Somewhere Someplace

Potent hazel-amber eyes so stared up at the wooden ceiling above; she felt groggy and strained, both on the inside and the outside… It was a fresh new day, according to the window's light. She was in bed, mostly nude, alongside another…also nude. She felt so disgusted with herself.

A Raven and a legendary elf, sitting in a tree…

Funny. Funny. Funny. Fun.

Indeed, matters had become rather peculiar between these two throughout the last month. To specify each of the causal chain of effects that had resulted in this outcome would be, well… specific.

But it first started with one simple conundrum: the Smiles' Protector had no place to sleep, besides the Guild hall, and the elf preferred to have an actual bed. Being in her custody, Novea had thought it fine to have the elf stay in the same inn as her, something the undersecretary had approved under the condition that she and the elf cohabitated—to keep a proper watch.

Novea had accepted that term, yet without bothering to change rooms from one bed to two… Bureau coin, after all, was not actually infinite; such was the cheaper option. She had thought this no issue initially, sleeping in the same bed with another gal… Up until, of course, the elf had revealed herself to be a naked sleeper—not an uncommon practice amongst man, let alone elvish kind.

Yet the issue with elves was that…they were very pretty—very…appealing.

Novea had tolerated this, however; there was nothing to it… Yet as week after week of joint-venturing into that same pit passed by, the Protector began to view the Raven as 'almost' a comrade—a 'treacherous work buddy' as opposed to a 'treacherous surface hog'.

Throughout their many conversations and banter, there had been opening up even if not too much—within grounded reason. Trust nevertheless had accumulated; they became friendlier… And as Novea had come to discover, the culture of elves whence this Protector of Smiles originated had a…rather…different concept of platonic 'bonding' and the boundaries thereof.

Indeed, within their matriarchal martial social structure, it was very normalized for women to just…

Well, this. Exactly this.

And they were…very good at this…

Yet such notwithstanding, Novea was the one who had made the first move—not the elf.

Stress.

Indeed, so much…stress.

For the last month, the Security Office's investigation into the underground ruins beneath Grandberry was effectively going nowhere…despite the constant hints being dropped. Oh, and that whole sphere had only become progressively worse throughout this time; there was something really weird about that place.

Yet the higher eggs in the Office were adamant for results regarding the serial murder-rapist and the potential threat but had yet to send any adventurer assistance despite the undersecretary's petitioning. Oh, and right… They had at no point disclosed to the Grandberriens anything about a potential Fallen attack nor how that even connected to their investigation.

Guild policy required 'definitive confirmation or proof' before disclosure, yet this lack of communication meant that the Duke in Grandberry had only ever thought that their investigation was internal and trivial… And, so, when the duke had pulled an entire fucking army out of his ass to retake over the city's garrison, he had aptly informed the undersecretary that she and her men were 'no longer needed', throwing the undersecretary into a professional panic and the Guild's investigation into jeopardy

The undersecretary had already been drowning in pressure priorly, but in these last two weeks especially, everyone was forced to double their efforts in anticipation of looming expulsion, even though many of the guardsmen were starting to become sick.

The Bureau, naturally, had not detached Novea from the Office's investigation because of Nilia and…

Right… Such was not even to begin with those events.

For the last ten days, the United Central Trade Company and the Loyalist Realms of Huckleberry were essentially in a state of war. Skirmishes had broken out across the Divide, griffons having apparently bombed the Company's riverine fleet; there was a battle ongoing in Humbleberry, the Company's large assembly camp was being besieged by Huckleberry's new-formed 'grand army', and, right, they had completely taken over the Company's old headquarters and embassy—Nilia's location—after a five-day siege…

Nilia was essentially a hostage, and Novea had no idea if she was alright. She had stopped responding to her talky-thingy the moment the Huckleberriens had stormed that building, and Novea had been buzzing.

Yet all she had been told by the Bureau was to simply 'hold and wait'.

Hold…and fucking wait.

That, frankly, was what had broken her. Her partner—the asset of interest, the whole reason the Bureau had been dragging her around and about—was being held as a war-captive in that headquarters, and she was fucking told to just 'wait it out'—not break in there and get her out, which she was so ready to do.

The thoughts that had been running in her head… 'What if Nilia was being coerced?', 'what if she was assaulted?', 'would that aloof enigma of a naive girl even comprehend that she was assaulted or violated or…' Truly, even thinking about that possibility was horrifying…

Although, frankly, what was even more horrifying was the things Nilia might do to them… Indeed, it was no coincidence that, prior to the outbreak of hostilities, one the Bureau's relevant persons in-the-know had abruptly interrogated her regarding the events in Humbleberry—the rumors of 'divine intervention' which had caused a riot in the city… Yet she had barely the cognitive space to even begin contemplating any of that.

Red and Blue, likewise… She had no idea if they were alright or still even alive… There was no precise number, but the causalities from the assembly camp siege were already staggering, she had heard…

So, yes. To say that Novea had become stressed out of her mind would have frankly been the fourth understatement of the century. And on that certain night when she had seen that stupidly pretty elf naked in the same bed as her, so desperate for relief she was, of course she made a move…

However, what had not been the expectation was the elf's receptiveness. No, no—the plan had been for the elf to throw her off, after which she would have had an excuse to leave the inn and…find a whore or something. But, no, instead the elf had enlightened the Raven of her elvish conducts and womanly arts… And that was only the first time; what happened last night was the second, maybe even third, time…

And because Novea was now rapidly becoming overwhelmed by this very fury of reflective cogitations, she rolled over and shook the sleeping elf awake, who looked at her plainly.

"…hey, uhm… [Are you willing to]…" she tried to ask…

And the Protector immediately grinned… "[I might make a civilized elf out of you yet, you traitorous ratling.]"

Thus so happened, the fourth, maybe fifth…time.

Who even knew anymore.

-||-

Novea hughed somewhat, laying in that bed as if recovering… As if nothing in this world mattered anymore; no stress, no worries, nothing beyond the relieving ecstasy of recent 'elvish friendship bonding'.

This was a casual affair, her mind had to remind. Her heart, after all, was only pulled by one specific soul, and it was not this elf. She was not committed to anyone, and fornication was part of her job anyway; this circumstantial instance was therefore…tolerable. In the eyes of many men, in fact, what had just transpired would not even constitute 'fornication', even if that 'what' was better than what most…men could do. So…much…better…

That legendary elf clearly knew…exactly…the best means to achieve.

Desperate relief given; a distraction from all stressful woes…

Yet, as with the last time and the other last times, she laid in a puddle of her own guilt. She felt disgusted with herself; she felt filthy… To the elf, none of this had anything to do with 'love' or 'romance'; elves like Protectors had a seemingly different construct of 'love'. However, Novea was not an elf; strict monogamy and…reservations were the common…attitudes, for 'normal women' at least.

Indeed, being both a Raven and a woman of the Guild, she did not fall under regular societal expectations.

Years prior, she would not have felt too much about this. She was not like Blue, obviously, however she had been somewhat similar to an adventurer in how she…occasionally sought relief when overwhelmed by stress. Yet nowadays she could not even look at a brothel without getting flustered, although not to say that she was not awkward or blushy in the past, she absolutely was…

But this was…

It was different now.

Very different…

Even in a moment where…it was just an impulsive stress response, she felt guilty; she felt wrong; she felt she had wronged.

"I really…am a treacherous rat-monkey…" Novea muttered to herself, turning her head as she saw situated upon the side table, that silver-white device whose tip pointed directly facing…

It absolutely did not help that thing had been present…as if a witness. Its presence alone made it feel as though Nilia was essentially in the same room, watching it all happen…

Such only made this post facto clarity and guilt so much worse.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"[You appear to be no longer tangled so, at least.]" remarked the elf who was glancing; she was in the process of donning her garments and armor.

"…huh?" Novea flipped herself around, looking…then blushing, seeing.

"[I, from the second ear, find you unsatisfactory to me.]" The Protector meanwhile was being mercilessly blunt, albeit not antagonistically.

"…ha…ha…" Novea so 'laughed'. "My job mostly involves men, unfortunately… So, that is what I know…better." She ughed from the thought, before sighing… "[We should not be wrongfully partaking like this.]"

"…" The Protector just stared, bemused. "[Why?]" Indeed, she could not fathom the 'wrongfulness'.

"[It is…'fraternizing', if that is the word.]" Novea replied; "[Undignified and improper of us.]"

"[…?]" The Protector required a moment to process… "[I am a warrior, a Defender of the Child's Crown.]" she began to say; "[You are…kind of a warrior. This is what warriors do when we are far from home.]"

"…oh, yeah, [warrior]…" Novea, aheming, looked away… Indeed, that one certainly had a warrior's girlish body…

"[Far from our husbands or triads, we must share our own company.]" the elf spoke on; "[It helps untangle the spirit and solidifies our sisterhood's comradery.]"

"[Has it truly been working?]" Novea returned her sight. "[For you, that is to say. You remarked of your untangling me, which I admit…yes… You are effective, but…]" Indeed, it was obvious that this…'exchange', so to speak, was one sided… Novea was not nearly as…skilled as that elf.

The Protector took a moment to consider and ponder… "[I think I am more comfortable dying for you, yes…]"

"…" That was not the reply Novea was anticipating. "Oh…"

"[I am a traitor to my sisterhood, and the Fallen… The two of us have bonded, the completion of which, I suppose, signals my…change in allegiance…]" The Protector was trying to place meaning to all of this. "[Hah… Two treacherous ratlings, there could be no better an alliance.]"

"…[I am no traitor, I am loyal to my…people.]" Novea stated; "[I was not with life all of those thousands of years prior.]"

"[Treachery's weight transfers…]" replied the elf; "[Once I find a husband, my bloodline will bear my treason.]" She did not seem too disturbed by that notion.

"[But… I was discovered, not born…into what I became.]" Novea…disclosed. "[Most Ravens are found.]"

"[Oh?]" The Protector tilted her head, genuinely surprised to hear this. "[Is that so? You were found…]

"[Yes…]" Novea's eyes withdrew… "[Orphaned during Empire's war…]"

"[That is…tragic to hear.]" The elf had sympathy in her voice… "[However, that only means the weight of your ancestors' treachery is transferred by tradition, combined with the sin of thievery.]" She smirked.

There was no wiggling out of it; Novea was a 'traitor', and the Protector was going to adjust every definition to keep that so, albeit in a more enduring fashion.

"[Anyway, your nudity sheers my eyes in disgust.]" the elf's tone shifted.

"Yeah, rightly…" Novea blushed a little, before sighing, getting out of that bed… "[The day ahead awaits, within which is much to be done…]"

At the very least, she felt that her mind was now clear enough to focus…

And to head back down into that soul-rusting pit.

-|||-

The Citadel guardsmen were distributed about, as they would be any other day.

"Another thumb…" One guardsman was looking down, noticing within the luminescent fibers which had now devoured the once rocky ground. He picked it up, rotted and skeletal. "This wasn't here yesterday…"

"How can you be for sure?" Another, standing near, so inquired.

"Considering the circles we have been patrolling, we would've discovered this thumb by now…" the guardsman replied; "It was placed here, which fits the pattern… The abominable fetishist has been doing this…"

"How have we not found him yet?" the other had to ask; "Where could he possibly be hiding? A hole in the rock? A hidden little hatch? What have we been doing wrong??"

The guardsman did not reply, for he had no answers.

Abruptly, a third guard came marching by. "This wretched fog!" he shouted; "It's so much thicker than before… This sphere was evolving before, but this is… I swore by my oath that these vines and plants are growing before my eyes!"

Novea and her helpful elf companion were near enough to overhear…

Indeed. Throughout the course of their investigation, of their being here, the purplish particulate dusty mist had only grown in concentration, a nebulous thickness both opaque yet transparent. Thin glowing veins had sprawled as if rooting into very rock around; thick vine-like things, once blackened, had also begun to emit a faint glow; and none of that was to mention the weird flowers, transparent and gelatin in their flesh, which had not been there yesterday, let alone the day before yesterday.

There was no question that this sphere had been changing; it seemed faster than before.

"[The rot…]" The Protector began to say; "[It has grown…]"

"[Every time we return, you always say this…]" Novea so remarked…

"[And you always remark that I always remark…]" the Protector so counter-remarked. "[No… Something has changed; there is…a rift, …an acceleration.]" Her outlined eyes looked up; the dense purplish grainy shroud obscured the ceiling high above, yet…it was not uniform—concentrated, it seemed, around a…thing. "[There is something…here.]"

"[Yes, obviously…]" Novea replied; "[We have been seeking that something.]"

"[Do not be obtuse, my treasonous Raven.]" The elf turned her eyes to her. "[There is…something else here… A song in the ether…]"

Yet suddenly: "Gods' sacred toilet!" A guardsman fell to his knees, his nerves trembling with an irritation yet of neither his lungs nor body. "This mist! I can't stand this place anymore!" The afflicted guardsman turned his eyes, seeing… "RAVEN!" Indeed, he alongside several others swiftly stomped straight to her. "You've asked the Bureau, no? Do you have answers?"

"…" Novea felt nervous by being suddenly on the spot. "No more than what I was given before… I already said I don't know…what…this is. They only told me to…"

"…remained attached to our investigation and to keep coming back down here…" The interrogating guardsman so scoffed… "We are not laboratory rabbits to be dissected, you know!"

"The more we know, the more they know…" Novea so replied; "You know the procedure, guardsman."

"Thousands of years of records; that's the whole purpose of your department…" so remarked the guardsman; "You would believe that they would have something in their labyrinth."

"Millennia of records is exactly why answers are taking forever." Novea was frank.

"Bah!" yet interjected another guardsman; "We need no research see that…this whole sphere, this chamber… It is cursed! Perhaps from that fetishist freak or…from whomever was slaughtered here…" There was a tension in his breaths… "The effects of this…sphere, it's as if our souls are…being…skewered—I cannot explain it… But the rotation hasn't afforded recovery."

"The sergeant-at-arms has been telling the undersecretary, but she keeps sending us back here…" chimed another.

"We are being pulled by her," spoke one more, "and she is being pulled by hers… The concern is no longer the Fallen—we've already ruled that out… Besides our one entrance, all other possibilities were collapsed sealed. And even if goblins could crawl their way here…" He looked around… "This accursed fog… If we're being afflicted, I doubt they would tolerate better… It's like we're being drained…"

"Maybe…" Novea sighed… Compared to the guardsmen, neither she nor the Protector were seemingly being…as affected. However, nevertheless, there still was a sensation hitting her, one that had only become increasingly unpleasant… As if her mana was being chewed at, it almost felt…

As if something imbued deep within her knew there was something wrong here, but it was…nebulous.

"Elf!" One of the guardsman flipped his attention to that quiet Smiles' Protector. "You are an accursed one, and I mean that with no offense… You have lived in the underworld, no? And you are attuned with magic…"

The Protector turned to her Raven buddy… "[Do they always state basic facts instead of speaking their thoughts?]"

"We know you understand our tongue…" the guardsman continued; "I know we have barely spoken, and you have kept to yourself… But your senses have proved helpful and far sharper, and you were the one who led us here…" He momentarily looked at the Raven. "The Raven kept telling us you've been sensing something… And we have been, I have been, desperate to know…" He gulped and took a moment… "What do you make of this? Please…"

The Protector glanced at him, before glancing back at Novea…

"[Put away your pride and talk to them…]" Novea spoke, requesting.

"…[they have been respectful to me, I suppose…]" The Protector sighed and turned to them. "I… I do not…know." she began to speak their tongue, to the amaze of the guardsmen; "When…I was growing as girl, I was told…of…stories. Stories of…isolates in the world underneath; isolates, places whither none could go or places whither none would go… Holes of corruption…" She paused… "All ways hither, the ancients destroyed… Maybe there was…cause…for isolation."

"Not all ways…" a guardsman remarked; "We already know they missed one, and…" He turned his eyes down a particular direction, focusing on a specific far end side… "That crevice all ways yonder… Rubble-filled now, but maybe it wasn't always…"

"Does seem relatively fresher, yeah…" remarked another; "If you envision that crack without rubble, it'd be too narrow, but something slender-built could squeeze through, I feel… And that fetishist monster had to've arrived hither somewhence…"

"The rot smell…" the elf meanwhile began to remark; "It was…growing… It started slowly, but now it is… These past…many days, it is…stronger." She looked into them. "The beast…for whom you search… It could be the cause, hiding… No, the stench it has—it is potent, but… This mist… These everywhere thing… It is a cloud… There is something here…"

"I have heard enough." Abruptly, a different guardsman stomped his way, having listened; adorned with a cape and helmet plume, his demeanor authoritative and posture stern, this guardsman was officially their lead. "There is no need to debate the obvious any longer." he spoke sharply as he halted; "Gods' condemnation, we only need our eyes… Look around us, it is not just these emerging shrubs or growing vines, but even the forsaken rocks have been mutating color!"

"…there is a magic effect here too." Novea, having kept this silent, now decided to reveal; "I tested one of my shadow spells… It was harder, and…couldn't sustain it."

Such only further proved the lead guardsman's point. "Whatever…this purplish-blue muck is, we have two facts and one speculation: fact one, it is growing; fact two, it is hazardous; and speculation, the rapist freak might be responsible." He took a moment as if to reconsider or reflect… "More than forty days, we have been investigating; we have already concluded the Fallen cannot use this chamber to stage an attack, and our prolonged search for the fetishist who is here has only spun us in circles…"

"All we've done is expose ourselves to this…mist…" remarked a guardsman. "As the elf said, maybe there was reason for why the ancients…destroyed every tunnel… If it can grow, it can spread…"

"When we first arrived, it was not nearly this potent…or bright." another chimed in; "Could it be that our…very arrival did something? Reawakened some…horrid ancient demigod? The longer our investigation continued, the worse everything has progressed…"

"No…" The elf shook her helmeted head. "I remember…the rot sense, it was…strongest at those bodies. Though…" Yet she only drifted into confusion. "Hm… Barren, empty, ruins… These plants, these glowing things, not…always here… But the vines, these roots…always here? Not…us, the beast… There is a chain."

Novea could tell the Protector was struggling with her circling thoughts…

"Your bewilderment only reinforces my conclusion, elf." the lead guardsman stated. "There is no more debate or deliberation. There is no point in finding what refuses to be found; there are obvious magics at play." He turned his eyes towards that circular disk of an entry door far off… "I don't how the ancient elves missed that, but we shall finish what they did not… We collapse—not just seal—collapse…the last and only remaining way in and out, trapping both the fetishist and this muck here."

"Agreed." The other guardsmen declared in unison.

"It's decided, then. I will immediately speak with the undersecretary of our unanimous suggestion." He began to march, the other guardsmen accompanying. "You two," he glanced at the Raven and Protector who were also following, "I hate to ask this, however you are the closest we have to adventurers, and…you seem least affected."

"You want us to stay here and guard the entrance." Novea immediately guessed

"If that murder-raping fetishist is still here, we cannot allow his escape. We will return as fast as we can." the lead guardsman confirmed. "I understand resistance does not equal immunity; if necessary, you can stand watch from the sewer side… Especially if we get caught in the bureaucracy."

"Got it…" Novea glanced at her Protector buddy. "We'll do that. But just remember, I am not a fighter…" Suddenly flashing into mind, however, were those thirty receptionist bodies… "…and uhm…remember…I am…also a lady…" Indeed, and being ravaged to death was one of her deepest terrors. But she had mumbled too quietly for the lead to hear.

The Protector, however, had heard. "[And I am a shield against evil.]" she reassured, before looking at the lead guardsman. "We will remain this side. The sewers…a bad defense."

"Gladly heard." The lead guardsman doubled his walk; he hailed at every remaining guardsmen whom they passed, informing them of withdrawal.

Surely but hastily, all of the guardsmen departed through the tunnel and into the sewers above, that thick vaultish door of stone rolling to a tightly sealed close. The Raven and Protector, left behind, remained positioned directly in front, side by side.

"[Raven…]" The Protector, tense, turned her eyes… "[If we are attacked by the beast… I will defend. You will run. Firestick or not, you are not capable of fighting it…]" Neither was she.

"…got it…" Novea…simply acknowledged, gripping her firearm's strap…anxious.

Hm…
This is certainly…developing strangely.
[--]
He knows the deal.
Keep hold on his leash.