Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess - Chapter 270 - Unexpected concerns

The [Firefox Charm] activated, and in a brief swirl of flames, the Fire Emberling materialised between Scarlett and Mistress. The fiery fox’s luminous eyes fixed upon Scarlett, devoid of curiosity.

Mistress regarded the fox, her masked visage tilting slightly in what almost seemed to be a blend of laughter and hunger, strangely enough. “My, my. Have you brought me a treat? It’s been an age since I’ve sampled an Etherialias, and I must admit, I am feeling rather famished.”

Her gaze shifted to the [Sacred Flame] cradled in Scarlett’s hand. Though her eyes were hidden, Scarlett could sense the woman’s eyebrows rising up. “And now that,” she continued, tone sharpening with interest, “that’s a rare sight indeed. A primordial elemental essence. In what godforsaken realm did you unearth such a treasure?”

“The Emberling is not here to sate your appetite,” Scarlett said, her voice firm. “As for this flame, it was quite the opposite. I discovered it in an ancient temple dedicated to the fire goddess after enduring its trial.”

Mistress clicked her tongue, a sound tinged with both envy and annoyance. “Typical. Those self-important gods always hoard the best stuff for themselves.” She knelt, extending a hand towards the Emberling. A delicate flame flickered to life on her fingertips, and the fox immediately darted from Scarlett to Mistress, like a moth drawn to the fire. Mistress casually stroked its fiery fur as if petting a common house cat. “What have you been feeding this little marvel? It’s practically bursting with essence.”

Scarlett’s eyes stayed on the fox. She hadn’t seen any visible changes in the Emberling after it absorbed the elementals, but she was acutely aware of the vast gulf between her and Mistress’ magical abilities.

“It has taken in the essence of a lava hydra,” she explained, folding her arms. “And I have no intention of hunting down another simply to satisfy your appetite, so I suggest you be careful with those wandering hands of yours.”

A sly smile curled on the woman’s lips as she withdrew her arm, extinguishing the flame. The Emberling, bereft of a fire to focus on, returned to standing idly by.

“Such a pity,” Mistress lamented. “All that delectable essence, and not a morsel for me.” Her gaze sharpened as she rose and focused on Scarlett. “Now then, what brings you to seek old Mistress’ arcane expertise, hmm?”

Scarlett held her ground, staring into the scarlet ruby eyes of the woman’s mask. “I want you to perform the Rite of Primal Harmonisation.”

Mistress stilled, her body seeming to tense as if struck. For a long moment, silence flooded the underground chamber. Then, a shrill laugh erupted from the woman, echoing off the stone walls and sending an icy tingle down Scarlett’s spine. As the laughter died, Mistress’ demeanour shifted, her posture becoming almost predatory.

“Now that,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “is most intriguing. I can hazard a guess as to how you learned of my identity and those other tantalising tidbits of knowledge nestled in that pretty head of yours. But this… This leaves me truly perplexed.” Her tone took on a razor’s edge. “Those meddlesome gods wouldn’t waste their breath on such esoteric details, nor would they afford to. And you certainly didn’t glean this from any of your Zuverian ruins.”

The air in the chamber thickened, charged with an unseen force that pricked at Scarlett’s skin.

“Do enlighten me, Baroness,” Mistress continued, her words cold and calculating. “Where did you hear of the Rite?”

Scarlett’s expression remained unchanged as she maintained her composure, arms still crossed. “The threats are hardly necessary, Mistress,” she said coolly.

“I beg to differ,” Mistress replied.

Scarlett stayed silent for a moment, weighing her answer. It seemed like the woman was close to making assumptions, and they likely weren’t ones favorable to Scarlett. She wasn’t exactly looking for a fight here, so it’d be best to de-escalate this before it went any further. A light sigh slipped from her lips as she let her arms fall to her sides. “If you must know, I learned of the Rite in the Veiled Library.”

“The Veiled Library contains no entries on the Rite.”

“…And how can you be so certain of that?”

“I simply am.”

The two of them eyed each other, the tension growing. Scarlett wondered if Mistress had any inkling about Thainnith’s legacy, hidden away in the Library’s forbidden section. She doubted it. Then the question was how the woman might react upon learning about it.

“I did not say that I read it in the Veiled Library,” Scarlett said at last. “Only that I learned of it there.”

With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the [Sacred Flame]. In its place, the [Orrery of Dissonant Convergence] appeared, its weight familiar in her hand.

Mistress’ attention snapped to the strange metallic bracelet. She went quiet, her masked gaze lingering on it. Scarlett, in turn, studied both her and the Orrery’s reaction with interest.

She had deliberately kept the artifact concealed during the night’s proceedings, unsure how Mistress or someone like her might respond to its presence. Now, however, she needed to convince the woman. It was clear that Mistress had no trouble discerning the Orrery’s appearance, suggesting her existence already diverged significantly from fate. The Orrery’s short pointer, oscillating at a point around a sixth of the face’s circumference, seemed to confirm this.

This was the most intense reaction Scarlett had witnessed from the artifact, save for her own. Frankly, it surprised her. While she had altered some of Mistress’ destined events through their collaboration, the woman had largely acted in line with Scarlett’s expectations in this world. If she were to believe the Orrery now, though, there could be more to Mistress than she had initially believed.

“Who crafted that?” Mistress asked eventually, the earlier tension dissolving. Her gaze flicked back to Scarlett, but she raised a hand before she could respond. “No, don’t answer that. I’d recognize a divinarch’s handiwork from leagues away. Tell me instead — what is it?”

Scarlett arched an eyebrow. “You do not know?”

Mistress let out a dry chuckle. “I may appear to be an all-knowing, self-sufficient savant,” she said, “but even I have limits. You could count on two fingers the number of mages in existence capable of discerning the purpose of Thainnith’s creations at a glance, and one of those was the man himself. I’m not so blustering as to claim any of my names is the other.”

Scarlett considered her response before dismissing the Orrery once more. “It is a device for measuring the divergence of fate. Thainnith created it to track the influence of the Anomalous One.”

Mistress touched a slender finger to her pale cheek. “Is that so?”

“I will not be relinquishing it, if that is what you are thinking,” Scarlett stated.

“Oh, petal, it’s adorable that you think you’d have any say in the matter if I truly wanted it.” The woman’s contemplative gaze stayed on Scarlett, seeming to almost reassess her. “I believe I am starting to piece this puzzle together now, but humor me — where did you find that fascinating trinket?”

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“In the Astral Sanctum.”

“Truly? How curious… And I presume you brought it to the Veiled Library afterward?”

“I did, yes.”

“And there, did you encounter Thainnith himself?” Mistress asked.

Scarlett eyed her. “…I did. A fragment of him, to be precise. But how did you know?”

She’d wanted to ask Mistress about Thainnith—part of the reason she revealed the Orrery—but she hadn’t expected the woman to figure so much out on her own.

An enigmatic smile played at the corner of Mistress’ lips. “Let’s call it Auntie Mistress’ special intuition.” Without warning, she stepped closer, the white marble mask coming within a hand’s width of Scarlett’s face. Its ruby eyes gleamed, as if trying to bore into her very thoughts.

“That cruel man,” Mistress said, a darkly amused lilt colouring her voice. “And people call me heartless. They’re right, of course, but that’s hardly comparable.”

Scarlett retreated a step, her brow drawing together. “What do you mean by that?”

Mistress tapped her own temple. “Am I wrong in assuming that clever mind of yours now holds a great deal more information in it than when we last met? That it’s been indelibly stuffed with knowledge of a rather…dated variety?”

Scarlett paused. “…So you are already aware of Thainnith’s legacy, then.”

“His legacy? That’s a generous term for whatever he may have left you, but I suppose it’s marginally more useful than a chocolate teapot. I’m more surprised that he bothered leaving anything behind for us mere mortals and mortal-adjacents.”

“It is what taught me of the existence of the Rite of Primal Harmonisation,” Scarlett said.

“I’m sure it did, along with a wealth of other tasty crumbs of Zuver wisdom. Such a repository would be a treasure trove for any mage or scholar alive today.” Mistress studied her for a few seconds. “Assuming it didn’t reduce their brains to a quivering mass of cerebral jelly, of course.”

Scarlett stared at her.

The woman continued casually, though her words were laced with an almost morbid curiosity. “What truly astounds me is that you’re still standing, frankly. Humans are ever-so-fragile, and their minds even more so. Little more than walking sacks of meat waiting to decay and topple over, really. I’ve yet to meet any that don’t crumble after a few casual prods at their intellectual goo grotto, much less one that could survive having an entire library crammed into their skull, regardless of its size. How many do you think survive the whispers of Zenthas’ dreams, hmm?”

A flicker of unease wormed its way into Scarlett’s chest. “…What exactly are you saying?”

“Hmm? Haven’t I made it clear enough already?” Mistress’ voice dropped, her tone almost mocking. “Well, alright. I’ll spell it out. You, Baroness, should be dead. Pushing up daisies. Deader than last week’s catch. Wearing the silver shroud.”

Scarlett searched the lifeless mask for any hint of deception, but Mistress seemed utterly serious now. “…Because of the legacy?” she asked.

“No, because of the price of tea in Baajirr.”

Scarlett’s lips thinned. Honestly, she found this hard to believe. When Thainnith’s fragment had infused her with this legacy, he hadn’t mentioned any danger, and he would have had no reason to lie. He must have known that Scarlett could handle it, right? She was more inclined to trust the knowledge of the greatest mage to have ever lived over almost anything else — but Mistress rarely spoke without reason.

Scarlett wasn’t an expert on magic related to the mind, or whatever method had been used to create the legacy. The repository itself also didn’t contain much legible information on the process, so she couldn’t confirm whether the woman’s claim about forcing information into people’s minds truly was that risky. The closest equivalent she knew were Augurs, who received visions directly from the gods, or victims of The Angler Man’s mental attacks.

…Now that she thought about it, both were explicitly infamous because of the drastic effects they had on a person’s sanity.

“I do wonder what’s so special about you,” Mistress mused, cutting into her thoughts. “Tell me, have you experienced any peculiar symptoms since ‘acquiring’ that legacy? Strange headaches? Nosebleeds? Sudden urges to recite the entire history of the Luicean Isles while juggling flaming kittens?”

Scarlett frowned. “…Headaches are more common, yes.” She already knew those were side-effects from overusing the legacy, but as far as she could tell, they weren’t dangerous. “Do you believe the legacy poses a danger to me?”

Mistress shrugged, her golden robes shimmering faintly in the light. “Blazes be feytouched if I know. As I said, I would have expected you to be dead already. What’s keeping you alive is a mystery, and while I do love myself a good enigma, this is one that I think I’ll keep my hands off of.”

“Why?” Scarlett pressed.

“Oh, there are numerous reasons.” Mistress waved a hand lazily. “First and foremost, I’m not your nursemaid. Second, I stand to gain very little. And third, I’ve learned when to rein in my curiosity. If Thainnith was the one who shoved that thing into your head… Well, let’s say that there are few people I’ve ever bothered with the troublesome task of harboring any sort of respect for, but he is one of them.”

Scarlett studied her closely, unsure of what to make of this. If anyone could provide answers about the potential risks associated with the legacy—aside from Thainnith himself—it would be Mistress. But if she wasn’t willing to get involved, that complicated things.

Then again, Mistress could simply be wrong. She didn’t have all the details. The system’s effects on Scarlett were unique, and the woman’s ignorance of those could explain why Scarlett was mostly fine, even if it should be dangerous. But Thainnith didn’t appear to know about the system either, so…

What did this mean? Should Scarlett be worried? Thainnith’s legacy had already proven useful to her in various ways, and it held a whole lot more promise in the future. But risking her life unnecessarily was not something she could take lightly.

Not that she knew what she could do about it at this point.

Mistress watched her for a moment longer before turning and striding to the center of the room. She grabbed the upright staff standing there and rapped its end against the floor three times. A section of the wall to Scarlett’s right rumbled open, and with a snap of the woman’s fingers, a trail of tiny flames sparked into the air, leading towards the opening. The listless Emberling immediately bounded after them.

Mistress looked back at Scarlett. “I suppose I’ve instilled enough existential dread in you for one day. You were asking me to help you perform the Rite of Primal Harmonisation, weren’t you?” She motioned towards the iridescent arch-like construct that she’d conjured out of ethereal lightning earlier. “While that does precious little on its own, I suppose there’s not much else for me to do. Come. Let’s get this over with.”

Scarlett remained silent for a moment, then squared her shoulders as she forced herself to shelve her concerns. If answers weren’t forthcoming, so be it. She’d figure something out. Right now, she still had another goal in front of her.

She turned her attention to the newly revealed chamber where the Emberling had gone. Through the opening, she saw that it was cluttered with an array of imposing stone and metal equipment, looking like a strange kind of forge. Information bubbled up from the legacy, confirming that what she needed for the Rite was here.

“Am I to take it that you agree to help me with the Rite, then?” she asked, fixing Mistress with a suspicious look.

Mistress cocked her head. “Is that skepticism I hear? This is what you are here for, no?”

“True. But I did not expect you to agree so readily.”

In fact, Scarlett had come prepared to bargain.

Mistress released a dismissive chuckle. “Bagh. What’s a few ancient, secret, reality-bending rites between fellow schemers and power-seekers?”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Presumably very expensive.”

“Inordinately so,” the woman confirmed with a straight face.

“I see. Then name your price.”

Mistress tapped her chin, her other hand drumming its finger against her staff. After a long pause, she sighed. “Just this once, there will be no price. I may be a self-serving manipulator, but even I have a modicum of decency. Deep, deep down. While I may not understand Thainnith’s reason for hampering you with that ‘legacy’, he would have chosen you for a reason. I’d scarcely call myself an ardent enthusiast of his, but suffice to say that I owe certain…debts to his efforts. Consider this my repayment of those.”

“…That is surprisingly charitable of you, Mistress,” Scarlett said, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

Mistress shuddered dramatically. “Don’t remind me. I’ll be scrubbing the stench of altruism off for weeks.” She waved Scarlett forward. “Now, chop chop, little baroness. Time waits for no mage, not even me.”

Both of them moved into the chamber. The Emberling stood transfixed, its fiery form flickering as it gazed up at a flame dancing before a towering forge of shimmering, pale grey. The structure seemed almost alive, its metal surface rippling like liquid starlight.

Mistress approached the forge, her staff stopping to hover obediently beside her. With a graceful motion, she pressed a pulsing crystal embedded in its side. The forge roared to life, its depths igniting with dark hues that cast an eerie light across the chamber.

“If you intend to take up Thainnith’s mantle,” the woman said, “you’d do well to choose your allies with utmost care. One never knows when today’s drinking companion could become tomorrow’s assassin.”

Scarlett watched her quietly. “..I believe I do, in fact.”

Mistress glanced back, then smiled. “Hmm. I suppose you do.” She returned her focus to the forge, raising a hand. At the far end of the chamber, a series of ornate, rune-covered chests snapped open. A procession of gleaming ingots—some clear as diamond, others dark as the void—floated into the air, dancing towards the forge.

“Now then,” Mistress purred, a note of excitement creeping into her voice. “Stand back and observe, little baroness. I’m about to remind this world why they call me Mistress.”