Chapter Text
When Harrowhark awakened the next day, she desperately needed a shower. She was used to cleaning herself twice daily with some of the various expensive devices that her family had, and for a while, she had gone so far as to obsess over it, chemically stripping off thin layers of skin just to feel clean. Other times, she had gone weeks without cleaning herself, but recently she’d finally started fixing that habit (as opposed to all her other undiagnosed coping mechanisms). Now she was stuck in a world that might not even have the most basic of cleaning devices, much less ultrasonic tubs and SoapyLiquid®.
Instead, she was covered with a film of moisture and had a disgusting taste in her mouth. Gideon snored happily on a pile of dirt and surrounded by half eaten pieces of grilled giant worm, a string of drool running from the edge of her mouth to a little piece of gravel. Harrow kicked her in the arm.
“Ow,” said Gideon.
“Get up,” said Harrow, and didn’t wait for a reaction.
She walked over the pastures, and squinted her eyes against the searingly bright sunlight. The colors had been close to overstimulating her yesterday, now her brain began to adjust to all the blue and green and the contrasting red dots mixed with yellow spots all over the ground, forming strange and colorful floral formations that were unlike anything you could grow with snow leek on the Ninth. They reminded Harrow of the flowers she’d seen preserved on the Seventh, the few times she’d let herself be convinced to leave the Ninth at all, but they were so numerous and small and strange, and they were just there in the grass, without any preservation tanks or necromantic theorems to keep them frozen in their blooming state, and Harrow couldn’t fathom how that was possible at all when necromancers on the Seventh trained half their lives just to keep even one flower blooming brightly.
Gideon joined by her side, munching on a piece of worm. “So where are we going?”
“What do you mean?” asked Harrow.
“Where are we going?” repeated Gideon. “Like, now?”
Harrow frowned. “You cannot possibly expect me to just walk.”
“You can try flying, if you want to.”
Harrow rolled her eyes, and stomped over the thick patches of greens. She spotted something akin to a road, made of dirt and stones mostly, but it would do. Not that she wanted to give Gideon any sort of satisfaction, but she had a point: They had to start going somewhere else. Harrow had no intention whatsoever to remain in this open jungle of highly saturated colors, and live off worms and sleep on the floor for days. Not that she couldn’t, but she’d prefer to find a place where she could eat and drink normal. Some warm water, maybe even a dash of lemon (if she was feeling like treating herself), a bowl of nutrient gruel or some snow leak and a bit of grease…
They had been walking along the road for a while when strange noises approached them. It was a contraption made entirely of wood, which seemed like a terribly strange choice of material to Harrow, and it was drawn forward by a reptilian creature of some sort. It was taller than Harrow but shorter than Gideon, and thick leather strings connected it to a woman of about 18 years or so, whose hair was bound in a dark green braid and who was clad entirely in organic materials: Linnen, wool, leather.
The contraption approached them at a fast pace, and Harrow and Gideon moved off the road to let it pass. To their surprise, it stopped in front of them, and the woman gave them a wave. “Now you two look mighty lost!”
Harrow shot Gideon a glance that said all she needed to know: Do not speak.
“I will neither confirm nor deny that,” she then said.
The woman laughed brightly. “Oh, don’t you worry. Are you going to Starter Town?”
“What a strange name,” Harrow slipped.
The woman shrugged. “Yeah, now that you say it, I don’t really know why they call it that. What’s supposed to start there? Life? Existence? Who knows, maybe my merchant career. But I’m traveling there, so if you two want, you can hop on and I’ll let you ride on my carriage in return for a good tale or two.”
Harrow cleared her throat. “I am not confident I can provide that.”
“I can,” Gideon interjected, and earned a glare from Harrow.
The woman gestured to her contraption - the ‘carriage’. The front had seating, but the back was entirely a wagon filled with crates. Gideon impatiently looked back and forth between it and Harrow, until Harrow finally sighed, and climbed on the crates. Gleefully, Gideon followed.
With a gentle snap of the leather strings, the reptile creature began moving again.
“I’m Helena,” the woman told them. “Great to meet you two. What are your names?”
“I…” Harrow began, then wondered if she should use her true name. “My name is Harrow Nova. This is Ortus Nav.”
Gideon gave a little wave. “Yep. Ortus Nav. That’s me.”
“Lovely!” Helena exclaimed. “So, are you two adventurers?”
“In a way”, Harrow answered.
“I see. They always have something to do for adventurers in Starter Town, so you two will be in good hands there, I have no doubt. And that’s a mighty fine sword, if you don’t mind me saying”, she added, regarding Gideon.
Gideon smiled like she’d just been declared royalty.
Harrow cleared her throat. “That’s terribly kind, Helena, but we would be loathe to distract you from your animal handling.”
Helena laughed. “No, it’s alright! I love having someone to talk to. It gets so awfully dull on my own sometimes. Even when you have the best raptor in the world with you, she isn’t much for conversation, you know?”
“I would assume so, seeing as she is an animal.”, Harrow responded.
“Goodness, Harrow!”, Helena shouted. “You’re such a jokester!”
Harrow didn’t say anything in response to that.
“So.” said Helena once she had caught herself. “You two owe me a tale of some sort. Remember?”
Ah, right. The promised tale. Harrow shot Gideon a meaningful glance, and Gideon climbed over the crates to join Helena in the seating.
“Sorry. I’m not usually a storyteller,” she said, “but I’ll do what I can.”
Helena smiled. “Don’t worry.”
“I can try to tell you one of my favorite stories,” Gideon continued.
“What kind of story is it?”
“It’s about officers and wars and heroes…” Gideon stammered. “There’s a great frontline warrior soldier, and exciting adventures…”
“Dear, you’re selling that terribly well, I can hardly wait!”
Gideon blushed. “Oh, alright. Well, this is the story of how the great warrior Adorina Tetra and her childhood friend turned nemesis General Catrina Heptamus explored each other’s bodies.”
Harrow went into a coughing fit, and squeezed herself between the two. “Nav, that doesn’t seem like an appropriate choice.”
“Aww, why not?”
“Why not? Well, it’s…” Harrow coughed. “You may tell the story of the Great Resurrection and The Man Who Became God and The God Who Became Man.”
“But this is a different universe”, Gideon shrugged. “Don’t know if he’s here too.”
“Who?” Helena asked.
Harrow went into her next coughing fit. “Well, why don’t we tell you the story of Matthias Nonius?”
~ * ~
“…and joyous he wept.”
It was late afternoon when they arrived at Starter Town. Harrow’s voice was hoarse. She had reproduced one and a half entire volumes of the Nigenad (and Ortus wasn’t someone who cared to make his volumes short) in the hope that Helena would eventually excuse herself, saying she had to focus, and it was quite alright but thank you for the story, but instead, Helena had kept interrupting with various “Oooh”s and “Aaahh”s and “My goodness!” and “What did he do then?” and occasionally even a “By my mother’s butt, what a fine fella!” So Harrow had pressed on, reciting from memory, not that she ever enjoyed the Nigenad or anything, or that she had any kind of appreciation for Ortus’ creative endeavours, she would never of course, for it was such a waste of time, she just happened to know it all, and she consciously chose not to think about it. By their time of arrival, Helena was about ready to join a small cult of Nonius worship, and Harrow felt that it was a good time to end the tales. So she thanked Helena quite proper and politely for the ride, and then went into the town with no sense whatsoever of where to go from there.
It was rather busy and bright compared to Drearburh, but the toilet stalls of an inn were busy and bright compared to Drearburh, and even Harrow knew that objectively, it was by all means peaceful and quaint. Before she could get any sense of direction and where-was-what, she had to stop at a corner and process all the smells: All kinds of foods, savoury, sweet, and mixed with that were all sorts of other smells of human civilization like sweat, organic waste (what was with this world and all the organic materials), and fouling. Even Gideon seemed on higher alert than usual, her glance jumping from place to place and barely giving her time to comprehend one thing she saw before being distracted by another.
The outer reaches of the town consisted of houses built with light stone bricks, entirely unlike the dark greasy rock on the Ninth, with roofs padded with straw and green gardens that made Harrow sneeze with their scent. Further in, on brick foundations were larger buildings of wood that seemed to house a number of people on each floor, and inbetween the streets became narrower and busier as they went, until they finally hit a large square filled with stalls and people and way too many smells and noises. Harrow turned around on her heel and left. Gideon followed without a sound.
They had gone a little way out of the town center when Harrow finally stopped. “We should find a place to stay the night,” she said. Gideon did not answer, but there was an unspoken agreement between them to find a place away from all the noise, and so Harrow finally steered towards a quiet inn where a linnen clad man was toiling away in the garden.
It was a quaint little place with a red tiled roof and stacks of firewood by the porch. The garden was fronted with a wooden gateway that said “Welcome to Fifth Inn!” painted in bright letters and overgrown with ivy. Harrow found it rather saccharine, but whatever.
“Don’t speak this time,” she ordered Gideon.
The man looked up from his garden work, and greeted them with a joyous wave. “What great timing!” he called. “I just harvested some fresh fruit! Are you two travelers?”
“We are,” Harrow responded.
The man jumped out from behind the gardens, stumbled and almost fell over some thick vines by the pumpkin patch, then made his way in a similar fashion across the rest of the vegetables until he reached the garden path where Harrow and Gideon were standing.
“Magnus Quinn,” he introduced himself, “but do call me Magnus.” He held out his hand, and Harrow gestured to shake it, then pulled back when she saw the dirt.
Magnus laughed. “Ah, excuse me. Of course, I won’t touch you until I’ve washed myself. But you two must be looking for dinner and a bed, is that right? You’ve come to the right place.”
Harrow nodded. “I am Harrow Nova, this is Ortus Nav. You may call us Miss Nova and Miss Nav.”
“Understood!” Magnus did a joking salute, then looked as if he regretted it instantly. “Let’s get you two inside. My wife takes care of all the money stuff. I’m just her gardener and cook.”
Harrow froze.
Money.
They didn’t have money.
She exchanged glances with Gideon, who didn’t seem to notice any problem at hand. They followed Magnus inside, where he introduced them to his lady: A woman with dark curls and simple but well made clothes, leaning over two books and going back and forth as she muttered to herself.
“So good to meet you!” she greeted them, this time, Harrow took the handshake. “I am Abigail Pent. What can I do for you?”
“We are looking for a place to stay the night,” Harrow answered while her brain was working overtime to find a way to pay. Maybe they could pawn off those stupid aviators Gideon had brought with her.
“Dinner as well, I assume?” Abigail asked.
Harrow shook her head. “No need.”
Gideon shot her a mad glare.
Harrow sighed. “Well. One person. Dinner for one person.”
“Oh, dear, are you sure?”
“I am. Now please tell me the methods with which I can pay.”
Abigail Pent hesitated. “The method is…money?”
An awkward silence followed.
“Do…do you guys not have money?” Magnus asked.
Abigail Pent cleared her throat. “Oh, do you perhaps only have foreign currency?”
“Y-Yes.” Harrow nodded. “Indeed.”
Abigail and Magnus exchanged glances.
“Alright,” Abigail then said. “Are you two adventurers per chance?”
Harrow wanted to say no, but in her mind she knew it was time to lie. “Yes. Indeed.”
“Well, we could use your services, so what do you say we skip the fee and payments, and you fulfill a quest in exchange for dinner and a bed?” Abigail Pent winked. “I’ll even throw in two dinners.”
“That sounds doable,” Harrow answered. “Please tell me more about this ‘quest’.”
Magnus chuckled. “It’s fine if you aren’t familiar with the system, you know?”
“I am familiar,” Harrow lied. “Of course I am.”
“So the quest,” Abigail Pent interrupted them. “It’s quite simple, really. Magnus here usually gathers a certain kind of mushroom in the forests nearby - it is yellow, a thick white stem, and a lemony scent - and now he is a decent fighter, but this year, there are just so many giant rats around. Your quest is to kill at least five rats, and bring me a basked full of mushrooms. Does that sound adequate?”
Harrow, who had no measure as to what was and was not adequate, had no choice but to nod and accept. She had her necromancy, Gideon had her sword, and now Harrow had never seen a live rat ever, but she’d seen a preserved one in one of her visits to a Sixth colony science center, and that creature hadn’t looked terribly threatening. How bad could it be?
Two hours later
“It was my fault that your parents died.”
“Griddle, what in the world.”
The last thing Harrow wanted was for her final moments — her NEW final moments — to be an emotional conversation with Gideon Nav out of all people. She clutched the remaining bones to her chest and pressed her back against the rock wall, all while trying to place the scuttling and scratching sounds she heard to some direction, and NOT listen to Gideon.
Gideon shrugged. “Well, I don’t know if we get to be reborn again.”
“Technically, we were not reborn—“
“And last time, I felt sort of bad for never saying anything. You know, I died and all, and it really gets you thinking.”
Harrow clicked her tongue. “So that’s what it took to invigorate thought in you?”
“Look, I know I’m the muscle and not the brains, but that’s a bit rude.” Gideon sighed, and whiped blood off of her sword. “These might be our final moments, for real this time. Or maybe this all is just one long weird dying dream. But Harrow, to tell you the truth, I’ve always blamed myself.”
There was no salt water nearby, so it wasn’t like Harrow could reciprocate all that opening up and telling secrets. And she kind of didn’t want to. But Gideon went on and on.
“I was the one who went and told them that day. I just wanted you to get punished for once. And for them to like me. I…I had no idea they would—“ She gulped. “And I know that you hate me, and I hate you back, but I always was weirdly okay with that, because I thought that maybe deep down I deserved it. You should get to hate me and be awful to me, because I ruined your life. You probably never felt bad for that. And I mean, I guess you shouldn’t. I always told you you should, and it’s not like you knew, but maybe you were right to hate me.”
Anger rose up in Harrow, and she began to twitch. “Can you shut up?”
“Yeah, okay, maybe I should shut up.”
“You’re insane, Griddle.”
Gideon was silent.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
“You literally just told me to shut up.”
“Well, not forever, or anything.”
Griddle rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”
“No, you should never have said those things!” Harrow half yelled before getting her volume back in control. Her voice cracked on those last few words, and she took some deep breaths to gather herself.
“You must be out of your mind.”
“I know,” Griddle answered.
“Do you really think that?” Harrow continued. “That I never felt bad?”
“Wait, that’s what you are upset about?”
“No, Griddle, I am positively upset about all of that.” Harrow swallowed down a sob. “You believe that I have hated you out of righteousness? That you are to blame? Such nonsense — you were a child, you knew not what you were doing, and we were so…so vitriolic with each other! You know not what it really was that motivated my parents to end what they had. And I am not at liberty to tell you, but it was not your fault. It was entirely my fault, for doing what you saw me do that day.”
Gideon interrupted her and stammered something, but Harrow silenced her with a gesture.
“And you truly believe that I never felt bad? All my life, I have been using and abusing you to take out my pain. You were my whip girl. Because all the pain I could not put on myself, I put on you. Do you understand? You have no fault in this. I was a tyrant, and it is only right that my life was extended enough for me to spill all of my lifeblood to you. You should be the one to truly give me the end I deserve, and I promise that when you do, I will never return.”
Griddle stared at her. “Did you just ask me to kill you?”
“God, Griddle, it’s not that complicated.”
“No way.”
Harrow sighed. “You and I know well that we are not coming out of here alive. But maybe we can find a way for you to continue. Maybe, that was my purpose in this second chance of yours. To allow you to continue onward and become a person who is good and right and heroic, and for me to redeem— to redeem even a particle of who and what I am and all that I have done, no matter how irredeemable my being by and of itself is.”
Griddle grabbed her by the shoulder. “That’s a lot of words to say ‘I am super not happy.’ Have you ever considered: ‘Griddle, if I am nice to you for once, can you help me out?’ or something like that?”
“Excuse me?”
“I get wanting to die, Harrow,” Gideon said more nonchalant than frankly was fair. “But you know what I also get? Wanting to get out alive. Wanting to see the world. And excuse me for projecting, but I think you want those things too. Even if you won’t admit it.”
“Uhm, okay?!”
“So we are getting out of here,” Gideon said. “And if not, then at least we finally had one good fucking conversation.”
This was the kindest thing Gideon had said to Harrow in all her life, and Harrow found herself blushing, which Gideon could not see in the dark, which was good, because it was really fucking embarrassing.
“So do you have a plan?” Harrow asked.
Gideon raised her weapon. “Hit things with sword.”
“Right. I forgot. You are still you.”
“Hey, I said that I was the muscle, right?” Gideon responded. “You’re supposed to be the brains.”
“Griddle, as much as I appreciate the presumed compliment to my intelligence — although I am well aware that you are equally much insulting my physique, in case you were wondering — I cannot conceive of a plan that gets both of us out of here alive.”
“Conceive faster, then,” Gideon answered. “Which, incidentally, is what your mom said last night.”
“Griddle, please.”
Gideon opened her mouth for another stupid remark, but halted when a faint sound echoed through the caverns all the way to them. Between the dripping water, and the pitterpatter of rat feet, there was a deep stomp. Something large was approaching.
“It’s coming for us, isn’t it,” Gideon muttered.
Harrow got up. “Time to test our friendship.”
“Friendship?”
“We might as well die as friends, Griddle,” Harrow sighed. “Then maybe my spirit will find peace this time, instead of being haunted by you for another life.”
“Aw, but I’m starting to like haunting you.”
“Shut up and get ready to fight.”
Gideon brandished her sword. “Say less.”