew… You had me worried for a second there. I thought I missed a couple floors or something.”
“The only thing you missed was a stairwell,” said Lia. “We haven’t moved much since you fell asleep.”
“Oh, okay!” She stretched out her spine and poked her head over Claire’s shoulder. “You mean the one right behind us?”
“Yup,” confirmed the cat.
“You can look at it later. After trying these.” The lyrkress passed one eclair to the fox and presented the plate to the Paunsean.
“These look delicious. Thank you, Claire.”
“They smell really good too!”
Despite knowing that neither girl’s tastebuds were functional, the fake chef kept a careful eye on both parties. They wouldn’t be able to tell her if the dish was delicious, but they were likely to sound the alarm if it turned out to be revolting.
“Wow, this is nice! It’s nice and sweet, but also kinda fishy!” said Sylvia, after swallowing the whole thing in one bite. “What’s it made out of?”
“The lord of the slough.”
“Huh?” The fox blinked and tilted her head as she pulled Claire’s arm, and the dish, back towards her. “Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s weird. I don’t think I remember making it so tasty…” She mumbled aloud as she grabbed another bite. “It was just supposed to be a big nightmare frog.”
Shrugging, the moose looked towards the other taste-tester, who was slowly chewing on the pastry with her eyes closed and her tail flicking back and forth. A light blush spread across her face when she opened them again and realised that both halfbreeds were staring. “It’s very delicious,” she said, as she hid her face behind the half of the snack that remained. “I love how sweet and creamy it is.”
Though Claire knew better than to take their praise at face value, she couldn’t help but think that there was an off chance that the dish was really as delicious as they claimed. It had cost a whole 20,000MP, more than enough to cast vector storm at full power, and yet, it had only produced a paltry five thumb-sized pastries, presented like a series of fancy hors d’oeuvres. It was an exchange that couldn’t have possibly made sense, had the confections been lackluster. Or so she hoped.
Flicking her tongue only served to build up her expectations. There was a sweet, almost chocolatey taste in the air. The powerful fragrance was backed by a series of subtle add-ons, extra flavours that ranged from fruity to nutty. But putting the dish in her mouth provided all the usual disappointment. Despite what its scent profile seemed to say, the sweet was nothing but just that. Sweet. It consisted of nothing but an unrestrained overdose of sugar, powerful enough to mask all the other wonderful flavours that should have been present.
“I should have stuck to stale bread.”
Mumbling the complaint under her breath, she set down the plate and summoned a monopus steak.
___
As the only one of the three to pay etiquette any mind, Claire was inevitably the last to finish her meal. She cleaned off her face with a napkin-shaped piece of klimgor hide and looked at the less-than-empty plate seated atop the bubble floating in front of her. Two of the sword-sized skewer’s features were still attached and uneaten.
Neither of her travelling companions looked to be in the mood for any more food. Sylvia had already started dozing off atop her back, and Lia was sorting through her diary with a feathery quill in hand. Shoulderhorse would have gladly consumed the leftovers, but she saw no reason to please the pony, especially not with the others around.
That left her with only one option, the lizard still frozen on her back. She set the ikarett variant down on the ground and placed its meal directly in front of its mouth. It didn’t quite seem to understand that she was feeding it, even when she prodded it in the back with a klimgor fang, so she rolled her eyes and raised her voice.
“Eat.”
It slowly turned around and eyed her for a solid few moments before hesitantly opening its mouth. It took a small nibble at first, continuing only after she gave it another explicit nod. It sped up after a few more tiny bites, and soon scarfed the rest of the dish down with all the speed and vigour of a hungry fox.
Seemingly satisfied, it turned back around and slowly stepped forwards. It stared at Claire briefly before lightly bumping its head against her leg.
Log Entry 5634
You have tamed a level 117 Ikarett Steelclaw.
Log Entry 5635
You have unlocked the Llystletein Beastmaster class.
Log Entry 5636
You have unlocked the Llystletein Ranger class.
A frown crept up on the lyrkress’ lips as she listened through the unexpected entries. Neither appeared to be worth her consideration. Tamers and their variants were frowned upon in Cadria, valued far beneath the personal power that most would typically employ. The only accepted variants were beastriders, as not all members of the calvary had four hooves of their own. Cottontails would occasionally learn to ride horses, griffins, and other strange creatures, if they wished to serve in the same capacity as their centaurian peers, but even then, they were expected to invest more heavily in their knight classes than their mounted ones.
Adding to the half-Sthenian’s displeasure was the lack of benefit. Taming the creature had done nothing for either of them. Boris hadn’t suddenly evolved or become a more effective weapon, and they didn’t suddenly develop a psychic link, like the one she shared with her pony and her snake. It felt like the log did little but attest that the lizard had acknowledged her as its master, a fact she had already understood from its post-feeding behaviour.
Claire was not in the mood to humour the beast. She ignored the pleased, almost inspired look it gave her, picked up her plate, and silently presented it to the group’s maid. Lia didn’t immediately react, so she pressed the ceramic dish into the side of her face.
The cat responded with a furrow of the brow. She backed away from the dish, looked up from her book, and gave the lyrkress a confused blink. “What is it, Claire?”
“Maid duties. Do them.”
“Maid duties? What are you talking about?”
The blueblood paused, briefly, before applying the plate with more force. “We agreed. You have to do all the housework.”
“Oh… right. Just give me a second.” She quickly scribbled down another note or two, shut the book, and stood up. “Do we have any buckets? Or something else we can use?”
“Oh, I have something!” said Sylvia. She cupped her paws together and blew half a bubble. Somehow or another, the bowl-shaped delusion retained its shape, even as it was touched and fiddled with. It was already filled about a quarter of the way with warm, soapy water.
“Thank you, Sylvia,” said the catgirl. She went around the room with the bubble in tow and threw in all the plates. The one in Claire’s hand was the last she took. Lia didn’t throw it in the makeshift sink nearly as quickly as all the others. She held onto it until everyone else looked away and slowly brought it closer to her face with a blush creeping up onto her cheeks. The fork was what held most of her attention. There was nothing she could do to stop her nose from twitching in tandem with the three-pronged object’s approach.
But it was smacked out of her hands before she could bring it in reach of her lips. The tail’s owner said no words. Her judging stare was all that was required to convey the unspoken sentiment, and the cat appeared to know it well. Hanging her head in shame, she muttered something or another about a lack of an escape, followed by a contemplation of the reality that she was, in fact, a pervert.
Log Entry 5637
Charm Catgirl has reached level 19.
And for reasons she didn’t understand, she found herself a lot less bothered by the label than usual. Her face flushed an even deeper shade as she looked at Claire with her eyes moistened and upturned.
She wasn’t the only one whose mind was affected by the unplanned activation. The lyrkress clenched her teeth as she tried to bear with the foreign urges running rampant through her brain. She didn’t know why they’d been suddenly set off, after calming for so long. She had been confident in her ability to deal with them, to hold them at bay and resist. But she couldn’t.
Mind hazy, she fell to her knees and clutched her ears, hard enough for them to bleed. Not hard enough to silence the purrs and meows.
“Claire? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Lia snapped out of her trance as she realised that the lyrkress was in distress, but something sent her flying away when she tried to approach. She didn’t know what had hit her. All she could tell was that it was Claire’s doing. The collapsed chimera had one palm extended and held in her direction, as if she was firing some sort of beam.
“Stay away.” The plea was spoken under her breath, so quietly that it was barely audible. “Leave me alone.”
“It’s okay, Claire. It’s okay, I’m here.” Without moving from her place on the lyrkress’ back, Sylvia turned into an elf and gently wrapped her arms around her. “She gets like this sometimes.” Her smile changed from gentle to awkward as she raised her head and looked towards the cat. “She’ll get better soon. She just needs a moment.”
“R-right…” Still a little confused and shaken, Lia tore her eyes off the moose and returned to her dishwashing duties. All while contemplating the nature of the magic employed.
