Reborn From the Cosmos
Arc 8-61

I’m not an extravagant person.

Sure, I enjoy nice things and don’t consider it a waste to spend money on them, but I’d think that’s true of most people; no one wants to sleep on an uncomfortable bed or eat bad food. The thing is, I don’t care if people know I have nice things. I don’t feel the need to rub what I have in the face of those who have less or spend money on pointless displays to fluff my ego.

That attitude isn’t prevalent in the north, where the only thing that distinguishes someone is how much blood they’ve spilt. Nor in Quest, where the people are far too practical. Much like Victory, the natives care about prowess, though thankfully in many fields as opposed to just killing.

However, walking through the Golden Feathers reminds me of the capital, where pointless displays of wealth aren’t only prominent but celebrated. The plush carpet and the gold-framed paintings fill me with nostalgia. I remember when I used to look at such things wistfully, less for their appearance and more for what they represented. Not too long ago, I would have never imagined myself in a place like this, being escorted by a Guiness of all people.

But there isn’t much time to dwell on the twists and turns of fate. Soon enough, Maxine opens the door to a tearoom, filled with a dozen small, round tables covered by pristine white tablecloths, golden flowers embroidered on their long corners. The style of paintings change from stately profiles to scenes of nature and women in the midst of crafts. Flowers in vases fill the air with a pleasant floral scent. There’s even a young girl servant gently playing a harp on a small stage at one end of the room.

It’s every young woman’s perfect tea party. Not the atmosphere I expected, but I smile as we approach a table. If it’s one thing this setup screams, it’s that Marcella certainly isn’t afraid of me; people don’t talk with murderous tyrants over cookies.

Between five pairs of arms and the little spread set out by the servants, the table is a bit cramped. Too cramped for this to be a lengthy discussion. This body is strong and flexible but I don’t I’ll be able to take holding my elbows close and tucking my feet under the chair for more than half an hour without getting annoyed.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask while reaching for a small sandwich cut into a neat square. I fight a frown as I bite into it. Someone did the best they could with the salted meat. It's not bad, but it certainly isn’t what I’d expect someone from the richest family in the kingdom to serve. I guess she isn’t weathering the tragedy as well as I expected.

If she’s annoyed about me getting right to the point, she doesn’t show it. Her smile is perfectly genial. “I had wanted to discuss the future of Quest. Particularly, your intentions toward it.”

As expected. Except... “Had?”

She purses her lips, a picture of regret. “Please understand that I didn’t have any choice in this. It was an order from the crown. No matter our last names, we are still servants of the king.”

I don’t have to ask her what she means. I’ve been keeping alert for what has her on edge and I notice footsteps approaching the room. While Marcella is covering her ass over the ambush, the door opens and a woman steps in.

The first thing I notice about her is her golden eyes. Completely golden, the surface gleaming like metal. In fact, I’m pretty sure they are metal. It’s a rather distracting feature and it takes me several moments to pull my eyes away and take in the rest of her, which isn’t nearly as confusing.

She’s an older woman, with a generous amount of gray in her hair. The wrinkles by her eyes are only slightly pronounced and she has a nondescript figure. Her pale gray robe, tied with a dark blue belt, and the long cloak she wears over it is simple and practical, with little if any regard to appearance. Which would make sense if she’s blind but from the confident way she moves across the room and the pressure I can feel behind the golden eyes watching me, I’d assume not.

Everything about her begs questions. Who is she to strut into a meeting being hosted by a Guiness without being announced? And, if I’m understanding Marcella right, command a member of the Golden Family? I’m pretty sure those eyes can see and if they can, they have to be artifacts. That’s a level of enchanting I don’t think is possible for the kingdom, but I know that there are powerful relics of the old kingdoms around. Who is she that she not only is connected to such a powerful secret, but is openly displaying it on her face? And what do they do? The effects must be amazing to sacrifice her eyes and any hope of normality.

Those questions and a dozen more swirl around my head as she stops at our table. Or rather, she stops beside me. She isn’t making any attempt to hide her interest, staring down at me with the intensity of a bird of prey watching the prey it’s about to swoop down on. I turn my head to meet her gaze, but the gesture doesn’t have the power I hope for given that I’m staring at my reflection. Those eyes of hers don’t blink. Creepy.

As the silence drags on, Marcella clears her throat. “Lou, this is The Butterfly. An agent of the crown sent to address the unrest in the city.”

Ah. So, this is the one giving Miss Alyssa trouble. No wonder. And that answers where she got her shiny gaze. It makes sense. There’s no way the descendants of settlers have relics of the old kingdoms and the royal family doesn’t.

“When she learned of our meeting, she insisted on speaking with you.”

“Insisted, huh.” For someone apparently keen to talk, she still hasn’t said a word. Slowly, as not to give the wrong impression, I stand and extend a hand. “Lourianne Tome, though you already know that.”

Finally, she blinks. Her hand snaps to mine, shaking it firmly. “A trader’s greeting. Unexpected. But there’s a lot of unexpected things about you, isn’t there Lady Tome?”

“Well, I don’t strive to be common.”

She scoffs. “That much is obvious.” Her eyes move to Talia, who is sipping tea and pretending she has nothing to do with what’s going on. “Judging from those eyes, you must be Umphrieltalia. Great, I wanted to talk to with you as well.”

The flower turns her head the slightest amount, enough to acknowledge the attention, before turning around.

“She means no offense,” I say while suppressing a smile as the Butterfly frowns. “She’s waiting for us to finish.”

“She’s waiting? Ah, she won’t talk over you?”

“Something like that.”

The royal agent huffs. “Then forget it. I was going to see what it took to get the next head interrogator back to the capital but it’s obvious that’s a lost cause. Ah, it’s really a shame. She’s by the far the best candidate, you know? I was excited when Little Rem introduced her to the king. It’s incredibly rare that someone both capable and available to handle a position of power doesn’t want it for ulterior motives. Usually, the best I can hope for is someone being constrained by their morals. Finding someone without connections to a faction and whose only goal is doing their job is a literal miracle.”

“My condolences?” I’m certainly not going to apologize but I understand. I’d be upset if someone had snatched my flower before we enticed her to our clan.

“Would you like a chair?” Marcella asks, valiantly inserting herself into the conversation. “We could also relocate to a more secure location if you mean to discuss sensitive topics.” Her gaze discretely cuts to Maxine and Rey, the merchant sitting ramrod straight in the presence of royal authority while the monstrous maiden slouches in her chair, bored.

The Butterfly waves her off. “Standing keeps me young. And there’s no need for pointless gestures. Lady Tome is more than capable of securing the room. Isn’t that right?”

My brows rise. “I’d probably notice anyone trying to overhear us before they got close enough to make out our words but there’s nothing I can do to stop them from making the attempt. Or using magic.”

“Sure, but the elemental floating over your head can.”

My shoulders tense as Rolly appears over my head, a tittering ball of yellow light. “You’ve got good eyes!” the lueorale exclaims while flying a loop around the table. Rey lazily tries to grab her but she rolls out of the reach of the pirate’s fingers. “Plucked them right out of a nightmare, mmhmm!”

“Oh, sweet saints. Summoners. I thought that was a little magic beast with decent light magic, not a damn lorekeeper. You’re not a string-puller, are you?”

“Nope! It’s boring if you interfere with the story.”

“Well, thank the saints for small mercies.”

“You know about lueorales?” I ask, not even attempting to hide my surprise.

Something about the way her brows move gives me the impression that she’s rolling her eyes, though the golden orbs remain still. “I fix problems and summoners always cause problems. I’ve got a dozen of you working under me, cleaning up messes from idiots who stumble on a record and think it’d be funny to pull some saints-forsaken netherbeast into the world to eat their rival. Ah, I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.”

I’m about to ask another question about this incredible revelation but her raised hand stops me. “We can talk about that as much as you want later but I did come here to do a job and it’s time sensitive.” She reaches into her robe and pulls out a scroll. She unfurls it and clears her throat.

“On this day, yadda yadda, saints’ blessings, yadda, We, King Sebastian kor Harvest, first of his name, Sovereign of Harvest, and Guardian of Humanity, do issue this binding decree.

“Whereas, Lady Lourianne Tome, through acts of valor and wisdom, has demonstrated great merit in service of the realm. In acknowledgement of her great efforts, We hereby bestow unto her the title of Countess of Delarre, with all rights, privileges, and dignities to which it appertains. She is appointed the governess of Quest and lands surrounding it for a hundred leagues.

“Let none disobey this decree under threat of law and treason. Yadda yadda, under Our hand and Seal.” Butterfly nonchalantly rolls up the scroll and extends it to me. Reflex makes my fingers extend to take it and she places it in my unmoving hand. Then she claps, while saying, “Congratulations, Lady Lourianne Tome-Delarre. May you and your progeny serve the crown and humanity well.”

…what just happened?