NOVEL NEXT Chapter 158 - Legion
Tristessa returned to the suite several minutes later. Having stopped crying, though with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose, she found her three chosen ones in different places than when she left the room.
Starting with Astoria, she was standing on the other side of the bar, poring over the entire drinks catalog as if it were a wine cellar. She picked up an expensive-looking glass bottle containing a phosphorescent gray liquor; she held it up to the light and then sniffed its aroma with the frown of a hard-to-please sommelier, debating with herself whether to start drinking from that bottle and make it a long night that warranted some personal celebration.
Of course, that plan didn't fit with Tristessa's at all.
"Good evening, Astoria. Let me tell you, you look lovely this evening." The young, black-haired woman sat in one of the bar's tall chairs and rested her arms on its cold, smooth wooden surface, oblivious to the warmth of the fireplace across the room. "Any recommendation?"
Playfully, Tristessa didn't let on how nostalgic she felt to be in that position and to see someone on the other side of the bar, unlike when she'd visited that derelict inn on the side of the Abandoned Meridion Highway. The silverly haired woman turned around and Tristessa smiled sweetly at her, knowing that even if she cherished her encounter with the echo of Viktor Emma, she preferred to meet those red eyes precious as rubies instead of the gloomy solitude of a decrepit place lost in time.
"She's so beautiful, holy shit…" she moaned through the boundaries of her mind palace, conflicted to that parallel, intrinsic fear she felt towards her. "So gorgeous, divine… And scary."
Astoria seemed to have calmed down, controlled the overflow of those violent waters called emotions against the shore that was her fate. Such a reaction was understandable; Tristessa had already seen it in the previous loop; the implications of Strangers for both sympathizers and hostiles were abundantly clear.
"Hmm… If I were a newcomer to Nekrom, I'd try this." The knightess placed the same bottle she was holding in front of her. "MITS, an acronym for Mad is the Soul. A classic beverage, its main ingredient are whispering mushrooms from the farms you can find on Ralkutan. The name comes after a myth that from time to time one of those mushrooms is possessed by an evil spirit that drives into madness to all those who hear it sing."
"That's...creepy as fuck, Astoria. I already have too much madness inside me to add any more…"
Whispering to herself, she considered how intrinsic the concept of Madness was to the soul in Nekrom. After all, that seemed to have been the main cause of the disaster wrought by the Shadow Queen five centuries ago.
She set the bottle of MITS aside, wanting Astoria to see that it was time to get down to business.
"Sorry for being a killjoy… Could you not drink any alcohol? I need you with an active mind and not a hint of drunkenness tonight," she requested, and from the way the knightess looked at her without blinking, it seemed that the message hadn't been taken seriously. "I'll explain shortly, but really, I don't want you down on your ass drunk."
"Are you sure you want to start this by stepping on the tail of the aracross?" Astoria asked a sullen grimace forming as a bad sign. "We haven't even signed a contract yet, and you're already pissing me off."
She slammed her hands on the bar, almost making the bottle of MITS fall after a small jump, and glared at Tristessa like a menacing predator.
"Eek!" She let out a squeal and backed away.
"Don't test my patience, girl… Hey, what's wrong? Did I scare you that much?"
Astoria raised an eyebrow, confused to see that Tristessa had taken several steps back and had brought both hands to her chest, in an unconscious act. All a product of the fear that had appeared as quickly as that vile memory in the underground cistern.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry! I-I...I…" Tristessa stammered, her tongue bound by distress as she tried to speak. The words caught in her throat, afraid to come out and provoke the wrath of this woman who now only saw her shrouded in the shadows of that damp, dark place, grabbing her by the neck and smashing her head against the wall. "…"
"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."
Worried, the silver-haired woman tried to skirt the bar. That only forced Tristessa to take a few more steps back, so desperate and clumsy that she almost tripped.
"Stop scaring our benefactor, Silverthorn!" Auron scolded her, looking at the two of them as he warmed his hands in front of the fireplace. "Does it bother you that much not to get drunk for a single night?"
"I-I didn't do anything! I'm thirsty, and I don't see anything here that doesn't have alcohol in it!"
"Besides a miserable drunkard, a blind woman. I can see the water bottles from here."
"Come and say it to my face, you failed would-be Gunslinger King."
While the two were verbally attacking each other from a distance, Tristessa took the opportunity to look for Severus and found him standing in front of a painting, between two shelves full of ancient clothing and protected behind glass walls. It was a picturesque image of a beautiful snow-covered Gothic city amidst elevated terrain hundreds of meters above sea level. The altitude brought the city closer to the stars, and together with the snow, gave it a haunted yet beautiful appearance.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Severus' gaze reflected the whiteness of the city, the gleam in his eyes evidence of deep melancholy. Tristessa didn't ask, but she suspected it was a painting of the ancient elven capital, Yuradynnas of the Frozen Plateau. Now conquered and part of the ever-expanding Shadow Realm.
"S-Severus...?" She called him, his name tearing at her throat and trying to make her cry again. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, his feelings of pain inherited from his ancestors for their devastated land coupled with his hatred for the Strangers. "Could we continue with the meeting?"
"Why ask me? You're the owner of the circus, I don't think there was any need to clarify that," the elf replied in a cold, heartless manner. He turned and walked past her with both hands behind his back, intending to sit in one of the armchairs. Astoria and Auron did the same, wanting to hear what she had to say. "Go ahead, Miss Irandell."
"Call me, Tessa…" she thought, the voice of a cheerful Severus calling her that so present in the forefront of her mind. Something she wasn't going to hear again, and she had to accept it, no matter how much it hurt. "Fuck… Stop it, stop thinking about it."
Tristessa admonished herself and did her best to ignore the waves of despair from her broken heart. It was time to talk about the near future, addressing the three presents.
"As I said before, I know you are all good people. And I also know that you're not in the best of situations, so to speak… I heard that Entrana, End-World, is the corner of the world where the weak, the discarded, and the unwanted end up. And that in recent years, not only is that the case, but it's also becoming the last…safe land in the Empire."
Tristessa stopped for a moment, having to gulp after the weight of inherent doom that came with her words.
"Look, if the word safe is the right one here, even though End-World is constantly harassed by witches and a dark lord like Moebius, I can't begin to imagine what's going on up in the north, against the forces of the Shadow Queen," she continued. "You three ended up here pushed by such hardships, isn't it?"
"…"
The silence in response made it clear that Tristessa wasn't wrong. Astoria, Auron, and Severus were perfect examples of unfulfilled dreams, personal problems that dragged them down. Especially, a lack of hope.
"Your reasons, worthless. Your hopes, meaningless. To lay your hopes on a Stranger, thinking that she will turn the scales of our doomed existence in our favor… It doesn't matter, in the end…"
Words from Aurelia Eramisaptor, the Ruler of that Dominion, echoed like the whispers of invisible phantoms inside the rooms of her mind palace. If even she had no hope for the future, what could be expected of those below her on the social ladder? What could be expected of a vilified Imperial knightess, a wretched gunslinger, and a thaumaturge of a species on the brink of extinction?
Tristessa had seen it in their demeanor, in their looks, in their actions, after so many loops. And at that very moment, there was no exception.
Everyone was on the tightrope, fearful of a dire fate. Of the torture of knowing they would never see their wishes come true, their dreams fulfilled. Their destinies anchored beneath the malice of the Dark Lady and her Greater and Lesser Evils.
"I'm familiar with the belief that we [Strangers] can grant wishes, make your deepest desires come true, like the best of thaumaturgies. I am determined to help you in my quest to recover my memories and return to my world," Tristessa said, lifting the veil of pessimism that had fallen over the three of them. Astoria and Auron settled into their chairs, listening intently to her every word; even Severus, arms crossed and grimacing at her. "You want to fulfill your dreams, I want to remember who I am and return to my world of origin. You help me, and I help you. A relationship of aligned interests, as simple as that. What do you say?"
"Of course I agree." Auron was the first to respond, without a second thought and brimming with determination. So much so that it even inspired his two companions in this crime of conspiring with a supposed enemy of the Empire. "You're my last chance, lady. If it's not you… No one else can help me become filthy rich."
"Of course, Auron… Soul-jewels, that's all you want, huh?" she thought, shaking her head slightly and seeing that he was holding onto that pocket watch with newfound strength and hope. "If you don't want to say anything about that woman… All in good time, I suppose."
"Disregarding the greed of that handkerchief-addicted buffoon… I think the same as him," the red-eyed knightess whispered. Her head hung low, her ragged, heavy, and doubtful breathing brought to light the deep conflict within her. "I said my loyalty belongs to the Lady of the Dominion and the Empire, but… Oh, by the Gods, may the Great Shield Against the Night forgive me, but I've dreamed of a day like this all my life."
Guilt gnawing at her from within, Astoria clenched her fists, the armor plates of her gauntlets creaking against her inhuman strength.
"I don't know what Auron or Severus have left in this cursed world. I, besides my dreams, have nothing left to lose… My family is nonexistent, my name can't sink any lower, and I… I…" Looking up, Tristessa saw an immeasurable amount of suffering, which the knightess quickly hid behind her icy, iron barriers. It was impossible for her to miss that spark of darkness amid the light of her soul shaped by Grace, for she herself had known immeasurable suffering of another kind. The kind one experiences when dying. "You are my once-in-a-lifetime chance, Tristessa. To redeem the Silverthorn name."
"Astoria… How do you want me to help you clear your family name?" the gray-eyed girl wondered, in the privacy of her mind. "Go for your ancestor's head, Valthiel?"
"And as for me… It's no secret that my desire is to kill the Shadow Queen," the blood elf hissed, not hiding the angry sadism emanating from his burning soul. "If you want me to help you recover your memories and return to your world, you will also do whatever it takes to help me rip that bitch's fucking head off and banish her degenerate and vile soul to oblivion."
Neither the knightess nor the gunslinger judged Severus's wish, no matter how impossible it sounded. In that private suite, there was no room for mockery or recriminations for impossible desires. No one there had that right; everyone was on equal grounds, sunk in the most rotten and disease-ridden mire. Looking up, with the stagnant waters reaching their necks; looking up at the unholy giants who lived in the highest and gilded mountains of the divine, rejoicing with spite in their misfortunes.
At that moment, the four of them were legion. They had to be united, supporting each other to have even the slightest hope of achieving their goals.
No matter how impossible they seemed. No matter how darkened their path was before the shadow of the Dark Lady falling over them, and that of her followers, with cursed and feared names like Moebius, Alastor, or Valthiel.
No matter how Death was just around any corner, ready to condemn Tristessa to a new loop where none of those three knew her.
Forcing her to start from zero.