Somewhere Someplace

Eleven days, maybe twelve… She had been keeping some track, although much of it had blurred into time's stream. History, truly, could sometimes sing her song so fast and swift, yet the choir could also follow along so slowly. It simultaneously felt as though so much had befallen within these nearly two weeks…yet also nothing at all, even if such was merely an illusion of perception.

For much, indeed, had befell.

It was lightly dim, with barely any light, and not because of the time of day—presuming it was even…day. There were simply not many windows in this wide chamber of sorts, what had once been a moderate-sized dining quarter or…'ballroom', as it was called; it was empty of whatever furnishing had once occupied.

Nilia was situated against a wall—the backmost wall, although truly it was difficult to tell what was the backmost when the room was almost a square. Most of the silent and whispering souls here were sitting, huddled together in these rows and columns unorganized, being only a few dozen at most.

Ten armed persons kept a constant watch over them at all times, rotating on a regular basis. Two flanked the double door, the only entrance to this chamber, while the remainder were distributed in an encircling perimeter. Wearing a simple, presumably steel, breastplate over a pinkish-dyed uniform garment and a similarly fashioned helmet with a hairy, almost berrystem-shaped, crescent on top, these were the personnel of that so-called 'Grand Army of Huckleberry'.

Compared to the previous guard force of Grandberry, these ones more resembled those 'Citadel Guards' of the Guild, albeit less 'fancy' and more…'military grade' in the…simplicity. Yet from the way they stood, the way they walked, and even the mannerisms by which they held their firearms, they reminded her more of Company's forces than anything Central—almost copyingly so. She could only presume thus that these were 'soldiers' rather than merely 'warriors', even if that distinction still seemed…arbitrary to her.

Truth be told, Nilia's current situation was not too different from her prior; she was still ultimately trapped inside this headquarters, albeit now with new ownership.

Indeed, for five-days the Huckleberriens had besieged this building… Despite the officers and their meager defenders wanting to hold out, the supply situation had become critical; the civilian administrators in charge had ultimately issued a surrender. The Huckleberrien army was allowed to move in, the soldiers of which had proceeded to disarm whatever garrison there was.

Everyone had been divided into three groups: important personnel (officers, emissaries, chief administrators), other military personnel (the garrison), and…non-important people (everyone else). These three groups were segregated and herded into whichever spacious enough chambers the Huckleberriens could find within this building—the doors shut, locked, and guarded. Nilia, of course, had found herself with the 'non-important people', being nothing more than a civilian volunteer—which she had identified herself as.

Fascinatingly, during this 'rounding up' process, none of the Huckleberrien soldiers had bothered to check her for anything. Indeed, they were seemingly not interested in 'looking up her skirt', so to speak… They had only used their eyes, not even fathoming a comprehensive pat-down.

Truly, trained professionalism might ooze from these primitive soldiers, but they were still clearly amateurs.

For Nilia still had her revolver holstered underneath her skirt; however, she was not going to make any sudden moves or draw it… These soldiers also had firearms, and their scattered perimeter would slow consecutive target switching; she could perhaps shoot one or two, but the others would quickly gun her down… And even if she had miraculously won the exchange, the loud bangs would alert the rest of the force occupying this headquarters, never mind the surrounding patrols outside…

Not that she even wanted to fight or harm anyone, of course.

So far, the Huckleberrien occupiers had not killed or tortured anyone—that she was aware of, at least. Nobody had been dragged off, never to be seen again… Nobody had been transferred to their 'dungeons'. Most likely, they all were being kept here as some kind of 'leverage'. Despite the constant muttering complaints of 'inadequacy', everyone was being fed, at least, and was receiving water.

She had yet to hear anything from or regarding the captured officers, including Captain Butler, since the takeover… However, she had no reason to assume anything had happened to them.

Throughout her time being held captive, Nilia, naturally, had been attempting to…construct an image of matters from the scraps of murmurs she could salvage from the Huckleberrien guards. However, it was difficult to get a grasp of what had been happening in the outside world; the Huckleberriens were being remarkably cautious with any whispering banter of boredom…

It was obvious that these soldiers were ordered to keep the fog of war dense.

Yet from what she had been able to parse from the few slips of tongues, this 'crisis' had escalated into open hostilities—obviously. She had heard murmurs of events, from fire exchanges across the Divide, skirmishes between patrols, and ambushes against the naive; that the Company's assembly camp was being besieged, cut off yet tenaciously holding out; that the 'surprising' destruction of the Company's supply depots had 'sped everything up considerably', since 'time was crucial'.

The impression she had been getting was that much of the strategies in play were planned in advance… Which, of course, they had to have been.

Indeed, Nilia could not conceive of a primitive army organizing itself so shortly after its creation, coordinating within days to besiege this headquarters, the assembly camp, and supposedly launch raids all over the Company's line of control… The foundations for this 'grand army' had to have been in the motions well before its official declaration, as well as the 'action plan' against the Company…

Such, of course, could only beg the question as to how the Company's military forces had not noticed this…advanced buildup. Or perhaps they had noticed but presumed it was a bluff…or, perhaps, they had wanted such.

Throughout the course of their prior crisis, Nilia had a strong hunch that the Company was actively attempting to instigate something—to 'bait' Grandberry into an impulsive action or something… Considering the fact that the Company had kept many important yet simultaneously non-crucial personnel at this headquarters despite the implied threats, it was probably the case that this very building was supposed to be that bait.

Assuming this, the Company's calculus had to have been that either Grandberry would take hostile action against this headquarters—similar to now—, thereby giving them a 'justification' for further actions; or that the duke would back down… Indeed, as Captain Albert had said, the prevailing presumption had been that Grandberry was not truly interested in openly fighting the Company…

Yet as it had so clearly turned out, Grandberry and the Huckleberry Dutchy were not only very much interested in fighting them, but they had to have been planning to do so for a while now…

Having nothing better to do these past elevenish days, Nilia had been speculating. She had long presumed irrationality in the Grandberrien leadership's behavior, yet when connecting together all of the pieces she had, there was…strategy.

Indeed, a feint.

In the retrospect, it seemed entirely possible that Grandberry's conduct throughout the crisis and perhaps even…the instigating attack on Humbleberry itself…were all machinations to trigger a response from the Company; that Grandberry, not the Company, was the one baiting… Bait which the Company, being the mightier arrogant power, had eaten mouth first without alternative imagination.

Nilia and many within the Company itself had already been acutely aware that the Company, despite its heavy weight, was in no position for a sustained and costly conflict… It was entirely possible, if not likely, that Grandberry was also aware of this fact.

However, she also speculated that Grandberry was likewise in no position for a protracted conflict, being in a state of civil war… Indeed, that 'Elderberry Alliance' still occupied their southern front. From what she had heard, there was an eagerness amongst the Huckleberriens to see this newly opened front close before spring, which was when the Alliance was predicted to begin 'making moves' again.

If the Company held out until spring or if the Alliance decided to exploit this distraction, Huckleberry could quickly find itself in a two-front war. However, considering everything she understood of their position, she doubted the Company would hold out until the end of this month. These hostilities, she predicted, were not going to last; both sides would have motivations to end things quickly.

Since the Company's military buildup had been primarily in the Bulge, she reasoned that Huckleberry's grand army was likely going to prioritize the trapped and cut off forces within their heartland before quickly dragging the Company back to the table… In retrospect, such was probably the very reason Huckleberry's duke had initially 'cooperated' with the Company, allowing them to willingly assemble thousands of their soldiers into a single spot easy to cut off… To use as more 'leverage'.

Of course, this was all just Nilia's bored speculations… It was entirely possible that Grandberry would end up pushing its luck. Ultimately, denizen absurdities were well beyond her domain, and she still had no concrete idea as to what was befalling in the outside world…

She did have, obviously, her assets monitoring from the outside. Fly was around this building's perimeter providing exterior surveillance, and Bee was no doubt laser-fixated on her position, acutely aware that she was captured. Indeed… The only thing keeping her sentinel at ease was her periodic communication with it—silent, through Remnant 'dot-code'.

Yet neither of those two could yield anything regarding denizen affairs, let alone current events…

The only possible source of such information she could theoretically communicate with was Novea, who…had buzzed her communicator a few…many times throughout these five-days. However, considering she was in a supervised chamber of…denizens, she had no choice but to reject communication—which…kind of defeated the point of her giving Novea that communicator… She had no idea if Novea was in any emergency.

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Although, Nilia had tried to get around this. Compared to the other denizens being held here, the Huckleberrien soldiers were showing remarkable 'consideration' for her 'comfort' and 'needs'… No doubt, this was once again because of her humiform, being the only lady here. They displayed little contention whenever she 'needed fresh air' or 'needed to visit the outhouse'.

However, this did not give her the necessary privacy to use her communicator; they still kept her under escorted supervision, and she did not want to appear too suspicious. Indeed, the Huckleberriens' inability to…'look past her chest', so to speak, was a perception she wanted to keep…

It could work to her tactical advantage.

Interim

Dark, murky, yet ever more luminescent. The particulate-infested shroud of misty dust was loose and thinly distributed, yet nevertheless a presence visible. Not even the rocks had been spared the touch; purplish, blueish, as if minerals becoming corroded with flakey rust. The ground felt muddier and more earthy; to kick would flare a cloud of dirt and radiant smut.

Glowing veins, purple-blue or pale indigo, had grown in their bioluminescent cover; rooting down from the chamber's hidden ceiling, into the walls, into the ruins, into the very rock. Yet such a sight was unnoticeable with respect to the strange and gelatin flower lookalikes, which had so fully sprouted before their very eyes out from the infertile ground; plant-like fiberish necks that turned as if staring, luminescent pebbles humming a glowing yet hidden tune. Fat and fleshy vines, long atrophied, were increasingly luminant in select bands as if being brought back.

Frankly, it was hard to know how much time had passed, when this whole sphere was turning faster than the hour hand could follow. In a way, the darkness within this sphere was almost becoming more reminiscent of a moonlit night, despite there being no moon or stars.

"Did you hear that?" Novea, increasingly paranoid, twitched a jerk; the sights of her revolving rifle aimed without aim… "Something…slithered?" She cleared her throat, as if her breaths were becoming irritated… "These…vines, one of them moved! I know it… One of them…moved or twitched or…something!"

The Protector remained silent. Her legendary shield of yellow and blue, engraved at the center of which being an effigy of Smiles' Crown, was held firm and raised. Yet her primary weapon, a yellow metallic rod or shaft without a blade, remained sheathed—or latched, rather—onto her back. The blue outline around her irises, microflickering unnoticed, had intensified, her exotic senses having long heightened.

The elf's fixation was and had continuously been at the ceiling; the particulate dust having cleared its way, the concentration of mist was now evidently around a single particular spot.

"[This is…taking too long.]" she finally said something.

"Yeah…" Novea nodded her head. "[But entirely within expectation…]" She was blunt, though she could not hide the anxiety in her voice. "I'm starting to feel…a weird tingle—I can't define it, but I don't like it… I really don't…"

"[There is…a hum.]" the Protector simply spoke, focused… "[No… There has been this hum, but it is...becoming louder. More assertive... No, alive...]" Her fixated attention finally fell away from the ceiling… "[As if a tune of guiding song, that is… Hm… This mist is responding? Or…facilitating? Which is the song, which is the singer; which is the cause, which is the effect…]"

Novea blandly glanced at her… "[Sometimes, perpetual confusion is most unhelpful…]" She was at the point where she would prefer coherent answers now… "[For what reason have you retained that ceiling stare?]"

"[As I said, there is…something here.]" The Protector, however, did not loosen her crypticity. Her helmeted head turned towards the ruins, eyes narrowing… "[Hm… It is as if I am seeing a…specter, hidden in dust…]"

"[And I have been hearing the motions of something, unseen…]" Novea remarked… "[Might it be…the beast? I have been pondering how it has avoided discovery… Maybe it has been using some illusionary magics?]" Certainly, she would know. "Or…maybe he isn't even here anymore…"

"[No… The beast is here.]" so stated the elf; "[I know with confidence that it has been here, watching us… Always watching us… Or maybe…]" Her sight fell astray, confused… "[Something else…is watching, perhaps? Or…]"

Suddenly, however, both snapped out of their respective thoughts in a jolt of startled surprise, their spines feeling the rumbling vibrations of the entry contraption behind, the aged yet still functioning squeaks of the thick and heavy circular door rolling aside.

"Finally!" Novea shouted in relief as she spun herself around to see, the Protector doing the same as both stepped themselves out of the way.

Yet storming their boots out and forth in almost a rush was not initially the Citadel Guard, but rather dozens—many dozens—of persons from Huckleberry's own grand army. These soldiers were hasty but organized in their motions; they barked to themselves, paying the two little mind as they spread out and established themselves… Though, many could not help but pause and gaze with wide-eyed astonishment of the alien sphere now beheld.

Concurrent to this tumultuous entry, however, finally came marching their own way, some thirty-five or so Citadel guardsmen, yet accompanying whom was…

"Woah… What the fuck?" Indeed, the undersecretary herself, baggy eyes as sleep-deprived as ever, arm held behind her back. "Wow, captain…" Her sight turned to a familiar caped guardsman standing next to her, "You're…really terrible at describing things! This is, like, wildly different!" She was not mean, at least.

"…" Yet the lead guardsman, this Captain of the Guard, was at an equal loss… "We were only gone for a few hours, but it has already…" Indeed, compared to when he and his men had left it, this chamber had only become more alien… This only further confirmed their suspicions: whatever this muck was, the speed of its development was accelerating compared to the slow, almost background, growth that had been the norm for the last month.

"I am sorry, it's just…" the undersecretary, maintaining her energetic decorum, continued on; "The last time I was here, I specifically recall a barren chamber…" Her spectacle-wearing eyes so looked about… "It's like a whole glowing ecosystem spawned here… All these shrubs on the ground, weird…roots in the rocks, and never mind the… Are those flowers?" She was still processing it. "What the fuck happened?"

"Yeah…" Novea stared at the undersecretary, before shifting her glare to the guardsman captain. "What is she doing here?" She had to ask, a question second only to… "And what are they doing here?" Indeed, her eyes pointed to the gawking Huckleberriens whose barks clouded the noisescape.

"Great questions!" the undersecretary, despite not being the target of the inquiries, nevertheless began to answer; "The answers to which are multiple bundled into a neat little package!" Her breaths carried the scent of energy beans.

Novea ughed; "Respectfully, we don't have time for this… Just tell it to me straightly."

The undersecretary ahemed; "Captain over here told me about the…growing problem and his recommendation; he was convinced it posed an immediate risk, and I concurred. And because we had actual confirming proof of at least this…weird purple muck-shit being a potential danger, I took the captain's recommendation straight to the duke—just in time too for him to hand me our formal expulsion!"

"…expulsion?" Novea titled her head…

"Yep. Effective by the morning, we—as in the whole Adventurers' Guild—have been expelled from the city." the undersecretary so stated; "Which, you know, also means you, honey bird."

"Fuck…" Novea blurted… "So, the duke actually did it, huh…" She sighed… "What a mess everything has become…" In far more ways than she could possibly disclose… She would have to change forms in order to covertly remain in this city.

"Yeah… Who would've guessed being a cooperative partner with the Company has its downsides." The undersecretary tried to remain nonchalant. "Though, that prickly eared bastard was probably planning this all long… Used our resources for security while he made his new little army, then gave us the boot when we weren't needed any more… Smart, smart, smart…" It was hard to tell if she was commending or lamenting.

"Speaking of which…" Novea's mask-obscured eyes shifted their glare to those still arriving Huckleberrien soldiers… There were a lot of them—almost a hundred now.

"Anyway," the undersecretary continued, "most of the Citadel Guard is preparing to leave the city. I and the captain's group—which includes you two—will remain here. We have until sunrise to 'conclude matters' and facilitate the formal handover of our investigation to the duke's army." She glanced behind as the last of the soldiers stepped out from the tunnel. "These guys are part of a preliminary detachment, rest of whom are up there securing the sewers; a lot more will be arriving…eventually, with all the powder barrels they can find in their armory."

"…alrightly, but why is the duke sending so many?" Indeed, a hundred here and even more in the sewers above… That far exceeded the men needed for the task at hand. "We just need to detonate the…access tunnel, so—"

The undersecretary abruptly leaned in with a gentle smirk. "I may or may not have…embellished a few details of the severity and dangers," she lowered her voice, "made up a few rules to justify our continued presence, and basically convinced the duke to commit a considerable amount of his men in collapsing this whole little pocket into rubble."

"…" Novea needed to process that. "You what?" she nearly shouted too loudly; "You want them to blow down this entire place??"

"Easy now…" The undersecretary cautioned… "Don't worry, I did my own reading adventure… This whole place is probably an old volcanic chamber; it's actually pretty deep, so a huge collapse shouldn't damage…most of the water infrastructure—the important parts, at least."

"Alrightly, sure, but why?" Novea remained bemused. "You've already seen how wide and tall this place is—it'll take days! I don't even think we can cause a total collapse!"

The Protector meanwhile stared off at the distance… "Uhm…" As if a sudden shift was felt, she began to feel more uneased…

"I don't…think we have time for anything big…" Novea, caught in a burst, yapped on; "We just need to seal that door and collapse the tunnel, nothing more than—"

Yet, abruptly, the undersecretary grabbed Novea's arm and hushed her over, slightly distancing themselves from the soldiers. "Alrightly, shut up and listen," she began to so quietly speak, "your ears only: I've been in contact with someone from the Company; they have a plan that'll quickly end this war. I just need to keep as much of the garrison distracted with frivolous business as I can until the morning."

"…frivolous?" Novea whispered back with an almost squeak; "This isn't frivolous… You haven't been down here for as long as we have, but something inside me is telling me we can't be chancing Fortune's luck…"

The undersecretary's eyes withdrew, a strain developing in her own breaths; a daze in her head… Truth be told, she had already begun to feel that sharp pierce and nebulous bite; she simply hid its affecting chew. "Yeah… I know…" she began to whisper, "I'll have them set the barrels in the tunnel first. We just need to keep them preoccupied until sunrise, then we can…"

"Uhm… [Persons…]" The Protector meanwhile was only becoming more uneased, yet Novea and the undersecretary remained preoccupied with themselves… "[The rot, the hum… The tune of this sphere has…drastically changed…]"

Indeed, dead vines began to twitch, a pulsing radiance throbbing in the dusty mist, veins extending out…as if to stitch.

"[The flowers…]" A sudden realization widened the elf's eyes. "[Do not…touch…the flowers…]" Yet quiet was her voice, motionless…as if frozen by fear.

Interim

A grand soldier of Huckleberry, amongst the many spanning out throughout this chamber, had paused alongside his other.

"Gods' creations…" this soldier so remarked, looking towards a most peculiar thing, which so glowed in a bioluminescent, almost passive, purple-blue hue, its pebbles squishy and almost gelatin. He had never seen such a thing… "Mayth this be what adventurers see all the times?"

"I don't like this place…" His other meanwhile so replied, standing behind. "The sensation within…" He tightly gripped his firearm… "As if my heart telleth that something bith terribly wrong here…"

Yet the soldier, so captivated, had only drifted towards that glowing gentle thing so strange… Indeed, having become so close, he hunched down before its gaze, as if captured by a humming resonance unheard but felt in essence. "This flower… It singeth to me, it all-most feelth…" He only leaned in closer… "Calmeth it doth, it beth like…I am…" He felt oddly at ease; oddly at peace; so oddly relaxed and…increasingly inattentive…

Ignorant to the network of thick veiny roots, empty and hollow, to which it was bound.

Ignorant to the vine-like tendril, luminescent and transparent, which, as if slithering itself in a coiling curl, had sprouted out and upright though with a hunch-like bend; its sharp and pointed proboscis-like tip hung right above and behind his head, dripping…with hungry slime.

[--]
I am noticing it too.
An imminent corrosive surge.
What is he doing?
Or, rather, perhaps…
Not him himself…