Chapter 1914 (Patreon)

ToC: https://www.patreon.com/posts/23899958

Annie squinted at the horizon, surrounded by the rugged beauty of the snow-capped mountains. The first signs of snow sent a tingle through her body, like calling to like. But for now, the powerful wind through the Nordawn Mountain Range dragged leaves and twigs through its high passes, leading to strange rivers of airborne debris that whistled past their cabin. However, she spotted a few dark smudges clambered up one of the nearby passes. Their slow speeds made her roll her eyes and turn to go back inside.

To think my instincts picked them up. Ugh, what a waste. Annie mused as she sauntered back into the building to her family. But still, better make some preparations to properly entertain so many guests.

Dozer’s massive form was hunched over the stove, where he deftly flipped over pancakes and removed the steaming items to a waiting plate. This plate he placed in front of Delilah, who sat at the table with a morose expression on her face. She made no moves to apply her usual liberal helping of butter and syrup to the pancakes.

For a brief moment, a look of genuine concern flashed across Annie’s face. She felt her daughter’s pain and confusion keenly. But then she covered it up and loudly walked out of the entranceway, kicking off her boots and draping herself across her daughter’s shoulders. “Why so glum, cookie?”

“No reason. Just bored,” Delilah said quickly, but she flinched as she spoke. As though before that moment she had been so sunk into a funk that she hadn’t even noticed her mother’s return to the cabin. Annie cracked her jaw as she reached across the table and blithely stole the proffered pancake. Her daughter remained inert, quickly returning to whatever fretful oblivion that she occupied.

Annie leaned forward. “Seems like you’ve got something on your mind. I get that you don’t want to talk about it with me, but how about you tell… Mister Pancake.”

Annie happily used a fork to sculpt out two eyes and a misshapen mouth. Then she flipped around the plate and proudly displayed her masterpiece.

Delilah’s soon-to-be-teenage attitude still thrived in her body, even if the rest of her was somewhat preoccupied; she immediately pushed back from the table and rolled her eyes. “Mooom. That’s kid’s stuff. And really, I’m fine. Just thinking about stuff. Look at dad! He thinks about things all the time, but you never badger him about it!”

Dozer pivoted and gave Delilah a mild look. A ghost of a smile flitted across the girl’s face. “Okay okay, you badger him sometimes.”

“What are you thinking about?” Annie replied, generously ignoring the implied jibe at her and her own sorrow that her daughter didn’t know how to appreciate art. She added syrup to the eyes and mouth and began to eat Mister Pancake.

“Just… well maybe I shouldn’t enter into the fighting tournament next month.” Delilah’s eyes went back to the table. “Maybe… I don’t know. I can wait until next year. I really feel like my image is near an evolution and I don’t want to force anything.”

Annie arched an eyebrow. When her daughter said ‘I don’t want to force anything’, something was definitely wrong. So she cleared her throat and cut to the chase. “I know what this is actually about. You are worried about the fact the tournament will be on the Ghosthound’s island, yes? You think he holds a grudge against you?”

Delilah’s face whipped up. Then she tried to pretend she was just yawning. “Oh, what? No, that’s-”

“Well it’s true,” Annie announced. She jabbed her chin forward, even as she earned a mild glance from Dozer. “Randidly Ghosthound really does hate you, and has been purposefully torturing you for years.”

“I knew it!” Something between fear and excitement warred across Delilah’s face as she forgot that she had previously been trying to play it cool.

Annie nodded, full of sympathy, the picture of motherly care. Dozer’s expression twitched slightly. “I know cookie, it must be rough, to have such a constant figure hold a grudge against you. But I also know why he’s being so petty; and what you can do about it.”

Delilah's head whipped around again, her tiny eyes bright. “What?”

“As it turns out,” Annie really felt herself getting into the story now. “One of the first parties we attended as a family was the Ghosthound’s birthday. Because of how low-key he was about the date, we didn’t even know; we attended the party without bringing the present. Now I, unwilling-”

“-to admit you are wrong,” Dozer said quietly at the pan.

“-to make a scene,” Annie didn’t even acknowledge her husband; it would only encourage his distracting behavior. “Told a little white lie: the reason that we hadn’t brought his gift was that you had been quite a brat that morning-”

“You what!” Delilah sat bolt upright and brought her hands down on the table, her fingers splayed out.

“-So obviously we hadn’t had the time to bring along the gift. Now I’ll say many positive things about Randidly Ghosthound, but sometimes he can hold a bit of a grudge.” Annie sighed and shook her head. “What’s truly unfortunate was that you hadn’t even been a brat; you had been such an angel and your mother felt terrible about the little fib. But! This is so easy to solve! Just fetch him a proper gift and I’m sure he’d be willing to forgive you entirely.”

What followed was a whole slew of indignant gasps, peppered with ‘how could you’s and ‘why didn’t you tell me’s. Part of this flurry of activity was Delilah packing up her little backpack, which left her practically with a foot out the door when she had finished with her tirade against what an irresponsible parent Annie was, prepared to embark immediately to solve the issue. Annie enthusiastically offered a few nonsensical suggestions of what she should get the Ghosthound for this birthday, items such as a fashionable coat or a new floral dish set, and waved her daughter a cheery goodbye.

The only wrinkle was when Delilah positively scowled when Annie kissed her cheek before stomping off.

Which left Annie alone with her meddlesome husband.

“Who exactly has been torturing her for all these years?” He asked dryly as he took out the last pancake and rinsed out the pan.

“Truth be told,” Annie leaned her elbows on the table and adopted a heavy expression; it wasn’t even fake. “She wasn’t upset about how the Ghosthound treats her, not really. If anything, I’m the one upset right now. That working he made, to connect us all to that… strange sense? You feel it a little and I feel it a lot; but for whatever reason, Delilah feels it all. She’s got this whatever sense stronger than anyone I’ve seen.”

“So, a mission.” Dozer began drying the pan.

“A mission,” Annie nodded in satisfaction, quite pleased with herself. “She’s floundering, locked away with us up in the mountains. She won’t acclimate to this new sense without experiencing it. Hopefully, this can help her. And maybe it will lead to some Randidly hijinks-”

Dozer drew up behind Annie and looped his long arm around her waist, pulling her against him. She wiggled, not in protest but to show that she didn’t always have to allow him to pick her up and pull her around. He wrapped her in a decidedly non-sexy embrace that left her pouting.

“And here’s my real question: Why do you want us gone? You know I’ll go with her.” Dozer asked.

Annie shrugged, her back against his chest. “I’m not sure what you are talking about.”

Dozer kissed the back of her head once as he released her. “Sure, sure. Just be sure you don’t bite off more than you can chew, alright?”

This departure she observed with a scowl. Even more obnoxious was the fact that her being the only occupant of the house did little to invite the waiting guests. Annie made herself a pot of tea, muttering to herself about how unreliable brigands were these days.

The sun sank toward the horizon, allowing the shadows and wind to run rampant. Yet due to its sturdy walls, the cabin remained an idyllic retreat, full of warmth and comfort. It was exactly the sort of thing that provided an excellent escape from the stresses of civilization. She had a hard time imagining anything more dangerous than a flying cougar reaching her up here.

Annie took to standing at the window with her tea, watching the sunset, and sighing without actually observing the beauteous natural like some war-wife waiting for her partner to return home from the front.

Finally, a knock sounded on the door and a delighted smile crossed Annie’s face. About damn-

The only warning was the crunch and spray of splinters. She hopped lightly to avoid the massive cleaver that ripped horizontally through the previously sturdy wooden walls, demolishing the side of the cabin and ripping the furniture to shreds. She broke out of the wooden roof and then spun midair to avoid several thrown daggers that glinted in the half-light. She alighted on the top of a nearby pine tree, the powerful wind whipping her hair around.

Dozer is going to be in such a mood when she sees this, Annie felt a pang of regret. Somehow it will be my fault.

Yet that was for later. Now, she could give herself over to the dance.

A sly smile spread across her face as she looked around in the twilight and saw a dozen cloaked figures waiting around her on the nearby slope. They stood in the shadows of trees and on top of stark rock outcroppings, blending into the grey in the low light. The largest of the figures straightened and laid the massive cleaver across his shoulders. “Well, well, such late callers. And so many of you, as well. Certainly, my husband won’t appreciate the liberties you’ve taken with the architecture.”

One of the figures wore a thick golden medallion, the only outward differentiating feature amongst them. He gestured and several others leapt forward, without even bothering to respond to her. Annie sighed and got to work.

A bow bloomed in her hand as she settled into a crouch. A white blur became an arrow as she pulled back the bow and fired three times, barely pausing to aim. As soon as the projectiles left her bow, they swirled into a winter wind, dispersing and reforming into loping white wolves then ran toward their targets.

The group responded quickly. They pulled out knives, daggers, and needles and shifted, trying to maintain their encirclement. Their physical Stats were clearly lacking, but they had at least trained heavily for this.

Annie flitted sideways and fired a volley at the distinct figure right as the first cloaked individual slashed at a white wolf with his dagger. The weapon passed harmlessly through the forehead of the wolf in a burst of snow and the suddenly returned arrow struck an individual in the throat. Annie pursed her lips as she rolled and avoided another throwing knife; the noise of the arrow meeting the target wasn’t very satisfying.

The cloaked figure with the massive cleaver interposed itself between Annie’s volley and the one with the medallion. It was violence incarnate, swinging its massive cleaver with a solid enough image, but the arrows thundered against the weapon and sent him sprawling back.

But the medallion wearer just chuckled at their lack of success.

Annie raised an eyebrow as the victim of her arrow got back to its feet. “Mannequins? Acceptably creepy.”

“We are the Order Patricide,” The medallion wearer said. He raised his arms as though he were giving a monologue in a community theater production of Sociopath. “And we need an example, Annie of Donnyton. We will not kill you, but after we infect your image with weakness, you will likely wish we had.”

Annie snorted. She reached into the air and her Fate condensed, a glittering, pure white fur cape. The cloth settled around her shoulders with a familiar chilling tingle. “How delightful. But don’t start complaining if you don’t like what happens when you force me to bare my fangs. O Silent Night.”

Her Domain activated, drawing the clouds and winds together with snow flurries to blot out the surroundings. Her cloak rustled, whispering that a life would end tonight. For Annie and this strange puppeteer, there would be no escape. And Annie’s eyes were alive with glee.