Chapter 4

  Impossibilities

  Last night…

  Kalli suppressed the wince as she shifted her sore ass on the hard wooden seat. She did frowned - she deserved to be pampered after being fucked in the ass, not interrogated! She scrunched her face, wiggling her nose - which itched almost as much as her feet, whenever they brushed against the discarded burlap they had used to try to make her ‘modest’. At least that, she had managed to wriggle out of.

  Sadly, face-scrunching and nose-wrinkling did little to soothe her itchy woes. She gave a little tug at her wrists, to no avail. They were bound behind her back, tied securely to the chair. And not the sexy-securely, that was just tight enough to avoid escape, tied just so that it could let her athletic back arc just right …

  No, this wasn’t bondage. This was boring. Scratchy. Thick rope. It made her slouch in order to be comfortable. Her! Slouch! The nerve. Never mind her own bad slouching habit. That was different. She swore.

  She shifted her butt again, adjusting how her balls rested against the thin layer of cloth laid over the hard chair. With a wistful sigh and a sore bottom, she briefly wished she was gifted with the more… traditional hole to receive cocks in. “But shit, what are assholes good for if not being fucked in?” Kalli muttered, under her breath.

  “What’s that, suspect?” Kalli looked across the dim room, upwards, deliberately above the short dwarf standing across the room. She blinked a couple times, pretending to be surprised, and corrected her gaze to look at this dwarf right in the eyes. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you down there.” She couldn’t help but smirk. “You know. Because you’re short.”

  Classic.

  The dwarf took his time before reacting. He tightened his lips, as he stroked a clean-shaven chin in apparent thought. Those odd, unnatural eyes of his stared into hers, white square pupils making her uneasy. In part, because those black and white eyes wanted to see into her soul, if they could. In second part, because she was naked - and his eyes had never once shown even a passing interest in looking. What was she, chopped liver?!

  “Short?” He barked a laugh, before his hands slammed down on the table that lay between them. “That fuck-addled mind of yours must really be fried, shitter. That the best you got?” The dwarf leaned forward, slightly, eyes narrowed. With him standing, and her sitting, it left them at perfect height to see eye to eye. Uncannily matched, even. “Here you are, at the mercy of someone half your height, and you’re still a pathetic little…” Kalli took in a breath, already resigned to the slurs and racist tirades bound to come this way. It was fine. She was used to it. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “...Idiot.” Surprise forced her eyes open, and that one word replayed itself in her mind. Echoed, even, almost drowning out the awakening earthsong. Sharp drumbeats started playing in her mind, each drum bouncing the word back and forth between them. Such a simple word, yet the vitriol…

  “Exscuse me,” Kalli began a retort, yet the dwarf cut her off with another slap of thick palms on the table. Kalli flinched this time. Slightly. Barely. She thought.

  “Stop FUCKING around!” he shouted, nails digging into the table. “Don’t you KNOW who I AM?!”

  Kalli’s mouth hung open. For a moment after the question, there was silence. The silence lingered. Then lingered some more. Kalli’s nail scratched against the chair. She shifted her legs again. Her balls itched. It was awkward. She tilted her head, slightly. Was she supposed to know him? Kalli looked at the dwarf, down at his outfit. His metal plate armor. The purple sash he wore over it, with ruffles so dainty and intricate they could have come from the edgiest teenage rebel. No rank, no insignia, just the simple Crimson Shield stitched plainly in. And the Crimson boys LOVED their rank and insignias. Kalli cleared her throat. “Uuuhh,”

  “JAKINTH FUCKING SWIFTSTONE!” he spat out, finger all but slamming down on the table as if his very name was a declaration. Kalli’s expression flattened, unimpressed, any hint of intimidation she had felt fading away. Yet the earthsong’s drumbeat hadn’t faded. If anything, it… picked up? Kalli raised an eyebrow.

  “Confused, slut? Heh,” Jakinth dipped his head, grinning, before he wiped some spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a name you’ll remember. Mark it. The world will call my left nut pride, and my right nut accomplishment, once I crack how you did this.” His finger left the table, to point to his right. Those black and white eyes of his narrowed, his voice taking on a low growl. “What is happening there defies all laws known to man. Every. Technomagical law we know of. Fails to explain what has happened to that man. How’d you do it?” Jakinth’s eyes narrowed more, somehow. Silence passed between the two of them.

  “Dunno how. Bet I know why though.” Jakinth cleared his throat, backing away from her for a moment. He sighed. “You got tired of being a waste of space. Didn’t you, Kalli Graves? Fitting name, really.” Jakinth stared downwards, scuffing a plated boot on the ground. “It’s where most nottlings end up. Not human. Not normal. Not worth god damn nothing. Selling your body like meat on the -”

  Kalli groaned and tilted her head back, rolling her eyes. “Come ooooooonnnnnnn dude! I already told you. I don’t know what happened! Henry showed up, looked like he had been through some shit. He looked cute pouting over there, I wanted to get laid, so we fucked!” She chuckled, with a grin. “Pretty hot too,” she muttered, before continuing, “So can we just skip to the part where you resort to roughing me up?” She shifted her arms with a slight grunt, managing to hold them out to the side. “I mean, it might make for a challenging wank later,” she grinned, while her hands moved in a crude jacking off motion. “But hey, I’ve had harder wanks. So come on, let’s get ourselves rolling!”

  Jakinth’s fist clenched, and for a moment, Kalli thought he would actually do it. She even braced, preparing herself for the inevitable beating the oh-so-noble Crimson Shields were known for. But Jakinth had restraint. His fist flew, sure - but not at Kalli. At a nearby chair, merely shoving it away from her.

  “By all the shitting, shitter, gods!” He spat out, exasperated. He hadn’t even hit the chair hard enough for it to hit the wall. Kalli sighed - this might take all night, at this rate. “Give me something!” Jakinths’ hands slapped back on the table, staring hard at Kalli. Almost… pleading?

  “Careful,” Kalli chuckled. “Don’t let a cleric hear you say the gods shit. You’ll be in a world of hurt, dude.” After a moment of silence, Kalli’s amused grin faded as silence fell between them. “Look. I…” she shrugged, looking aside. “I don’t get it. But, something weird happened. The earthsong, it…” she paused, hesitating as he bit her lip. But then continued. “It acted up. Like…” Jakinth was staring, more intently by the second.

  The door opened, and in walked an elven woman. Tired eyes, and world weary, with a more standard white sash for her crimson shield. Pointed ears stuck out from shoulder length, frazzled, blonde hair. Her sash, in addition to its standard crimson shield, held a smaller shield below it. And a single star within it. A lieutenant - one with some talent in magic. “If you’re done shouting your own name in here, Jak…”

  Jakinth growled, looking down. “Jakinth. It’s Jakinth Swiftstone.”

  “Right.” The lieutenant rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment as she sighed. “Her story checks out, Jak. Legally, we can’t keep her, so…” she waved a hand in Kalli’s vague direction, pointedly not looking in the nude nottling’s direction. “Just… get her out of here. Maybe keep her dressed this time, Jak?”

  Jakinth spun to face the lieutenant, spitting and stammering. “B-but Lieutenant! She was just about to give me something. It could have been something big!” Jakinth looked back to Kalli. “Tell her! Tell her what you were about to tell me! About your damn Earthsong!”

  Whatever empathy she had, vanished once her mind settled on freedom. Beautiful, wonderful freedom “Huh? Oh, right, earthsong,” she laughed a bit, smirked a bit, and turned on her bedroom eyes. A sultry fluttering of her eyelashes, perfectly crafted to fluster even a nun - weapons aimed right at the elven lieutenant. “It was reeeaaaal sexy,” she stuck out her chest a bit at the woman, who already had a touch of blush creeping into her cheeks. “I swear, it synchronized with every,” Kalli began to accentuate every word with a sexual rock of her hips,” thrust, of his dick, into my -”

  “ENOUGH!” the lieutenant shouted, cheeks red as a tomato as she turned to leave. “Just - Get her out of here Jakinth. We have actual investigating to do!” And left. Rather quickly.

  Slowly, Jakinth’s eyes turned back to Kalli, full of ire. “You…” Kalli simply shrugged, smiling as innocent as can be. “Fine. You win this one. But we’re not done here.” Even as Jakinth moved to untie Kalli, the earthsong marked his words with that escalating drumbeat. “Count on it.”

  —--

  Currently…

  The Crimson Shield was already investigating the frozen man. In Roseia’s ever correct (yet humble) opinion, however, they were garbage at investigating. Dull, brute force, take the easy answer (no matter how nonsensical) and move on to the next case. She clicked her tongue in irritation as she walked, and brushed away a few blue strands of hair. “They’ll make a mockery of this,” she muttered to herself. Luckily, for everyone involved, she was here now.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Roseia paused in front of the Peak - she refused to use the inn’s whole name, lest it get confused with the Point - and did one more check of her tools. Her corset was nice and snug, laced to perfection. The white top underneath was plain, free of any embroidery or ruffles - there would be no sense in looking intimidating today. She touched her wide-brimmed hat, and counted the potions she had tucked away in its leather band. 6, of course. Right where she left them. She patted her wide leather satchel at her side, ever present. And lastly, her arcane pistol at her belt. Complete with the blue crystal that hovered just above the firing mechanism, ever ready to give its arcane spark. The launcher, she left at home. This was a medicinal call, not a war zone.

  Satisfied that everything was in its proper place - as it very well should be - she pushed open the doors with purpose and strode into the common room. “Gregory.” she nodded to the tavern keeper. Gregory nodded back. Mandatory greeting out of the way, she went to climb the stairs.

  The upper floor was far too crowded for her taste. A few Shields were standing around the hallway, irritatingly taking up space just to look important. One of them turned towards her, aiming to impede her progress with his broad shoulders. He raised a hand and opened his mouth, but Roseia spoke first. “I’m expected. Roseia Fletcher. Alchemist. Kindly move aside so I can get to work.” She paused for a moment, before reluctantly forcing out the required niceties. “Please.”

  A moment later, the admittedly handsome man finally nodded and stepped aside for her. With only a brief, lamenting thought to how the handsome ones were so often dull, she walked up to the nearby doorway. The door itself had been completely removed - a casualty of the efforts to free Kalli from being pinned.

  There he stood. This… Roseia blinked, realizing she had forgotten the man’s name. Didn’t matter. Just as she had heard, he was frozen in what some people had taken to calling a ‘T-pose’. Looking at this man, she frowned. “Hardly a ‘pose’ if he’s stuck like that,” she muttered at the folly of it all, before she sidestepped past the man. It was a narrow fit, with him stood so close to the open doorway - but at least someone had taken the decency to drape some cloth over him, lest she risk brushing against his unmentionables.

  “You must be Roseia, I take it?” a tired voice came from one of the figures towards the back of the room. Roseia nodded in return as she looked over at the two, briefly noting them. An elven Crimson Shield was the one speaking, standing near the bed with her arms folded. Seated on the bed was a human, feminine Maid - one of Sarrenot’s boys. His uniform was covered in what some might consider a rather intimidating amount of lace and ruffles. The whole getup was trying too hard, in Roseia’s opinion. Perhaps those ruffles could help cow some fools into submission, but not her.

  “Correct.” Roseia nodded, finding a nearby end table to set her bag on. She had to shift a small vase out of the way, catching a displeased look from the Maid. Probably threw off his grand design for the room, having some stranger’s grubby bag in sight. Roseia returned the look - and slid the vase even further out of the way.

  Ruffles or no, she would not be cowed.

  “I understand we have something of an oddity here.” Already, Roseia was undoing the latches on her satchel, pulling the top flap open, and moving her fingers over ingredients to be considered. As they brushed over a plant or vial that seemed promising, she would pluck it out from her bag, to tuck away in the leather band on her hat. A convenient place she was sure to remember later and would definitely never forget about.

  “Tch.” The Shield made a click of her tongue. “Oddity,” she sighed, shaking her head as she dug something out of a leather pouch at her side. It was a dull-white stick, about the length of a palm, just over a finger wide. A mana stick - used by mages that needed a little more ‘oomph’. Used by some as a drug. This one was depleted, however, lacking the tell-tale soft glow.

  Depleted or not, the elven Shield placed it in her mouth anyway. “You’re calling a mountain a mole hill. This - “ She grabbed her mana stick between a slender index and middle finger, using it to gesture towards the man. “We don’t know what’s causing this ‘T’ pose of his. Nothing makes sense.” the elf made an attempt at rubbing the tired out of her eyes in vain, before placing the mana stick back in her mouth.

  “Does he look like he’s posing?” Roseia, satisfied with her ingredients for now, looked at the man. Eerie, still, yet having the uncanny look of flesh and blood. A tingling crawled its way across her skin, leaving goosebumps she refused to acknowledge. “‘Pose’ implies something active. He hardly looks like he’s doing this deliberately.” Roseia pursed her lips in thought. “He doesn’t even look alive.”

  “Call it what you want, Rose,” the elf scoffed and rolled her eyes, before folding her arms. “That’s just what people have taken to calling it. But one of the few things we do know…” she frowned. “He’s alive though. Creepy to look at, but alive. Makes everyone’s skin crawl.” she chewed on her stick. “Veteran to newbie, everyone describes it the same.”

  “Roseia,” she corrected. She caught a subtle sigh from the elf, and a muttering that was likely mocking her. Roseia declined to respond to that. “Do you think this feeling is a natural occurrence, or…” she let the sentence trail off.

  “Think it’s from whatever’s causing this?” the elf finished the thought for her - And Roseia nodded. “I thought about that, but…” the elf shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems irrelevant until we have something more to go off of. And I’m not about to parade civilians in front of Henry here for some kind of fucked up survey.” She rolled her mana stick back and forth for a moment, before turning to the maid. “Be a dear and get me some coffee, would you? Gods I’m tired.”

  Roseia froze for a moment at such causal audacity. Yet the Maid simply gave a soft smile as he stood, even going so far as to give a deep curtsey to the elf. “Why, of course mistress. I shall be back soon.” After elegantly rising from the curtsey, his heels clicked and clacked as he began to walk out of the room. Not, however, before his eyes met Roseia’s with a cold gaze. Roseia resisted the urge to shiver, but both her and the elven Shield remained still and silent until the Maid left their sight.

  “Awfully brave of you. Ordering a Maid around like that.” Roseia occupied her hands by smoothing her skirts, fiddling with the vials she had placed in her hat.

  “Dude can probably incinerate me with a thought.” The elf shuddered, letting out a breath she had been apparently holding. “But if a Maid tells you to treat him like a maid, you better treat that Maid like a maid. For your sake, if nothing else.” The two looked out towards the open doorway, watching a couple other Shields mill about. The silence didn’t last long, before the elf blurted, “Do you think it’s a sex thing?”

  “One would hope a cleric has enough dignity to not force their fetishes on the unwilling.”

  “You don’t strike me as the hopeful type, Roseia.”

  “Hm.” She thought that was best kept vague, for now. “Before I start wasting ingredients,” Roseia glanced around the small inn room, frowning at the lack of good tables. She settled for moving her bag to the floor, and then taking the vase. After considering for a moment, she allowed herself the slightest of mischievous smiles before tucking it away out of sight, under the bed. “How about you let me know everything you know, so far.” She managed to bite her tongue just before continuing with ‘I’m sure it’s not a long list’.

  “Right.” the elf began pulling out a scroll, teeth grinding slightly against her mana stick as she rolled it to and fro. “Right right right…” she muttered, eyes scanning the paper for the relevant details. “He still has his full soul, according to the spells. Undamaged, near as we can tell. Which means he’s alive, and not undead. I cast a detect thoughts on him earlier, and…” the elf paused. Roseia paused in her rummaging, suddenly interested.

  “Well. He has them. I think.” The Shield made a face, something like an awkward grimace. “I…” she sighed. “The spell didn’t give me anything coherent. It just… the vague semblance of thoughts. It made my blood run cold. I couldn’t keep the spell up for very long.”

  “As for cause…” she sighed, shrugging before slumping into a weary slouch. “I’ve tried every method of detecting magic I have. Nothing.” she shook her head, resting a hand on her hip. “There’s not even a sign of hidden magic. It’s like there’s just… nothing to detect.”

  “Hm.” Roseia narrowed her eyes, deciding on her first method of investigation. She rummaged through her pack a little more, pulling out an empty vial, some alcohol, and reached up to her hat to pluck out a Kingsleaf from where she had stored it. As she prepared to mix the potion, the click clack of the Maid’s heels announced his return.

  “And I have been tending to his physical needs,” He announced, balancing a serving tray on the fingertips of one hand. “All attempts to open his mouth to feed him have been in vain, sadly.” He looked towards the small table with a frown, noting how it had suddenly become cluttered with all of Roseia’s supplies. He shot Roseia a disapproving look, but said nothing. Seemed the Maid was taking the ‘maid’ role seriously. “It’s like his body simply doesn’t react to any attempts to move it. His lips don’t even depress at all if you push on them. Solid as marble, but the texture is undeniably skin and flesh.” He began taking the cups off of his tray. They were small, square cups of white porcelain - Roseia resisted the urge to grind her teeth at the impracticality of square cups, instead offering a polite smile as she took one from the feminine man.

  “Of course you had to choose the fanciest cups, Lyle,” the elf sighed, thankfully being the one to voice Roseia’s thoughts. “Whatever happened to plain round cups? Do we look like nobility to you?” Despite the grumbling protests, she still did take the offered cup.

  “Oh please, Serena,” the Maid chided with a smile. Roseia already forgot his name - it wasn’t important. “Every client deserves the noble treatment when under a Maid’s care. Sarrenot demands no less.” Ignoring the elf’s mutterings of squares and circles, he turned back to Roseia.

  “So as you can imagine, keeping his body fed and hydrated has been a challenge. We’ve had to resort to magic in order to supply Henry with his needs. Luckily, Sarrenot provides ample bounty for her patients.” the Maid smiled, seemingly quite pleased with himself. Roseia pursed her lips, narrowing her eyebrows as she came to a disturbing thought.

  “We don’t know what this situation is.” She focused on her work, setting the square cup aside. Where it quickly became forgotten. A chill worked its way into her gut - but she pushed through it. She refused to be cowed by superstition. “Anything done by magic, can be undone. What if this… condition. Causes a…” the chill attempted to intensify, making even her pause before she uttered the next word. She was only human, after all. She sucked in a short breath and met the Maid’s eyes, who already looked tense.

  “Dispel?” such a dark, taboo word caused a shudder to work its way through Shield and Maid both. Roseia almost wanted to follow suite. “All your work would be undone in moments. He would whither and die of sudden dehydration. Is that what Sarrenot wants?”

  Roseia saw a spark of white flame in the Maid’s irises. His expression became colder. More tense. More… aloof, his personality shifting as he took a fraction of a sliver of a crumb of Sarrenot into himself. “You dare, to bring us such an ill omen?”

  Roseia swallowed. An embarrassing reflex. “I… don’t mean to humble your efforts,” she spoke with a caution. “Until we know more,” with one hand, Roseia lifted her mixed potion to her lips, downing it in a single gulp. With her other hand, she reached into her pack, pulling out a needle connected by a thin hose to a bag. She re-leveled her gaze at the Maid, steeling her nerves in attempt to match the coldness of a god. “He doesn’t need a cleric. He needs a doctor.

  “Luckily, you have me,” she smiled.