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Reports of strange rumors regarding the area near Mont Esus has reached even the Court, though the Church of Fontaine seems not to give weight to those, nor the Marechaussee Hunters have received any substantial lead on the matter. Initially, even Clorinde has brushed those stories off as mere gossip. That is, until the Iudex himself reached out for her, the moment she returned to the Court from a fruitless expedition to the Weeping Willow of the Lake.
Busy as Neuvillette is with supervising reconstruction after the flood in Belleau Region, taking care of his usual duties, and deal with that Snezhnayan priest who is supposedly visiting for vacation-only, Clorinde is surprised that Neuvillette would even have the spare time to pay attention to those rumors.
“Apologies for calling you so suddenly. You’ve just returned from another mission,” Neuvillette says, inviting her to take a seat — his office desk already hosting a cup filled with coffee and a glass of fresh water. “Have you had time to rest?”
Clorinde relaxes on her seat, picking up the coffee cup Neuvillette prepared for her, aware she prefers it to tea. “It was child’s play,” she says, watching Neuvillette from above the rim of her cup. “I assume if you’re calling me, at this hour, my next mission won’t be as dull.”
Neuvillette shakes his head, his eyelids lowering as he pensively stares at his own glass. “Not necessarily,” he eventually says. “For weeks now, peculiar rumors, coming from merchants traveling around the area surrounding Mont Esus, have been spreading everywhere, reaching even the Court and my desk,” — he lays a hand over a pile of documents, his fingers slowly tapping on the top page — “However, just last night, Childe let slip that his colleague sent back word of having vanquished a demon in that area. I’ve already checked with our Church representatives. It seems they’ve also got word back from a local priest, just a couple of hours ago.”
“Father Tartaglia?” Clorinde hums, not too surprised about the apparent closeness between the Iudex and that priest. “Is he referring to Father Arlecchino?”
Neuvillette nods. “Precisely. However, I’d prefer to have a trusted Hunter go check the situation personally to evaluate the situation.”
She takes a long sip from her cup, draining it completely. “Leave it to me.”
By the time she arrives in the village at the center of those rumors, the local priest has already organized a discreet yet polite welcoming for her. The small town appears lively — she’s offered one of the largest rooms at the only inn in the village, before the local priest invites her to his study, located in the small hut adjacent to his church, to discuss important matters.
Between snacks and a cup of overly steeped tea, Clorinde starts forming a picture of the events that had occurred in the past few days. Father Arlecchino had been traveling in the area with a new assistant, when she decided to spend the night in this village. The demon hidden among the populace seemed to have decided to attack the high-ranking priest one day, but was easily killed, liberating the villagers from its curse.
A very linear story, Clorinde admits.
“Thank you, priest,” she says, gulping down the last of her tea. “I’ll take a visit around the village, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Not at all,” they say. “If you want to meet with Father Arlecchino, she’s staying at your same inn. You’ll probably meet each other for supper.”
With a brisk farewell, Clorinde joins the main street in the village, her heeled boots echoing with every step she takes.
By this hour, the crowd in the marketplace is already starting to disperse. She can feel eyes on her — most of the villagers seem to recognize her uniform, gaze focused on the brooch pinned to her chest trailing down to her sword and musket — but they aren’t malicious.
After a casual chat with some of the merchants attending to their stands that seem to corroborate the priests’ claim that the villagers’ lives have returned to normal, Clorinde continues her walk.
What catches her attention next is a group of children playing around a small, improvised stage, built with old boxes pushed together, on one of the sides of the main plaza, far away from where a group of older women where chatting near the central fountain.
A short young woman is giving out instructions to the children, making sure the simple props and costumes are fitting. Four children, each with a different object identifying their characters — an apron, a pen, a flower, and a stick.
“Ah-ha! Superb job!”
The little girl with the stick, raises it high in the air, pointing at the sun. “I, Knight Alice, swear to… uhm… protect my friends and van-uh… vansquish evil!”
The woman laughs, merrily throwing her head back, nearly making her hood slip. “It’s van-quish.”
“I’ll do better next time!” the child says, giggling. Then, her gaze raises from the woman in front of her and sees Clorinde. “Whoa, a real knight!”
“I’m not a knight but a hunter,” Clorinde says, accidentally spooking the woman who hasn’t seemed to see her arrive.
A pair of round heterochromatic eyes of two shades of blue stares up at Clorinde. She goes for an apology, when a smile eases the woman’s features, as she takes in Clorinde’s brooch.
On closer inspection, Clorinde notices how the woman is wearing a rosary bearing the Snezhnaya’s cross on her chest.
“Oh, you must be here for the attack,” the woman says. “I’m Furina, Father Arlecchino’s apprentice.”
Clorinde nods — she’s received reports of Arlecchino traveling with someone. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clorinde. Indeed, I’m here to investigate the area,” she says. “May I request to meet with your superior, Father Arlecchino?”
Furina blinks, a little laugh escaping her lips. “Sure, just let me make sure the children get back to their parents, first.”
Clorinde agrees, standing back as she watches silently — raising just a hand to wave back at the excited children — as Furina accompanies them back to where the children’s relatives are attending to their stalls.
Furina doesn’t make her wait long. She’s back in a matter of minutes.
“Is Father Arlecchino available right now?” Clorinde has heard from the local head priest that Arlecchino is quite elusive, both during the day and once the sun has already set.
“Hm. She should be back from patrolling the area, by now,” Furina says, appearing none the wiser of Clorinde’s doubts. “I’m assuming you’re also staying at the local inn, no? If so, we can walk back together, so I can introduce you two.”
“That’s very much appreciated, Miss,” Clorinde says, relieved that at least this part of the job is proceeding smoothly. “What would you say the situation in the village is?” she asks, after a while that they’ve walked in silence.
“Uh. It seems stable,” Furina says, staring back at Clorinde, “but Father Arlecchino suspects a nest of related demons could be nearby. After all, demons who feed on humans’ minds rarely act faraway from their nests.”
Clorinde silently agrees with the assessment, though she’s noticed how, since Focalors’ flood and consequent disappearance, demons have started to deviate from their norms.
When they arrive at the inn, a tall, severe woman is sitting by herself at one of the tables near its entrance, wearing the characteristic garbs of a Snezhnayan priest.
She notices their arrival the moment they turn the road, though only a raised eyebrow is her reaction at seeing her apprentice accompanied by a Hunter — not that the young woman at Clorinde’s side seems to have noticed any of the building tension.
“Father Arlecchino, this is Miss Clorinde from the Marechaussee Hunters,” Furina offers an introduction. “She’s here to help out in the area.”
Arlecchino raises from her seat, offering a curt yet polite greeting to Clorinde. “I assume Monsieur Neuvillette was the one to send you here. Did the local priest updated you on the situation?”
Clorinde nods. “Yes, but I find more beneficial if someone more involved is the one to recount the details.”
“Very well,” Arlecchino says, sitting back down and offering them to take a seat at her table. “Let’s talk business.”
“Ah!” Furina exclaims. “Let me order lunch first. Miss Hunter, do you have any preferences?”
“Oh… it is really not important.”
Furina shakes her head. “Sustenance is very important. Father Arlecchino prefers a diet with meat, what about you?”
Clorinde blinks, taken by surprise. “Oh, actually, I also enjoy meat dishes.”
Furina nods, energetically. “Very well, I’ll request more portions, then!”
“Speaking of sustenance,” Arlecchino says, once they’re left alone. “Demons tend to be more active at night. If we want to be sure to catch them all, we better strike at the proper time. Don’t you agree, Hunter?”
Clorinde huffs. “I agree that striking at night is the best course of action. However, are you sure your apprentice is ready?”
Arlecchino shrugs, as if unbothered. “She needs practice.”
“Food’s on the way!” Furina exclaims, as she runs back and takes her seat. “Not to take advantage of the village’s generosity, but I’d say we’re going to eat well, today!”
“A good meal has its own importance,” Arlecchino says.
“So we agree, at the city gates, at sunset,” Clorinde says, confusing Furina.
“Do not be late, Hunter.”
“Seems like the Hunters have moved fast, for once,” Arlecchino remarks, sitting down on the bench at the foot of Furina’s bed.
Furina has never wanted to disappear as badly as when she’d first seen that woman hunter stride across the marketplace — she’d felt as if her heart was going to burst in bubbles the moment their eyes made contact.
She doesn’t say any of that, not wanting to ridicule herself. Instead, she summons Surintendante Chevalmarin, who immediately cuddles close to her chest.
“She was checking the market stalls, when she noticed me,” Furina says, sitting down next to Arlecchino. “The rosary you gave me did a good job.”
It still feels surreal having Arlecchino casually lounging in her room, in particular when she suspects the woman doesn’t even use hers, much less to sleep. Not that Furina doesn’t appreciate the change in their companionship.
A spark of interest seems to flash in Arlecchino’s eyes. “Oh, were you playing knights with the children, again?”
“Again?” Furina asks, confused.
Arlecchino raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you also play the part with those children, when you lived in Erinnyes Forest?”
Furina beams. “Oh, yeah! Little Amanda, Bash, and Emilie.” — she tightens her arms around Surintendante Chevalmarin, who blows out a small bubble against her cheek — “One evening, they got lost in the forest while playing hide-and-seek. I sent out the Salon members to guide them back home, but they came back the next day.” Furina sighs, remembering her anguish at seeing those three children carelessly visiting such a dangerous place.
Arlecchino hums. She braces one of her hands behind them, against Furina’s bed, as a way to lean in closer, while still making sure there’s enough space between them. Furina has noticed the Salon members don’t seem to tolerate whenever Arlecchino gets too close to her — and Furina doesn’t want for today to end with Surintendante Chevalmarin shooting bubbles at Arlecchino’s face, once again.
“Those children must’ve been enchanted to meet your…” — Arlecchino’s eyes fall on Surintendante Chevalmarin — “friends.”
Furina erupts in giggles. “Heh. They’re the best!” — it hasn’t been that long since she’s left the forest. Yet, it really feels like a lifetime ago — “Do you think she believed me?” she asks, suddenly feeling a tight pressure in her chest.
Arlecchino leans back, eyes diverted to stare at the open chest in front of them. “Who knows,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips. Then, suddenly, she stands up to crouch down in front of the chest. “You’re an apprentice, you’re not expected to match me in fighting demons. Tonight, if it ever gets overwhelming, keep close to me. I don’t need to tell you how unwise it’d be to use your powers with that Hunter around,” she says, picking up something from inside the chest. “No summons,” — she side-eyes Surintendante Chevalmarin — “and no sword either, leave it here. I’ve purchased a Dull Blade you can use instead.”
The sun hasn’t completely set, when they arrive at the front gates. They find Clorinde waiting for them, sitting under the foliage of a tree, at the edge of the forest surrounding the village. She’s wiping her sword with a cloth, her attention seemingly honed in the act.
“Miss Clorinde, did we make you wait long?”
Clorinde looks up, pocketing her cloth away before sheathing her sword and standing up. “Not at all. I was just finishing preparing my tools.”
“Let’s set out, then,” Arlecchino says.
“Where’s your weapon?” Clorinde asks, her gaze trailing from Furina’s sword to Arlecchino’s lack thereof.
Arlecchino doesn’t say anything to that, walking deeper inside the forest. As she does so, she extends her hand, her scythe materializing.
Furina sends a glance towards Clorinde, studying her reaction. She doesn’t offer any but a small nod, her expression blank. Remembering Arlecchino’s warning to stand close together, Furina hurries after her, readying her sword just as she hears Clorinde cocks her musket out.
It’s time for their hunt.
The deeper they walk into the forest, the more a sense of claustrophobia creeps up in Furina, taking root in her chest. She’s spent the last centuries of her life, while parading around Fontaine to play her part as Focalors, living in a forest, trying to fight off the corruption of the Abyss spreading. Yet, the sense of unease this expedition is creating in her doesn’t abide.
The canopy of the trees blocking the already setting sun only helps the already festering fear in Furina’s heart. However, showing said fear is not an option. She walks closer to Arlecchino, who sends her a curious glance. As she notices Arlecchino slowing down as if to match Furina’s pace, Furina forces herself to shake off the sudden fear. She doesn’t want to slow down anyone.
When they reach the heart of the forest, where the nest lays, the demons are still waking up, finding themselves unprepared.
Furina remembers little of the fight against the demon itself, apart from the mind-controlled villagers, which isn’t a problem for them, as no common demon should be able to do so — not when one of them is a Hunter, another a Priest, and the third already Cursed by a much more powerful demon.
What Furina remembers is the sky darkening, an unnatural crimson moon eclipsing their surroundings.
Nothing of the sort happens here.
Arlecchino ignites the fight, setting fire on the nests of the demons, just as Clorinde shoots at the feet of one the farthermost demons, purposefully missing her mark to spook it into stumbling into the blade of Arlecchino’s scythe.
It’s a carnage, one Furina is scared to step into. She doesn’t trust the shadows creeping up on her, nor does she feel any safer standing amidst the craze of Arlecchino and Clorinde’s hunting ground.
A rustle to her right alerts Furina to raise her sword. With a shriek, she parries a hit from an already injured demon. The force behind the hit has Furina stumble, but not enough to have her lose her ground.
“You!” — heart pounding at the possibility of the demon recognizing her, Furina puts all her weight forward, tripping the demon backward and whacking it in the face with the flat of her sword.
Just then, a shoot rings just past her, killing the demon instantly.
“Are you alright?” Clorinde asks.
Furina looks back at her, seeing Arlecchino fighting off the last two demons. “Yeah. All good.”
Clorinde doesn’t prolong the farewell. After they leave the forest behind, she checks her weapons one last time, before claiming she’d inform the local head priest and depart soon after, unbothered by the fact it’s the middle of the night.
“Are you alright?” Arlecchino asks Furina, once Clorinde had bidden them farewell.
Furina curls her fingers in her cloak, shrugging away the inquiry. “Eh, why wouldn’t I be?”
“The violence made you uncomfortable.”
Furina’s eyes glance away, towards the main gate. “A little…”
“Can I ask you something?”
Furina stumbles to a stop. Rarely is Arlecchino so polite about her inquiries. “That charmed about me?”
Arlecchino rolls her eyes, but Furina can see the corners of her mouth tug upwards. “You seemed horrified, but didn’t really show a reaction at yourself being stabbed to what should’ve been death,” — Arlecchino’s hand rests on her shoulder, guiding Furina to face her — “and then there’s the disappearance of those… rowdy villagers in Erinnyes Forest.”
“Ah.”
“Considering the critical condition of the forest, I don’t doubt they met their end due to Abyssal corrosion or monsters… but you were the one who guided that first man inside.”
Furina bit the inner side of her cheek until the tang of blood flooded her mouth. “What of it?”
Arlecchino shows no reaction to the provocation. “Nothing,” — her hand travels up, tilting Furina’s chin up — “Apologies for spooking you.” With that, Arlecchino steps away, not waiting for her to reach the main gate.
Breathe in, breathe out — Furina forces her hands to stop trembling, before following after her.
Once they’re back to their own rooms, Furina finds a slice of chocolate cake, under a ceramic bowl she’s confident comes from the kitchen’s inn. Having no doubts from whom the cake comes from, Furina goes to check if Arlecchino is resting in her own room. Predictably, she finds it empty.
Groaning out loud, Furina marches inside, plopping herself on Arlecchino’s unused bed, and starts eating her cake, stubbornly deciding to catch Arlecchino just as she’ll come back from whatever nonsense she does at night, instead of sleeping.
Clorinde sets out to return to the Court of Fontaine, the moment she’s finished updating the local head priest. They didn’t appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night, but Clorinde has no intention of staying here longer than necessary.
The night is full of life — rustling, crackling, and swishing inundate her senses, as she keeps an eye out for potential preys to hunt.
Priests of the Snezhnayan Church surely have a way to present themselves — flashy, arrogant, dangerous.
Musket in hand, Clorinde turns on her heels, and took aim. Nothing — no one — moved.
“Must be the tension,” she mutters, though she doesn’t put away her musket. If she doesn’t take any long break on the road, she wouldn’t have to reschedule Tabletop Troupe’s next game.
When Furina stirs awake, she finds herself tucked under an extra blanket in her bed — no, not hers. With a jolt, she sits up. Arlecchino’s room isn’t any different from hers, just tidier due to the fact it’s mostly unused.
In the corner of the room, Arlecchino’s cloak is laid over a chair, while Furina’s had been neatly folded over the same table Furina had left the empty plate, the previous night.
Tomorrow, they’ll resume their journey across Fontaine. Next time, Furina is going to successfully corner Arlecchino at night. She’s sure of it.