Chapter Text
Now, even though the problem is well and done for, and Nod-Krai is safe for the first time in a long while, Nefer can’t help thinking that she got the short end of the stick. Sure, the total destruction of Nod-Krai would have been bad for business (and to be honest, she’s started to like this place), but she didn’t ask to get blinded for her trouble. She wasn’t even one of the people Rerir antagonised the most either, for the moon’s sake! Columbina, the Traveler, Flins; there are so many other people that Rerir has a bigger grudge against.
And yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Nefer’s started to grow a bit fond of the crew that’d assembled to fight off the Rerir threat, and though that isn’t ideal for someone in her line of work, she doesn’t think she could’ve helped it. Defeating the Rächer of Solnari, one of the Five Sinners of Khaenri’ah; who wouldn’t have grown somewhat closer to the people who helped her do it? And if Nefer was secretly pleased that nobody else’d gotten hurt, or that the Moonchanter had used her own silver blood to heal her eyes, well, that was no-one’s business but her own.
Either way, this whole situation has opened up an opportunity for invaluable intel, intel on none other than the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. Nefer’s loath to say it, but the information she has on the Grand Master is precious little, though she’s just worked out a large piece of the puzzle, sitting here in the heady perfume of the Curatorium of Secrets.
Her recent time in the Northern Intelligence Network’s base for coordination with the Knights was her first time seeing Varka and that Flins in the same room. There is no doubt about it, something’s simmering between the duo. Longing looks, a certain curiosity about each other, hell, the Traveler even confirmed her suspicions...
Nefer stumbled along the road, her tiredness having fought and won a battle with her honor, as her upper half lay heavily on Jahoda’s shoulder. The loss of her eyesight was jarring, to say the least, and she despised this vulnerability. Depending on others was risky business, and Nefer had learned that lesson the hard way, which was why she had allowed her hair to fall over her eyes as she leant on Jahoda.
Well, it wouldn’t last too long, Nefer surmised. She could still feel the lingering ghost of Lauma’s fingertips over her eyelids, and the warmth of her precious blood as it seeped into Nefer’s skin. The Lady Moonchanter herself had informed Nefer that she would be healed soon, provided she stuck to her treatment, so who was she to argue?
Yet another aching step forward, and she felt a slender, yet calloused hand seize her wrist. Nefer stiffened and made to pull her hand from the foreign grasp, but the voice of the Traveler stopped her.
“Nefer! Let me help you, you don’t have to walk so far,” said Lumine, and Nefer sensed, with interest, the slightest thread of panic in her voice. So, the Traveler had something to say, it seems.
Lumine gently slipped Nefer’s free arm into the crook of her own elbow, and Nefer didn’t resist. She could bear it, just until she got Lumine to tell her whatever was bothering her.
Jahoda scoffed playfully. “How are you going to shorten the walking distance to Nasha Town, Lumine? Got any superpowers we’re unaware of?”
“Just trust me,” said Lumine cryptically. The trio walked some distance further, and when the sound of Paimon chattering away to Lauma finally receded, Lumine stopped them.
“What the heck is— Whoa!” yelped Jahoda, and Nefer felt an odd swirling sensation in her stomach. When it stopped, she gathered from the vanished smell of fresh air and the scent of machine oil that they were in Hiisi Island no longer, but in Nasha Town. Hmm, she would have to ask Lumine later how exactly she’d teleported them.
Some more walking, and the fragrance of incense signalled their crossing into the threshold of the Curatorium. Thank her familiarity with the Curatorium’s office, Nefer was able to quickly let go of Lumine and Jahoda in an attempt to restore her control over the situation. She straightened herself, then primly took a seat on her favourite couch in her lounge.
Nefer flicked her wrist at Jahoda. “Jahoda, I seem to recall that there was a pending shipment from that vendor in Paha Isle, yes? Kindly fetch it for me.”
“Boss! That’s so far away! Can I have a break, just this once? Pretty please, we just defeated Rerir!” whined Jahoda.
Nefer shot her a look, and with a groan, Jahoda’s shoes clanked as she stumped to the door. She motioned in Lumine’s direction to sit down.
“Er... is there something you need?” said Lumine apprehensively. Nefer laughed.
“You have something you need. Well? Spit it out.”
“...”
“...”
“IsweartothearchonsaboveIcan’tdealwiththosetwoanymore.”
“... What?”
“Flins and Varka. I’m genuinely concerned for them. They keep flirting with each other!” cries Lumine, and Nefer fought to keep a smile off her face. That was not what she’d expected at all. Nefer crossed her legs and leaned back slightly with interest.
“So I’ve noticed. What of it? It’s irritating for sure, though.”
Nefer could practically see Lumine’s eyes widen. “I’m not the only one! Thank goodness, Paimon looked at me like I was crazy when I told her. Wait, you wanna know what they were talking about when we were all waiting for you?” Nefer nodded her assent to what was undoubtedly a rhetorical question, and Lumine launched into her explanation.
“Right, I just managed to overhear their private conversation, and already Varka was laughing every other sentence, and louder than he usually laughs. You can imagine.
And then you have Flins speaking in such a way that specifically invites Varka to ask him questions. ‘*Illuga’s a true Ratnik, in that sense he puts me to shame.*’ What a cryptic statement! Can Flins be any more obvious?!
Oh, and then they’re bantering, like every other second,” said Lumine, who then quite unexpectedly changed her tone to that of a high pitched, mocking one.
‘In the name of Barbatos, your secret is safe with me,’ ‘When we went for drinks, you said that you and Barbatos are best buds, how can I take your oath seriously? Haha.’ Thank goodness I left just then, because I probably would’ve combusted if I’d had to hear any more. I didn’t consent to being their third wheel, Archons help me.” finished Lumine in a rush, and Nefer could sense the tinge of embarrassment in her last sentence; Lumine was likely feeling bad about her trauma dumping onto Nefer.
Well, Nefer wasn’t about to complain, as Lumine’d divulged a few interesting tidbits. For instance, Varka knows Flins’ secret, whatever that is. Perhaps that secret is what makes him feel that he “is not a true Ratnik”. They’ve also gone for drinks together before, and Lumine’s quote implies that it was just the pair of them.
Quite intriguing.
Nefer smiles, trying to put Lumine at ease. “I see your point. I’ve noticed some of this before as well, and your intel simply confirms it.”
“Is there anything we can do about it?!” says Lumine in exasperation.
“Hm, I could probably pull a few strings to set up a situation in which they could realise their mutual feelings. But it’ll cost you, no doubt,” said Nefer.
“Oh no no no, I’m too broke for that. I suppose I just wanted to complain to a friend.”
The illustrious Traveler considered her a friend? Well, this was new. But not unwelcome.
Nefer hadn’t moved from her seat for the past half hour, her form sinking into the plush cushions, deep in thought. Intel on Varka would certainly be very valuable, given the Knights’ current prominence as a faction in Nod-Krai. If she could somehow get leverage on Flins, and then ensure that Varka and Flins got together, she would have an essentially unlimited trove of information on the Knights. And then, a half-baked plan starts to form in her mind.
Invite Flins to the Curatorium with the promise of “intel on the Wild Hunt’s current movements”. Alert him to the fact that she knows about them, watch Flins squirm for a bit, then propose that Nefer help them get together. Flins thanks her profusely, she uses her connections to get them together, and voila. Flins is in fact, indebted to her. Profit.
Now, there are a couple glaring flaws to her plan. For instance, if Flins turns out to be an utter coward and refuses to allow her to matchmake, that’ll stop her plan in its tracks. She can’t ascertain whether that will happen without executing the plan, however. Also, she doesn’t necessarily need Flins and Varka to be an item to extract intel from Flins. She just needs him in her debt, and to wait for the two of them to become very good friends. Or she could simply become good friends with Flins, and wait for those two, or nudge them along, to become close as well.
Though, in the interest of honesty, Nefer thinks that she will also combust if she sees those two dance around each other any more. And she’ll probably have to work with the Knights or the Lightkeepers or both in the future. Better to make use of her rusty matchmaking skill now than to suffer in the future.
As if on cue, the door flies open, and someone (Nefer thinks she knows who) dashes into the room. A startled yowl from Ashru, and a second later, soft paws pad onto her legs, a warm ball of fur moving to sit in her lap. She gently drags her claws along Ashru’s back, and he purrs, sitting placidly for a few seconds before jumping off again. When Nefer tilts her head up, she can sense the presence of a bashful Jahoda, standing in front of her, with her hands undoubtedly clasped behind her back.
“You should watch where you’re going, Jahoda,” sighs Nefer. Jahoda blushes.
“I’m really sorry Boss, it won’t happen again! I’ve got the goods though,” she says.
“Thank you. Now, if you could fetch me a sheet of paper and my pen?”
Jahoda complies, and Nefer places the piece of paper onto the coffee table in front of her. She hooks her pointer finger into the fabric of the glove covering her left arm and pulls it off in one fluid motion. With her now bare fingers, she feels around the table to judge the position of the paper. Nefer braces her pen in her right hand, a barely noticeable exhale leaving her lips. She’s never written a letter without the use of her eyes, but it’s as good a time as any to begin.
“Um, boss? Should I write your letter for you?”
“No, thank you. As a matter of fact, I’d like if you left the room for a few minutes till I call you back inside.”
“But—” Nefer tilts her head to look at Jahoda from her seated position, and the girl immediately shuts up. Footsteps echo in her ears, and when she’s confident Jahoda’s left the room, Nefer begins writing.
Nefer’s leaning back against the cushions again, her legs crossed, and her wrist aching from patting Ashru for what feels like hours now. She can’t really do much in her current state, and she’d felt practically naked when simply sitting with nothing to do, so here she is. Bonding with her cat, she supposes, while her thoughts wander. Ashru had long since fallen asleep, the soft rise and fall of his warm body acting as a sort of comfort. A shield.
She wonders what Ashru is dreaming about. Do cats dream? Would his dreams be about her? About Jahoda? About mice? Nefer would never know. Though, that Moonchanter probably would.
Nefer forces her thoughts away from that particular subject. Not again. She’s been plagued with visions of that woman for weeks now, and they have only increased since the loss of her eyesight. The soft curve of her rosy lips... Nefer’s face reddened as she recalled the last time Lauma had smiled at her. She’d been unable to meet her crystalline gaze, turning away and blushing like a lovesick teenager. How pathetic.
After that incident, Nefer had been forced to admit to herself that she had fallen for Lauma. And that was only so that she could keep herself in check, make sure she doesn’t bend her personal rules and sensibilities for Lauma’s sake. No matter how noble her requests always are.
And she’d done exactly that over the past few days. Gone above and beyond to acquiesce to Lauma’s requests, if only to hear her quiet thank yous and sincere blessings. Even if Nefer does feel like vomiting when she gets what she wants; the pure sweetness in Lauma’s personality is simply lacking in Nefer’s behaviours. It is something that has been beat out of her from her past, that Lauma is still able to hold onto, just as she naively holds on to her goddess. That goddess that she so reveres, despite knowing the truth of the moon.
Nefer seems to have picked the worst possible person to be the subject of her (unwilling) affections. If there’s anyone Lauma is in love with, it would be her people. There’s simply no room for Nefer. Not that she wants to be in Lauma’s heart! Either way, it is more than likely that the stunning woman is attracted to men. She probably has men lining up, with that face of hers. Her face, and the rest of her...
A slamming noise, and Nefer’s thoughts are interrupted at what was probably quite the opportune moment. Two pairs of footsteps pad into the Curatorium; one with measured, even strides, and the other with an increased tempo and a little too much force on the downbeat.
“Jahoda,” Nefer calls. “Leave this room and shut the door behind you.” The calm footfalls abruptly cease their movement, but the overexcited ones continue forward till they stop in front of Nefer.
“Boss, are you sure you don’t— Right! Yes! I’m leeaaaving!”
Nefer fights the urge to laugh. She didn’t even have to look at Jahoda this time.
“Miss Nefer.” Flins’ steady tone reaches Nefer from perhaps half the room away. She can sense the slight apprehension in his voice, but to his credit, he does a good job in masking it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh no, Mr. Flins, the pleasure is all mine,” says Nefer, beckoning the man closer. A minute pause, and he’s sitting down in the chair in front of her.
“Would you kindly sit next to me? I’d rather not have Jahoda or any other interlopers hear any of this.”
Well, Nefer has an ulterior motive for that, but Flins complies, and the cushions buckle slightly as he seats himself next to her.
“Yes?” says Flins, clearly still confused. At least Nefer does in fact have some intel that would be of use to the Lightkeepers. She needs to ease into her plan, make sure he doesn’t startle.
“Now, I had some information that I believe may interest you.”
Nefer reels off some details of the Wild Hunt phenomenon centred on Kipumaki Cliff, picked up both from the local populace and Jahoda’s various travels into that area. Flins is an attentive listener, and as the conversation wears on, his frame relaxes ever so slightly into the couch. His voice loses some of its stiffness, and yet, that thread of suspicion doesn’t dissolve.
“..some of these phenomena occur particularly in and around Amsvartnir, so I’d recommend the Lightkeepers join forces with the Knights of Favonius.” Nefer looks straight at where she senses Flins’ face to be. “Though, am I wrong in saying that you may prefer to collaborate with Mr. Varka alone?”
Flins hesitates for merely a fraction of a second, and Nefer knows it; she’s struck gold. It must be a powerful infatuation to catch one as composed as Flins off his guard. He does recover immediately, however.
“Miss Nefer, I must say, I don’t quite understand your meaning in—“
“Save it,” interrupts Nefer, as she firmly places a hand onto Flins’ shoulder. “You. And the Knight of Boreas. I’m sure you understand what I’m getting at.”
The man next to her seems to freeze solid. Then, his shoulder begins to tremble. With what? Terror?
No. No, she didn’t mean for this to happen. He’s evidently not okay, and it’s not as if the man has done anything wrong, she won’t press him where it hurts—
Ah. He seems to reel himself back in smoothly, his form steady once more.
Nefer is not provided with a response for several seconds, but when he does, it’s with the slightest trace of a smirk in his voice.
Flins claps Nefer’s shoulder. “You. And the Lady Moonchanter of the Frostmoon Scions. I take it that we mean the same thing here.”
It’s now Nefer’s turn to freeze, her body and face carefully calibrated to betray not a trace of emotion. Her thoughts are racing, hundreds bobbing to the top of her mind, and—
Only one remains.
If there’s someone she would trust to keep her secrets out of the hands of her competitors, it would be this man, whose priorities seem to consist of nothing but his job and those he considers his friends.
Her insides, now that she vocalises it, have been swirling with her emotions for days. Would it be so bad to admit it? To take off her armour, just this once, around someone who she just knows would sooner attack himself than her now-vulnerable self?
Nefer exhales quietly, crossing her legs. The corner of her lips quirks up, just slightly.
“Ah. So, you have been playing the same game as I am. You’re good, I’ll give you that.”
Flins is utterly silent. She continues.
“You are correct. I must say, though, your comparison is quite off its mark. Your Knight looks at you like you scattered the stars in the night sky. My Moonchanter has eyes for none but her people,” says Nefer cynically, flicking her head a bit to the side.
“Either way, that is of no consequence. We are here to discuss your love life, not mine. Say the word, and I’ll ensure that you and Varka are a happy couple by Moon-Prayer Night. Consider it a favour between friends.”
Nefer hopes Flins doesn’t see straight through her with that offer. She doesn’t do favours— well, at least not openly. She may have, once or twice, informally done Lauma a service without recompense, but that’s her concern and hers only. It is certainly not something she does with anyone else, be it a close friend or a client.
“To be perfectly honest,” begins Flins carefully, “I do not see your incentive to follow through with this favour. May I ask your stake in the matter?”
Nefer smirks. “You two are so unbearable to be around, this arrangement is well within my interests if I want any sort of business with the Knights or the Lightkeepers in future.”
“I— in that case, I would not refuse your kind offer,” says Flins sheepishly, the slight rustle of fabric putting in Nefer’s mind a picture of Flins’ hand self-consciously touching his nape. “On one condition, however.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“Allow me to inform the Traveler of your offer.” Nefer’s eyebrows raise slightly at that.
“You’ve explained your views on the matter, and I must say, I believe that your judgement of the Lady Moonchanter is quite mistaken,” says Flins, and Nefer’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “Allow the Traveler and I to, ah, set you up with Lauma in return, and you can take the final call for yourself.”
“... What makes you think the Traveler would be interested?”
“I have a feeling I won’t have to pay her a single mora to get her to involve herself in something like this.”
Nefer snorts.