Reborn From the Cosmos
Arc 8-51

No one likes hearing bad news.

Some people take it a lot better than others.

Dame Elodie is a perfect example of handling a situation with grace. Or, maybe I’m defaulting to calling it grace because she’s an eloquent woman. Really, it’s just control.

Miss Alyssa’s reaction is nowhere close to controlled. Her hands fist before my wife says one word of this apparent bad news. Her eyes are fierce as she glares at Kierra, a brave or thoughtless challenge.

“I don’t care about your ridiculous clan, if you screw this up for us–”

“This has nothing to do with me,” Kierra interrupts. “This is the only time I have touched these plants and they have already shown signs of degradation.”

That does nothing to calm the redhead down but Dame Elodie’s raised hand keeps her from speaking out again. “Please explain the situation to us in detail.”

“Of course~ My father gave the boy a gift, not an answer to all his problems. He certainly did not put forth his best efforts into their creation. They are fragile. Hmm. How do I explain this? You understand that creatures can be born with defects? They live, but they are sickly, and die faster than others, yes?”

“You mean these plants are infirm?” the lady knight asks, her gaze eyeing them critically.

“Yes. Sickness can be passed through blood or, in this case, seeds. And with each generation, this sickness becomes more pronounced. It has no effect on the leaves so there is no need to worry about the safety of your food. If I am correct, the stem and the flower are affected. With each harvest, the stem will produce fewer leaves and the flower will eventually stop producing seeds.”

“That means with each new generation, the plant will become useless faster.”

“Until they produce nothing.”

Ah. That’s definitely a problem. This field is the only thing keeping everyone in the city fed. It’s their hope. If it’s not going to last…

“How long?” Miss Alyssa asks grimly.

“I would have to examine several more plants to be sure, especially the originals, but seeing as you have already seen signs of the degradation…I would say you have six months before they are nothing but weeds.”

Miss Alyssa sighs in relief. “Six months. That’s plenty of time.”

“Perhaps not,” Dame Elodie muses. “Throughout those months, the plants will deliver fewer and fewer yields. The true question is, how much longer will they be able to feed the people of the city by themselves?”

Kierra shrugs lazily. “Two months? Maybe three? That is how long you will get anything close to the harvest I see now.”

The redhead swears.

“Could you remedy this?” Dame Elodie asks and Miss Alyssa’s gaze snaps back to Kierra. But before she can answer, I step in.

“Kii.” The closest eyes turn to me as I gesture to my elf. Smiling a little too widely, she saunters over to me, taking the hand I hold out to her. I pull her to my side before meeting the heavy gaze of the dame. “We’ve done what we came to do so we’ll leave you all to your business.”

“Oi, wait a minute!” Miss Alyssa steps toward me. She’s about to speak but thinks better of it, taking a deep breath instead, letting it out slowly. “Lou,” she says in a much calmer voice, visibly struggling to contain her emotions. “We still haven’t gotten word from any merchants about trade here. The north has nothing to spare, Rosentheim isn’t interested in customers who can’t pay, and the capital is too far. The clans refuse to share their hunting grounds. Foraging isn’t going to cut it for these numbers. Please.”

Hearing a woman like her beg makes me uncomfortable…and maybe something else. I’m only human. Besides, I’ve always liked Miss Alyssa. I hope she can see that as I meet her desperate eyes.

“If this was just about the refugees, I’d do it in a second,” I say softly, asking for her to understand. “If that was all they would be used for, I wouldn’t even have to think about it. But that’s not all they are. That’s not why there are royal knights here to take them from you.”

My gaze moves to Dame Elodie, who is watching me the same as everyone else. “I wish the crown the best regarding its assets.” That’s the crux of the matter. These plants don’t belong to the city or the refugees. Saints, if it was under the purview of the Hall, I might feel inclined to help off good faith alone. 

Unfortunately, they don’t. They belong to a prince. Ultimately? They belong to the king. A powerful “weapon” to ensure that Quest develops as he intends, firmly under his control.

“One moment, Lady Tome. I would like to arrange–”

“NO!” The redheaded instructor explodes, throwing aside her attempt at self-control. Ugh. If she were an animal, she’d be frothing at the mouth but as a woman, her wrath manifests as a scowl for the ages. If emotion were a weapon, we’d all be burning.

“This is not going to happen. You–” she snaps, pointing a finger at me. “And you–” A second finger points at the dame. “-are not about to screw these people over for some political bullshit! If either one of you has an ounce of decency in you, and I mean a saints damned sliver, you are going to work this shit out, right now!”

The surroundings seem to tremble under the pressure of the silence that follows her tirade. Several bodies shuffle uncomfortably, the snow bunny among them. Lane hesitantly approaches the still-fuming redhead and puts a hand on her shoulder. She immediately shrugs it off and turns her glare on him, making him take a cautious step back.

“It’s not my place to make these decisions, Instructor Filigree,” the dame says in her usual placid tone. “I will inform the relevant authorities about your concerns.”

Miss Alyssa looks ready to attack her.

I step forward and grab her arm. She tries to shake me off too but I’m not so easily brushed aside. And I’m shameless enough to ignore her glare.

“If I get involved, it won’t involve them,” I whisper. “Come to the estate. I’d prefer it if you came alone but if you bring anyone, make sure you know what agendas they’re bringing.”

The redhead’s temper slowly cools. She nods sharply and pulls away again. This time, I let her escape my grip and she stomps off, Lane quickly running after her. The other acolytes watch her leave with obvious trepidation but no one moves. Soon enough, their gazes return to me and the royal knights, anticipating the end of the show.

“As I was saying,” Dame Elodie continues, “I would like to ask for a meeting to discuss this matter fully, on behalf of the Butterfly.”

There’s that name again. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“If Miss D’Atainna can repair the plants–”

“What she can and can’t do is irrelevant. We’re not involved. If you want to talk to someone, try the man who created them. We’re currently hosting him at the former Teppin estate if you need directions and will ensure he receives any letters.”

We stare at each other. Dame Elodie is the first to look away. “Of course. It may be presumptuous but I ask the ladies to think of our plight kindly. We all want to see the people of Quest through this trying time safely. That is our primary agenda.”

Whoops. Guess she heard that. Not that it changes anything. Whatever pretty words come out of her mouth, their first agenda is serving the crown.

“We get our letters at the same place,” I say before gesturing to the rest of the clan. Kierra links her arm with mine as we move away from the group, the crowd of acolytes parting with the speed of peasants side-stepping a charging carriage.

“Hope I didn’t rain on your party there,” I whisper, barely making a sound. However good the royal knights’ hearing is, I doubt it can rival mine.

Kierra hears me just fine. Her answer is a chuckle and pulling my arm closer, sandwiching it between her bust. Everything about her screams pleased. I smile at the display. Sometimes, rarely, I appreciate the elves’ strange culture. Sure, she gets off on hunting people down, but she always supports me. Even when she probably shouldn’t, just so I learn a lesson. It’s nice, knowing we’re always a united front against anything the kingdom can throw at us.

I wonder if Orum is going to feel the same. Things will get very complicated if he accepts any invitations. Not that I’m going to object if he wants to stick his nose in the camp’s business but I hope he doesn’t. My father-in-law is the calmest elf I’ve met so far but he’s still an elf. Those plants, if perfected, are incredibly valuable. Valuable enough for the crown, this Butterfly character, to try twisting his arm. 

If for some saints’ forsaken reason they offend him, and by extension Morgene, Purple Menace is going to gain a new definition for the city.