The night was rather uneventful after the anticlimactic victory against the bandits. While my exhaustion made me amenable to Mary’s suggestion of sorting things out in the morning, in the back of my mind my sensibilities were slightly offended by the thought of just leaving things as they were for the night. Even with the air of detachment I’ve been feeling towards this world since my arrival, just leaving them there seemed rather disrespectful for the dead even if they were the scum of the earth.
The actual meal we had before bedtime was rather simple, with bread and butter, and bacon on the side. Naturally this was accompanied by beer, with Liz being thoroughly disappointed at being cut off early by Mary. Even then, I still ended up going to bed earlier than them. I had been through a lot.
I was briefly woken up by Elizabeth though. It seems she was used to staying in the room that’s now mine whenever she comes to visit Mary. At least I’m assuming so, seeing how she barged in so self-assured. She even tried to crawl into bed with me. Really odd that she didn’t notice me, but I guess a girl raised as a noblewoman doesn’t always have the same situational awareness as a commoner would.
Maybe Mary forgot to tell her that I had moved into this room. I probably shouldn’t bring it up, since I imagine it would be mortifying for it to be known she had been so unaware. As funny as it would be to tease her about it in front of Mary, I have the strange feeling that Mary might get the wrong impression. At least, it seemed like Liz thought highly of my fighting skills and wanted to recruit me as a guard. The thought of having her prized, based off how she’s been acting, apprentice stolen by a young noblewoman wanting a body guard must be triggering her competitive spirit, even if she is competing with her niece.
Getting dressed went much faster than it did yesterday, but I was practically on autopilot during the whole process. The enormity of what happened last afternoon and evening was one more in a series of events chipping away at what I formerly viewed as normal. Not that I really fell under “normal” before slipping between the border between worlds and ending up in fantasy bizarro-land. But I at least fell within a standard deviation of normal.
Kind of.
Well, I could pass as normal on a good day.
I suppose normalcy is rather subjective. Ignoring all the weird paranormal stuff, the stuff Mary has been claiming existed and was even semi-officially acknowledged by the powers that be in the mundane world, I still had an apparently normal life. Though from what I’ve seen Mary’s sources are incredibly suspect. I don’t know who the previous owners of those laptops she got a hold of are, but my intuition tells me they were on several watch-lists in my world.
Looking back at it, my life before ending up here wasn’t as mundane as Mary’s name for my world would suggest, but it was close enough that I could delude myself into thinking so. My curriculum vitae resembling the title of a le Carré novel was not something liable to come up in every-day conversation, and although some people viewed my interest in history as eccentric, it was well within the bounds of normal behavior. I think.
Plenty of people like cosplay and historic clothing, and if I went above and beyond and built a Hawken rifle for a mountain-man outfit, then that’s my prerogative as one studying such an esteemed topic. Or it was. I feel rather lost, in a way. All that time spent studying the past, just to lose my grip on the present reality to the point of leaving the world I knew.
In retrospect, these varied studies have been a major asset over the past few days. From the main body of my study to the odd half-remembered minutiae have helped me survived. When I took up fencing as a sport, it was inspired by flights of fantasy, reading about Rococo court dress and imagining the brightly colored palaces of Europe before the revolution and Reign of Terror, several hundred years before my time, occurred. Fencing was merely a sport and, while a martial art, it did not really number as one of the more practical ones I had taken at the time. The chance of having to face off in combat with a sword was practically zero in my reckoning.
But here I am, getting in sword-fights and even using magic, in my own manner. My fencing instructor did tell me I had good instincts and even recommended trying to get a sports scholarship from it, though with my GI Bill covering my costs for school that was unnecessary. In fact, despite not being a team player, I always seemed to do well with sports that were more martial in nature. At the risk of seeming too self-assured I’ve been a good shot with a rifle, pistol or shotgun since I started competing in middle school, and I even did fairly well in the few unarmed martial arts I tried. Maybe I actually have a talent for this kind of thing, swashbuckling and saving fair maidens?
Except that’s just stupid. Winning one fight, and almost dying, isn’t really anything to brag about. Being good and ringing steel and punching holes in paper doesn’t make you some goddess of battle, and I really would want to avoid getting into more shit like what occurred yesterday. A peaceful life is definitely the best. I mean, going off what Mary said about her experiments and looking at the plants making up some of her potion ingredients, my life will already be dangerous enough without having to deal with bandit attacks. Still, as much as it pains me to admit it, that mercury fulminate yesterday really saved my ass. Not that I’ll apologize to…
“Rose!” a loud yell came from the other side of my door. “What are you doing? Breakfast is getting cold.”
Someone who’s chronically spacing out like me really isn’t suited to be an action hero after all.
When I actually got down to the breakfast table, and awkward air hung over the table. Mary seemed more peeved than usual, and it appeared that Elizabeth was trying to avoid making eye contact with her. They do seem close, so I guess something like this isn’t too much of an issue. The fact that Mary set my place at the table with her in between me and Liz seemed rather odd, but maybe it’s a custom here?
“Auntie? Why are we all sitting on this side of the table?”
“Shut it.”
Maybe not a custom, but some sort of weird witch charm, like feng shui?
“Uh, Mary, you know I’m not going to become her knight, right? I already promised I’d apprentice with you.”
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“I know that, we have a contract after all. I can’t let some upstart noblewoman steal away someone with your potential.”
Despite her tone, she seems pleased as punch after me reassuring her. It should be obvious I’d stay as her apprentice though. Reading about palaces and fortresses in history books is all fine and good, but it would just be stuffy. And I get the feeling that I’d lose the weird tax-exempt status I seem to rate as the apprentice of “The Madness Witch.”
Meanwhile, Elizabeth’s face was a sight to see. It was hard to say exactly what emotion her expression was conveying, likely do to her experience as a noblewoman dissembling when dealing with politics and court life. But the edge you could make out in her eyes was setting off the sense of danger that had already saved my life over the past couple days. I guess noblewomen really are scary. I’d probably get eaten alive if I had to deal with them every day.
Both Mary and I finished eating in a timely manner, if not well mannered the way Elizabeth was eating. I had the habit of eating fast since boot camp, and I can only assume Mary had picked up the same sort of habit from her secluded life. As soon as she set down her fork, she glanced over at Liz’s still half-full plate. The half-elf girl glanced back at Mary.
“Is there some sort of rush?”
“We have work to get done today.”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?”
“I could, but you know far better than I that it’s far better to have an elf or half-elf with you when dealing with spirits.”
“Oh. Yeah, it completely slipped my mind, auntie.”
Should I be concerned that a forest full of dead bodies just happened to slip her mind? Nobles must be used to treating people as pawns in chess, so maybe it was just a disconnect in culture. With how blasé they’ve been towards the whole affair it stands to reason it might not be worth thinking of. It may even just be the norm for this world. Except Mary’s exasperated sigh seemed to suggest otherwise.
“What in Gods name…you’re acting like more of an airhead than this one over here.” Hey, watch what you’re saying, “…but I get a feeling I know why it slipped your mind.” Her mood seemed like it was about worsen again.
“So…” I finally decided to get into their unsettling, confrontational morning conversation. “Are we just giving them a burial?”
“Why would we do that? They’re bandits, they don’t deserve the effort.”
“Plus, as auntie said yesterday, we really would be wise to get some information from them first. Which is where I come in, Rose.” Liz added, sounding immensely more enthusiastic than she did just moments earlier. “Us Elven types really are the best at dealing with spirits. Far better than auntie here, even”
I really have no idea why they’re acting like it’s a competition, but I can kind of recall this being mentioned yesterday, now that I think about it.
“It’s really not that complicated of a ritual though,” Mary interjected. “You’ll probably be able to do it yourself just after observing today. I mean, it’s technically necromancy rather than straight-up witchcraft, but any basic member of the magicians guild should be able to take care of something this minor.”
“Actually, auntie, it’s mostly just people with a predisposition towards spirits. Witches usually can usually contact spirits by virtue of their connection towards nature, but you really should stop making assumptions about other magic users like this.”
“Anyways, Rose. Once this slowpoke is finished eating, we’ll deal with those bandits souls. Nothing beats first-hand experience for teaching magic.”
Great, my first magic lesson and I’m going to be stuck helping to interrogate some already dead bandits.
Nothing like necromancy to start off the day? Although in a world without coffee those spirits probably will be livelier than me.