CH 23

“I dunno what’s going on,” Rye said, “but you did something, didn’t you, Stella?”

“Me? What did I do?” Stella feigned ignorance as she sipped her coffee, which had been brewed with fresh beans from Mace’s supplier. The flavor and fragrance were sublime compared to what she was used to. She could easily down three cups in a row.

“You should drink some milk too, you know!”

“I just drank that special coffee of yours. Isn’t that enough?”

“You barely poured any milk! You’re supposed to pour loads of it!”

“I find your recipe too cloying. And you want me to drink three cups of that? I’d be bedridden for three days.”

“No way you would! Wait, back on topic. How come the Palpud Union just ceased to exist overnight?! Even their leader is dead! Something happened in the West District last night, and it’s still not over!”

“Well, I have no idea.”

Hearing her answer, Varrell looked the other way. He was in on most of the events of last night, and he didn’t want to be asked any questions. Beck was outside, tilling the yard. Recently, he’d been bragging about how the first sprouts had begun to emerge—like a true Beck, completely oblivious to the fact that the former president of his company was dead.

Stella had considered employing him in last night’s operation so he could get some experience, but changed her mind once she realized he’d probably have been the first to die. Despite his uselessness, he was still one of Stella’s belongings. It didn’t sit well with her to lose him to a stray thug.

“I heard Leroy died in some trap laid out by the Union. Then Mace avenged him and became next president. Isn’t that a little too convenient, though? Mace isn’t the kind of man to pull off something like that.”

She was completely right. Very perceptive of her. “Well, he did what he had to do, I suppose,” Stella said. “He can’t fight, but he can use other people to fight in his place.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure he’s got the guts for that.”

Right again. Stella had had to pretty much kick him into action. “Conquering the West District was his dream,” she said. “Maybe that was enough to get him to do stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Stella nodded. “Stuff.”

“And you have something to do with that ‘stuff,’ right?”

“Me? I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Yeah right! Then why is he coming to report to you so often? Not just him, either—Apollo too, and he was all smug-like! There’s got to be something going on!”

This morning, Mace had reported the success of the operation and the establishment of the pact with the Orson Family. He’d also offered Stella the seat of vice president, but she’d refused it. The position could potentially make her a target for revenge by the Union’s remaining members. It would be an unnecessary risk. Mace had then begged her on the verge of tears to at least become a consultant, which she’d accepted. Even though Mace was one of Stella’s belongings, she would, for the most part, leave him to his own devices. As for Gard, she didn’t even want to see his face. Stella had no desire to manage the affairs of the Company. She’d rather keep working on improving her body and magic abilities.

By the way, Apollo’s “report” had been nothing more than a long boasting session, where he’d talked at length about his achievements and how he’d managed to redeem himself. Stella had kicked him out immediately; the sad look he’d given her then was very memorable. Apollo was an entertaining man, with his colorful hair and myriad expressions. Perhaps there was some value to him after all.

‘I know, right? It’s really weird, eh? Well, not to me, ’cause I’m in on the whole thing! Keke!’

“C’mon, Clever, tell me! Aren’t we buddies?”

‘Should I tell you or should I not tell you, eh? Maybe if you can catch me, eh! See ya, lil’ Rye!’

Clever swooped out of the store, with Rye following close behind. Their friendship was entertaining to watch, but Stella didn’t recommend doing that. It was too easy to lose track of time.

Stella noticed a gaze. “Marie, are you also curious?”

Marie hesitated. “Well, I am, but . . . if you say it’s nothing, then I believe you.”

“Why, thank you.” Stella smirked. “Anyway, whatever happened, this is a much more agreeable neighborhood now. I don’t think we’ll have to deal with any more break-ins. The citizens will keep being exploited, of course, but we’ll be much safer than we were before.”

Varrell frowned. “Don’t tell me you riled up the Orsons and did all that just to protect this place?”

Yes, Stella thought, though I’m not sure why I went through the trouble at all. But whether it had been for revenge, to kill time, or for the sake of the store, she was satisfied with the outcome. That was enough.

“I’ll let you decide,” she said. “Anyway, I’m going on a walk. Since Clever is not here, would you accompany me?”

“Sure,” Varrell said.

Stella and Varrell walked through the West District, toward what used to be the Palpud Union’s territory. The Union’s sigil had been torn down from every storefront and residence, and the streets were littered with the bodies of those fallen in battle. They would soon attract maggots, and then someone would finally bother to dump them in the canal running nearby. Some might be lucky enough to get a burial in the church, though. Stella didn’t understand the difference; one way or the other, they were still dead. Maybe it was a matter of preference.

“Varrell. When you die, which would you prefer? Having your body dumped in a canal or getting a proper burial?”

“Either is fine. I don’t care what happens after I’m dead; all that matters is how high I can climb in life. That’s my purpose—to always seek new heights.”

“Admirable, really. I wish you the best of luck with it.”

“I’m not sure if you really mean that, but thanks.”

“Of course I mean it. I only occasionally lie.”

Stella would love to see Varrell become the best swordsman in the world. As his owner, it would make her proud. That went for her other belongings as well. Rye was full of initiative. Stella had high expectations for her future. Marie was a great manager, and the perfect person to run the store. Mace had potential, but Stella didn’t know if he would ever realize it. As for Apollo, she just thought his face was funny. She’d like to add him to her collection one day, which would also mean having the Orson Family at her disposal. He was stupid, but everyone had their flaws.

Well, there’s no rush. For now, I should tell Mace to establish a strong footing before this victory goes to his head and he tries to undermine the whole thing.

“What about you, Stella?” Varrell asked. “Only fifty years remain of the sixty you have planned. You love to complain about it. How would you like to die?”

“I can’t really know until the time comes. Though I have a feeling I’ll die lamenting all the things I didn’t get to do.”

Human lifespans were short. Like the blink of an eye. Still, every day was fun, fulfilling, full of discoveries. Boredom and stagnation were nowhere to be seen in her new life. Stella wished it would last forever, but that would defeat the point. Once there was nothing new to do, all the things she’d once enjoyed would start causing her pain. That was why she hated anything eternal. She thought back to those fools who’d sought immortality. Who would willingly seek to turn their flesh into a prison for their soul? It was good that no human had ever achieved it. Stella remembered the woman who was probably still bound to that place, and wondered when she would be released. Never, if it were up to her. She was just too obstinate.

“You look pensive,” said Varrell. “A pensive child, huh. That’s a first. One of these days, you have to tell me what kind of upbringing you had.”

“If you want to know, investigate it yourself. Where’s the fun in having the answer handed to you?”

Varrell groaned. He was probably frustrated at being bested by a child.

The conversation went on. Before long, the gallows—and the hanged body of the former chairman of the Palpud Union—entered Stella’s field of view. Passersby looked at it but didn’t take it down. They were too afraid of what might happen to them if they did. A signboard nearby portrayed the man as a scheming coward. As per tradition, history was written by the victors.

The rope bit deep into the man’s skin. His eyes were open wide, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The contents of his bowels littered the ground below, and flies buzzed everywhere. It was hard to watch. Dead bodies didn’t affect Stella; hanged dead bodies, however, did.

“You look sick,” said Varrell. “Come on, let’s keep moving. This is not for the eyes of children.”

“Sorry for making you worry. I’ve dealt with my fear of ropes, but I haven’t had a lot of practice with hanged bodies.” Stella walked away from the gallows and gave a bitter smile.

What could she do to overcome her trauma? For a moment, she considered choking some random thug to death, but killing people that way was not as simple as it looked—as Stella’s own survival served to prove.

“Last time I saw my parents, they looked just like that man. You saw the room, right? The one that I’ve sealed away. I want to let go of those memories, but I can’t. Being human is so inconvenient sometimes.”

“They almost killed you, didn’t they?”

“Almost, but not quite. Maybe things would have been easier if I’d died with them, but I couldn’t accept that, and that’s why I’m here. I have fifty years ahead of me. If I died now, all my time and effort would go to waste.”

“You have a really strange way of putting things sometimes.”

“Isn’t it intriguing? I hope it’ll make me popular with men in the future.”

“You’ll need to put on some weight and gain some color first. I can help you on both counts; just don’t leave any food on your plate.”

“Sounds promising. I’m planning to have children in the future, you know. Little humans sharing my own blood. I’m excited about it. How could I not be? I believe blood connections are humanity’s greatest strength.”

The father could be anyone—she didn’t care—but she’d rather it were someone reasonably well-accomplished. Stella doubted she could ever experience love, but that wasn’t a requirement for procreating.

Varrell snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. You’re ten years too early.”

“Does that mean you’ll consider it in ten years?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth!” Varrell knocked her on the head. Gently, barely a touch.

They continued their lighthearted conversation, still within view of the hanged chairman. The residents of this neighborhood had been afraid at first; now, they were just annoyed. No one felt sorry for the man. He only crossed their minds when they wondered when he would start to smell. Death had relegated him to the same status as a pebble or a pile of cat droppings.

Just yesterday, he was one of the most powerful people in this district, Stella thought. No one is safe from death and obscurity.

Stella was often told she looked like a corpse. Which meant that she could disappear from this world, turn into a pebble, at any moment, without warning. It was a terrifying thought. She’d drink all the milk in the world if it would help her avoid that fate.

“Death is really scary,” she said. “I wonder where people go when they die.”

Did they simply disappear into nothingness, or did they become part of something greater? What was the human soul anyway? Stella couldn’t find an answer, even after thinking long and hard about it. Whatever a soul was, though, she evidently had one.

“I don’t know,” Varrell said. “But death comes for all in due time. And when it does, those who embrace it with a smile have probably lived a happy life.”

“Seems to me more like they’re being dishonest with themselves.”

“Maybe. But maybe not. Only they would know for sure, and we can’t ask them. No one has ever come back from the dead.”

“You’ve got that right, Varrell. Human life has a definite end called death. And that’s what makes it so enjoyable.”

Tired of looking at the hanged man, Stella decided to search for Rye and Clever. I should just go where my feet take me sometimes, she thought. If nothing else, it would help me get into shape. It was a hot day, perfect for playing in the river. They might be in their previous fishing spot, doing just that.

“Walking doesn’t seem to tire you as much anymore,” Varrell said. “Your leg muscles have become stronger.”

“I’m even jogging now. In any case, considering how healthy I’ve been eating, if I hadn’t become stronger, I’d have to conclude that I’m actually a walking corpse.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re a lot more talkative than any corpses I know.”

“That’s reassuring. Well, anyway. You mentioned before that a storm is coming. What did you mean by that?”

The sky was clear, the store perfectly safe. The Palpud Union had attacked once, but that had been child’s play. It could hardly compare to a storm.

“You’ll see,” Varrell said. “I can feel her presence not very far from us. Her name is Typica—Typica the Gale. She’s agile, stubborn, and a massive pain to deal with. And she has a knack for surprise attacks.”

“One of your acquaintances?”

Varrell hesitated. “She’s my younger sister,” he finally said. “I don’t know why, but she’s obsessed with this crimson greatsword I carry on my back. I’m at a complete loss what to do about her. She shows up, assaults me, and then I’m forced to drive her back. Which I do, every time.”

“Sounds dangerous. Next time, why don’t you try getting rid of her for good?” Stella whispered.

Varrell smiled awkwardly. “I care about my sister, and I believe she’ll see reason eventually. This sword is too great a burden for her to bear. I should carry it to my grave.”

Stella smirked. “Sounds like you’ve got it tough.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Varrell said, flinching. “It reminds me of my sister when she was younger.” He looked legitimately displeased.

At that moment, they heard excited voices coming from the river. Clever and Rye were running around each other, kicking up water and laughing.

Varrell watched them play with a fond smile. “This is a time of war, but there is peace here. The world should be a place where children can play and laugh.”

Stella crossed her arms, a thin smile on her lips. “Why don’t you change it, then? This world is always in desperate need of a hero.”

“I can’t be a hero. All I can do is swing a sword. It takes more than that to lead people into a better future.” Varrell’s eyes dropped.

He looked frustrated. The memory of some past failure, perhaps? Stella made a mental note to pry into it one day.

“That’s a shame,” she said. “But if you won’t do it, maybe I will. How about that?”

“Do what?”

“Change the world. Well, maybe that’s too ambitious. But this town, at least, should be small enough for me to make a difference. Now that I’m done with the West District, maybe it’s time to take a larger step.”

“Are you serious?”

Stella chuckled. “Pay no mind to the ramblings of a little witch. Or read into them as much as you like, my knight of justice, if that’s what you’d rather do. Isn’t that why you’re working for me anyway? To keep an eye on me?” She smiled.

Varrell didn’t answer. Stella decided against pressing him on the matter. He was a useful pawn, and she’d rather not lose him.

She had precious few fighting pieces—only Clever and Varrell. Beck was useless, Mace had only just taken over the Company, and Gard had lost something very important to him. None would be of any use to her in a fight any time soon.

What shall I do next? So many things to consider . . .

Time was scarce, but there was no rush. She would approach this with patience, like fishing. Watch, lay the right bait at the right time, and slowly but surely shape the environment to meet her needs. Her needs, not the greater needs of the world. Stella was not like Varrell.

“Anyway,” Varrell said, “how about we take a break, relax by the river?”

“The water looks pleasantly cool.” Stella considered for a moment. “Let’s go. I have new experiences to make.”

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, right? You? Playing in the river?”

“What’s the problem?”

Varrell gawked. “Uh—I mean, there’s no problem. It’s just . . . are you serious?”

“It’s good to change things up sometimes,” Stella said with a wink. “Take me there, Varrell. Through the shortest route.”

He hesitated. “You want me to charge into the river?”

“Yes. Let’s give them a scare.”

Stella snapped her fingers, giving Varrell the sign to go. Left with no choice, he lifted her, leapt over the curb, and dashed down the slope toward the river. He didn’t stop but splashed his way right into the water. Rye gasped in surprise; Clever joyfully spun in the air.

As a sheet of spray drenched her body, Stella curled her lips in satisfaction.