TO&FQ: Book 1 - Chapter 47 (RAW)

Chapter 47 - The Reward

Jewelry speaks without saying anything. They are more than precious metals or stones. These objects might have a few or thousands of stories. The significance will not always be apparent, especially to those of lower breeding, to those seeing the jewelry but will remain evident to the wearer.

- Seraphina de Sariens.

Seraphina awoke beneath yet another unfamiliar ceiling, this one plastered white over wood. From the dim red light streaming in through a narrow window, she guessed it must be late evening.

“She’s up!” cried her maid, Miriam, who hovered nervously at her side, adjusting her spectacles to get a better look at her mistress.

“What day is it? What time?” Seraphina rasped, her throat still raw. She felt the comforting slithering presence of her pet snake in her nightie. Was it her imagination or did Cornelia feel heavier?

At least Cornelia was safe. In hindsight, it had been a foolish thing to expose the snake to the Banshee’s wail.

“You’ve only been asleep for a few hours, milady,” Miriam answered, twisting a braid between her fingers.

Seraphina frowned. This display of weakness simply would not do.

“Leave us,” she ordered, her voice firm despite the lingering hoarseness. “Actually, get me something to drink. Tea if you please.”

“Yes, milady. I’ll bring you something to drink,” Miriam said quickly, retreating in haste and shutting the door behind her.

At last alone, Seraphina summoned the power of Heal, forcing its song to echo silently in the recesses of her mind. Her throat still ached—a curse for one who relied on her voice so heavily. Yet, almost at once, the magic of the Covenant coursed through her with infinite slowness, mending every ache and pain as her prayer was woven into Mana.

Moments later, she let out a small breath, marveling at the restored strength in her body. Right as rain once more. 

Experimentally she got out of bed and moved about, stretching. 

It felt as though she had barely exerted herself at all. Completing the Trial had granted her a generous bounty of experience—far more than she would have earned simply hunting monsters. Typically, such Trials fell under the purview of the Adventurer’s Guild, which was precisely why Aranthia’s laws dictated that any Guild member above Iron Rank could be conscripted in times of national defense. Seraphina understood the rationale behind it, even if she did not particularly like it.

Frowning, she realized the Guild might not be pleased if two of their members vanished under mysterious circumstances. Perhaps she really should register with them; though the notion of a noblewoman turning adventurer would scandalize Aranthian society.

Then again, many of the awkward types she had encountered cared little for societal norms. Such pathetic people often languished at society’s fringes, unless they managed to achieve something significant or useful. Reputation, after all, was everything in human circles. And yes, Seraphina did care about hers—but not quite enough to override the promise of power. 

Now, her experiment successful, she intended to hire a few more rogue adventurers to guide her to additional Trial sites. Joining the Guild’s would be an absolute last resort.

Seraphina believed in equality between the sexes—when it served her. She had no desire to be forced into the ranks of Aranthia’s standing army should war break out.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“One moment!” she called, pleased that her voice rang out clearly. Slipping on a red robe draped over a nearby chair, she faced the door. “Come in!”

Miriam entered, followed by Eloise de Laney, who looked even more anxious than usual.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Lady Seraphina,” Eloise said with relief.

“Yes, as you can tell, I am perfectly well—both in body and mind,” Seraphina replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “Let’s have a bit of tea while we discuss what transpired during my little…nap.”

She directed them toward a small round table by the bed. Miriam bustled about, setting out cups and saucers while the two young women took their seats.

“What inn is this?” Seraphina asked, giving her nails a quick inspection. It would be dreadful to discover one had broken.

“The Brutish Boar,” Eloise explained. “It’s popular with merchants traveling the King’s Highway from Aran.”

Miriam poured a fragrant, floral tea for each of them. “It’s chamomile from Rochelles, milady—good for relaxation. I thought it best, considering all you’ve been through,” she said nervously.

“A fine choice, Miriam,” Seraphina approved with a nod. The maid nearly beamed at the praise.

As the delicate cups steamed, filling the room with a comforting aroma, Seraphina turned to Eloise. “You are well, I hope? The Trial was intense. I am sure it was taxing.”

“Mostly just frazzled nerves,” Eloise admitted, eyes still wide. “It was exciting, but when you ventured into the mists alone, I feared we might never see you again!”

“I would not step blindly into peril.” Seraphina gave her a reassuring look. “I had every confidence in what we would face once inside the Trial.”

Eloise furrowed her brow. “The Sight?”

“Perhaps.” Seraphina offered only a mysterious smile.

“What did you face beyond the mists?” Eloise pressed.

“Yes, do tell us!” Miriam chimed in eagerly before shrinking back under Seraphina’s mild glare.

“Are either of you familiar with Fae lore?” Seraphina asked, folding her hands.

“I’ve read a bit,” Eloise ventured.

Miriam simply shook her head.

“When a Fae dies a true death, it doesn’t become an ordinary Undead,” Seraphina explained. “It becomes something…tainted—a mix of mortal emotion and the Fae’s essence, anchored to our realm. I encountered such a creature, and it was most puissant.”

The tension in the room was palpable as they waited, eyes fixed on Seraphina.

She took a measured sip of tea, then said quietly, “A Banshee.”

Both Eloise and Miriam let out decidedly unladylike shrieks.

“Oh, hush! Do you want the innkeeper barging in?” Seraphina scolded, trying to calm them as they squealed in alarm.

Sure enough, a muffled voice asked from outside, “Is everything all right, Lady Seraphina?” One of her father’s knights stood vigil there.

“I’m fine,” she called back, placing her teacup down with a touch of irritation. Rising, she answered the door, meeting the knight’s concerned gaze. “See?” she said softly. “All is well. The girls just had a small fright. Now, how fare Sergeant Frest and Sir Clarendon?”

“Both safe, milady,” the knight reported, straightening. “Frest has retired for the evening, and Sir Clarendon is with your father’s men in the common room.”

“Excellent. That will be all,” she replied, dismissing him with a polite smile. She closed the door, feeling the slightest flicker of annoyance at the interruption, but quickly pushed it aside. It was time to finish her tea.

“I hope the men can remain discreet, even when they have had a drink,” Seraphina huffed, settling back into her chair. “I cannot abide those who reveal secrets in moments of joy or weakness.”

Eloise spoke up politely, “Sir Clarendon strikes me as the stodgy if dependable sort. I doubt he’d say much under the influence of strong drink. And as for Frest, I don’t believe even hot irons could compel him to speak.”

“Good,” Seraphina remarked. “The last thing we need is more complaints from the Adventurer’s Guild. You would think they would be used to danger by now. And don’t get me started on those two we dealt with last time,” she added with a sniff of disapproval.

Sensing an opportunity to involve herself further in her lady’s affairs, Eloise ventured, “Indeed, Lady Seraphina. They were prime examples of cowardice. My father has hired some adventurers—men and women—to guard his caravans. They’re far more capable and trustworthy. If you wish, I can reach out to them…”

She let her words trail off, waiting for Seraphina’s reaction. The noblewoman narrowed her eyes.

“Of course I will have them vetted. Send me their names and records,” Seraphina said.

“If I may, Lady Seraphina… Their accomplishments are less crucial than the information they can provide for you about future Trials,” Eloise replied, tilting her head respectfully.

“That is indeed correct. Go on,” Seraphina said, leaning forward slightly.

Miriam busied herself adding another log to the fireplace while pretending not to be interested. Once finished, she resumed her place next her mistress.

“For a modest fee, I’m certain these adventurers would be willing to share that information,” Eloise continued. “They’re hardly incompetent, either—my father’s caravans pass through some of the most treacherous regions of the Grieving Lands, even as far as Al-Lazar. These are people well-accustomed to danger, and I’d recommend them wholeheartedly.”

Seraphina smiled inwardly, realizing Eloise was effectively offering up some of her father’s most trusted men—retired Gold-ranked adventurers no less. Their loyalty would make them useful allies, perhaps spurred by Eloise’s renewed faith after witnessing Seraphina’s recent success. They would be strong pieces on her ever-growing board.

“Interesting, Eloise,” she said. “I will consider it. Now, was there any reward from the dungeon?”

“Dungeon, milady? A prison?” Eloise asked, frowning.

“I misspoke,” Seraphina corrected her, eyes narrowing. “The Trial, as the adventurers like to call it.”

Surprisingly, Miriam spoke first. “We found a wooden box beside you, milady. No one has opened it. It’s on your nightstand.”

“Thank you, Miriam,” Seraphina replied coolly. “I will discover what reward the Goddess has given me…later. Now then, we still have much to talk about.”

The tea was excellent—Seraphina made a mental note to remember it. As they talked about their time in the dungeon, Eloise and Miriam both remarked that they felt stronger, likely because they had gained levels from the experience.

Miriam, in particular, was something of a marvel. A Palisa Slug’s physical attributes were no small matter, and she had even survived a direct blow from Seraphina, making her an unexpectedly capable guard. 

The true question was whether she would stay loyal during the coming Schism. Seraphina believed she had treated Miriam well—enough to forge bonds or “friendship points,” as one might say in a game—but if Miriam ever did turn against her, that would give Seraphina an excuse to wipe out her maid’s people and unite much of Aranthia under her banner in common cause. Either outcome would suit Seraphina just fine.

Sensing her mistress’s excitement, Cornelia poked her head out from between Seraphina’s cleavage and hissed. Seraphina cooed, stroking the snake to calm it.

“All this talk has made me rather excited,” Seraphina said with a polite smile. “I believe I need a bit of time to myself before my evening meal.” In truth, she was itching to examine her reward from the dungeon.

“Forgive me, milady,” Eloise replied quickly, placing her teacup down. “I was rambling on. I’ll send you the names of those adventurers later, if that pleases you.”

“It does,” Seraphina answered, nodding demurely. “I value your recommendation, my dear Eloise.”

With that, Eloise excused herself and departed. Miriam immediately set about clearing the table.

“Miriam,” Seraphina said.

“Yes, milady?”

“Have the kitchen bring my dinner here in two turns of the glass,” Seraphina ordered, giving a dramatic yawn. “I wish to dine alone tonight. Veal, if they have it.”

“At once, milady,” Miriam replied. Balancing the tea tray, she bowed and left.

Finally alone, Seraphina allowed herself a small, triumphant smile. Throughout the entire conversation, her mind had been on the wooden box by her nightstand—and whatever reward the game had bestowed upon her.

Greedily, she moved closer, compelled as though the box itself beckoned her with a silent whisper. The container was crafted of fine-grained rosewood so smooth and seamless that it seemed to have grown into its shape rather than been shaped by any mortal hand. With trembling fingers she lifted the latch, and at the moment the lid opened, her breath caught in her throat.

Inside, upon a bed of soft, silken cloth, lay the necklace. At once she knew it to be magical, for it seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly life. A single emerald of remarkable size dominated the piece, its hue a shade deeper than her own green eyes—dark as a forest at twilight, yet still holding a luminous fire within. It was set into gold filigree so exquisitely wrought that each curve and swirl called to mind the winding limbs of ancient trees, or the serpentine twisting of hidden dragons.

The chain itself was a wonder: platinum and gold links intertwined in an intricate braid, each link no larger than a needle’s eye, woven together with such delicate precision that the metal seemed to flow like liquid moonlight. A subtle patina of age and power clung to the necklace, a relic that felt older than the box that housed it—a thing of rare craftsmanship from a forgotten era, yet still vibrant and thrumming with potential. She had seen its like before, thought never in the flesh, and a faint tremor of both desire and reverence rippled through her as she reached out to claim it.

As she placed it about her neck, admiring her reflection in the mirror and how it offset her eyes.

A voice intruded into her mind, a curious thing filled with love and need.

“Hungry” it said.