4.25 In Which the Dark Lord Intrudes

4.25 In Which the Dark Lord Intrudes

We discovered a new property to the gunk in the windows now that our backs were to them: rather than filtering the light amber as it seemed they should, those cobweb-honeycomb structures inside seemed to gather and amplify sunlight, filling the chamber with a clean white radiance that was even stronger than if the sun were just allowed to stream in normally. It thus made some sense why something so apparently brittle was in these windows, as this was a room that needed to be well-lit.

This was probably originally built as some kind of parlor or sitting room, though all the furniture was gone. The wall of windows along one side had a semicircular protrusion in the middle, right next to where wed accidentally broken in, and mirrored by a round nook on the opposite inner wall. In this alcove had been erected Well, it could only be called a shrine.

An obvious altar stood against the wall in the center, upon which there were the stumps of several well-burned candles, currently dark, a few flowers that looked freshly cut, and one cup of tea that had gone cold. All these were arranged before the true article of reverence.

Upon a clearly custom-built akorshil display rack rested an unsheathed katana, its scabbard held below it in parallel. This was the real deal, not just in its distinctive cross-wrapped handle and coin-shaped crossguard; the blade was steel, not akornin, and even had the characteristic uneven wave pattern along its length from the differential tempering of the cutting edge. And to my Blessed eyes, the weapon put off the telltale glow of a powerful artifact.

Somehow, that wasnt the most striking thing on display.

The whole wall was covered in paintings. They had clearly started in the curved walls of the alcove, spreading outward from a huge portrait that was hung directly above the displayed sword. Evidently their numbers had swelled over the last century and a half, having filled the walls of the alcove long since and then crawled outward. By now they covered the entire wall of the room, which wasnt small, and had begun to creep further along the side walls on both sides. All of them were paintings of one woman, in a variety of poses, costumes, backgrounds and activities.

A Japanese woman.

Kurobe Yomiko wasreally pretty. Like, movie star attractive. That surprised me for a moment, before I paused to consider the implications. It didnt seem like a particularly useful trait in a ChampionI was no troll myself, but I was well aware that my success with girls had come from charisma and being a guitarist, not looks. And, well, there was no need to be mean to Yoshi even inside my head. But, I realized upon reflection, Yomiko hadnt just been a Champion, shed been a girl. In entertainment media, that made being unreasonably hot a necessary job requirement, and after all, the goddesses were just here to create their ideal live-action anime.

The whole thing felt gross and I really missed my pre-Cat Alley days when I didnt have to think about stuff like that.

We stood in silence for a long few moments, slowly taking in all the pictures. Dark Lord Yomiko didnt seem to have been a very expressive person; at least, in these portraits she rarely smiled, nor looked particularly angry even in obvious combat scenes, of which there were quite a few. Her resting expression seemed more serene than stern, though.

She likes to paint, Aster finally said. Well. I guessif youre gonna be cooped up alone for a century and a half, you need a hobby. These are really good.

Hey, Biribo, I said quietly. Whats the enchantment on that sword do?

Ihuh. He buzzed over closer to it, flicking his tongue out. Weird.

Weird? You mean you cant tell, like Rhydions armor?

No, its Well, Yomiko did get spawned in the heart of the Savindar Empire and they were quick to adopt her. I guess with the resources of a whole-ass empire behind you, you can get stuff like this. Its a custom enchantment, boss, designed to work with a particular Champion perk you dont have. For anybody but Dark Lord Yomiko, this would just be a piece of sharpened steel.

Do you want to take it? Aster asked, turning to me. We could think up something to tell Rhydion. Its the sword of the last Dark Lord; theres a case to be made that it should be yours.

I shook my head. People who havent studied iaido have no business handling katanas. Im the farthest thing from a traditionalist, but I met enough idiot tourists in Akiba to have a bug up my butt about that in particular. Besides, I know a stalker shrine when I see one. Rhydions not the only one whod like a discreet word with this witch, so lets not do anything thatll send her into a berserk rage. Shes gonna be pissed enough about the window. Dont touch anything.

Aster nodded, turning her frown back on the wall of paintings. You realize we cant let the others see this.

Itll be tricky to come up with an excuse to keep them out.

Yeah, but Seiji, I have now seen three Japanese people in my life and I immediately recognized this woman based on the other two. The eyes could maybe pass for highborn, but theres no group on this archipelago who has those plus that hair and that complexion. The bone structure is distinctive, too, once youve seen a couple. Remember, those three hang around the Kings Guild; Dhinell specifically mentioned meeting Yoshi and I bet the others have, too. If they see this, theyre gonna have questions you dont want to answer, and it might be putting Yoshi in danger as well.

Shit, youre right. Okay I pivoted quickly, turning around. Okay, this is workable. Theres only one door and it goes in the direction we need to head anyway. We can tell them honestly that this is a dead end and just not mention that theres anything interesting in here. Biribo, any movement?

Not in the last minute or so. There was one person in the house when we first crashed in, out at the edge of my senses. Its a big house. Humanoid, I think female. Shes either got some kinda magical surveillance or uncannily good ears, though, because she bolted once we broke through the window. Up a corridor and then down a flight of stairs, and now beyond my perception.

So, the witch was home, but not in a sociable mood. Why run away? If she was a master alchemist and a century-old vampire she should be a match for any intruder. Unless she knew I was the Dark Lord, somehow

All right, I said, theres only one way to go, then.

Right. Aster stepped over to the rooms sole door and eased it carefully open, peering out. She didnt draw her greatsword yet; while I knew she was capable of using the huge thing in tight corridors, it was prohibitively hard and not very effective. It was a better strategy for her to block the hall with her artifact armor and let me cast spells from behind.

I hesitated, though, turning back to stare once more at the altar, and then sweep my eyes slowly across all the paintings behind it.

It wasstrangely awkward, having Yomiko humanized in this way. Seeing so many sides of her at once, I felt that Well, honestly, we probably wouldnt have gotten along. She seemed kind ofstiff.

Still.

I knew what shed gone through, at least some of it. Granted, Id never had to juggle imperial politics and she had probably not had to worry about going hungry, but the core of it was the same. Brought against our will to this hell world, forced to fight a pointless war for someone elses amusement. I knew Yomiko had been loved by her troops and respected by her enemiesthat she had been fair, and merciful when possible. She had freed slaves and redistributed wealth to the poor. And for all that, she had died alone, on foreignin fact, aliensoil, at the hands of a man whod been simultaneously her sole link to her own homeland and by all accounts one of the biggest dickheads Japan had ever spat out.

You did your best, I whispered. Stepping over to stand directly in front of the shrine, moved by an uncharacteristic impulse, I bowed. Otsukaresama deshita, Kurobe-san.

It felt wholly inadequate. But damn it, Im a rocker; ceremony is not my strong suit.

Aster was giving me an approving little smile when I turned back around, which I ignored on account of it being even more awkward. We stepped out into the hall without another word, Biribo clambering back into his hidden nest in my scarf and arranging it carefully to hide himself.

Not surprising she hasnt had time to get to the rafters, Harker observed. This place is entirely too clean to have just one person taking care of it. Look at this, theres not even any dust. Shes gotta have some help or she wouldnt have a spare second to do anything but push a mop.

Think shes got zombies doing the housework? Aster suggested.

Not the ones we saw out there, Dhinell sniffed. They havent the coordination for complex tasks, and probably not the ability to follow instructions.

We should not rule out the prospect that the witch has more effective servants than those left to mill about unattended outside, said Rhydion. Still, try to refrain from speculation until we acquire more evidence. It is a mistake to prejudice oneself when conducting an investigation.

Uh, hey. Harker had stepped ahead of us into the hall, bow out but not drawn, and now was turned to stare at the low wall below the landing on which the grand staircase divided. Speaking of evidence I think I found her.

We swiftly moved to join him, then stopped to stare. For Aster and I it was the second time we found ourselves gobsmacked by a painting, but this was a new experience for the rest.

This one was huge, almost a full story tall; it covered the wall from floor to just below the railing of the landing above. It depicted a womannot Yomiko, thankfully, but a light elf.

Except, not quite.

Her eyes were vivid crimson; her lips were parted in a lopsided little smile, just enough to display one overlong canine, a trait light elves did not normally have. The texture of the canvas itself would have obscured the subtly crystalline texture of elven skin if that was present, but it even so displayed her complexion as utterly bone white, lacking the faint jewel undertones light elves usually had. Her hair, too, was very pale, though it was a believable shade for non-vampire reasons. Id seen highborn with hair that light platinum blonde, which suggested that at least some elves had it. There was just enough gold in its tint that it clearly was blonde, rather than white hair like Velaven had.

The witch was depicted wearing a stark black gown with a high collar, whose sleeves and hem were visibly ragged in such a way that they have to have been deliberately cut like that, rather than naturally frayed. She was holding a heavy book in her left hand and an unsheathed rapier in the right.

I took a step closer and bent down to read the simple inscription upon a brass plate on the bottom of the gilded akorshil frame.

Khariss Gwylhaithe. I straightened up, turning back to the others. So I know in Fflyr names, the surname comes first for women, but she was here since before this country existed, so

Khariss is a womans name, said Dhinell, staring up at the vampires self-portrait. Dreadfully old-fashioned, but I have met a few elderly women with that name. Also a few Gwylhaithe families among the middleborn. There is no Clan Gwylhaithe, at least not anymore. To think they were full-blooded elves only a hundred and fifty years ago. No doubt the Goddess cursed them for the perfidy of this corrupt ancestor.

Dunno about that, Harker commented, but Ive gotta say that putting a giant-ass portrait of yourself on display in the front hall of your mansion is a level of egotistical Ive never even seen a highborn match.

And so, Rhydion said quietly, we have a face, and a name.

I stared up at the vampire in silence. She had painted herself smiling, and it was not a nice smile. A perfect fusion of satisfaction and seething anger that resonated powerfully within me. This was the expression of a woman who knew what it was like to see her enemies broken at her feet, and planned on seeing it again.

Andshe was pretty. Stunningly so, in fact, even more than Yomiko. Her face was angular to an extent that verged on hawkish, but still so perfect she looked designed by an artist. Of course, she was an elf; that was basically cheating. Looks werent the kind of thing to which I assigned much inherent value these days, but when it came to a non-human woman possessing immense, inherent magical power To me, her attractiveness was a very relevant piece of data indeed.

What could I do with vampire powers, for myself and all my Queens?

I felta strange unease, thinking about her this way. Prowling through someones home made it hard to think of them in the abstract; I guess anything which taught you more about them would. Just minutes ago she had been a vampire witch. Now she was Khariss, the elf who did her best to keep her home clean despite the enormity of the task. She was an alchemist of great skill, and she liked to paint.

And strong indications were that she was gay, or maybe just Yomikosexual. The sword shrine I could chalk up to the respect of a survivor toward a much-revered leader, but there was just no hetero explanation for that wall of portraits. I dont understand the visual arts enough to articulate the mechanisms the way I can with music, but the sheer adoration for their subject was obvious in the framing of every portrait of Yomiko, even to a philistine like me.

The witch was a person, which meant there was just no outcome here that wouldnt be awkward at the very least.

Let us press on, said Rhydion, turning away from the portrait.

Where? I asked pointedly. Look at the size of this place. And its one of those weird, organically shaped Fflyr structures; theres no logic to how the halls are laid out. Youwanna split up and search?

Absolutely not, he stated. I believe we have pressed our luck in that direction as far as we dare already. But you are right, searching this place as one unit will be an arduously long process. I dont suppose you can indicate a direction in which you heard our quarry retreat?

Biribo would be able to, but there was no way to ask him with Rhydions full attention on me, and he had the sense to stay quiet and still.

I shook my head. Sorry. Echoes in here are probably weird, but I doubt I could tell much anyway. She got more distant, thats all I know.

What happened to all that musical training? Harker asked innocently.

Made your mom sing loud enough.

Ugh. Dhinell turned away, grimacing. Harker just grinned at me, the bastard.

Then we have freedom to choose our starting point, Rhydion declared, setting off toward one of the halls branching off from the entry. Not, fortunately, the one from which we had originally come. Hopefully I wouldnt have to work too hard to ward them away from the shrine to my predecessor. This may go without saying, but remain alert and stick together.

And so we went deeper into the witchs lair, which was a fantastically terrible idea that we were pursuing because we didnt have a better one.

Story of my life.