The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

“Sir, do you truly mean to help the Ghosthound with your advice?” Fellador asked, shadows swirling around his body. This was one of those situations where he couldn’t truly read his master’s intentions.

Don Beigon wasn’t looking at his servant, instead considering his own reflection in the mirror. He held a burnt orange bowtie up to his neck and considered before lifting a seafoam green bowtie to the same position. After sucking on his teeth for a second, the Don selected the seafoam green and affixed it to his neck. “Hmm? Well obviously, he is a close personal friend of my daughter. So long as it costs me nothing, helping him is obviously a good way to keep our relationship cordial. And to make sure he helps her when she needs it. Which, considering her stubbornness will undoubtedly be soon.”

Fellador nodded slowly. That was the thing, about serving the Don. Even after seven hundred years of service, it was difficult to tell when the man was being honest about his motivations. Even when he claimed to be altruistic, the Don had an unexpected angle. “Then, and please excuse this servant’s idle curiosity, why didn’t you tell the Ghosthound about the investigation against him?”

The Don snapped his fingers. Suddenly his entire wardrobe shifted to the eye-catching seafoam green. He twisted in his bamboo chair, admiring himself for a few seconds. Then he chuckled and turned to look at Fellador. “Well, firstly because it is a purely internal investigation to the Orthodox factions. Strictly extra-legal. Plus, such information would be extremely valuable and Randidly made it clear he was dictating his major purchases. And in addition… well, so long as he hasn’t violated any laws, he has nothing to worry about, yes? He is an adult.”

Fellador lowered his eyes. To their left, an Engraving circle on the floor buzzed softly, evidence of the Don’s twisted sense of logic.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Straightening his bright green tuxedo, the Don rolled himself back around to his desk. Fellador ghosted across the floor and allowed their guest into the Don’s office. Skull Shadow looked around slowly, a veil of Nether drawn across his features. Fellador privately suspected that this fellow did it to try and look intimidating, which spectacularly failed.

A pretender grasped at the throne vacated by Lathic N’Gick. But although he wasn’t nearly as capable, that didn’t mean he wasn’t useful.

“Ah, Skull Shadow, so glad that you could join us.” The Don offered him a wide smile and gestured to the Engraving circle. “As promised, I’ve put an area affected by the Ghosthound in stasis. You can deactivate the area at your leisure and analyze the composition and patterns of his lingering Nether.”

“Thank you, Don,” The veil of Nether had the added effect of warping Skull Shadow’s voice. Yet despite that, his excitement was clear as he gazed at the frozen chair and circle of air. He stretched out a hand against the edge, as though he could feel the shifting Nether within.

“And now…” The Don’s smile widened. “A small favor, between friends. What can you tell me about the election?”

“Elhume, as usual, has remained silent on the issue,” Skull Shadow crackled. “In that power vacuum, Actus Suprem Devick has volunteered to host the prestigious gathering. But she isn’t doing it alone. She has apparently founded what she calls ‘The League of Impressive Women’. Mostly a few minor characters, but the other founding partner is the Silk Reaper.”

All of Don Beigon’s cheer vanished. He scowled at Skull Shadow. “Does that woman have no limit to her insanity? She would willingly invite that walking genocide into an Orthodox Nexus gathering?”

“In all likelihood, she is hoping for the worst outcome,” Even through the vocal augmentation, Skull Shadow seemed bitter. His shoulders hunched. “As you know, Devick’s outlook makes her practically immune to the danger of associating with the Silk Reaper. And the chaos that would result… would undoubtedly bring her a lot of joy.”

Fellador remained hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, waiting to be needed. He was familiar with the Silk Reaper: a woman whose specialized image made her exceedingly dangerous. She wasn’t an intimidating figure herself, but she was someone who would kill you if you were ever afraid that she would. That was the entirety of her simple image that carried her to the Speculum Tier.

Now, most powerful figures in the Nexus obviously wouldn’t hold much fear toward her. But all it took at a gathering with the Silk Reaper was one weak-willed individual to have a wandering thought. Once you watched her monstrous image reap a life, it was much easier to fear the same happening to you. And like a contagion, that fear would fester, mutate, and spread.

Entire crowds had been culled at once.

At such an event, the Silk Reaper was the only known Speculum who had killed another Speculum Tier in a single strike.

The Don cleared his throat and pressed his lips together. All his cheer had faded, despite his flamboyant tuxedo. “Well then. I suppose it’s time I make my own preparations.”

*****

Randidly rested until he felt his Stats and his new body aligning. The darkness of his dwelling became a transformative place, where the different pieces twisted and settled into their new orbits. Then he floated out into the thin, debris-filled atmosphere around the Rally Station and tested his limits. Even without activating his images, his physical body had taken a step forward. That thin block that had been present previously, the original extrapolation from humanity, had vanished. And without that limit, Randidly truly felt like he deserved the label Patron of Violence.

He stood and regulated his body, allowing his surging Nether and heartbeat to slow down. Space gradually stabilized, releasing periodic rumbles as pockets of force he had generated with his movements gradually decompressed. The only disappointment of his new form was the lack of response from Muse’s Reverie, even when he pushed himself to the physical limit.

Randidly pursed his lips. Earning a point had nothing to do with battle, then.

He checked in on Charlotte’s training, finding her positively fuming as DiOrtho Vant gleefully mocked and pestered her. From a distance, he did the same with the group from Expira, still feeling conflicted over their presence here in the Nexus. He eventually turned away from their toil, admitting they were free to make their own decisions to expose themselves to danger. Then he met with Raymund Ballast.

“Are you sure you wish us to remain here?” Raymund asked.

Randidly’s heart ached to do it, but he nodded. “At least now, this is where they expect us to be. While I’m moving, I want to move as quickly as possible. If the group here vanishes, others might look for me.”

Raymund nodded and Randidly put his hand on the Vulpine’s shoulder and squeezed. They both recalled the last time the Vulpis Squad was separate from Randidly. And even worse, the familiar gesture of comfort became somewhat strange when Randidly felt his fingers stretching down past the muscular man’s shoulder blades, but he didn’t dwell on it.

After returning to a tiny root dwelling, Randidly produced his Alchemist’s Passport and opened up a portal to Military High Command. He stepped out from the Rally Station and stood in front of the high marble pillar of the ostentatious building in the heart of the Nexus. Randidly’s eyebrows rose as he looked around; since he had been here last, someone had studiously gone through and repaired the fissure that had seemed ready to bring the building down. Chewing on the inside of his lip, he walked into the building.

One thing that hadn’t changed was the lack of other soldiers. The spat between factions in Military High Command had left this place barren. This was the dry ribcage of the Orthodox faction’s corpse. But even Randidly wouldn’t claim that Military High Command had lost its teeth until the wicked head had ceased to grin.

On the entire journey up the wide marble halls and staircases, he didn’t encounter a single soul. Soon he stood before a high and ornate door. He took a long breath to calm his nerves, feeling the humming significance of the being behind the door. Then he knocked.

A voice told him to enter.

Randidly Ghosthound went into that room with all of his faculties on high alert. He nodded to Lady Iellaya, who led him through an antechamber into the office of Actus Suprem Devick. Her expression, at least, gave him no reason to fear. But he stopped up short right after he passed the threshold.

In the room, Devick was hunched over a small porcelain doll. She took a miniature brush and drew it in long and firm strokes through the doll’s gorgeous auburn hair. The doll had a powder blue dress and bright blue eyes.

Her image wasn’t present at all. But that sort of control just firmed up Randidly’s guard.

“Come in, come in, I’ll finish up soon,” Devick said without looking up. After doing several more long brushes, she used her long fingers to set down the doll in the middle of the table. She scuttled around the edge, looking extra ridiculous because she was wearing her full Actus Suprem regalia, aside from the headdress. The armor clinked noisily as she leaned forward and toyed with the doll’s dress.

Randidly cleared his throat. “I… didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“If you actually interrupted, I would have slaughtered you as soon as pushed your way in through the door,” Devick said cheerily. She eyed the doll for a few seconds before picking up a thin paintbrush, rubbing in some paints, and adjusting the doll’s eye shape. Then she nodded in satisfaction. “Okay! Time for a test, my dear Randidly. What do you think her name should be?”

Randidly looked from Devick, to the doll, and then back to this powerful and slightly insane woman. He felt her presence physicality; the alignment of his Stats with his physical form made him all too aware of the threat she posed to him. Her smile widened as she waited, her eyes glittering.

She genuinely expected an answer. To his surprise, his instincts came up with something.

“Anemone,” Randidly offered.

Devick stood bolt upright. Her arm shot up and she pointed to the door. “Iellaya! What was I just saying to you?”

Lady Iellaya pushed her head through the door. She gave Randidly a slightly strange look. “...that the doll’s name should be Anemone.”

“Ah, great minds think alike,” Devick showed a smile of genuine pleasure. She practically beamed at Randidly. The experience was almost as unnerving as the intensity of her gaze during the challenge over Claudette.

He wasn’t at all sure what he had been expecting when MacDuul had brought her imperious request for him to visit before he left, but it certainly hadn’t been this. The interaction was positively cordial.

She moved to a comfy-looking chair along the wall and draped herself across its arms. “Well, anyway. The doll is just a hobby; after all, it would be positively irresponsible to make children without first trying it out with clay, you know?”

The mention of children sent a chill down Randidly’s spine, as he recalled how he had left Wick. “You… want to make another child?”

“What? Oh, god know. Think of all the trouble my current son has caused-” Devick gave Randidly a wink, which made him feel profoundly uncomfortable about who exactly she considered her son. “-can you imagine another? No, my children are entirely too rowdy. Besides, I couldn’t imagine having a girl. Strange, isn’t it? I much prefer my women fully formed and ready for instruction.”

Randidly said a silent prayer for Lady Iellaya.

Devick clapped her hands together. “Well, anyway, we have a lot to talk about, don’t we? And this conversation might get a little awkward.”

Randidly raised his chin. “You know, I hope my fight against Wick-”

“Pah, you think that bothers me? No, boys will be boys! If anything, you did me a favor. Which is why this is so difficult.” Devick, still lounging, scratched her ear for several seconds before she continued to speak. “I want another favor. I’ve actually been watching you a bit; don’t be mad, just normal superior/subordinate stuff, checking in, making sure you are safe. And I noticed one particular subordinate of yours. Alana Donal, I believe her name was? I’d like for her to come train under me for a while. I’m founding my own special group, and I believe she’d be an excellent fit.”

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