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(Vol 6) Chapter 36: Someone Needs to Get a Grip
🕑 Added 2024-09-06 14:42:13 +0000 UTCDax woke up late, hung over, disappointed in herself, and she thanked Creation she still had a Morning Pep potion to clear it all up, disgusting as it was to drink. The last thing she wanted was to be dragging around in front of Sir Dimples. If, of course, she bumped into him.
A bubble of anxiety hit her as she thought about the blonde stud muffin, Canmore. Was he actually… could he be…?
Nah! You’re out of your damn mind, you bumbling, dumpy old hag! That smokeshow is out of my league. He just sees me as a drinking pal. We’re hitting it off on that front. Psh. Well, good enough. Perhaps a tumble like this will happen one day… wait. What?
‘Tumble like this.’ She blinked a dozen times as her foggy memory, chatter-banter-bullshit from the night before, her somewhat unusual nakedness, and her dreams mixed around. Heart beating faster, she looked at her bed again, looked around at her all-too-new and too-clean quarters, seeking signs of recent company.
She barked a hysterical laugh at herself. “No! You moron. No. Of course not!” Amusement became a groan and a wince, and she downed the rest of her potion.
She had dreamed about having sex with Canmore. Pathetic. Even more pathetic, she subconsciously tried to mine it back for details.
Deliberately ending that desperate nonsense, she began checking her actual memory carefully, playing back through conversations — she scanned it diligently for some stupid drunken pass or obvious tell, but she was impressed with herself. There was nothing she could remember, at least.
Victory one way or another! Let’s just try and pretend not to see awkwardness on his part if I’m wrong. No more drinking that heavy, either. Yeesh. What got into me? I could get in big trouble in the Order. I should set an example. Unlike that fuck-up, Lucky. I’m not a Lucky!
There was a knock at the door that made her jump and cover herself with a blanket, eyes wide.
A very feminine voice — which was logical! — called, “Dame Dee? I’m Ellis, a servant sent on behalf of the Matron of Quarters. I have a message?”
“Coming!” Dax wrapped the blanket over herself and padded over to the door to unlock and crack it, revealing a very well-together, middle-aged servant woman. “Yeah? Who and what?”
“From Lord Bast, madam. He requests an audience, the location and timing of your choosing, at your nearest available opportunity.”
Dax blinked, accustomed to such formality. High class for what looks like ruins on the outside. “Well, not here and now, that’s for sure. I just need to get dressed, I guess… Why didn’t he just- eh. Nevermind.”
The servant lady smiled politely and bowed her head. “I can wait here and take you to him whenever you’re ready, if you like. Or if you need help, I can assist as well.”
“What, getting my pants on? I think I can handle it, but thanks.”
The servant only bowed again. “Shall I wait, then?”
“Sure. I’ll be right out. Canmore won’t be there, right?” She regretted it right after it came out of her mouth. Servants talk, you shitbrain!
The woman shook her head. “No, Madam. Not that I’m aware. I believe he’s in the city today.”
“Alright. Not a big deal, either way. No biggie! I just, uhhh… had something I’d bring, otherwise. That’s all. Just a thing. No need now, though.” Hey, that was a pretty smooth lie, if I do say so myself. Nice.
The servant smiled politely again and bowed. “Of course, madam. If you ever need any assistance, you have only to ask, and discretion is our policy. A necessity. We are all believers here and follow the same code, however differently it may reflect.”
Dax nodded as she looked down. Maybe it was worth taking seriously, but she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like some stranger knew what was going on, though. That was impossible. “Just one minute, miss. Hold tight.”
She’d physically met most of the important figures in Geirkos, but Bast was the one key soul she had not, as he’d been away north with Vitarion assisting some new community integration after the Traesh exodus. She did have the misfortune to meet Bast’s inappropriate girlfriend, Constance — Dax had the honor of being the ‘rare soul’ to offend her when she characterized the Servitor as ‘the female Dart.’ A bridge too far, apparently. Good. The dislike was mutual!
I have less and less tolerance for comical nonsense. Must be getting old. But really, I’ve never done comical.
“Come on, you stupid ass boot!” She had no time for full laces-down, laces-up, and the boot refused to cooperate, so she hopped around, almost fell, and finally stomped her foot down hard several times to force it around her foot.
“Hey!” Came a muted protest through the ceiling — and the sound of a broom handle or the like being thrust up into it in response. “Knock it off!”
“Huh? What was that?! Knock louder, you say?” She slammed her boot down pointedly even harder, which elicited foul, creative curses in response.
In addition to making a new friend, her boot was finally on. Fortunately, her other foot hadn’t gotten as fat or something, because it went in as smooth as butter. She finished dressing the rest of the way — and being disgusted by her general appearance in a mirror — then headed out to meet the servant. She used a simple tie-back for her hopeless mop of hair along the way to wherever the lady took her, and finally placed her singed — but still very functional — old swashbuckler hat over the top.
The room she was taken to was some sort of dining-only variety, or perhaps one for meetings, as it had a huge prominent rectangular table and little else other than storage and supporting tables. Half a dozen bottles of various liquids stood on one. Long-keeping alcohols, she imagined, at least one or two almost certainly Southlander rum.
Bast was there, pouring two glasses at that very moment. His attire was just as she expected — the clean elegance of not-too-high, not-too-low traveling nobility, with an embroidered red and yellow coat over blue breeches with high-laced boots. “Dame Daxerris. Welcome. Hair of the dog that bit you?” he asked just before pouring into the second glass, eyebrows raised with a charming, devilish smile painting his face.
She’d seen that enough already in the dream realm encounter, where he flirted with every pooch-chested soul with a pulse. She’d certainly caught his eyes inspecting her own ‘assets.’
Lady’s Man top to bottom. Won’t catch me swooning for it, though. While she wasn’t blind to the fact the man was as handsome as handsome got, she also wasn’t actually attracted to him. To the question, she stopped, grimaced, and shrugged. “One sip. For custom more than anything. And be careful with throwing that name around. Dee is fine.”
The servant bowed her way out and closed the door behind her as they sat down at the table. Dax took a sip of the rum and regretted she promised only one, though he’d been a little generous, at least. The rum was even more amazing than she remembered from her last sample. It had to be a pricey one.
With some effort, she pushed the glass away as she regarded Bast, who was sipping and returning her gaze with some amusement. Clearing her throat, Dax said, “Well, here we are. Nice to meet you in the flesh. Was there anything in particular you wanted?”
Bast held the liquid in his mouth as he gave a subtle shrug. After finally swallowing, he replied, “I’m sure you’ll agree it's important to meet important people in the flesh. How aware are you of the lay of the… card plays… and such?”
Dax blinked. “What?” It took her a moment to figure it out. “Oh. Right. That whole ‘destined beyond time’ thing. The big, bad plot to win the world. We’re all cards of the tarot or some such silliness. Eh. Let’s say I’m not too sure what to make of it yet.”
Bast raised an eyebrow, apparently incredulous. “Silliness?”
“Not sure if you realized this, but I’m not exactly the purest true believer among this flock. The Order means a hell of a lot to me and all of this changed my life for the better — and I care a great deal about Samantha — but I joined up for practical reasons. You’ll never catch me forgetting that this is all kind of contractual, you know? Anyway, I don’t mean to offend. I don’t get the tarot business. What I’ve heard, I get glossy-eyed about. I’ve been too busy keeping my friends in their skins to worry over it. I figure the Big Boss Lady has it under control, eh?”
Bast took that in soberly. “I did wonder when I heard you switched over to the Pantheon. At the moment, it's rather heavy on the Redberry, Southlander nature types. You don’t particularly fit that bill, mm?”
“Aye, well, that’s not such a stretch. I roughed it a large portion of my life as a mercenary. I prefer coming and going to cities, not entrenched in them indefinitely like the last month of my life. But I do grant you I have only a little in common with those taking part so far. Let me put it to you this way: I want to fill a gap down here that is obviously not filling very quickly. I believe the Pantheon structure will help.”
“A knightly order, yes?”
“Or a temple guard, if you like. Honorable and loyal sorts, but focused on these overarching principles Samantha emblazoned even higher than her. Which I respect her for forever, as it shows humility she didn’t really need to. Well. They look to me like the perfect thing to emblazon in a warrior’s heart and on their shield. I happen to think you can secure three or four times as many that way — those that would otherwise pass. People can be wrong ten times more than an ideal. If everyone involved agrees the ideal is sound, you never blame the ideal at all, just those who failed it. In that way, it could persist and live on forever.”
Bast began wearing a little smile as he listened. “A noble goal from a noble soul. You’re truly a knight, Dame Dee! Even if I disagree. I feel Samantha herself represents Heaven already. A higher ideal of [Progress]. She serves an ideal just as we do. A mutual, distant goal.”
The way he said ‘Progress’ made Dax uncomfortable. She nonetheless nodded even as she shifted uncomfortably. “A perfectly reasonable core outlook, Bast. I just want an offshoot, an arm jutting from the main body, ya know? The body won’t ever have it unless we grow it. I think we’ll be stronger with it, and I’d support others, too. All the better for a little more grip!”
“Interesting.” Bast took a sip of his rum and was very likely considering her words with great interest — by the look of his eyes and the tone of his voice. “I do like getting a good grip. Speaking of which-”
“Don’t even try it, Bast. It’s not happening.”
“Fair enough.” He sipped his drink and smirked at her shamelessly. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
Despite herself, she burst out a laugh. “Pft! I’d say I’m honored, but your reputation does precede you.”
“Touché again. I take solace in past lives and pray for the revelation of a vision.”
“Past lives? What, that in one, you’ve bedded me?”
His smile was all the answer she needed, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.
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