The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield-Chapter One-Hundred-Nine: Welcoming the Granddaughter – Part One

The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield-Chapter One-Hundred-Nine: Welcoming the Granddaughter – Part One

Two [Skyview] windows hovered at the end of the bed. One focused on Niva, granting Tilde, Tris, Sekh, and me—Yew had gone with Sera to her forest—a first-hand look at something that would inevitably rock this city. The other, however, focused on Gloria’s little Dark Elf.
Arella had been asked to recon the carriage after it departed the castle. To aid in her task, Gloria had given her a litany of items enchanted to empower her stealth capabilities. The preparations would’ve been overkill had I been anyone else. Yet the power of [Skyview] rendered all that assistance for naught since she was as visible as white paint splattered against a black canvas.
“So why not stop her?” asked Tilde. “Why let her do this?”
“To give Gloria a false sense of security. My lord has convinced them that she can see through every veil. The foolish Holy Lord does not take failure or humiliation well, so she has been exercising all possibilities to get one over on us. Arella has two goals. The first is to acquire info. The second is to test their preparation. In their minds, we would interpret this reconnaissance as a slight against us. Our inaction, to them, means we failed to notice. They will interpret that as an advantage.”
“So...”
“You cannot hope to play with a kitten by refusing to let it win occasionally,” replied Tris. “The same theorem applies to people. So what if she learns of Thaddeus’s fate sooner than others? Word would have spread by morning. The city would know by noon. People talk. Even if, by some miracle, rumors were stagnated, I’d have changed that with a few clones.  It is good that Arella heard Niva discuss the curses, though. That’s a favorable boon I didn’t expect.”
"Why’s that?”
“Because it’s now part of one potential plan that relies on Gloria discovering the striking similarities between [Conferment] and the ‘curse’ Niva ‘used.’ We know the two are one and the same, but Gloria doesn’t. Once she does, she’d assume Niva has ascended to a Lord. Gloria doesn’t believe Niva has that potential, so she’d consider it impossible. Yet what she sees will defy her assumption. Her curiosity will only grow, fueling the part of her that regrets throwing her away. Doubts will grow in her mind of what she thinks is real and what she thinks is false because that's what happens when you encounter paradoxical situations without an answer to an illogical problem.”
“I see… The Beacon of Wisdom—forever worthy of that title. Even a perfect circle would be jealous of all the angles you look at.”
Tris and Tilde conversed a little more while I looked at Erin’s restful face. She fell asleep about ten minutes ago. Sekh removed her armor before putting on pajamas. Then, with all the grace of a gentle snowflake, Sekh slipped into bed behind the sleeping girl.
“Your thoughts, Master?”
“About Niva’s choice?” My maid nodded. “I’m not a hypocrite. I won't demean her for revenge when I want the same thing. She’s a big girl. She’s an adult. She can make her own choices, and I will respect them. I wouldn’t have personally agreed with letting that bastard off scotch-free, but if that had been Niva’s wish, I’d have accepted. You can see that’s an unnecessary worry. So… Yes. I approve.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.  That’s one big day down.” Tilde gestured to Erin. “Think she’s ready?”
“I have scripts,” said Tris. “Simulations of the forthcoming conversations have been running for the past four hours, yet… I don’t want to use them. I feel like this must happen organically. Much like your talk with Quella, my lord. It should be free from outside interference.”
“I agree,” I replied. “Some things can be prepared for. Some can’t. This happens to be one of them. Erin will dictate tomorrow’s outcome, and I’ll accept whatever happens if it's something she desires.”
“Tris, is the outfit ready? I can’t wait to see my design in action!” Tilde’s comment referenced an earlier conversation. While I didn’t think it mattered if Erin met her grandfather with her armor…
She thought otherwise, but not how you might have thought. Erin wanted to make the effort, meaning she didn’t want to half-ass it. Since she really was the granddaughter of a noble, she had wanted to look the part. Naturally, that meant having the proper clothes. Tilde had also sprung to life upon hearing that. Maybe she wanted to be a fashion designer once upon a time. She quickly worked with Erin to come up with something striking. Tris, meanwhile, was tasked with producing it.
The overall design didn’t change much from the initial conception. It was a stylish black-and-white dress with a corset-like top and off-the-shoulder sleeves. It featured ruffled layers with a bow at the back, adding a charming, elegant look. The outfit was accessorized with a pendant choker, a bracelet matching the one that contained Longtooth, and a flower decoration that sat nicely in her hair.
The heels hurt her feet, though. Erin had tried to walk in them, but her ankles weren’t used to the odd sensation. Maybe I’d feel the same if Susize hadn’t been utterly obsessed with them. Seriously, to me, wearing literally any other type of footwear felt like going naked.
It was heels or nothing…
Yet that was me—this was Erin. Tilde conjured a design document for comfortable boots.
Tilde had said she went for a ‘sporty, active mix that says you're here to dance, but you’re also here to kick ass and take names.’
“Yes. The final touches have been added. I’ve confirmed it fits on a clone of Erin, so there shouldn't be any problems.”
“That’s good.” Tilde stretched in her wheelchair and yawned. “Say, why don’t we follow their lead?” She pointed to Longtooth, who was dozing on Erin’s stomach. Sekh had already fallen asleep. It was just Tilde, Tris, and me who were still awake.
I had no arguments, so we joined the others in bed after changing into our pajamas. Tilde snuggled close, cracking one final joke about being overstuffed like peas in a pod before losing the battle against the sandman.
“Sleep well, my lord. I’ll keep watching Niva,” whispered Tris, her gorgeous eyes sparkling like the stars.
“Okay. Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered, kissing my forehead.
Tonight’s event changed the fate of a family. The fallout would spread to the city, but what would happen after tomorrow’s ‘main’ event? I suppose I was partly anxious about Erin’s decision. Maybe I wanted her to ask Sekh to return her to Mom and Dad. It was a selfish desire-- I didn’t want her to go through this and, potentially, emerge emotionally broken.
It was one thing if the whole thing fell on my shoulders. I could bear the pain. I could bear the agony. The decision’s weight wouldn’t cause me to falter.
Could I say the same about Erin?
I knew she was strong. She had to be mentally sturdy since she had endured for so long while growing so much. So, maybe thinking about her like this was disrespecting her hard work. I didn’t want that. Her effort wasn’t something everyone—anyone— could copy.
So… I forced myself to think differently.
Whatever happened tomorrow wouldn’t be my choice. Erin, like Niva, was her own person. I’d worry for them, but their decisions were made following their own deductions. I had to respect them even if I didn’t necessarily agree with them.
I just had to trust my little sister.
*****
*****
It was right before noon, and we were traveling to Erin’s grandfather’s estate in a carriage pulled by Surtr. The girl’s hand nervously gripped mine while the other found solace in Sekh’s armored grip. Longtooth occupied Erin’s lap.
Tris was with us. Tilde also tagged along to support Erin. Sera had remained at the castle with Team Quella. Niva didn’t emerge for breakfast, but I hoped she’d have an appetite for lunch or dinner.
News of what had happened to Thaddeus spread like wildfire throughout the night. By dawn? The rumors were verifiable since witnesses had seen him frantically running down the street. Seeing was one thing. But it was his screams that attracted the most attention. However, no one knew the ‘truth.’ His family was in mourning, though. The solemn atmosphere could suffocate a ghost.
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” asked Erin.
“Not anytime soon,” I replied.
“I…don’t know how to feel about it. About what Niva did, I mean. I don't blame her, though. If…I was in her shoes... I probably would’ve done the same thing.”
“It’s complicated,” interjected Tilde. “There’s no other way to begin thinking about it. Complicated things are complicated for a ton of reasons. Uncomplicating them is the hard part. Some people go their entire lives without figuring it out. But for those who do? They obtain a new understanding of this world we all have to share.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“What? Why are you all staring at me? Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” answered Sekh. “I sometimes forget how profoundly wise you can be.”
“Wise, eh? Hehehe!” Tilde puffed her chest with pride. “Well, I am everyone’s elder. So, I think I deserve to get that kinda respect. You don’t even know how much wisdom I have floating around the ole noggin.”
“Should I instead call you Granny Tilde, then?” I jested. “It seems like you’re being promoted, maid.”
“Eh? Wait—no!” Tilde backpedaled faster than a moving car. In her hierarchy, was being my maid superior to being a granny? Maids weren't exclusive to the young. Hell, Tilde was, in her own words, ‘older than dirt.’ That alone wouldn’t make her eligible to be my maid if the role had an age limit.
Of course, all this was moot. It wasn’t worth discussing. Tilde had orchestrated this little ‘song and dance’ to make Erin laugh, which she did, meaning her nerves had slightly dissipated.
“I’m feeling better,” she said, wiping her watery eyes. A giggle from our antics escaped her lips. “I still feel the butterflies in my stomach, though. It feels like they’ve permanently moved in. I don’t know if they’ll vanish.”
“We’re here,” I said, gesturing to the estate. It was less secure than Thaddeus’s mansion. The house, devoid of guards or gates, was alone at the end of a long and narrow street. The surrounding plots showed little evidence of construction, but I didn’t think the family was ostracized, even if their fortune came from honoring the dead.
Only two Barclays were present as Surtr pulled to the front. Bart and his wife, Eleanor, weren’t waiting for us outside. Instead, they sat in a meeting room on the third floor. A pair of maids were the ones to meet us. The two simultaneously lowered their heads as we emerged from our ride.
“We wish the day has found you well,” said the taller maid, her voice practiced to an elegant sheen. “The lord of the house awaits you.”
“Take us to him.”
“Of course, Lord Springfield,” said the shorter one. The pair turned, their movements in perfect harmony. The motions were odd. Not because they foreshadowed their adept training—these maids couldn’t fight off diseased rats—but because of how much effort went into the gesture.
Surtr remained outside. Before we left, he turned into his Lionfolk form and jumped to the carriage’s top, where he retrieved a chunk of meat on a stick. He would’ve been by our side—I knew he preferred that—except this wasn’t about me. It was about Erin. By extension, that involved Longtooth, too. He also served as a deterrent in case Gloria tried to do something stupid. Our recent survey of her actions suggested she wouldn’t interfere, but people were fickle. Holy Lords like her, who were being shown the limit of their influence by some ‘bratty, whorish High Elf’—her words—rarely acted logically. The bone we threw them by not intervening in Arella’s sleuthing also made her overconfident.
Tris could use that to hurt her even more.
Every aspect had been meticulously planned, theorized, and simulated thousands of times.
The house wasn't frugal. Gluttonous wealth was evident in the hardwood floors, finely crafted furniture, and exquisite artwork lining the halls, but the decorations didn’t emit the same ‘stink’ as Thaddeus's abode.
Erin’s footsteps became more spaced apart as we climbed the first stairs. Tilde’s wheelchair was ferried by wooden puppets, so the vertical challenge was easily conquered.  Erin had all but frozen in place twenty feet from our destination.
“I…” She clutched her chest. Longtooth jumped on a platform of flames and held a paw against her bracelet wielder. “I don’t know… I don’t…” She whispered. “Sekh… Mila… I…”
“Give us a moment,” said Sekh. “I’ll talk to her. Can you go ahead?”
“Okay. Erin, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Just say the word, okay? Tilde? Tris?”
“Let’s roll, Master.”
“Behind you, my lord.”
The two maids stood beside the door, the one closest to the knob opening it for us as we approached.
The ones inside were who I expected to see—an elderly man with cat-like ears and his wife, a similarly grey-haired woman with a matching tail.
Already, the environment felt far different than what Niva had encountered. There weren’t any hidden assassins. Guards weren’t waiting to rush in from the shadows. It was just them and four maids, not counting the two outside. Neither were trained for combat.
“Welcome, Lord Springfield. Thank you for visiting,” said Bart. “Forgive me for not meeting you at the door. The stairs are rough on our old bones. Repeated trips up and down are difficult.”
“My name is Eleanor, Lord Springfield.” The woman lowered her head. “We hope the day has found you well. Ladies?” She turned to the maids, who held serving trays. They left tea and sweets on the table, then departed through a ‘hidden’ side door.
“It’s a secret path, Master. They’re mainly used by servants to get around unseen. I bet it connects to the kitchen on the first floor, but you can reach every location in the house.”
“Indeed. You are correct.”
“Interesting…” I introduced myself, then did the same for Tris and Tilde. “I’m not the reason for this meeting. The one I want you to see is outside, gathering her courage with the help of my other ally. So, until—Nay, if she decides to continue, we shall begin. If she decides against it, then you won’t see her. Until she has made her choice, however, we shall talk. I have much to say. You have questions to answer."
“I have no qualms about that, my lord. Please, make yourself comfortable if you’d like.” He gestured to the food. “Have as much as you’d like. We have additional batches in the oven should you want a second helping. It’s perfectly safe for a High Elf like yourself to consume.”
“It is. I could tell at a single glance you’ve practiced your caution.” I took him up on his offer. Sweets and drinks were sweets and drinks. I wouldn’t say no to them. Besides, gathering info would be more efficient if they found me relaxed.
“Now… Does the name Noelia Carpenter come to mind?” I asked.
“It does. She’s a Soul Warrior who lost her life.”
“Indeed. Noelia's death was sudden. For a Soul Warrior like herself to suddenly die… I know your business, Bart. I know how you came into your wealth. No one puts on a funeral better than you, so you jumped at the chance to display your loyalty by putting on an extravagant show.”
“It’s easy for a silver-tongued cat to convince a grieving widow to open their wallet because the living wants to remember the dead,” added Tilde. “It’s depravedly morbid, but there’s a lot of money to be made in your business.”
“Your words ring true.” Eleanor didn’t sugarcoat it. “Death has a way of softening hardened hearts. The emotions are often overbearing, which makes the deceased's loved ones easy to manipulate. The right words can convince them to divulge secrets worth thousands to the right people. Our business isn’t a proud one. We profit off death more than anyone else, but it’s a duty we’re good at.”
“Not denying it?”
“There’s no need, my lord. Our business is an open secret.”
“Interesting… So, where did you get the little girl from?”
Bart played dumb.
“Come. No need to act coy now when you’ve been rather open thus far. It’s the cover story Gloria came up with. Remember? She proclaimed Noelia lost her life protecting a little girl, which ‘tragically’ cost the life of an otherworlder. The girl lived. I recall she was said to have suffered an arrow wound.”
Eleanor shared a look with her husband. She took his wrinkled hands in hers, slowly nodding. Not so much giving permission as her…acceptance?
“What you speak is true,” he finally said. “Lord Gloria didn’t force us to…so that. It was something we did of our own choice.”
“…”
“You disapprove? Of course, you would. However, would it change your mind to know the girl’s fate?”
“Oh? Continue.”
“The girl was an orphan. She had nothing—no one who cared if she lived or died. She was sick, too, with her mind not remembering much.”
“You speak in the past tense. Is she still alive?”
“Thriving, my lord. The girl has completely recovered. She’s been adopted by a family that genuinely loves her. Even better, she doesn’t remember being used as a crisis actor. Her memory is…foggy, I should say. She’s far happier now because she has a future. Whereas before… She had nothing but a fate to die face down in a ditch.”
“What’s her name?”
“Felicity.”
I found her. Her journal, too. Her body shows no signs of abuse other than an old arrow wound. Bart speaks the truth, my lord. He is not lying about her being happier.
“I must admit something, Bart. I didn’t think you’d so readily indirectly admit the whole thing being a farce organized by your Holy Lord.”
“What use is there in lying, my lord? Especially to someone like you. You know of Noelia’s cover-up. I surmise you know the truth behind her death as well. Your discussion with Lord Gloria tells me you harbor information only she should have. I’d be a fool to lie to you. You deserve much more than that.”
“Interesting…”
Erin’s still talking with Sekh, my lord.
“Have you anything to comment on about yesterday’s meeting?” I suddenly asked. “You aren’t curious about anything?”
“I am not. I’ve lived long enough to know not to question those with means beyond my own. I’m too old to stick my neck where it doesn’t belong.”
“Have you heard the rumors of an incident at Thaddeus’s estate?”
“We have. We only know Lord Mesalitos was last seen running away. He was screaming, if I recall correctly. I’m afraid that’s all we know.”
“I see… Any guesses as to what may have happened?”
“… A few.”
“Are you surprised Thaddeus still lives?”
“I am, although I don’t know if what happened was a mercy.”
Bart was sharper than I thought. Still within the realms of what Tris had predicted, but the conversation was a little more open than initially forecasted. It wasn’t in the top ten most likely simulations, though.
“One last thing,” I said, my ears twitching. “Does the name ‘Karen’ ring any bells?”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Four eyes went wide as Sekh entered the door. She stood to the side, allowing Erin to walk in. “That’s who I wanted you to meet. Her name’s Erin Barclay—Karen’s daughter. By extension… She’s your granddaughter.”

Chapter One-Hundred-Nine: Welcoming the Granddaughter – Part One