Chapter 446 - The Festival and the Skyward City IV

  Cire escaped into the darkness of the void, carefully maintaining her composure as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. It was hard not to shiver. The man was strong enough for her senses to reject the very notion of his death even as she buried her dagger in his throat. He was only surprised by her ck of deference. Neither when she struck his supposed vitals nor when she perfectly read his thoughts did he seem the slightest bit concerned for his continued existence.

  She would have to deal with him eventually, but she set the problem aside and observed the slimy blue mass that still covered her bloodstained hand. It ignored gravity’s prerogative and slowly crept up the length of her arm regardless of how she shook the limb or tore at the goop with her vectors.

  Slowly, one drop at a time, it almost seemed to sink into her flesh. She might have been a little more panicked had it felt foreign or hostile, but while the sludge certainly assaulted her mind, its influence felt strikingly familiar.

  The accompanying sensations were the same ones she felt when her shoulder animals manifested—the urge to kill and the urge to zily consume brought straight to the forefront of her mind. But at the same time, they no longer stemmed from an external influence. Nay, the fiery ardor and the overwhelming lethargy both came from deep within, for they were never foreign.

  They were always hers, simply sealed away so they wouldn’t control her before she could learn to handle them.

  Along with her urges returned her spirit sorcery. She had no idea how powerful it would be after so long without any use, nor did she know if her circuits could handle its activation. But while she was certainly curious, she refrained from giving the ability a spin. The st thing she wanted was to awaken the dormant puppets whose presences she had been happy to be without—assuming their personalities had even persisted.

  Oddly enough, the goop almost seemed to relieve the dull aching pain ever present throughout her form. It wasn’t the most significant reduction, but it was enough that she felt her breathing eased. Closing her eyes and praying to Fltizegarde confirmed a notable improvement; she was back up to about a tenth of her magical potential.

  Cire lifted the goop to her face and began to carefully examine its composition, but a series of loud, booming knocks pulled her from her slumber.

  The curtains parted right as she opened her eyes, revealing in the morning light a familiar uniform paired with an equally familiar face.

  “Rise and shine, Cire!”

  Marie wasn’t the only one making noise. The townsfolk were out and about, celebrating the winter solstice even though the sun had only just poked its way above the horizon. It was impossible to tell if they had been out all night, or if they had simply risen early to indulge in the festivities, but either way, they were in the midst of proving that it was never too early to drink.

  Some of the quieter attractions had also spun up. Though it was distant, on the other side of town, Cire was fairly certain that she could make out the local children pying some sort of game.

  “Marie?” The lyrkress blinked. “What year is it?”

  “109845 as of a few days ago,” said Mariabelle.

  “That was supposed to be a rhetorical question,” muttered Cire. “And for the record, I would strongly prefer if you didn’t invade my personal space wearing an outfit that your husband has clearly taken you in.”

  “H-how did you know?” sputtered the mare.

  “Why else would the dy of house Postumus keep a servant’s dress around?”

  “O-old times sake, perhaps?”

  The cim was met with a dry stare.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” huffed Marie. “How did you even come to that conclusion in the first pce? What happened to the old Cire? The innocent little thing that I was waking up back in 109843?”

  “She died after her father ordered her to kill herself.” Cire paused for a moment to assume her smallest form and sneak out of Sylvia’s embrace. She was dressed in a casual outfit by the time she returned to her full size. “And even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have survived everything that followed.”

  “Please stop,” said Marie. “The whole tough girl act really doesn’t suit you.”

  “It’s fun.”

  “You are being so overly dramatic that I am feeling second hand embarrassment.”

  “Shush,” said Cire, as she averted her gaze.

  “So you were aware?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cire sat back down on the bed and gave Sylvia a gentle shake. “Wake up. It’s morning.”

  “Mmmnnn… in a bit,” she said, as she slowly shrank to her fox-fairy size. “Five more minutes.”

  “Okay.” Cire lifted the tiny vixen by the tail and threw her onto her head.

  “Is this behaviour… typical?” asked Marie.

  “More or less.”

  “I think I am beginning to understand the reason you rejected all of the proposals that your father lined up.”

  Cire rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not like that.”

  “She was naked and in your bed.”

  “She uses me like a stuffed animal.”

  “My husband uses me the same way.”

  “You’re overthinking it.”

  “Perhaps this is the true cause for your loss of innocence then?” suggested the mare.

  Cire wrinkled her brow. “Pervert.”

  “I most certainly am not.”

  “Care to eborate on what you're imagining right now then?”

  Mariabelle ughed. “I don't see why I should. I am well aware that you know exactly what I happen to be thinking, and you could ve—”

  “—ry well finish my sentences with ease. Yes, I know you tend to be predictable. But I don’t know what that pervert of a marquis has done to corrupt your mind over the course of the past year.” Cire stretched her shoulders as she magically switched her nightgown for a winter dress and a cardigan. “Oh, and congratutions on your one year anniversary.”

  “Thank you,” said the mare, with a smile.

  “How much longer until your children are born?”

  “How did you know?” Marie blinked. “Wait, children?”

  “I can hear three heartbeats, including your own.” Cire made a show of fpping her giant ears. “Did your doctor not tell you?”

  “I asked him not to divulge any non-critical details.”

  “Are you sure he’s not trying to mess with you?” Cire sat down in front of the mirror, and allowed Marie to do her hair. At least for the duration of the arrangement, she floated Sylvia into her p and allowed her to do as she pleased. “Don’t bother with anything too complex. The stupid fox will probably ruin it anyway.”

  “How does a side braid sound?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay.” Marie ran her fingers through the lyrkress’ hair before continuing. “To answer your earlier question, I don’t have any particurly close friends, but the servants have completely given up on bullying me. They have come to understand that I am the head of the house so long as my husband is not present.”

  “Then why haven’t you heard?”

  “I doubt he thought it was too big of a deal,” said Marie. “He’s young enough that I doubt he has ever stopped to consider the preparation necessary to welcome a child.”

  “He doesn’t sound like he deserves his position.”

  “He’s really quite smart. He just… doesn’t have a lot of experience yet,” said Marie. “His master, Doctor Candidus, was previously in charge of our house’s affairs, but he unfortunately passed away on account of a freak accident involving an anal orifice and a shoe.” She took half a step back and looked over her handiwork. “It appears to have turned out quite well, if I do say so myself.”

  Cire smiled awkwardly. “No wonder Bea was in charge of my hair.”

  “I tried my best, Cire! I could do without the backtalk.”

  “And I could do with a better hairdresser.”

  Sticking out her long, forked tongue, Cire quickly fixed the messy arrangement with her vectors, put her fox back on her head, and started towards the window.

  “Cire?”

  “What?”

  “I have two questions.”

  “Go on.”

  “Why have you grabbed me by the wrist?”

  “To lead you towards the balcony.”

  “And why, precisely, are we heading there?”

  “So we can jump.”

  Marie blinked. “Why wou—”

  “You said two questions, not three,” said Cire. A wide grin on her lips, she dug her foot into the carpet and threw the one-tonne mare out the door, which conveniently opened just in time to remain unbroken despite her sudden acceleration.

  “Ciiiiireeee!”

  Cire ughed as she kicked off the carpet with a fp of the wings and joined the noble dy in the sky. She considered catching her by the shoulders, but swapped forms and ducked beneath her instead.

  “If it wasn’t obvious enough already,” said the longmoose. “We’re going this way because it’s faster than some dinky carriage.”

  “I am well aware of your picky streak. I picked the most comfortable, high-end vehicle avaible.”

  Cire opened one of the eyes on her tail and stared briefly at the lime-green vehicle parked in front of the hotel. It had the sort of appearance that only a mother could love. Its wide-brimmed roof and its irrationally smooth profile indicated a design twenty years retired. And if that weren’t enough to deny any cim of beauty, then one could simply look at the ribbed crochet work that adorned its otherwise homely exterior.

  “That is one of the single dinkiest vehicles I’ve ever id eyes on.”

  “It is meant for incognito travel. The interior is much prettier.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not riding around in a burnt peanut.”

  “Just give it a chance. I promise you will be blown away.”

  “The same goes for you, if you don’t hold on.”

  “Wha—” Marie opened her mouth to speak, only to nearly faint as Cire suddenly shot straight into the sky. Going above the tallest towers, she didn’t double back until she was high enough to overlook the city.

  “Are you sure that it is safe for us to be so high up?” asked Marie.

  “You’ll be fine. Stop fussing,” said Cire. “And it’s better up here anyway. Right, Sylvia?”

  “Mhm.” The foxgirl slowly sat up as she threw on an elven dress and grew back to full size. “Morning flights are best from high up. It’s a little chilly, but you get used to it.”

  “You do this every morning?”

  “Normally,” said Cire. “We were skipping it while we were up in the mountains.” She flexed her wings and cleared the sky by pushing the surrounding clouds northward. “Be careful not to bite your tongue.”

  Her warning said, she fpped her wings and sped off into the distance.

  “Cire!? Slow down!” shouted Marie.

  “She’s already going pretty slow,” said Sylvia, with a yawn.

  “How is this slow!?” cried the centaur. “I swear I’m going to fall off and die! At least give me a saddle or something! You’re too thin for me to grab onto you with my legs!”

  “Put a saddle on me, Mariabelle Postumus, and I will strangle you.”

  “...Why does it feel like you actually mean that?”

  “Don’t worry. She probably doesn’t,” said Sylvia.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” muttered the horse.

  “That’s hurtful,” said Cire.

  “Remember the time you said that you were joking about driving a spike between Durham’s legs?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Smiling softly, Cire did a few ps around the city before returning to her humanoid form and hiding behind a floating ptform. Though certainly drunk out of its mind, the city was not so drunk as to forever ignore the giant serpent flying through the skies above. Still, the commotion was fairly contained. Few had looked up for long enough to spot her, and ever fewer had refrained from dismissing her as a figment of their imagination.

  “So? What’s the pn?” asked Cire. “Are you going as Lady Postumus?”

  “Well, I had a number of disguises for us packed away in the carriage, but now, we have no choice but to go as ourselves.”

  “We’ll be fine,” said Cire. “Sylvia?”

  “Three unbreakable disguises, coming right up!”

  She hummed a quick tune under her breath and transformed Cire and Marie. Both were made just like her and transformed into a pair of fox-eared elves with rge bushy tails and traditional elven dresses. Their faces and colour schemes were retained—Cire was still silvery blue, and Marie was a rich chestnut brown—but their complexions were made darker. All three girls sported auburn, almost Flitzegarde-like skin that glimmered brilliantly beneath the light of the sun.

  “How’s this?” asked the fox.

  Cire paused for a moment to note that Sylvia’s tail was the fluffiest of the three before creating an icy mirror and inspecting her new body. “We’re a little foreign, but it’s fine.”

  “I knew it’d be perfect ‘cause you probably still want to stand out, and I’m super cute.”

  “Only sometimes.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Marie, who had spent a few seconds carefully inspecting her body, “but this appears to be a ridiculously high-level spell.”

  “Mmnnn, not really,” said Sylvia. “I think I learned it around level five hundred?”

  “Five hundred!? I thought you were just a pet!”

  “What the heck!?”

  “She is just a pet,” said Cire. “Don’t think about it too much. You’ll just give yourself a headache.”

  “I’m actually an aspect,” said Sylvia. “And Cire’s my pet. Not the other way around.”

  The cim was met with an extended moment of silence, broken only as Cire magically grabbed both the other foxes and started dragging them towards the colosseum.

  “Come on. Let’s go. Stop wasting time.”

  “We’re not,” said Sylvia. “She doesn’t believe I’m an aspect!”

  “I wouldn’t either,” said Cire.

  “Why not!?”

  “Because you’re just a stupid fox.” Sticking out her tongue, which had grown much wider and lost its forked tip, Cire pinched the bridge of Sylvia’s nose before continuing towards the colosseum.

  From above, it was clear that the arena had been flooded. Everything besides the uppermost yer of seats was buried beneath a yer of fresh water. Making use of all the space had effectively doubled the arena’s size, extending it to the incredible length of two full kilometers. The event was already underway in spite of the early hour. Ten groups of fishermen were going at it.

  The spears they wielded were artifacts that fired concentrated bsts of electricity from their tips. Though not powerful enough to take out any decent fighters, they were at least decent enough for the fish swimming around the depths. The common bass and trout only took one long-ranged stab before they floated to the surface, though it seemed like there the rarer and more powerful species, like the marlins and the tunas, needed a few extra hits.

  Fighting among the competitors was neither banned nor discouraged. People hopped from boat to boat, stealing each other’s fish and quite brawling for some of the best spots. Offensive magic appeared to serve as the only restriction, as while the mages put up shields, they refrained from firing off any sort of projectile.

  “Uhmmmm, are you sure this is a fishing contest?” asked Sylvia. “‘Cause it looks more like a brawl.”

  “It’s both,” said Cire. “The team that brings back the most fish wins, but they don’t count as yours unless you turn them in.”

  “That seems a little silly,” said Sylvia.

  “It is plenty of fun. This is the sort of activity that is frequently seen during festivals,” said Marie.

  They nded next to one of the piers as they spoke, right around where everyone else was gathered. The crowd was still small, thanks to the time of day, maybe thirty or forty people at most, with plenty of cheering children among their number.

  “Are you girls here to watch or py?” One of the referees, an older mia somewhere in her fifties, fgged the group down immediately.

  “Py,” said Cire.

  “Just the three of you?” asked the snake. Her scales were a deep wine red, and her tail was on the thicker side. For someone wrinkled enough to have great-grandchildren, she seemed to be in surprisingly good shape.

  “Is that a bad thing?” asked Sylvia.

  “Not particurly. The teams can go as high as seven, but they don’t have to.”

  “Oh, okay! Then yeah, just us!”

  “Perfect,” said the snake dy. She handed each party member one of the spears she carried in the quiver on her back. As the detachable tips were made of electric energy, the shafts themselves were surprisingly short. “You can head to any of the empty docks. This game’ll be a bit longer, but we should be able to get you out on the water soon.”