129. New Digs, New Me

Maybe not exactly on their own terms, but the outrealmers had made it to Krongard, the top of the Realm. And as soon as they did, the urgent items on their secret to-do list had to take a backseat to the local customs.

Serac and Zacko were, for all intents and purposes, the newest members of the Kronvakt. As such, the first order of business was a lengthy on-boarding process, starting with a 'tour' of the facilities by a designated local guide.

As luck would have it, their guide for the occasion—'someone in the Kronvakt willing to take you under their fins', in King Tyr's words—was none other than Hilde Vindsdatter. She was, of course, well-known to the outrealmers as Prince Sicko's perhaps equally unhinged manta-ray girlfriend—not to mention one of the most recent souls Serac Edin had smited.

"You're here. Let's get started then. I haven't got all day."

If Hilde had any hard feelings about how the Realmhunt had ended… she certainly made no attempt to hide them. After that warm, friendly welcome, she turned around without waiting for an answer, before walking off at a brisk pace. The tour had started, and the outrealmers were already scrambling to keep up.

Putting all prejudices aside, the Krongardians' palace was a true marvel of Yaksha engineering—a seamless blending of verdant nature with functional living and Realm-ruling. It consisted of a massive, central bulb and five arterial boughs that flared out in all the cardinal directions. The whole thing, of course, was integrated with and enveloped by the giant evergreen leaves that made up the canopy.

It was these leaves that first arrested Serac's curiosity, not only for their vibrant colors but also for their sheer size and heft. She'd seen plenty of other forests up and down the Realmtree, but they all paled in comparison to the Crown. Its scale was the clearest reminder that, here in Pretjord, the entire Realm was one BIG tree.

"But don't you think it's strange, Wayfarer?" Presently, Trippy did what he did best: tempering excitement with tedium. "We're still in the middle of winter, yet the leaves here are as green and lively as anything else we've seen in the Realm. Not only that, but the climate here is also unseasonably warm, when in fact the opposite should be true at this altitude."

Now that Trippy had mentioned it, Serac was starting to feel a bit toasty in her woolen tunic. She subconsciously fanned her collar, even as she tried to dismiss the voice in her head.

Maybe because we're closer to the sun here? Actually, that doesn't sound right, does it? I don't know, but I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for it.

"Really, Wayfarer? Even after everything you've seen and heard in Pretjord, your first assumption about an apparent contradiction is that it could be explained by reason?"

As tedious as he was, Trippy had a point. So much so that Serac was compelled to overcome the awkwardness between her and her tour guide, and ask the latter about this so-called contradiction.

Hilde's first reaction was to round on Serac with an obviously annoyed tsk. But annoyance turned to confoundment as the question had a chance to sink in. It then ended in a sheepish mumble by way of answer.

"It's always been this way. Who are you to question the Realmtree's gifts? And if you can't help yourself, do it on someone else's time, not mine."

Needlessly aggressive, but Hilde's non-answer had, in a way, provided some interesting clues.

It's always been this way. This seemed to be a common refrain in Pretjord, up and down the Realmtree's three segments. It's always been this way, so why question it? But Serac was fresh off a conversation with someone who was living proof that things hadn't always been the same. As such, she couldn't help but to wonder—to question.

When Hilde says 'always', what kind of time scale are we talking about—decades, centuries, Kalpas? Because depending on how long 'always' is, there are at least two people in this Realm who might have an idea why only the Crown is perpetually warm and lush…

But neither of those people were here, so Serac had to settle for a manta-ray youngling as her source of information. And credit where credit was due, for all her terse manners, Hilde did play the dutiful tour guide, giving the outrealmers a thorough rundown of life in the palace.

First, Serac and Zacko were shown to the main concourse upon the central bulb, known—appropriately enough—as the Bulb. It was a vast, circular garden of sorts, complete with a fountain, flower beds (in bloom despite the season!), and mini-waterfalls—again, a far cry from the snowy Roots the outrealmers had just vacated. Most relevant to their 'work', however, was the presence of the Realm's third and final Hubstation—a giant lotus flower that sat inside a fountain, thus producing the rather pretty visual of water cascading over translucent petals.

"If you take the stairs up, you'll get to the dining hall, reserved for the royal family and special occasions. Even higher above that is the Apical Bough—or the royal chambers—strictly off limits to the likes of us. And off to that side of the Crown"—Hilde spread one of her pectoral fins and pointed 'left' relative to their position—"are the Western Bough, mostly the Kronheer barracks, and the Southern Bough—storage, laundry, the brig, that sort of thing. Doubt you'll be spending much time in any of those places, but there they are."

At the mention of 'brig', Serac glanced at Zacko, trying to catch his eyes. The Manusya, on the other hand, stonewalled her, with a totality that suggested it was deliberate. Serac caught on immediately and looked away, having realized her near-error.

What am I doing? It's like I want these people to know what Zacko and I are after. Gotta learn to be more subtle!

"That's enough of that," Hilde said, showing no sign that she'd noticed anything untoward. She then spread her other fin to point to the right. "Next, let me take you to your quarters—and get you both fitted."

'Quarters' referred to giant leaves that had been folded into spheres, offering cozy yet exceedingly well-ventilated living spaces that tickled Serac's love for novelties and the outdoors. This time, she tried—to no avail—to temper her own excitement without Trippy's help. If she weren't careful, she'd end up being too fond of palace life… and that wouldn't do at all for her secret mission.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Then came the 'fitting', which in this case referred to kitting out the outrealmers with their very own Frostkrill armor. The armorer was a rather neurotic lionfish whose impressive set of spiked fins had been combed back to strangely elegant effect. He ushered Serac and Zacko one by one into a private chamber, where he took their measurements and fashioned their new armors on the spot, fast-muttering to himself all the while.

Serac went first, and hers turned out to be a simple cuirass that covered her chest and abdomen—the 'vital organs', so to speak. The lionfish had nearly cut out a 'fin-slit' in the back of the cuirass, before remembering himself, eyeing Serac unhappily, then muttering some more. At any rate, the armor itself gave off a jade-green glimmer that Serac had come to associate with Zealous magic… which meant she wasn't all that surprised to be greeted by a Pathsighted message the moment she put it on:

[Trinket acquired: ABYSSAL PLATE]

[Realm of Origin: PRETJORD]

[Trinket Description: If you gaze into the abyss long enough, the abyss may gift you a piece of itself just to make you go away. When the Abyssal Plate is used to intercept an attack, it negates the incoming damage on the Wayfarer, but its Durability is reduced accordingly. The Abyssal Plate is destroyed when its Durability reaches zero.]

[ABYSSAL PLATE Current Durability: 100%]

And predictably enough, the good news was followed by a dose of bad:

[Burden: 15/35 (Burdened) -> 37/35 (Overburdened)]

[Poise: 67 -> 15 (Penalty)]

[Wayfarer Status Effect: OVERBURDENED]

"Wow, neat!" Serac's fondness for her new life went up by another tick. "Is there a way to 'heal' the Durability? How long do these things last? Can I get a new one if this one goes kaput?"

The lionfish armorer gaped at her with wide eyes, as if just being spoken to by his client was some great affront. He let out a huffy cough before speed-answering all of Serac's questions in order.

"No. Depends. And do I look like I'm made out of Frostkrill carapace? If you want a new Plate, you'll have to requisition it through your superiors. Next!"

Sheesh, why are so many Pretjordians so uptight and such… sticklers? So many rules and regulations—tighter than a nun's bumhole, in Zacko's sophisticated words. If a Realm were meant to be a reflection of its ruler, Serac couldn't quite square Pretjord's stickler ways with her image of King Tyr. Which could only mean…

But before she had a chance to think on it further, she was forced to switch places with Zacko. The Manusya gave Serac's new outfit a once-over, winked in appreciation, then walked into the fitting room while wearing his usual sardonic smile.

… Which left Serac stuck waiting outside, with Hilde Vindsdatter as her only company. She tried to extend an olive branch in the form of an awkward smile. This was met by a silent stare, though not necessarily an unfriendly one. Serac would take it.

She took her spot next to the manta-ray Yaksha, resigned to spending the next few minutes in uncomfortable silence. Much to her surprise, however, the silence was cut short by Hilde herself. And if that was surprising, it was nothing compared to the woman's actual words:

"You and the Manusya…" Hilde spoke in a low voice, shy and conspiratorial. "Are you two…?"

"Partners? Yup!" Serac couldn't reply fast enough, so delighted was she to have her olive branch accepted. "Been at it since the lowest pits of Naraka, if you can believe it!"

"I see," Hilde said slowly, looking strangely relieved. But then her expression tightened again, as if she just remembered something urgent. "Just to be clear, when you say partners, you mean…?"

"Uh, yeah, Wayfaring partners," Serac clarified, though she herself was a little mystified by Hilde's line of questioning. "A working relationship, I guess you could say? We smite things together and watch each other's backs."

"That's it?" Hilde pressed, suddenly looking alarmed for gods knew what reason! "You're not… you don't share…?"

"Karma? Sure we do! We try to even out the smiting blow bonuses as best we can, but you know how these things go. It's not always easy to—"

"No!" The Yaksha cut in sharply—so sharply, in fact, that it made Serac jump. "I'm asking if you two share a bed! Are you lovers?"

Serac's cinnabar face first paled into rose-pink, before flushing a deep crimson. Somewhere inside her head, Trippy was bombarded by all the tell-tale signs of a fight-or-flight response.

"No!" Serac cried, matching Hilde in volume. "We're nothing like that! Never been, and never will be. M—me and Za—Zacko? That's crazy! You're crazy!"

Serac was about ready (desperate) to laugh the whole thing off… but froze when she saw the expression on the other woman's face. For Hilde Vindsdatter was absolutely crestfallen by Serac's emphatic denial of a romantic liaison between her and Zacko.

"I see," Hilde said again, much quieter. She then straightened her shoulders and averted her gaze, appearing noticeably paler than a moment ago. The olive branch now lay on the ground between the two women, overshadowed by an elephant in the room.

Just what has gotten into her? Serac racked her brains, but to no avail. She was, quite possibly, more mystified than she'd ever been on her entire journey. Trippy? A little help?

"I believe," Trippy—weirdly well-versed in the amorous sciences—offered his two क, "this is a classic case of a lover marking her territory."

Territory? But what's that got to do with Za—

A flash of inspiration, perhaps borrowed from memories of a previous life. Serac suddenly understood what this was all about… starting with the fact that it wasn't about Zacko at all.

"If you're worried about me and Rathor," Serac blurted before giving herself a chance to evaluate her options, "I can assure you I'm not interested."

Hilde slowly tilted her head, before meeting Serac's gaze with her own eyes half-narrowed.

"Don't believe me? Let me list all the ways I can't stand that guy. I think he's a spoiled brat. He's cocky, selfish, inconsiderate. The kind of soul who loves himself more than he could ever learn to love someone else. I mean, just look at the way he treats you! And not to mention all that stuff about Ren—ahem… Point is, I find him repulsive, and there's no Realm where I'd ever consider sharing anything with him, least of all a b—b—b—bed! So yeah, you have nothing to worry about from—ow!"

Serac exclaimed, more out of reflex than as a real pain response. For Hilde had suddenly punched her in the chest… only for the impact to be absorbed and converted by the brand new [Abyssal Plate].

[ABYSSAL PLATE Current Durability: 97%]

Serac reached for her holster, ready to fight back if need be. But then she quickly saw that her Kronvakt colleague wore a broad smile on her manta-ray face.

"I won't apologize, Rakshasa." Hilde spoke with an unmistakable lilt of joyous celebration. It was a wonder she didn't break out in song, right then and there. "I could have you court-martialed for dragging our Captain's name through the mud. So, be grateful that I've stopped at denting your [Plate]. Well… it looks like our armorer is finished with the Manusya. Come, there's still more of the palace for you to see."

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