Ch. 88 - Real Orders Only, Please

Momo had a nagging feeling. Nagging in the quite literal sense, where the feeling was throwing itself around her body, pestering every bone and blood cell to deliver a message to her brain. A subtle screaming that said do something you dimwit.

Momo stared at Sumire as she slid onto her horse. Momo couldn’t decide if it was drowsiness or despair, but the knight had a permanently sullen expression on her face.

The Knights of the White Moon stood as they did hours before, atop horses just outside the Northern gates. Momo’s party had dwindled in size, with most of the pretend knights and thieves having retired to their bedchambers. Teddy said it was better for appearances if only a few of them saw the knights out.

“Thank you for your, err, hospitality,” Roland said bitterly. He gazed at Teddy, then Momo. “It seems you all have everything handled here. No use in us butting in.”

“Agreed,” Teddy said sternly. Momo could tell he was relieved. His disguise was faltering somewhat – his furry cheeks sagging, his lips fading in color. The spell only lasted a certain number of hours, and the final minutes were nearing. “Best be on your way before it gets dark.”

Roland tipped his head to Teddy, a show of courtesy between Holy Knights. Sumire lifted her head but an inch, not to Teddy, but to Momo. It was an utterly pained look. Not quite pleading – a bit too proud for that – but regretful. The air of words left unsaid.

Momo couldn’t just stand there.

“Roland,” Momo said suddenly, possessed by the ghost of a confident person. “I think you should let Sumire stay here.”

His political smile faltered.

“And why would I do that? You all have this handled, no?”

Teddy gave her a panicked look, his eyes shooting daggers.

“We do, obviously,” she clarified, clearing her throat. “But I’d feel better if we had two Holy Knights instead of one. You know what they say – one Holy Knight protects you for a night, two Holy Knights saves your ass during the next necromantic revolution…”

Roland stared at her blankly.

“I can’t recall a single soul ever saying that, no.”

“Oh, well. I hear it everyday.”

Momo looked sternly towards Teddy.

“Um, yeah, right,” Teddy muttered, shaking his head. “Jarva is big on that principle, he is.”

Roland groaned. He looked towards Sumire, who was watching the discussion unfold with tepid curiosity. Her facial expression was performing an odd cross between asleep and excited.

“I think it’s a grand idea,” she interjected, yawning loudly as she spoke. “You get to go on your silly little Quest, and I get to help out this fun bunch.”

The fun bunch in question – Momo, in her half-assed power pose, Teddy, whose face was melting, and Radu, who was trying to look small and unimportant in the corner – agreed with a fervent nod.

“Fine,” Roland rolled his eyes, waving his hand towards Sumire. “One less person that I have to compete with for a place on the Quest. Enjoy your stupid vacation.”

Sumire grinned giddily, trying and failing to hide her excitement. Teddy looked briefly delighted, then immediately dismayed, remembering just exactly what they had accomplished. Radu went through similar stages of grief, watching their perfect plan disintegrate as the rest of the knights rode out towards the dirt path.

—

“The plan was going perfectly!” Teddy growled, slamming his hand on the bar of the Warbler. “Now we have a Holy Knight sleeping on our pool table.”

True to form, Sumire was passed out on the billiards board, sleeping soundly with an eight-ball as a pillow.

“Unless you forgot, Coco, the plan was to fool them, not to invite them to live with us,” Radu deadpanned. “How are we supposed to keep her fooled?”

“I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” Momo crossed her arms, frowning. “She was being kept in that crew by force. Roland has some kind of power over her.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Teddy said, whispering harshly. He had suddenly remembered the slumbering knight’s uncanny ability to eavesdrop while asleep.

“Mindreading,” Momo shrugged. “It’s one of my Con Artists talents.”

Radu and Teddy shared a look, and then both sighed, shaking their heads.

“Momo…” Radu began, putting a scaly hand on her arm. “Mindreading is an infamously unreliable skill. You only see a sliver of the greater picture. Even the best Con Artist knows not to rely on it. After all, even if she and Roland aren’t on good terms, she’s still a Holy Knight.”

Momo played with her fingers, feeling a bit embarrassed. It had been a rash decision. She had quite literally invited the enemy in with open hands, contradicting the entire plan she had laid out for the last week. But Valerica had advised her to trust her gut – and her gut said that the cool pirate-knight lady was friend material.

Momo’s gut might have been slightly biased towards women with swords and mysterious pasts, but she chose to interpret Valerica’s advice in a way that validated her bad decision. She knew the Necromage, with her bauble addiction and famously naive entrepreneurial skills, would approve of that methodology.

“When she wakes up, we’re going to tell her the truth,” Momo said decisively, earning disbelieving looks from both her conversational partners. “If she tries to kill us after that, we subdue her. Otherwise, we’ve gained a friend, and a pretty powerful ally against Jarva.”

Radu and Teddy stared at her, speechless.

“I don’t know if you’re criminally insane or a mad genius,” Teddy muttered.

“I wonder that about Valerica all the time,” Momo whispered. “I think I might be hanging out with her too much.”

A pool ball slid loudly into a pocket, drawing the group’s attention back towards Sumire. The woman was still splayed on the table, eyes closed, but her twitching hand had accidentally sank a nine-ball. Her foot was playing for the opposite side, sleepily kicking around until it sank a two.

“I don’t like this,” Teddy grumbled. “But it’s your funeral.”

—

Just as Momo was about to wake Sumire from her pool game, two Couriers slapped her hard in the chest, setting her back down on her stool.

“God, the velocity of you things,” she muttered, staring down at the parchment.

WARNING: You lack a [Spymaster].

To appoint a [Spymaster], an individual with a DEX of at least 10 must accept your request for appointment.

WARNING: You lack a [Military Advisor].

To appoint a [Military Advisor], an individual with a STR of at least 10 must accept your request for appointment.

Ugh. These warnings had been harassing her all week. A Housecarl was just one of many court titles a Ruler was required to hand out. Valerica told her there was a way to opt out of these notifications, but helpfully disappeared in a puff of smoke before providing any further information.

She imagined Valerica had opted out of most system warnings while running the Dawn. She wasn’t sure if it counted her as “Ruler” of the sanctuary, but Momo was confident she didn’t have anything close to a Military Advisor or a Spymaster. A spy rodent, maybe.

“You look distressed,” Sumire observed, popping over the top of the parchment and startling Momo. Inhaling sharply, Momo quickly stuffed the parchment in her pockets.

“When did you wake up?” Momo squeaked. Sumire helped herself into the stool across from Momo, tapping the bar to get the barkeep’s attention.

“Wrong question,” Sumire laughed, her eyelashes fluttering. “I never really wake up. I just sort of float around the spectrum between reality and dreaming. It’s hard to tell which is which most of the time.”

“I wouldn’t mind living in a dream,” Momo whispered, her body relaxing slightly. “Most of my waking experience is just me wishing I was asleep.”

“What can I get ya?”

Lordas smiled weakly at the pair of them. It had been a moment since Momo last saw him, but he looked a bit more chipper than before. It seemed the influx of cash flowing into the Thieves Guild had graced him too, offering a fresh apron, some renovated floorboards, and new beer kegs to hold his toxic sludge – err, drinks.

“I’ll get a Fatal Fizzle,” Sumire ordered, pointing to the corresponding keg.

Lordas nodded, and then turned to Momo. “And you?”

“Do you have any Porkchop Martinis?”

Lordas gawked at her, disgusted. He clearly wasn’t familiar with the Nam’Dal delicacy.

“Real orders only, please.”

He turned on his heel before Momo could protest, setting off to fill Sumire’s order. The knight smirked at Momo’ deflated expression.

“So, I don’t think I caught your name,” Sumire said, tapping her knuckles along the countertop. It was a habit Momo noticed last night. She never seemed to be quite sitting still – twitching a leg, fidgeting a foot, rapping a knuckle. Ways to stay awake, Momo assumed. She’d employed the same tactics in History class.

“Momo,” she said, bracing herself for a bad reaction. It was probably not the right circumstance to reveal her identity, but at the very least she was surrounded by friends. “Some people call me the Ripper. Most people call me the small one over there.”

To Momo’s surprise, Sumire barely flinched.

Lordas slid the drink over the countertop. It was bright blue, and true to its name, fizzled.

“What kind of things do you rip?”

Sumire asked it coyly, sipping the drink as she smirked at Momo. Momo twiddled with her fingers, taken off guard with the casual response. She couldn’t read the knight one bit.

“Paper, mostly,” she confessed. “Especially these stupid couriers. They’re following me around like hungry puppies. I would much prefer actual hungry puppies.”

“It’s bad karma to ignore them, you know. The more you let pile up, the more Nether you attract. Although I suppose a necromancer would have no problem with that.”

She set down the glass.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Momo said, voice trembling.

“With karma? Oh, big problems. For a Holy Knight, I’m pretty much a walking Nether bag.”

“I meant more so with…”

“Necromancers?” Sumire grinned.

Now it was Momo’s turn to fidget. Her leg was bobbing uncontrollably on the stool. She tried to keep it under control, but the harder she tried the more anxious she got. This is not the cool and collected appearance I was hoping to give.

“There are worse people,” Sumire shrugged, and Momo let out a breath. “I’ve met plenty of shithead Holy Knights. Frankly, I’ve met mostly exclusively shithead Holy Knights. Gun-gun is the worst of them. Good thing you all have him locked up somewhere. You’re doing a public service.”

Momo’s eyes widened. “How did you know –”

“I trained with Gunther for five years in Holy Knight training,” Sumire laughed, finishing her drink. “He was basically my nemesis. I can tell an imitation bear from the real one in thirty seconds or less. I was just messing with your guy for the fun of it.”

Momo gaped. “You… knew all along?”

“Not really. I just guessed, then fell asleep, then made some more guesses. I was thinking of ratting you guys out to Roland, but then we got to talking…” Sumire’s eyes dipped curiously low on Momo’s face, and Momo’s cheeks went red. “I figured I’d play the wait and see approach.”

“Oh yeah?” Momo squeaked. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

Sumire lifted her finger and poked Momo on the forehead.

“That you know something I don’t.”