Only Villains Do That

It’s interesting how scenery alone can tell a story.

Approaching the vampire’s manor, getting a progressively better view of the house itself and its surroundings, was like unrolling a scroll, gaining more and more understanding of what had happened here from the last Dark Crusade to the Inferno. Not in any degree of detail or nuance, but the broad shape of it came together with every new piece of perspective we found.

Rhydion took us on a course that swung to the north rather than heading directly for the manor, because there was a ridge in that area covered with thick khora which would give us a better vantage over the grounds before we approached without leaving us exposed to sight ourselves. The hike was interrupted with increasing frequency by zombie attacks, to the point that Biribo stopped whispering me warnings unless one got uncomfortably close in a direction we weren’t looking. They were wandering all over the forest here, ample proof that we were approaching the center of their activity if we didn’t already know. Rhydion decreed a halt to spellcasting, dangerously close to the witch’s lair as we were, so Harker’s bow did most of the zombie-felling, backed up by Aster and Rhydion’s quieter sword work. Well, quiet compared to the flashy spectacle Dhinell and I would have made of it.

Climbing the ridge made things a bit easier as it was too steep on one side for zombies to clamber up, so that was one flank we didn’t have to constantly guard. It was the direction which gave us the view over the mansion, and progressively told the story of this land as we trudged higher and gained an ever wider perspective.

The first and most important thing we noticed as soon as we could see it over the khora canopy was that there was a village surrounding the manor. That arrangement was familiar from modern Fflyr settlements; what set this one apart was the defensive wall surrounding the village. This practice was banned in Dlemathlys, despite the large amount of bandit activity which would have made it very helpful; only cities occupied by the Kingsguard were allowed walls. Clan fortresses were almost universally walled, just not towns or villages. Can’t have the peasants seizing a defensible position when they inevitably revolt.

So that roughly dated the construction of this village. The state of the walls said a lot about what had been happening since.

Part of their bad condition was just normal wear and tear from being outdoors for a hundred and fifty years; even where the battlements weren’t broken, there wasn’t a sharp corner to be seen. I’d been told by my grounds crew in the course of North Watch’s renovations that akorthist could outlast stone construction under similar conditions so long as you maintained it properly, which was a process similar to regularly re-applying varnish to wood. As soon as that lapsed, however, the shell-based construction would start to decay—it didn’t rot, but erosion tore it apart rapidly. The village’s walls were clearly suffering from that, but more significant was the damage caused by the khora, in a reminder of one of the several reasons those were normally cut back before they grew too close to the walls.

Roots crawling under the foundations had caused them to visibly buckle in several places. That problem at least had been avoided at North Watch because our foundations were set much deeper and apparently khora roots weren’t like tree roots; they either sank straight down from a central shell structure or spread outward along the surface seeking a new place to sprout one. These khora had not been trimmed back properly, but those closest to the walls were notably stunted, both in overall size and the profusion of their fronds and branches.

“Poison,” Rhydion stated during a lull between zombie attacks, while we paused partway up the slope to study the scenery. “Lacking the manpower to properly carve back the khora, she used an alchemist’s solution. Those which grew too close to the walls have been made to wither, their growth impeded when they were not outright killed.”

“Looks like that kinda backfired on ‘er,” Harker observed.

“Indeed, there are many reasons it is not ordinarily done.”

To give the witch some credit, the Inferno had been an unpredictable event, but what had immediately followed it would have happened eventually, just in one spot at a time rather than all at once. While the Immolate spell had restored the khora to their best possible health afterward, that didn’t stop the shells that were already weakened and withered from decades of poisoning from collapsing. From here it looked like close to half the stunted khora directly outside the walls had crumbled in on themselves or fallen over, and quite a lot of those had hit the walls themselves. Even in just the slice of view we had from this location, there was one total wall breach and three spots where huge chunks of shell were leaning against sections of the wall that had partially toppled inward under the pressure. Whole lengths of it looked about ready to collapse from the damage. And we could see less than half of the perimeter from here.

“So that explains why so many undead escaped at once,” said Dhinell. “Hell’s revels, how many did she have in there? Why were smaller numbers able to escape previously? They’ve been popping up here and there since not long after the Dark Crusade.”

“Already we have learned much,” Rhydion said, turning to resume course. “Doubtless we shall learn more the farther we go.”

There wasn’t much more history to be gleaned from the view once we reached the apex of the ridge, took down three undead ambling about up there, and paused to study the manor in earnest. We did, however, gain some much-needed tactical data.

“Well, we ain’t goin’ in the front,” Harker observed dryly.

From here we had the elevation and proper angle to see the grand entry to the mansion itself, which was behind its own set of walls from the village which were in much better shape than the outer defenses. The big, ornately carved akorshil doors were shut tight, but that wasn’t the true problem. In front of them stood a platform to which the manor’s front steps led, or would have if they still existed. The edge of the platform itself was uneven, the destruction was so absolute. Nothing remained of the stairs except some sad heaps of rubble at the base of a drop that looked at least a story tall. I’d seen this design philosophy in some of the swankier houses in Gwyllthean’s middle ring, where the “main” floor started on the second and the “basement” was behind thick windowless walls at ground level, since the Fflyr were averse to actually digging. We could…maybe climb that, since there were enough of us to help each other. Not if anybody was going to stand at the top and make it difficult, though.

“Hm. That’s weird,” Harker added, squinting through his spyglass. It made sense for a scout to have such a thing; I thought fondly of my own, which was back at North Watch because I’d packed for a quick trip to Gwyllthean, not an extended forest adventure. “The masonry wasn’t broken in any…normal way. I’d swear it looks… Yeah. Holy shit, the front steps were melted.”

“That sounds like another alchemist’s solution,” Rhydion noted. “It must mean there is another entrance, if nothing else. Harker, are you able to tell from here how recently the damage was inflicted?”

“I doubt I could tell that even up close. You’d need another alchemist, or at least a mason.”

“I don’t think we wanna take the witch’s entrance, even if we can find it,” Aster said quietly. “That’d be down there at the ground level, probably. If she’s been making zombies for a hundred and fifty years…I bet the ones that’ve wandered out here are nothing compared to their numbers inside the walls.”

“And what of it?” Dhinell snorted. “They are feeble foes at best. Dispatching them one at a time has been trivial; taking out masses at once merely opens up more options for us.”

“There are many reasons I don’t wish to fight our way in,” Rhydion said firmly. “Be prepared for that eventuality, but please recognize that if that occurs it will mean we have lost control of the situation and failed one of our primary goals. Harker, do you see any good prospects for a more discreet entrance?”

The scout was moving his spyglass slowly, panning over the old manor in careful detail. “Actually… I think we’re in luck, for once.”

One important detail we discovered from that vantage was that the manor itself was not in the center of the village, but rather against its western wall, with the manor’s own outer defenses becoming those of the village itself on that side. The combination of the architecture and the damage inflicted on it by the witch’s khora poisoning and Inferno created an opportunity right at the point where the village wall intersected the side of the manor.

An hour later, after slaughtering our way as discreetly as possible through a thickening horde of undead, we stood amid piles of slime-infested corpses at the base of this spot, staring up at the point where an entire khora superstructure had fallen against it, wedging itself right into the point where the two walls connected. From down here we couldn’t see what was up there, but from the ridge it had been apparent that right above that point on the walls was a section of large windows. The glass was a strange amber color that made me suspect some alchemical tomfoolery and they didn’t look like they were meant to be opened, but… It was a more vulnerable point than the akorthist walls themselves, and there was an oh-so-convenient ramp leading right to it.

“You want to climb this thing?” Dhinell demanded, planting her fists on her hips and staring balefully up at Harker’s proposed access from its base. “There’s no way that’ll hold a person’s weight.”

“Doesn’t look too sound,” he admitted. “It’s wedged in there pretty good, though, and I’ve climbed worse.”

“You and I and possibly Dhinell could get up that, so long as we were careful about it,” I said. “Aster…probably. If someone else carries her pack.”

“Are you making cracks about my weight?” she asked in a mock-dangerous tone.

I rolled my eyes. “You are in armor and carrying a gigantic fuckoff sword. Lighter armor, so like I said, probably. There is no way that thing’ll hold up under Rhydion’s armor, though. And as curious as I am about what’s under there, this doesn’t seem like a great place to take it off.”

A large percentage of the fallen khora trunk lay in pieces around our feet. What rested against the walls, making a tempting ramp right to the top, was about half the shell, completely hollowed out and noticeably thinner than one of its species ought to be. The witch’s years-long campaign of poison hadn’t prevented it form growing upward, but it lacked the sturdiness or numerous prongs this kind were supposed to have and the Inferno had made it crumple like an empty can. The remaining hulk was dried-out, thin, visibly cracked in several places and generally looked like it wasn’t going to last much longer in that position even if no idiots came along and tried to climb it.

“I think Lord Seiji is correct,” Rhydion said, his helmet tilted back as he studied the fallen shell. Could that thing analyze structural integrity? Silly idea, but very little would surprise me at this point. “Still, I would like to leverage this if it is possible; we have not scouted the other side of the manor but prolonging our presence here increases the risk, and it seems unlikely we will stumble upon anything else so convenient. At issue is that the obvious means of using this involves splitting the group. I hope I needn’t explain why I am reluctant to do so.”

“Like I said, I can get up it,” said Harker. “I’m also the quickest and quietest mover, especially alone. If what we specifically need is a scout…”

“Actually…” I narrowed my eyes, peering up at the broken khora trunk and thinking rapidly. “A scout is not what we need; that’s somebody’s house, not the wilderness. It’s just an incredibly dangerous house, possibly full of monsters. I’ll go.”

“Lord Seiji,” Aster growled.

“Why you?” demanded Dhinell.

“I bet Rhydion gets it.” I turned my grin on him. “Don’cha?”

“Lord Seiji is certainly a more dangerous combatant,” the paladin said, peering inscrutably at me from behind his visor. “Especially in close quarters where your bow will be at a severe disadvantage, Harker. He is a competent swordsman even if his magic should fail. My concern with this plan is, again, it presupposes that this will come to combat, which is what we are specifically trying to avoid.”

“Mmm…not exactly,” I demurred. “We’re still going to try to avoid that, but keep in mind it’s not really up to us whether this turns to fighting or not. We can be as polite as we want but if the vampire decides to attack, that’s that. What it comes down to is that I have a better chance of fending her off, at least long enough to yell a warning in the worst case. With no offense to Harker, he’d get eaten in there.”

Harker folded his arms. “No offense taken. If what you’ve said about vampires is right, that’s probably true.”

“Plus, he’ll have me to back him up,” Aster said, giving me an Aster Look.

I heaved a sigh. “Aster…”

“It’ll be fine. As long as we both leave our packs with the others, the weight shouldn’t be too much. My artifacts weigh very little; that’s one of the advantages of them being artifacts.”

“Listen, Aster—”

“You listen,” she snarled. “You are always doing this, haring off on your own on some damn fool escapade or other. And what happens every time, Seiji? Every damn time?!”

I stared at her, slowly working my jaw as I sought a sufficient rebuttal. Man, I really should work on my ability to lie. If nothing else it’d make it easier to argue with people who are clearly right.

“You are doing your bodyguard no favors by allowing her to talk to you in that fashion, Lord Seiji,” Dhinell said in her iciest tone. “Eventually you will leave and she will have to again be mindful of her place in the Goddess’s hierarchy.”

Well, that decided me. I get to argue with Aster all I want, but I’m not gonna stand for her being talked down to by the likes of fucking Dhinell.

“There are two people you don’t outrank no matter who you are: your medic, and your bodyguard.” I sighed and began shrugging out of my pack. “Well then, unless Rhydion decides to veto the plan?”

“It is as sound as any option before us,” he said, holding out a hand to take my pack. “I am inclined to concur with Miss Delavada, in fact; if we must divide the party I prefer to leave no one isolated. As she has King’s Guild bodyguarding experience, she will be well-suited to watch your back. Be silent and be careful, Lord Seiji.”

“Hey, I’m pretty good at one of those things!” I said cheerfully, placing one foot gingerly on the base of the fallen khora shell.

“I don’t even know which one you mean because you’re shit at both of ‘em,” Aster muttered. I was far too dignified to stand around squabbling all day so I began my very careful ascent in silence, because I am totally capable of that.

The thing was more stable than it looked; at least it didn’t shift much under our weight. What it did do, though, was produce ominous cracking noises several times during our short but nerve-wracking ascent, each time causing Aster and I to utterly freeze for a moment. Despite the rounded surface it wasn’t too hard to climb on hands and knees; it was at a shallow enough angle that it might have been possible to walk upright, but fuck that. The rough texture of the shell provided good traction and numerous footholds, that was the best thing about it.

I was barely a meter short of the wall itself when it cracked even more loudly and the entire thing shifted slightly to one side. Right in front of me, I saw it slide down the wall a noticeable few centimeters, both the akorthist masonry and the edge of raw khora shell crumbling visibly where it ground together. For a few seconds I held utterly still, regaining control of my breathing and reminding myself that it was just a fall of…seven or eight meters, maybe. I would definitely survive that and Heal would fix anything else.

“Aster? You okay?”

“Please hurry up,” she said, her voice as tense as a guitar string. I was really glad I’d left my new guitar with Rhydion along with my travel gear. I would be enormously pissed off if I fell on that and smashed it.

The shell held, at least, as I made my way to the top. From there I had to reach up, and then haul myself with great care onto a perilously thin ledge, which was so thin because it was not a ledge but a decorative windowsill. As windowsills it was pretty beefy, but as a place to stand? There was barely room for my feet.

I edged to the side, pressed against the glass, while Aster clambered the rest of the way up and joined me. Only when she had her own boots on solid akorthist did I relax slightly and devote my attention to the fact that what we were both pressed up against was not glass.

The stuff was translucent; we couldn’t see through it into the room beyond, but this close I could see straight into the structure of the substance itself. Amber in color, it was clearly thicker than a pane of glass would be and filled with a profusion of white filaments, which were largely arranged in chaotic patterns but frequently resolved themselves into segments of hexagonal lattice. In fact, it looked like honeycomb. Maybe the honeycomb that would result if you gave bees cocaine. It wasn’t sticky; the outer surface was polished as smooth as glass and yet felt slightly tacky under my hands, but that appeared to be just a high-friction texture. Nothing came away on my fingertips when I pulled them back.

This vampire really was some alchemist.

“What is this?” Aster muttered, carefully patting the surface of the window against which she was leaning.

“Oh, so this isn’t a normal Ephemera thing? I’m never sure I can assume that when I encounter weird shit.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. The purpose is pretty clear, though. Glass is pricey enough to get and hard to install if you’re not an evil hermit lurking in the deepest part of the forest.”

“Yeah, she’s got skills, all right. Well, at least it’s sturdy enough to—”

Right in front of me, the pane of alchemical not-glass cracked under my weight, hairline traceries spreading light lightning from a big central fissure that crossed right in front of my eyes.

“Oh, fuck off,” I complained, and an instant later the entire thing shattered, dumping me boots-over-hairdo into the room beyond.

“Lord Seiji!” Aster began sidling as carefully as she could to the hole I’d just made while I rolled over and picked myself up, cursing quietly.

Heal! Not that I felt particularly injured, but…general principles.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I grunted, dusting shattered amber shards off my clothes as Aster stepped inside and tried to fuss over me.

“Lord Seiji!” added another voice from below.

I leaned back out, waving to Rhydion. “We’re okay! Don’t climb up. That thing is about to give up the ghost; I’m sure as hell not coming back down this way.”

He waved back. “Very well. Can you see anything from there which might provide us a way in?”

“Hang on! Here, hold onto me.” I gave Aster my hand to grip and leaned carefully out, craning my neck to study the manor’s walls from this side. “Oh! Actually I think we may be in luck again. You see that tower over there?” I leaned further and raised my other hand to point, causing Aster to mutter imprecations as she threw her own weight backward to keep me balanced.

Down below, Rhydion’s helmet turned in the direction I indicated and back, then nodded. “I do.”

“Do you think you can get on top of it from the other side?”

“Just a moment.” He stepped back and conferred with Harker, who himself stepped away out of my line of sight. Seconds later he was back and made a quick and quiet report, which Rhydion relayed back to me. “Possibly, depending on what is on your side. There is a buckled section of wall with a khora shell leaning into it which Harker believes we can scale. Can you see the indentation? It’s just on the other side of the next tower down in that direction.”

“Oh, come on,” Aster protested, hauling against me as I braced myself on the window frame and leaned further out.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Are the wall parapets intact and the tower doors open?”

“The walkway… From what I can see, it’s passable. There are some broken sections but nothing too big to hop. Second tower doesn’t have any intact doors; this one does, so we’ll have to get them open. But one of the doors on this tower, a little bit below the level of the walls, opens onto a smaller wall on the inside, separating the manor grounds from the village outside. There’s a walkway across that. Looks like that leads to a side entrance to the manor, too. Uh…”

I chanced a glance down and grimaced.

“Just so you know, it’s crawling with zombies down there.”

“I shall include that in my reasons not to fall off,” he said gravely. “Then we have a plan. Make your way as carefully as possible to the side door and we shall begin the ascent from down here. Any sign of the witch? Or any other threat?”

“It’s dead quiet up here.”

“So far, so good. Then be as swift as you can without sacrificing caution, and we shall do the same.”

I gave him a jaunty wave. “See ya soon!”

“Hell’s revels, you’re heavy,” Aster grunted, finally letting me go as I leaned back inside.

“Oh, now look who’s making cracks about whose weight.”

“Hey, guys?” I hadn’t even noticed Biribo had come out of my scarf during the confusion of our entry, but his voice was now somewhat behind us, inside the room. “I think you better see this.”

I winced, belatedly realizing we had been blithely standing there with our backs to a room in a vampire’s mansion which we hadn’t bothered to carefully scout first. Some days I was really forced to wonder whether I had the wits for this Dark Lord business. Well, Biribo’s tone didn’t suggest danger, at least.

Aster and I turned in unison, then straightened up and blinked in unison.

“…huh. Would you look at that.”