Honorine's Run To Save The World - Chapter Three (Patreon)

The sword and coins… This can't be good. The Cataldi family's been minding their business out on the east coast since I was a kid. This town is far from where they normally operate. Very far. There's no reason for their agents to be here. Unless… I hear the innkeeper sigh, and turn my attention to her as she pokes her head out from behind the counter.

"I-Is it over?" she whimpers, glancing around to make sure there's no more Cataldi agents in the building I respond with an affirmative nod, already reaching for my purse; I still need to pay for our rooms, and even if I didn't I still feel like I owe her something for what she's just been through. Actually, speaking of us, I should probably go get the temple girl.

"Um, is everything alright?" Her voice comes in from somewhere off to the side as soon as I'm done with that last thought. It… doesn't take a genius to conclude that the ruckus we caused drew her here. I'm not about to complain; no amount of saved time and effort is too small.

"Yeah, there was just this—" My explanation is cut short when, out of the corner of my eye, I see the girl walk over to one of the men and inspect his wrist. "—what are you doing?"

"Hmm..." She doesn't seem to have heard me; her focus is fully on the man's cufflink. It remains there for a little while, and then she turns her gaze to me. "This accessory is very elaborate. It is clearly an indication of affiliation, but I do not recognize the symbol as belonging to any faction of which I am aware."

"Yeah, these guys work for the Cataldi family. They're from Monterugia—" The girl gives me a blank look. I should probably simplify a little. "…they run a pretty big chunk of the east coast. Though that's… quite some distance away, so I don't understand why they'd send people here."

Now the innkeeper talks again, reminding me of her presence. She's got a finger pointed at my companion. "That… That lass matches the description those thugs rattled off to me before you showed up."

Now that she brings it up, the Cataldi men did ask about a girl matching temple girl's description—and they did say their source told them she was with me… This situation's gotten a fair bit more complicated. I'll need a different strategy if I want to get us to Zephyr Coast without ending up on the business end of the near-omnipresence Cataldi thugs are known for. I take out my purse, setting down enough deniers on the counter to pay for room and board, and a little extra. "I'm terribly sorry for the trouble we caused, and for the fact that I'm about to ask you a favor, but could you tell us how to get to Champirac?"

—

"You were not at fault," the temple girl mutters, some time after we've left Blankenräschen. She's been completely silent so far, so it takes me a moment to process what she's said.

"...What do you mean?"

"At the lodgings. I heard everything from upstairs—The events in the main hall transpired prior to your involvement. Neither the apology nor the additional financial compensation were strictly necessary."

"...Oh. That. I didn't directly cause any of that, yeah, but I was the reason it happened at all."

"That claim is incorrect. They came for me. If culpability should lie with anyone, it is with me."

"You’re right; the blame would fall on you, but you didn't do anything to be blamed for." She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off before she can actually say anything. "Anyway, I should probably tell you this: there's been a change of plans. We're heading to Zephyr Coast straight away."

"What?" The girl sounds surprised, but I can't tell what kind of surprise she’s feeling.

"The Cataldis have been mostly keeping to themselves for the past, what, two decades? If they've got people all the way out here that means trouble's brewing. As much as I want to go figure out what the problem is, I still need to sort out this whole 'the world is about to end' thing. So, we're going straight to Zephyr Coast.".

But first of all, I’m going to make a small change to that detour I mentioned earlier. There’s a city nearby, Champirac. We have to head there anyway, since it’s the closest place to the Mournian that has a train station." I pause now, expecting the girl to ask me what the Mournian is, but she just nods.

“I am aware of the Mournian, if that is the question you are attempting to ask. Continue, please.”

“...Oh, alright. Anyway, I have a university friend specializing in Streician culture who lives in Champirac. If anyone would be able to shed some light on this apocalypse you’re talking about, it’ll be her, so we’re paying her a visit first.”

Right as I'm done talking, I spot a carriage some ways down the path. There's a fork in the road just ahead of it, and I watch to see which branch it takes; we were told to take a left here. Which, luckily for us, happens to be the branch the cart driver’s taking. I spring forward with the girl in tow, running to catch up with the cart. It quickly becomes apparent that it's not going all that fast, though, so we slow down to a brisk jog and continue at that pace.

Sure enough, we catch up with the cart after about half a minute, and our streak of luck continues; once I explain that we need to get to Champirac, the driver's more than happy to let us on without asking too many questions, and we're able to continue our journey in… Well, I'd hardly call it comfort, but it definitely beats having to walk the whole way, and once we're aboard the cart picks up enough speed that we might reach our destination by nightfall.

—

My guess is right; by the time we reach Champirac, the sun's already set. All the better; nighttime is when the city looks its best anyway. We take the cart as close to our goal as the driver's path takes them, then we thank them and disembark to take to the lamplit streets on foot. The temple girl seems awed—not that I'd expect anything else; the streets we walk through are full of colors. Some of the sources are obvious, being stores and the like, but the public art works on display here are… not exactly orthodox, to put it lightly.

We pass by statues of the gods locked in eternal battles against the forces of evil, choreographed by the magic of some artist or another.

Down one street we find ourselves in the midst of a blizzard of glowing bubbles, each one a different color.

One street seems devoid of artwork, until we look closely at our surroundings and find that just about every surface here has writing on it, part of some grand epic that I could probably find in a bookstore here, in a volume as large as my head. I notice my companion taking extra care with her steps after this particular discovery.

We keep moving, with the temple girl following me and I myself following my recollection of the last time I was here, until we find ourselves face to face with the place I'm looking for: a rather stately house, decorated with articles inspired by Streician culture. Good, so she's still here. I step up, and knock on the door.

I barely have time to pull my hand away from the door before it's opened by a sleepy bespectacled woman. She stares at us listlessly for a second or two, and then she gasps. "Honorine! And you brought a guest along, too! Pray, who is that?"

"Hi, Claudette." As soon as I finish my sentence, she's got her arms around me in a tight hug. It's only been, what, three weeks since the last time I saw her? But, in typical Claudette fashion, she's acting like it's been three years. The urge to pat her on the back is too strong to resist.

Once she lets go of me, I begin to answer her second question:  “Oh, that’s--” Wait. I don’t know what temple girl’s name is, if she’s even got one. She seems to pick up on this, and promptly introduces herself.

“I-I... have chosen the name ‘Alessia’ for myself.”

...I don’t know anything about Streician names, but that sounds... surprisingly modern.

Claudette speaks her piece before I can spend too long on that, though. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alessia! Come on in, Anastasia’s just finished making dinner, and if you’re anything like I remember, Honorine, you must be starving!”

"We're fine, thank you," I begin, but no sooner do I start talking than it hits me that I haven't actually eaten anything all day. As the realization hits me, so do its effects; I feel the strength drain from my legs, and my stomach growls like a caged lion. I guess I have to take Claudette up on that offer. “...Okay, fine, we’ll have dinner, but there’s something urgent I’ve got to talk to you about afterwards.”

Dinner is an uneventful affair. Not too much has happened in the time between my last visit to the Gosselin household and now, so there's nothing for Claudette to catch me up on. Just as well; the hours we'd normally spend talking about the stuff that happens in between my visits to her and her wife can be put to more productive use for now.

Once we’ve eaten, Claudette takes Alessia and I up to her study. There, I explain the whole situation from the ground up. To her credit, her expression doesn't even change once even though the story I'm presenting to her seems, at the very best, made up. Only once I've finished talking and given her my request—that she help me verify if the girl's right—does she show any sort of reaction whatsoever: she scrunches her face in concentration, and turns to the bookshelves that take up the study's back wall. It doesn't take very long before she finds the book she wants, and turns back to face us with it.

"So, Honorine. Judging by the details, that tale you just told is most likely going to be in..." She sets down the book on the table between us and her with a fairly loud thud. I can see the title: The Atlas of Streician Apocalypse Culture. "...here. Now, you say you found this lady on the Mournian?"

"That is correct," Alessia chimes in. She's a lot more confident here than she was back in Blankenräschen, and I can't shake the feeling that the Streician decor in this place has something to do with it.

"Hmm, I see. In that case..." Claudette rifles through the book, looking for the page she needs. Her eyes light up when she hits what I presume is that page, but then her face falls abruptly, only for her smile to return a short while after as she gets to the end. "Honorine?"

"Yeah?" I don't like the way she called my name; it's giving me a bad feeling.

"Would you like the bad news first, or shall I save it for last?"

"First, obviously. The sooner I learn that there's trouble, the sooner I can get to fixing it. We've gone over this before."

Claudette giggles. "Fair enough, I just thought I’d double-check. As you wanted, the bad news first: The girl is right, the world is going to end soon."

...Oh.

"Now for the good news: That's not the only thing the girl is right about. She can stop it, so long as you get her to Zephyr Coast before the deadline. Which, if the text is accurate, is fifty days—which in turn means that, since you found this girl yesterday, means you've got forty-nine days to complete your mission. Is that deadline fine by you?"

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