Ch. 85 - Sumire the Sleepy

“I look a little devilishly handsome, don’t I?”

Momo grinned dumbly at Dusk, who rolled her half-moon eyes back at her. Momo was standing in front of her mirror, flexing her arms in a freshly fitted suit of chainmail. The breastplate had to be handcrafted, but the pants were a simple flick of the fingers, thanks to her magic pantaloons.

The cherry on top was the hat. Borrowed from the Vaults, it was a traditional knight’s helmet with a metal visor, covering her head in its entirety. Sliding it over her head, it fit like a glove. She sprayed herself with some [Holy Perfume], courtesy of Teddy, and inhaled the faint, rose-scented air around her.

“I’m a proper prince,” she giggled. “I’m just missing the flower to hold between my teeth.”

And the princess. She frowned. She had been so stuck in a stupor of shock, terror, and amazement for the past few months that all her petty little desires from back on Earth had been stuffed down to the bottom of her mental barrel. But now that she had a bit more footing in this new universe, they had begun to creep back into her consciousness.

“Brain, stop it,” she huffed, straightening herself in her boots. “I have to stay focused.”

Dusk meowed in agreement, slinking along her legs. Momo’s eyes fell to the summoning stone, which remained vacant and unmoving in the corner of the room. She sighed.

“I hope I know what I’m doing.”

—

‘Everyone, please recite your positions,” Teddy, wearing the face of Lord Gunther, commanded through a makeshift megaphone. The thieves in knight-uniforms and knights in thief-uniforms were all gathered at the northern entrance to Nam’Dal. The knights, dressed as thieves, were cuffed in chains and arranged in a long line of paired prisoners.

The plan was simple. Since they couldn’t trust the Nam’Dal Knights not to sell them out to their capital superiors, Teddy dressed them as thieves; if the knights tried to complain that they had been falsely arrested and were in fact knights, they simply wouldn’t be believed – due to their appearance.

The thieves, of course, could only gain from deceiving Jarva. They were more than happy to take on their swapped role, parading the chained knights around like common criminals.

Radu, who was given the role Head Knight for the purposes of the scheme, spoke first.

“I will be the Head Knight who is escorting the prisoners to the jailhouse.”

Salvo stood next to him, sporting a gold-tipped spear and a hilariously unproportional helmet, her beak sticking out the bottom.

“And I’ll be, uh, Head Knight Junior,” she squawked. “Making sure all the prisoners are holding hands on their way downstairs so no one gets lost.”

“We didn’t agree to that,” Gorbrius muttered. He was still nursing injuries from his run-in with Valerica and Momo, adding to his appearance as a street-hardened thief. “I’ll be posing as the Thief Guildmaster, Teddy, and make sure to look as stupid and gullible as possible.”

Teddy waved a fist at him, but Momo settled down the infighting with a light cough.

Everyone’s eyes turned to her.

“Hello. I’ll be Co-Head Knight Coco,” she said nervously, bowing slightly. “If anyone asks about a girl named Momo, tell them she’s locked up somewhere deep, dark, and unreachable.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Momo gave a weak thumbs up.

“Alrighty,” Teddy continued. “Borbo, how much time do we have?”

A long ladder extended from the top of the city walls to the grounds below. A scout stood at the bottom of the ladder, a blushing goose-faced fellow. At Teddy’s command, he immediately scurried up the ladder to the top. After a moment, he slid like a firefighter downwards again.

“They’re nearly here, sir!” he bleated, wings flapping wildly. The tension around the gates immediately heightened. A nervous chatter struck the group, with a few of the faux-prisoners joining hands. Momo found Radu’s gaze, and jogged over to him.

“Coco,” he greeted sardonically. “You’re looking a lot more convincing than last time we tried this scheme.”

“Oh, shut it.”

—

The scuttle of horse hooves halted abruptly outside the gates, wild neighs erupting as the horses came to a stop after hours of nonstop sprinting. Under a dark veil of shadow, a litter of scouts watched the Holy Knights arrival from above.

Goose-faced Borbo descended the ladder. He frantically quacked a series of quacks, giving the Knights and Thieves their signal. With the signal given, the plan whirred into motion. The faux-thieves hunched their backs and started their quibbling about false imprisonment, the poser knights made their best attempt at summoning proud, better-than-thou attitudes.

Scouts on either side of the Northern gates began pulling at ropes. The ropes curled around wheels, leading into a series of interlocking levers and pulleys. Groaning as they pulled, the scouts willed the massive doors open. The motion puffed dust and dirt into the air, creating a cloud of smoke in which the small party of Holy Knights emerged.

Trotting in first was a man on a shining white steed, whose blonde hair matched the mane of his mount. Momo concealed a laugh. The startling similarities between him and his horse reminded her of those Buzzfeed articles about people who look like their dogs – floppy-haired beagles walked by droopy-eyed old women.

“Hail, poor, subjugated citizens of Nam’Dal!” the knight roared, slapping his breastplate for emphasis. “We, the Knights of The White Moon, sent by the honorable King Jarva, have traveled from the capital Jarvirium to your faraway southern criminal outpost to save you from the mighty necromancer…”

He trailed off. His mouth moved as if he couldn’t remember the next word in his speech.

To his left, his fellow knight gritted his teeth and whispered, “Momo.”

“Ah yes, the mighty, dastardly necromancer Momo!” he continued, trotting in a circle around them on his horse. “We hear of your city’s conversion to the deity Morgana, the sworn enemy of Kyros. Our arrival here should be indication enough that the King cares deeply for your wellbeing, and will not have you crushed under the heel of the Queen of Decay.”

Tuning out the rest of his long-winded speech, Momo focused her attention to the knight in the far back of the group. The party was about six knights wide, with the great majority seeming to file in an obedient line behind the blonde ringleader. The one exception was her.

With her hands hugged around the neck of her horse, and her eyes closed shut, Momo got the immediate impression that the knight was… asleep.

“Is that one completely knocked out, or is she snoring?” Momo whispered to Radu, pointing her out. Radu leaned in to get a better look.

After a moment, he cursed under his breath. It wasn’t the chuckle Momo was expecting.

“That’s no ordinary Holy Knight,” he whispered. “That’s Sumire.”

Momo looked at him quizically. Radu’s voice carried a foreboding tone, and Momo couldn’t imagine the snoring lady generating that amount of terror. As opposed to the rest of the knights – a mixture of pale humans and blue lizards – her skin was darkly tan and freckled. Her hair was intricately braided, decorated with white beads.

Her armor was the most striking thing about her. Instead of the traditional chainmail and steel plate, she opted for a poncho-like hooded cape made of furs. Momo was immediately jealous. It gave her the appearance of a flying squirrel, draping over her arms and lower body.

“She seems cool,” Momo said, giving her definitive assessment. “I want her coat.”

“The [Drowsy Luhkka]? Trust me, you don’t,” Radu shook his head. “You’re nap-prone enough as it is. The coat gives you immense power, but the cost is eternal sleepiness, bordering on delirium.”

“I’m already cursed with eternal sleepiness,” Momo muttered. “So I only see how I could profit.”

The blonde horseman interrupted their bickering.

“So, point me in the direction of the necromancer, and I, the great Roland, will do the liberating,” the knight announced, pinning his gaze on Momo. “You, small knight. Where are you keeping the one known as Momo?”

Before Momo could say something dumb, Teddy cut her off. “While we appreciate your help, Sir Roland, your services are not needed here. We have sealed Momo in a dungeon deep underground.”

“Is that so?” Roland said, squinting his eyes. For the first time, he seemed to properly take in his surroundings. He looked at the impatient prisoners, the slouching knights, the trembling scouts. “And who exactly are you, who has ensnared this necromancer?”

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Teddy all but growled. Momo had to admit, his disguise was uncanny. He looked like a nearly perfect recreation of the bear knight – who, of course, remained trapped in the Western Watchtower. “I am your superior, Lord Gunther.”

Roland’s eyes widened, and he wobbled on his steed.

“G–Gunther?” he stuttered. “You were assumed dead. I knew your furry face looked familiar, but it’s like seeing a ghost…”

“Assumed dead? I’ve been in correspondence with the King for weeks now.”

“Correspondence which originated from a source of known forgeries. The parchment had the mark of the lizard Komodo,” Roland said, brushing back his hair and studying himself. Momo swallowed. Shit. She had assumed Komodo had been more covert in her schemes, but apparently not.

“Ah yes, of course,” Teddy said, not missing a beat. “After apprehending the necromancer, I personally overtook the lizard’s former lair. I’ve been using it as a base of operations.”

“Ah,” Roland said, yet an air of skepticism remained. “Naturally.”

For a moment, the two stood frozen, suspended in silence.

“And what of Pol?” Roland asked, finally.

“Pol?” Teddy said. Momo’s face went beat-red.

“Pol’s dead,” Momo squeaked out before Teddy could speak. Every head turned to her. Roland’s mouth dropped open, wearing an unreadable expression. “When we… when we overthrew the necromancer’s government, he didn’t make it.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Heads spun again, this time facing a new voice. The dozing woman had finally woken, at least partially. Sumire’s hazy gaze looked out at the rabble. She dropped off her horse with clumsy grace, and walked towards Momo.

“Pol bites the bullet, but not Gunther?” she yawned, stretching her arms out. “Seems a little bit suspicious, if you ask me. The bear’s a great honeytalker, but a terrible swordarm.”

After a few seconds, it seemed to occur to Teddy to act offended.

“Hey!” he shouted, offering a mock scowl.

At his protest, Sumire turned on her heel to face him. She moved with a slouchy grace. Every movement was uncoordinated yet swift, unpredictable yet perfectly executed. Approaching Teddy, she whistled a tune.

“Do you remember that song, Gunther?” she asked, stopping to stand a foot from Teddy. Everyone watched with anticipation as the bear thought about his answer. No one watched on with more anxiety than Momo.

“I don’t have time for these hijinks,” he said, looking away. “I’ve got a city to run.”

“Oh, how unfortunate,” Sumire said. Her hand fell out of view, grasping at something under her cape. “Wrong answer.”