Misadventures Incorporated

I couldn't simply sit around as a soul forever. We both knew that I would have to move on.

I was happy to disperse to nothing, to disperse into bits and pieces and scatter to the wind, as done post mortem. But she didn't allow it.

With the power she stole from Kael'ahruus, she changed the system, adding a feature to manage a task with which many gods had often struggled.

Reincarnation.

A method to preserve someone once lost without incurring the death god's wrath.

I laughed.

I almost didn't want to do it.

I was tired.

I'd done my part.

I just wanted to rest.

But meeting her eyes, her desperate, expectant eyes, I knew that I had no other choice.

___

Claire raised her arms overhead and gave her back a well-deserved stretch as she absconded the cat goddess' temple. Though she'd originally intended on stopping by a few others and picking up a few random quests, the snoose decided to shift gears as she gazed upon the horizon. It was far too nice a day to stay cooped up indoors, and in the first place, she wasn't all too keen on bending the knee any further.

Enjoying the breeze, she took a lazy stroll down to the beach. Like the city, it was empty. There were only a select few families present to see her as she spread open her arms and basked in the salty sea breeze.

For a moment, she considered visiting Kal'syr. It'd been a while since she'd last checked in on the old lyrkress, but Claire dismissed the idea with a shake of the head. She'd already rekindled two old connections. For one day, that was more than enough.

She did, however, make a note to return to the idea later on, perhaps when the hunt god wasn't watching her so intently.

A frown crossed her lips as she considered his gaze. It was obvious, clearly boring its way into the back of her head. It was like he was too dumb to realise that she could sense it, either that, or he was too perverse to care.

Most of the time, she was happy to simply ignore it. After all, he was only one of the many who had decided to constantly invade her privacy. Many of the other gods checked in as well, occasionally inspecting her from their viewports. The only differences were the frequency and intensity of their gazes—while the others would occasionally give her a quick peek to check on her progress or otherwise sate their curiosity, Kael'ahruus was even more of a constant than Flux. And while the Flow Goddess was at least more of a casual observer, the hunter watched with such thirst in his eyes that she could practically feel him heaving and drooling.

On that particular day, however, Claire felt like she'd had enough.

Pulling up her console, she entered a number of quick commands and paid forward a few points of divinity.

Log Entry 995137

You have been connected to World Chat.

Claire: Is the idiot here?

Dorr: That's one way to start a conversation.

Claire: Good afternoon, Master Dorr. It is always a pleasure to be in your presence. Thank you for your continued assistance with Boris and his related matters. I wish to forever bask in your glorious presence.

Claire: Is that better?

Dorr: Probably would've been if that last part didn't make it super obvious.

Claire: I never said it wasn't supposed to be.

Alfred: >Is the idiot here?

Alfred: Which idiot? You're going to have to be more specific.

Claire: The braindead hunter.

Xekkur: Good afternoon, Claire. Kael'ahruus doesn't say much, but he's always watching the chat.

Alfred: He treats it like a source of information. If you want to send him a message, then chances are it'll reach.

Claire: Okay. Thanks.

"Is this too offensive?" Claire muttered under her breath as she considered the words she'd written. "It'd be a crying shame if he attacked me right now. I'd be far from ready." But after a moment's delay, sent them off with a devious smile. It was a shame. She knew he wouldn't take the bait.

Claire: Kael'ahruus, god of ugly cats with stupid-looking beards. You've been spying on me nonstop ever since I killed your stupid little champion. Do you not realise that I can tell when you're watching? This is a clear invasion of my privacy. Please keep your lecherous eyes to yourself. Continue to observe me and I will tear out your eyes. Consider this your first and final warning.

Dorr: Uh. Holy shit.

Alfred: LOL

Dorr: You do realise he's a god, yeah?

Claire: He's not a god, he's a creep. If he were any less of a pervert, he'd at least have the decency not to stare so intently while I bathe.

Alfred: That's exactly when you're supposed to stare intently.

Xekkur: Death comes to all, Alfred Llarsse.

Alfred: That… was ominous. It also came straight out of left field.

Dorr: Yeah, I'm not even the one he said that to, and I'm still shitting my pants.

Primrose: Do you even wear pants?

Dorr: Nope. Do you?

Primrose: Under my fur, technically.

Alfred: The real question is why pants are necessary in the first place. Robes are far more convenient. You don't have to take off nearly as much to get down to business.

Dorr: Somehow, that's not as bad as what I was expecting you to say.

Alfred: Were you expecting me to ask if Kael'ahruus wears pants?

Dorr: Nevermind.

Claire: You wouldn't think he's smart enough. He's definitely not one for simple concepts.

Alfred: You don't have typing indicators on, do you?

Claire: What are those?

Alfred: That's hilarious. What's even more hilarious is that Kael'ahruus has been furiously hammering away ever since your first shitpost. I swear it's loud enough I can hear it all the way down in the Library.

Dorr: Can confirm I hear it over the goddamn forge.

Vella: He's just mad because he knows I'll snip off his balls the moment he tries anything.

(Whisper) Vella: Hello, Claire. Come visit my temple sometime. I know you've figured out your father's side of the story by now. I want you to hear mine first hand.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Kael'ahruus: Silence, moose. Observing prey is a predator's right.

Alfred: Wait, is that really all you typed after like a full tenth of a second?

Claire: He probably got self-conscious after you explained.

Kael'ahruus: Keep talking, Alfred, and I'll hunt your catgirls to extinction.

Alfred: It's okay. Claire'll keep them nice and protected.

Claire: In your dreams.

Alfred: Why!?

Kael'ahruus: And as for you, Clai—

Log Entry 995138

You have been disconnected from World Chat.

Claire could feel the man's glare intensifying as she flashed a smirk. He was so mad that he even tried to reconnect her, but she intercepted the system call with a twirl of the finger and rejected his command. Putting her hands behind her back, she walked along the beach with a skip in her step, mostly just to spite him.

She was just about to call it a day and return to the others when she noticed something strange out of the corner of her eye. Raising her ears and engaging her divinity, she quickly confirmed her suspicions. For some odd reason, there was a familiar lizardman sneaking his way around the city. Lord Darius, one of the idiots that had caused a commotion during Cadria's qualifiers, was making himself as small as lizardly possible as he scurried from alley to alley.

Perhaps he was having another one of the affairs for which he was so incredibly famous. Either that, or he was committing some sort of treason.

"Oh, don't be so pessimistic. Maybe he's helping some orphans or something," said Shouldersnake.

"I haven't even said anything yet," said Claire.

"Yes, but you were clearly thinking it."

"Oh. Are we talking now?" asked Collarsaur. "Because I have some grievances to air." Like the snake, the horse, and for once even the hydra, the tiny proto-lizardman materialised in her eponymous position.

Claire tilted her head. "Grievances?"

"I just wanted to point out that I wasn't exactly failing to cope."

"Didn't you end up sleeping for such a ridiculously long time that most mortals have basically forgotten you?" asked Shouldersnake.

"I was enjoying my time in my own way."

"You were so bored you let Kael'ahruus use you."

"Okay, maybe I didn't handle it that well, but it could've been worse." Collarsaur frowned and leaned back in her seat. "And I'm pretty happy with where I wound up."

"That's real sweet of you, but you're also literally dead. Though, in fairness, I guess I have seen worse," said Shoulderhorse. "Anyway, are we following that guy or what?"

"We don't need to. I can see him just fine," said Claire.

"First of all, you're technically hearing him. And secondly, it's not the same," said Shouldersnake. "It's way more fun if we actually follow him and maybe even leave a few hints to make him more paranoid and anxious."

Claire paused. "You know, that's not a terrible idea."

"Heh. I knew you'd be in," said the serpent. "Who doesn't love a little gaslighting?"

"Oh dear," said Collarsaur, with a sigh. "I pity the fool."

"So do I," said Claire, with a laugh. Stepping behind a large rock, she replaced her summer dress with a suit, a trenchcoat, and a deerstalker hat. She even threw a pipe in her mouth for effect. It was modeled after Alfred's, which was just big enough to look a little silly when paired with her less-than-Alfred-sized frame. The spirits were, likewise, assigned a set of matching outfits, tailored perfectly to match their tiny bodies.

It was only when they were fully dressed up and not at all suspicious that the detectives resumed chasing the trail. Staying roughly a hundred feet behind the suspect, they joined him in stumbling though Vel'khagan's backstreets. It was clearly a dangerous distance. He kept turning towards them, his ears picking up on the echoing of their feet as they walked down the cobblestone roads. But Claire disguised herself every time he spun around. Warping the light with her vectors, she became a tree, a mailbox, and even one of the city's many pet turberi, just to blend in every time he tried to locate the source of the sound.

Darius was so desperate that he even soaked his wings with a brief dip into one of the canals, only to emerge cold, shivering, and still wondering about the footsteps that continued to trail behind him. Eventually, he gave up and simply continued onwards, but not before muttering about a lack of sleep and a potential need for anti-hallucinogens.

He finally led them to his destination soon after. It was a run-down building located just outside the district constructed for the avian expansion. As far as size went, it was akin to a small manor. It had three stories, each with something in the realm of a dozen rooms, but it was poorly maintained. There were holes in the roof and vines all over the walls. The gate was creaky enough to double as a doorbell, and the garden was so messy and haphazard that it looked like it was maintained by children.

And in fact, that was because it was.

Tiny little boys and girls were digging at the fields and planting fresh seedlings. Claire had no idea what they were, but tomatoes, green beans, and radishes made up the bulk, according to a quick system query. The children themselves were far more varied—though most were either birds or sea creatures, there were also elves, werebears, and even goblins in the mix. Given the size of the institution, it was likely one of the prior queen's projects.

"See? What did I say?" said Shouldersnake. "Orphanage."

"That doesn't mean he's in the clear just yet," said Collarsaur. "It could be a front. This whole thing could be a front."

"Or, he could just be an upstanding guy," said Shouldersnake.

"Somehow, I doubt that," said Olethra, with a forced smile.

All of the spirit animals shared Claire's senses. Through her ears, they could see everything in perfect detail, including the foreign agent sitting upstairs and awaiting the Cadrian's arrival.

According to the system, the man was named Bargga Khulmann, but the nametag on his shirt claimed that he was Pierre Dubois. In all fairness, he looked the part. Like many Ryllian natives, he was a fish with arms and legs to break up his otherwise seafaring form. He was wearing a beautifully tailored dress as Vel'khanese men often did in formal settings. It was so absurdly frilly that it was practically more lace than silk.

The Cadrian, on the other hand, had bothered with no such preparation. He was wearing an everyday outfit typical for a nobleman, namely a long tunic coloured in a bright emerald green. It sat under a red surcoat adorned with his family's—the Jovian house's—emblem.

The men greeted each other with a handshake as Darius entered the room before sitting down atop a pair of worn-out couches.

"I'd love to go through the formalities, but we don't have much time," said Bargga. "Let's get straight to business." He handed the lizardman a clipboard. "The higher ups were happy to accept most of your terms. The only one that they were less willing to bend on was the payment front. As per before, we'd be happy to supply you with twenty thousand pounds of gold, but we don't have the means to deliver the equivalent amount in hay. It'd be too suspicious."

"Can you do half of it, at least?" asked Darius. "Because money isn't really the problem. We have money, we just can't get all the food we need."

Bargga sighed. "With all due respect, that would be impossible. It takes a full, ten-cart caravan to transport a pound of gold's worth. We'd have to send a full country's worth of merchants if you wanted it done in time, and I'm afraid that's just not happening."

The lizardman frowned.

"If you just need food, then we can probably do something denser than hay. How do you feel about grains, like rice or wheat? We can also do preserved meats, if it's not just grains you're after."

"We want hay," said Darius. "I don't really care what your higher ups say. Use magic if you need to," he said. "Hell, you can even use a chunk of the payment to hire mages with storage spells. The only thing that matters is that we get our share of Obloyd hay."

"Mages that can transport goods are expensive. You'd be down to maybe a quarter of the amount and it'd still take the full two weeks."

"That's fine. We just want as much as possible."

Bargga paused for a second and tapped his foot against the floor. "Alright. But you will have to arrange for their safe passage. Mages are far more valuable than merchants, after all."

"The men did a sweep of the lands last week and cleaned out any remaining bandits. The cultist problem will, as we've discussed, be resolved by tomorrow at the latest. We'll provide additional security detail just in case and do our best to ensure that the delivery is as smooth as possible."

"Perfect," said Bragga. He grabbed the scroll hidden in his shirt and carefully presented it to his co-conspirator. "These are the latest plans. Let me know what you think."

Darius took a few moments to scan the page. "They're a lot better than last time, but they still seem a little naive." He pointed to a block about halfway through the document. "I know they dampen your mana a fair bit, but a set of invisibility cloaks won't be nearly enough to stop us from realising that you've crossed the border. The spectrometers will pick you up instantly and the freaks out west never let down their guards. You'd be better off directing the budget into firepower. They won't be able to put up too much of a defense with so much of the force gathered in Valencia, so you might as well blitz straight through."

"We'd like to avoid conflict there, if possible," said Bragga. "The terrain favours centaurs a bit too much and we want to minimize our losses."

"In that case, you'll probably want to break through up here." He pointed to a place a little further north. "The Decimus March isn't spending as much on fortifications as they've been claiming. Their forts are still standing, of course, but they've yet to be outfitted with any of the newest technologies. Their barriers are especially outdated and can be easily overwhelmed with a spell attuned to their resonant frequencies."

"Their what now?"

Darius frowned. "I'm guessing you aren't all too up to date on magical theory."

"Not when it comes to barrier magic."

"Doesn't come as too much of a surprise. You Alliance folk never have been all too keen on it," he said, with a frown. "The long and short is that barriers are kind of like sheets of glass or metal in that they can be highly vulnerable to sound magic. There's a specific frequency that can always break one right open, though the particulars will depend on the size, shape, density, structure, and alignment. This was actually a vulnerability for quite some time, and it wasn't until about twenty years ago that we finally found a good, long-term solution."

So on and so forth, the men continued to speak, completely oblivious to the self-proclaimed detectives secretly listening in.