Hells wardens, p.30
Hell's Wardens, page 30
part #14 of The Wandering Inn Series
She was in charge, but she didn’t manage the company. That was Niers’ job. Foliana eyed her breakfast and poked at it with one paw. Selentierre, retreating to the kitchen, held his breath.
If Niers was hard to cook for on a technical level, Foliana was a nightmare. She had unique demands if she was on the job. If she wasn’t…
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast. You’re not on contract. Which reminds me, I do have something for you. Here.”
Niers growled and produced a huge piece of parchment from his bag of holding. He kicked it across the table and Foliana picked it up. It was only a small roll for her, with neat, small handwriting. She read it.
“Mm. I see. Mm.”
“I need it done today, Foliana. This one’s serious.”
“Sounds like an amateur.”
“An amateur with a dangerous artifact. And they’re ‘apparently’ from Magnolia Reinhart. I haven’t figured out who he’s really from, but it’s definitely some idiot in Izril who wants to stir things up. Deal with it.”
Niers and Selentierre watched as she read. Foliana sighed, but grudgingly nodded. Then she popped the parchment into her mouth and chewed it. Niers paused as he cut up his omelette. He took a tiny sliver of fried tomato and bit into it.
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“I know.”
They turned to food. For breakfast, Foliana had a lightly sautéed plate of cashew-like nuts and a bowl of yoghurt filled with six types of fruit in miniature. To finish it, there was a small salad gently sprinkled with a piquant dressing that did what all salad dressing was supposed to do: make the salad not taste like leaves.
It was a fine repast in that sense, designed for a Squirrel Beastkin’s diet. Of course, that was without mentioning the difference in the quality of [Chef] that the Forgotten Wing Company employed and lesser mortals of cuisine. And there was a difference, oh my, yes.
For instance, each berry in the yoghurt Foliana had been served was at the peak of freshness and exploded with taste with each bite. After eating a pawful of nuts, she could feel energy surging through her while more banked itself away, leaving her with reserves to last her all day. And taste was only half of it. The presentation was exquisite, art in itself! The salad’s arrangement—
Foliana dumped the salad out of the bowl onto her plate, poured her yoghurt on top, and dropped the cashews on the rest of the mix. She looked at the mess of ruined cuisine, and stirred it together with one paw. Then she grabbed a pawful—still forgoing utensils—and took a huge bite.
There was a sob from the kitchens. Niers stared as Foliana’s cheeks bulged and she chewed. She took another huge bite, packing it into her mouth, and proceeded to chew throughout the rest of the meal. He finished his omelette. Foliana eventually swallowed and pushed her plate back. She was done with breakfast! It hadn’t been an important meal. Not like…a meal.
When Foliana nibbled on a snack or filched food, she did it for sustenance, or enjoyment. When she ate food—when she ate the same kind of food for days on end, Baleros took notice. Three-Color Stalker marked her prey by food. She would eat their favorite foods until the contract was finished.
Sometimes it could be a single meal, other times weeks or months of consuming the same variety of meals that her target enjoyed. Muffins, spaghetti, oysters…but she did not insist on such specific diets often. This meal was just a meal and Foliana had gnoshed it.
“You know, Sir Selentierre was given an honorary title for his ability with cuisine. He’s served the Forgotten Wing Company for nearly a decade and hosted some of our best events.”
Niers stared at Foliana and the mess she’d left on the plate. The Squirrel-woman shrugged.
“Mm. I probably knew that.”
The Fraerling looked towards the kitchen. Mixasa was back, comforting the heartbroken [Chef]. It wasn’t exactly a unique scene.
“And you decided to destroy the arrangement he’s so proud of why?”
“Wanted to know if it would taste good all together.”
The Fraerling waited for a moment.
“And?”
She smacked her lips.
“Mm.”
It wasn’t a yes or a no. After a while, Niers sighed.
“Selentierre? Foliana needs a jam biscuit. Izrilian-style. Foliana, what kind of jam?”
Foliana looked up. The gentle sobbing from the kitchen stopped. And the atmosphere in the room sharpened just a hair. Slowly, the absent look in the Squirrel-woman’s eyes turned to one of concentration. She frowned. And then she looked towards the kitchen.
“Blackberry.”
“I will have it to you directly, Lady Foliana.”
The Garuda sniffed. And indeed, by the time Niers had finished breakfast and cleaned his plate, Selentierre hurried out with two perfect jam biscuits. Just…jam. On a biscuit. The Garuda nervously presented them to Foliana. Niers waited. Mixasa, her head poking out of the kitchen, turned it to stare.
Everyone watched as Foliana inspected the hot snacks. The jam was just below the point where it would sear the mouth, and the biscuits were fresh. This was a different meal. When it was consumed, it would matter.
But not just yet. After a moment, Foliana tucked them into her bag of holding. Selentierre relaxed and backed away, bowing. Niers sighed.
“Today, Foliana. Now, I have to run. Do you mind?”
Obligingly, Foliana picked him up and hopped out of her chair. She carried Niers over to the entrance to the Fraerling-ways and he marched up the ramp, disappearing into the small tunnels that led all over the citadel. Foliana watched him slam the tiny door, then turned. From the kitchen, Selentierre and Mixasa watched.
The Squirrel-woman vanished. They hesitated, and stared around the room. They looked at the door, but Mixasa had forgotten to close it when she’d gone outside. After a minute, Selentierre walked out of the kitchen and looked around the table. He tried to see if any of the dishes were moving. Gingerly, he reached for a fork and hesitated.
“Lady Foliana, will there be anything else?”
He waited for a response. Warily, he motioned and Mixasa came out. They began to tidy the room; the table would have to be replaced, and the chairs. That wasn’t their job, so the [Chefs] just collected the utensils and dishes. But every few seconds one would look up and call out warily.
“Lady Foliana, if you would like anything else. More biscuits? We can prepare them for lunch if you will be eating them all day.”
“Lady Foliana, is that you there? I’m picking up this fork…”
“…Lady Foliana?”
——
Foliana had left the dining room almost as soon as Niers had. Now, she descended through the citadel. Unnoticed. Few people in the world could catch Foliana when she wanted. Of course, that only went for them. Foliana’s world was helpfully open.
She hopped around a pair of [Servants] who’d been told they needed to replace the furniture in the dining room, walked past a pair of Selphid [Guards] on patrol, and shadowed Peclir Im as he walked down the corridor. When he got to the stairs, Foliana hopped down them, avoiding a Dullahan coming up with a replacement tablecloth.
No one noticed. And indeed, the only trouble Foliana had was navigating through the increasingly-busy citadel that housed the students coming to learn strategy, the servants, teachers, staff, members of the Forgotten Wing Company, and so on. Because no one stopped for her. No one tried to avoid her; they didn’t know she was there. So the [Rogue] slipped from spot to spot, deftly avoiding people, watching them stop and greet each other. Listening. Watching.
She was a ghost. So much so that she could lean on a shoulder and someone might not notice until she was gone. She could use an object and only someone with keen awareness would notice it was moving. It wasn’t just [Invisibility]. It was why Foliana was so feared. If she ate your favorite food, she was coming for you. And you’d never see her before she got you.
But she didn’t kill that often. Indeed, Foliana’s day looked more like this. After breakfast, she descended the citadel, following the students. She lined up as they did in front of a classroom, staring up at the big Minotaur, idly poking the Human [Lord] chatting to him. When the door opened, she followed them inside.
——
Wil Kallinad’s back was itching today for some reason. He kept scratching at it as he talked to Venaz, and then filed into the classroom where he and a large number of advanced students were reporting today.
Niers Astoragon’s classes were always different and exciting. They were seldom easy, but that was the point. You could get to Level 30 just by taking his classes and learning from the master of strategy himself. That was why he was so popular. It wasn’t as fast as fighting, but it was far safer. So [Lieutenants], [Generals], [Strategists], [Commanders], and any class that owed anything to the art of strategy came here to learn how to improve.
Today’s was a joint lecture class. Which meant that the Titan’s special [Strategist] class was combined with the officer classes and other classes. Wil sat down next to Venaz and Yerranola, sighing. He was not having a good day.
“Do you have fleas or something?”
Venaz grumbled warily. Wil shrugged as he scratched at his back.
“I don’t know! I feel like something’s biting me, or tickling. You ever have that feeling?”
“Yes.”
Yerranola looked at her classmates.
“Nope.”
Venaz rolled his eyes.
“Phantom feelings, Yerranola. You wouldn’t know because you’re a Selphid.”
“Hey! My nerves are connected. This body’s fresh.”
The Selphid poked her Human body. Wil and Venaz didn’t look convinced. Yerranola folded her arms.
“I can feel things. It’s great! Although I do disconnect my nerves if I think there’s something funky going on. So yeah, maybe you have poor nerves.”
“It’s just a feeling. It’s gone now.”
Wil sighed. Foliana stopped poking his back and watched with interest as Venaz edged sideways, closer to Kissilt.
“If you have fleas—”
“I don’t have fleas. I don’t have that much hair!”
“Fleas can get everywhere. Kissilt, switch places with me.”
“Shut up, Venaz. I’m having a bad day.”
The Drake raised his head, looking annoyed. He rummaged in his bag, growling.
“Ancestors—my inkpot’s gone! I swore I had it—will one of you lend me yours?”
Venaz checked his bag. Foliana sniffed the inkpot she’d opened and tasted the ink. She paused, then corked it and put it back in Kissilt’s bag.
“I only have mine.”
“Let me use it then.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve been rude to me, Kissilt. I won’t do you favors for unpleasantness in return. Amend your ways and we’ll talk.”
The Drake half-rose, furious, as the last students hurried into the room.
“You damn—oh, wait. Here it is.”
“Always in the last place you look, huh?”
Yerranola grinned from the side. Kissilt glared at her. Foliana sat down on top of the desk next to Yerranola, watching.
Class was starting. And the students looked up as the Fraerling of the hour, Niers Astoragon, marched down towards his podium. His vexation of the morning was gone, and he smiled as some of the students called out greetings. The Titan, or perhaps the Professor in this room, nodded, and took a small wand out. He tapped it on the lectern and the room fell silent.
“Good morning, class! Well, the summer is almost upon us and some of you will be heading home. But that sad day isn’t upon us yet, and I have one last torment—er, project for us to undertake! A [Strategist] learns from variety after all!”
A good-natured groan filled the room, but a lot of students sat up. They thrived on adversity, after all, and many would level if they did their homework right. A few were even [Students], having made learning their vocation. The rest simply wanted to advance in their class.
Foliana edged past Merrik and Peki, taking a feather as a souvenir. Alarmed, the [Martial Artist] whipped around, feeling at her back. She stared blankly at Foliana and the Squirrel-woman inspected the feather. She put it behind Merrik’s ear. Peki, staring behind her, looked around, mystified, then saw Merrik’s ear. She punched the Dwarf.
“One last project! No complaints! And Peki, stop punching Merrik!”
Niers frowned slightly at Peki and the Dwarf. Merrik swore at Peki.
“Why’d you do that, you bird-brain!? What feather? I don’t know how it got there—”
“A project or a competition, Professor?”
Marian raised her hand from her seat next to Umina and Feshi. Niers laughed, but he absently twisted a ring on his finger. Few people could have seen the motion as Foliana edged past them, peering at Kesla’s notes as the Centauress absently doodled in the side margins. Niers paused, then turned to the Centauress and smiled.
“Well, everything is a competition, Marian. However, this particular one will be a small test. Only four days long! You will all form teams and write up a plan of engagement for one of our practice battles. The trick is that none of you will be allowed to use Skills or even witness the battle. We will assemble two, or even three or four practice armies on the field and have our Selphid-volunteers happily hack each other to bits following your directives! When it is over, we will have each team evaluated on the number of opponents ‘killed’, surviving forces, and efficacy of their orders! We’ll do—three battles for each team, and you’ll be allowed to prepare three sets of orders and choose one for each scenario.”
The students sat up, murmuring. That did sound interesting. Foliana hopped down a row and listened as Marian whispered to Umina and Feshi.
“It’s like when the Professor sends orders to a [Commander] on the field.”
“We can prepare three different battles? So each one will be different. And our opponents will select their best strategy to deal with us. Like sword-scroll-catapult.”
“You mean, knife-rock-paper, yes?”
Feshi blinked at Umina. The Lizardgirl hesitated.
“Is that what Gnolls call it? Sort of! Except that we’ll be preparing each strategy, so there’s a lot more variety.”
Foliana saw Feshi and Marian nod. The Squirrel-woman peered at Umina’s side. There was something magical about her belt. Foliana vaguely recognized it. The Lizardgirl hadn’t owned it last week. Foliana vaguely remembered something about a prize that Umina had won. She inspected the belt, nudging Umina over in her seat. The Lizardgirl realized she was about to fall over and corrected herself. Foliana had seen what she wanted, though.
Belt of Acrobats. Umina seemed nimbler on her feet. She’d even been turning cartwheels this morning. Feshi looked enviously at Umina as the Lizardgirl adjusted her belt; it had come a bit loose for some reason.
Merrik was speaking now, rubbing his jaw and glaring at Peki.
“Professor! Can we give items to our army? Do we know what we’ll get?”
“Absolutely no aiding your armies! But I will let you customize your practice armies. Not the terrain or other variables! Remember our point-buy system for the practice-battles? We’re using that. Let’s call it twelve thousand points per team! Now, with that said, you’re not choosing teams. I’ll select them and you’re all working together! Together, meaning that no one’s taking charge and doing all the work, Venaz, Kissilt. And no one’s slacking off! I’ll just fail teams outright if I hear of that.”
“Why does he always single us out?”
Kissilt grumbled. Venaz nodded. Wil and Yerranola rolled their eyes and Cameral turned his head all the way around to stare incredulously at the Drake and Minotaur. From his podium, Niers waited as the buzz of anticipation grew louder. Foliana was searching through Feshi’s bag. She’d found a snack and began nibbling some grapes.
“Now—”
Niers kicked a small bell on the podium, and the ding of noise made all his students look up. The Titan smiled.
“Take note. Here are my teams. Sillk! You, Peki, and Yerranola will be our first group.”
“Yes, Professor!”
A Lizardboy, still too young to be fully grown, sat up in his seat. He looked across the room, and his face fell as Peki stared at him. Yerranola groaned, but good-naturedly.
“Aw. I wanted to team up with Wil! Peki? Well, she’s cool.”
She waved at the Garuda. Niers went on.
“Sillk, Peki, Yerranola. I know, you’ve been assigned to this team before, but no complaints! This is about advanced teamwork, not managing personalities. I also want Kissilt as our resident Drake to partner with…yes, Illial. And Leondir; two Humans in one team, but different continents. And—put Laiz in your team as well.”
Yerranola blinked. Venaz opened his mouth, but Wil and Kissilt both nudged him. The Drake growled.
“Don’t be an ass, Venaz. And don’t interrupt or we’ll waste time! Ancestors, I’m stuck with two Humans?”
Wil was writing down the names, frowning up at Sillk. Venaz growled back, distractedly looking at Wil.
“If he’s wrong, he’s wrong. Wil, why are you writing names down?”
“Tactical advantage. We’re competing, remember?”
The Drake and Minotaur paused, then scrambled for their quills. Kissilt muttered as he frantically wrote down the teams Niers was listing out. He hissed sideways.
“Good point. Damn. Yerranola, you’re in trouble. You have two [Commanders].”
“Better than two junior [Tacticians] and a [Strategist]! Peki and Sillk actually know their way around a battlefield! You think your written orders will translate into a victory?”
“Hah! Want to put money on it?”
“I will. I’ll win.”
“You don’t even know your team, Venaz!”
Behind him, Foliana nodded and stuck a grape on the end of Venaz’s left horn. The Minotaur snorted.
