Book Four – Chapter Five – Part Eight – Surrounded by Love

“When you said that Servy and I were your anchors, did you mean that?” asked a cute pink-haired Singi. Her left hand held the fingers of the girl she loved.  

“I did… I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries,” replied a blond-haired, green-eyed noble whose right hand grasped the hand of a girl who needed her support more than ever.  

Srassa, Servi, and Momo walked hand-in-hand through the spiraling streets of one of the fastest-growing cities in Lando. The dark, cloudless sky should have allowed the moon to dance and dazzle the world with its ethereal glow, but the beautiful treasure was quite shy. Only a sliver of its elegance was blossoming out in space.  

Other than a few late-night adventurers and a few guards, the three girls had the roads to themselves. Their destination was the noble district as they passed by a whole host of festival preparations. Since it was after sunset, most had been temporarily abandoned until sunrise.

“You know, Servy was my anchor… And if I’m being honest, I used to think that there wouldn’t be anyone in the world who would rely on me… It makes me kind of happy to see that you look up to me…” Momo confessed. She was a little bit red in the face, but that passed moments later.  

“I promise to do my best! Even better than my best! And that’s why… I have a small favor to ask.” 

“Ask away, girl. What’s up?” 

“You said that you had rehearsals four days a week, right?” 

“Yep. Until the festival starts. Then we have practice every single day. Actually, it’s a rehearsal for four days followed by a break. So four on and one off.” 

“Never mind. I wouldn’t want to bother on your only day off—” 

“It’s not a bother, so don’t say that,” chided Momo.  

“Right… My apologies—” 

Momo shook her head, interrupting Srassa once more. “And you don’t always have to say you’re sorry either. Both Servy and I have a habit of apologizing a lot, and we talked about it and agreed it’s something we don’t need to always do. We figured there's no need to say sorry for every little thing because, for most things, there isn’t anything to be sorry about. I know it’s a hard habit to break. Trust me on that.” 

“Ah… Yes. Very well.” Srassa struggled to say those words. She inadvertently gripped the hand she held for support and wasn’t expecting to feel anything.  

But she did. That erased the reinforced yearning to constantly be formal within her heart. “Momo, would you like to spar with me? I figured we could spend time at Dineria’s shop on a day you and Servi aren’t busy.” 

“That’s funny because I was just thinking about that. I’ve been keeping up with my workouts, but I haven't had any chance to use my sword in a long while. Would be nice to shake off the rust. And if you’re my training partner, then we can both get stronger at the same time. That'll give us a chance to work on our teamwork since we’re going to be questing and adventuring together.”

“Then…” 

“Yep. Here’s the rehearsal schedule.” Momo used her free hand to pull a specific document out of her bag and handed it to Srassa. She quickly put it to memory and gave it back.  

“Momo… Do you think I could…ever be like you?” 

Momo thought long and hard before responding. “You shouldn’t strive to be like me. You need to aim higher and become the best Srassa you can be. And I only know this because I used to put Servy on a pedestal. More than anything, I wanted to be here because her strengths canceled out all of my weaknesses. It took a while for me to see the errors of my way. In the end, we’re all unique. I’m me, Servy is Servy, and you’re you. The only person who can be you is you. I can’t be you, Servy can’t be you…” 

Suddenly, Momo heard a sniffle coming from her far left. Srassa was crying, doing her best to swallow the growing sobs. Through the choked gasps, Srassa told Momo about her past. She confessed that she had money most nobles would only dream about, but it was nonsense because her parents kept her trapped in an antisocial birdcage. Then suddenly, they let her go and allowed her to achieve her dream. What really got the tears going was her confession that she had started way too late in training to get anywhere far.

“Srassa… It honestly feels like we’re sisters separated from birth… It’s crazy because I used to share those sentiments. For the longest time, after leaving my village, I felt like something less than horse manure,” Momo said. She looked up at the moon, then glanced back down. “When I met Servy, I put on the world’s biggest mask and ‘acted’ happy and cheerful. When I fought a monster for the first time in the sewers, I thought that I wasn’t prepared for anything at all… Grampy wasn’t in the best shape, but he taught me the bare basics, and I had to go from there. I was so afraid that his hard work was for nothing because I was a frightened little kitten.

“What I’m trying to say is that your worries and fears aren’t exclusive to you. And starting late? Well, let me tell you something. Dineria was my second ever teacher that truly pushed me to the limits. Grampy did the best, but he couldn’t teach as well as Dineria could. He was getting up there in age, and while I still had energy when it was noon, grampy needed to take a small nap. And even though I had some prior training from him and Servy, you had nothing. And look…” Momo walked over to Srassa and wrapped her in a big hug. “You, who started from nothing, ended up almost beating me. You did all of that in just a short month. Imagine how much you’d grow after a year? Or even two years? I don’t want to say it’s just talent because that’s waving off the hard work you put in, so I won't say that. Just by looking at you, I can tell you practiced way more than I did…” 

Srassa finally let open the dam, and Momo felt her shirt become soaked with tears.  

“I know it’s hard, but take whatever Silverado and Desperado said and push it out of your head. Don’t think about them anymore because you’re with Servy and me. Together, the three of us will soar to the top! Heck, we’ll even reach the moon!! We’ll be the strongest party out there!” 

It took a few more minutes for Srassa to settle down. A couple of seconds after that, the girls continued their walk. The noble district was about half an hour away, and over half of that was spent traveling in silence. This period of retrospect gave Srassa the time to fully come to terms with herself. She was so engrossed in the inner machinations of her mind that she didn’t hear Momo talk.  

“Oh, there might be a fourth person joining us.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep! I’m pretty sure the person who taught Servy what she knows is coming here. I don’t know when, but I do hope it’s soon.” Momo figured easing Srassa into the whole Itarr situation would be better than dropping it all on her at once.  

“Have you met her? Or him?” Srassa wiped her eyes.  

“Not physically, but I have read the letters she sent to Servy. She sounds awfully nice and sweet, and I cannot wait to meet her.” Momo figured words on Servi’s ID counted as a letter in the most general and generic sense, so she rolled with it.  

“It is the same with me… If she was Servi’s instructor, then she must be strong…” 

“Hehe! I have no doubt that she’s the strongest.” 

Before long, after some more casual chatter, Srassa hugged Servi and Momo when they reached her house. 

“Momo… Thank you…for being my friend… And you too, Servi…  

“We’ll always be your friend, Srassa.” Momo brought it in, and there was soon another group hug.  

“To be honest… I was planning on confessing my failures to my mother and father… Perhaps it is a blessing that he was called back to Adenaford… I don’t know how I kept everything from Jony after the sewer incident… If he was still here, then I doubt I wouldn't have blabbed to him. He’d tell father, father would tell mother… All three would sit me down and forbid me from continuing down this path…” Momo patted Srassa’s back… 

“If that ever happens, then I guess Servy and I will have to rescue you. Servy can be a really stubborn girl, and I can be as well. We’ll park our butts out here in front of your house and refuse to move until he lets you come out to follow your passion. You're your own girl, Srassa. Your life is yours to live. Hehe!” 

“You…would do that? For me?” Srassa asked, holding a hand to her heart. Her words might have been interpreted as her having a troubled relationship with her family, but that definitely wasn't the case. She loved her father and mother, and they loved her back just as much. 

“Yep!! I think that everyone should be free to follow their dreams. For example, my dream was to get as strong. Stronger than my grampy while meeting close friends and going on hundreds of adventurers. And with you, Servy, and her instructor, and not to forget Claire, Fisher, Dineria, and Feral, I think I’m doing pretty good on that front.”

Momo is really something… She’s absolutely incredible… 

“Then…would mind if I have the same dream?” 

“Of course not!” Momo pulled back from the hug and gave her friend s genuinely friendly smile. “Srassa, let’s make our dream a reality, okay?” 

The noble wiped her eyes and offered a positive smile of her own. “Yes… Let’s do that… Momo, do you want to meet up at Dineria’s store on the 7th?” 

“That sounds fine with me.” 

“Great. Until then, I promise to try my hardest… I’ll keep up with the workouts, practice some of the swings our instructor taught us, and I’ll focus on being the best me I can be! Servi, Momo… That’s my promise to you!” 

“And we’ll do the same. Good night, Srassa. Sweet dreams, okay?” 

“Good night, you two,” said Srassa. She turned to leave, the hand connected to Servi slowly pulled away until it held nothing. For a moment, the ruby-eyed girl shook and started to whimper, but Momo was right there to comfort her.  

The guard out front recognized Momo and talked with her for a few seconds—even going so far as to ask about Servi.  Only once Srassa was safely inside her house did the pair of friends return to Warden.  

During the walk back, the sleepy Singi spoke at great lengths about Srassa. She really had nothing but positive comments about her, citing that she knows just how powerful Srassa could be. With Instant Cast and her blessing from a Major God, it was all but assured she would be a powerhouse. A very versatile powerhouse, at that. Momo just didn’t know why Silverado and Desperado had to say those things. They seemed so friendly and caring, ready to guide Srassa through the first steps of an adventurer’s life.

When I see those jerks, I’m going to give them hell… Not only them... But the horrible person who abused Servy in the past. That’s why… That’s why I have to do my best… Srassa, we’re going to train like crazy to be like crazy! Wait, no! I mean practice like crazy to be the best! Yeah, that's it! We're going to be the best party there is! 

It was forty-seven past midnight when Momo laid her bleary eyes on the sanctuary that was her bed. The golden covers seemed like real flakes of gold, but it was probably the sleepiness talking. In a flash, she undressed to her underwear and crawled onto the luxurious mattress. Servi was there, matching Momo for supper and difference. They snuggled closely together in a sleeping position that soon became their favorite. Their arms were around each other. Even their legs and feet were gently rubbing against the other in a small game of footsies. 

“Good night, Servy,” Momo murmured with her eyes closed. “See you in the morning… And Itarr… Good…night… Ah…I need…the…ID…” A red stone slab came to life and gently descended. Momo grabbed it out of the air once it touched her head, and it joined the snuggle.  

But before the exhausted girl drifted off to the world of dreams, she made sure to regain just enough control to give her darling Servi a small kiss on her forehead.  

“There… That’s…better…” 

August 3rd to August 6th proved to be odd, for the lack of a better word, for Momo. She was so convinced that the play was going to end in failure that, even after seeing how Servi took to it, she still held negative thoughts about it. During these three days, the carpenters contracted to build the set was in the final stages, and the costumes ordered from the Old Onyx hadn’t yet arrived.  

Bartholomew Meow was a man who was devoted to the madness that rested inside his genius head. He refused to allow his actors and actresses to perform while not in uniform. Since she already had her outfit in the form of a cloak of invisibility, Wyima had Servi practice running across the stage to get used to traveling back and forth in front of the curtain.

It was more physically demanding than Momo first thought, and she just watched during those three days while penning down her thoughts in her notebook. Momo believed the cloak was more like a blanket instead of being a cloak. In either case, Momo wrote in her journey that a small, thin blanket could work perfectly as a cloak. And a thick cloak suitable for the chilly season would be fine as a blanket.  

Regardless, it was true that it was a precious and expensive item. Wyima had told Servi he would be behind the curtain to make sure nothing happened to it. A pole was sticking out from the back after half of it was sewed into the cloak. That was the insurance that told Wyima where it was. With how it was attached, it was impossible to cover it with the cloak. It could have been ripped out, but Wyima was always beside Servi. IF she wanted to steal it, she never had a chance.

She had something far better in the form of The Shadow's Embrace, so even if she was healed, she wouldn't choose to steal something so inferior.

Servi ran back and forth. Even the stomps of her heeled boots were quieted by Itarr through subtle use of Silentium Fluctus. Momo knew she was there because Servi never once fell behind on her duty as Crying Noise. Cry for cry, wail for wail, moan for moan… There was never a time in which the enigmatic girl had left a stain on her role. 

I still think it’s a bit strange for there to be a role dedicated to crying… The director is a mysterious, quirky man.  

During one of the sparse breaks, Myrabel remarked how she found it astounding that Servi wasn’t winded at all. Meanwhile, the Elf was sweating like a sinner in church. She wore something sporty and athletic since her role included some physicality. There were some altercations sprinkled through the play. Between Shika’s children, who grew distant and violent over their mother’s forgetfulness of their existence, and Denaire’s character, who killed her husband in self-defense, this play was going to have its powerful moments. 

On the 6th of August, right when the rehearsals were wrapping up, Bartholomew spoke a few words of praise. He mentioned he was glad that he hadn’t needed to step in more than a handful of times. Those words were positive and reassuring to the entire cast since Bartholomew made it evidentially clear he was a shouter.  

Becha, one of the nobles that attempted to give Servi and Momo a hard time, was having extreme difficulties in performing one scene to the director’s liking. It was a series of hyper-accelerated lines that were meant to crush Roa's—Grid’s character—spirit since he was a bachelor in the scummiest degree; a total lady killer who bedded women for a single night before kicking them to the curb.  

Becha’s problem was that she couldn’t articulate as fast as Bartholomew wanted, and since this line had a spot of crying, Servi had to match her.  

Or so that was the plan.  

Bartholomew brought over an invisible Servi and asked her to repeat the lines as many times as necessary until Becha could do it. After two hours, the vividly pink Koena still couldn’t rise to the director’s inhumane standards.  

And so he turned into a demonic drill sergeant. He used words that Momo didn’t even know existed as a way to break down the snobby Koena. He focused his harsh berating at her air of superiority, citing that it was a weak shield she put up to keep face as a noble. He hit the hammer on the nail when he shouted that Servi was a threat to her career in the arts because a commoner was able to master the lines in a flash.  

Cue one nervous break down later, Becha ran away in a tearful mess, shouting she wouldn't ever come back.

She didn't stick to her words, and she returned about five minutes later after calming down.

At that moment, Momo lost all the respect she had for the director. She furiously scribbled her inner thoughts in her journal, her hand and pencil angrily representing the Singi’s mental state. She didn’t understand why someone would return to the person who had uttered so many harsh and hateful things. If Dineria was that woman, Momo didn't know what she would have done, but she knew she wouldn't spend time with someone abusive and harsh. 

And she realized that she and Servi once mirrored the same situation. Except Momo was Bartholomew, and Servi was Becha.  

Then for a brisk second, Momo wondered if Bartholomew uttered those harsh critiques as a way of encouraging the pink Koena to break free from the chains holding back. If not that, then someone needed to explain the defiance on her face, which was one of confidence.  

I still think he could’ve done this without being so harsh… 

With the rest of the crew waiting with bated breath, Becha, Grid, and Servi prepared to take on the scene that gave the girl so much pain, trouble, and heartache.  

It was divine. Utterly, perfectly divine. The harsh insults coming to Roa affected this actor to such an extent that the tears he shed weren’t for show.  

He fell to his knees, a pair of hands slamming against the stage’s ground. Subtly, a fist formed, full of self-cowardice and regret at all of the women his character had used and abused like fleshy toys. The years of forcing women home with his sweet words of falsehoods of love and mutual respect were slammed to the wayside once he understood the extent of his shameful actions.  

But Grid didn’t do it.  

Roa did.  

But that didn’t cause the pain to hurt any less.  

Near the end of the monologue, Roa was written to lose control and grasp Becha’s shoulder, but Grid didn’t do it. He stayed in a weak and frail position, only gathering enough strength to look skyward at the girl who actually took his real breath away.  

Bartholomew was not a fan of improvisation,  but even he found it moving when Becha raised her hand and slapped Grid.  

Becha had forgotten she was supposed to be acting, and that hit had some decent force behind it. Grid fell to the side, clutching his cheek in agony. Bartholomew shouted, then helped the injured Koena to his feet. Becha immediately launched into a thousand apologies and proclaimed it was an accident. Before Grid could utter anything at all, Bartholomew said that he wanted the scene to be like that from now on.  

Wyima raised his voice and said they couldn’t risk the actress hurting her hand or Grid injuring his facial scales, but Bartholomew waved a hand. A coarse discussion soon followed where the director had Becha slap him to get used to the power she needed. He clarified that he wanted an open palm slap to maximize the noise rather than pain. According to him, that would shock the audience into a gasp and further encourage them to make connections to the characters.  

Before anything else could be said, rehearsals came to an end. And since they had the next day off, Bartholomew implored Becha and Grid to work together to enhance their lines. When asked about Servi, the director said that there was nothing she needed to do. He spoke about her with praise and honor, even declaring that she was the standard everyone else needed to rise to. Again, he chose the verbally abused Becha as an example.  

“You do not need to look at someone better and claim they are the problem. The only complication is you. If you cannot do what Servi does, then lambasting her status as a commoner only reflects harshly upon you as a noble. Within my productions, I do not restrict roles to a person’s status. I do not allow anyone to buy their way into my plays like so many others. Do not think my ears have been dead to what is being said or has been said. You do not have to be friends—no one has to be companions—but I do expect a degree of professionalism. I have waited a few days to see if this problem will sort itself out, and since it hasn’t, I was forced to bring this up.  

“Act professional, give your fellow actors and actresses the respect you would want them to give you, and dedicate your being to your craft. Take tomorrow to rest up, and I expect to see nothing but professionalism when we next meet on the 8th. Be sure to bring a bag because your costumes will be finished. Stage production should be complete as well, so we will take it from the top. For those who don’t know, there are five types of rehearsals. We will skip the second, third, and fourth to head straight into dress rehearsals. Those assigned to the lighting system will have to learn in an incredible hurry. Those responsible for the music are required to bring their instruments or make any arrangements for your instruments to be delivered. That is it, and you are all dismissed.” 

For a moment of sincerity, Bartholomew restrained his ‘unique’ personality to speak from the heart. When he was finished, he slipped behind the curtain to take care of some business. Wyima stepped out into the center stage to further proclaim a few things, and it was time for everyone to leave. Myrabel, Denaire, Servi, and Momo walked out with Grid and Becha. The latter apologized to Servi and Momo for her awful words and how she treated them. Momo had no reason not to accept it, especially when the pretty moon was staring down at them. 

This particular rehearsal lasted for 14 hours, and Wyima had said that the days would only get longer from here. Becha reiterated that fact to the group as they walked out and offered to pay for dinner since it was so late at night.

Again, Momo had no reason to turn her down, and that was how she discovered just how different the restaurants were between the noble and common districts. Myrabel and the others tagged along for what was surely an acceptable end to a grueling week of constant practice.  

It also turned out that the oddly structured restaurant Servi and Momo passed by on their way to the Hurrah Theatre Hall—the one with only three walls—was owned by Becha’s uncle. The nocturnal cod the Elven chef masterfully prepared was akin to a work of art. It was pan-seared in a white wine tomato basil sauce. By itself, it was a 500 dupla meal since it only used the juiciest tomatoes and the freshest basil. Because of the ongoing nocturnal cod shortage, the fish was in low supply but high demand. If Becha’s uncle charged full price, the bill for Servi and Momo would have crossed 1,200 dupla.  

Itarr paid close attention to the smell and small details, from the dazzling red color of the sauce to the pint-sized cherry tomatoes. She even absorbed a tiny slice from Servi’s plate and analyzed it from every angle. She did her best to recreate it with the tons of raw fish inside her ring. That was what she was occupied with when Servi and Momo waved goodbye to their friends and went back to Warden. The Goddess didn’t think she had all of the ingredients inside her ring, but she did the best she could with what was available.  

“That was certainly something, huh? Oh, and thanks for keeping us safe, Itarr. Don’t think I didn’t notice the two tables near us… They didn’t even have to talk—I mean, you probably did that, but even I could tell they wanted to say something to me for holding Servy’s hand. It was thanks to you that I was able to do that during the entire meal… Servy, did you enjoy it?” Momo asked upon falling back on her bed, a concert of pink hair flashing by her eyes. She was already dressed down to her skivvies. She turned on her side and stared towards a standing Servi. She was nearly nude as well, yet she remained standing near the window. The moonlight illuminated her alluring body, touching her bare shoulders while sprinkling that pitch-black hair with never-before-seen luster.  

“I’ve never been waited on hand and foot before. And I think we were really underdressed. We all were, really, because everyone else had on pretty dresses or sharp suits, and there was you and me. I was in shorts, and you looked like the daughter of a farmer. It was fun, though… It almost seemed like Becha was the ‘ring leader’ of the off-handed, snide comments about us. If she’s on our side, then they’re bound to stop. Hey, are you excited about tomorrow? Remember? We're going to Dineria’s shop. It’s only been a few days, but I already miss Srassa…” Momo yawned and wiped her eyes, and Servi took that as her cue to hop in bed. She snuggled close to her protector, as was their nightly ritual, and found comfort in Momo’s lacking bosom.  

Every time we sleep like this, a part is me is hoping I’ll have some kind of outfit malfunction. Or maybe I actually want you to squirm and accidentally knock off my bra… Servy, I love you. 

“Servy, good night, and I love you. Itarr, you’re my favorite Goddess… I’m glad you were the one that I got to know. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Momo reached one hand up and snagged an ID out of the air. She placed it behind Servi’s back while wrapping her arms around the girl she loved.