An Arsonist and a Necromancer Walk into a Bar

Secrets and Revelations

Palmira stumbled downstairs just in time to catch the tail end of breakfast. Setting her accursed armaments against the table, she began mechanically chewing through her morning meal.

She'd spent far too long last night learning about the stars from Morte, and now she was feeling the consequences of that.

'Query,' her mace piped up, startling her out of her funk. 'What is that yellow substance you are consuming?'

"Huh?" Palmira mumbled, glancing down at her hand. "Uh, you mean the cheese?"

'Query. What is 'cheese?'

Palmira blinked slowly, before realizing that this wasn't a conversation she wanted to have right now.

"I'll tell you when you're older," she blurted without thinking.

'Query. How much older?'

"Uh… Older."

'Confusion. We do not understand.'

"Don't worry, you'll understand when you're older."

'Understood. We will accept Our Lady's judgement on this matter.'

"You know, sometimes I wonder if life is nothing but suffering and pain. But then I meet someone like this poor fool, and I realize it could be worse! At least I know what cheese is."

Palmira sighed.

"Oh hey~" someone slammed a hand against her shoulder, causing her to choke on her cheese. "Palmira! I haven't seen you in ages!"

Coughing, Palmira turned to glare at Anima, the dark-skinned woman smiling brilliantly down at her. "Anima," she rasped, taking deep breaths. "You almost killed me."

"Bah," the woman scoffed, ruffling her hair. Palmira's glare deepened, and she set her hair alight to get her to stop. Not that she did. Damn water mages and their resistance to fire. "You lived! But enough about that, tell me—is it true you've been getting lessons from old Rana?"

"Uh, yeah?" Palmira gave her a confused look. "For a little over a week now?"

Anima whistled. "Damn, I knew that ol' orc liked you, but I didn't think he liked you that much. How'd he convince the old moth to agree to that?"

What? Was it really that big of a deal?

Something on her face must have shown, as Anima rolled her eyes, ruffling her hair harder. "Whatever—if the significance is lost on you, it doesn't matter much in the first place. Anyway, you hear what the guildmaster's been doing? He's recalled like half the guild from our jobs—as if we weren't broke enough! Honestly, what's he thinking? Is he trying to tank our reputation!? How the hell are we supposed to find more work when everyone's gonna be thinking we're the type to shrink on work?"

Palmira froze, the memory of Ósma and the guildmaster's argument suddenly surfacing. Anima must have noticed, as she shifted to start leaning on her head. "Hey hey," she hummed, ignoring Palmira as she struggled under the older woman's weight. "What's that expression? Do you know something I don't?"

"…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Because I think you do~"

"The—the guildmaster banned me from talking about it!"

"If he said it in front of his newest adventurer, then it couldn't have been that secretive!"

"I…" Palmira really, really didn't want to spill anything. She wasn't confident at all in her position in the guild to so brazenly break a direct order from the guildmaster, but she also realized she wouldn't be getting anywhere without something to distract the other woman. She cast her eyes around looking for something, before her eyes landed on her new mace, Malocchio.

Could she…? Should she…?

"I…?" Anima prodded leadingly.

"I… I'm meeting with Sinbad the Paladin today!" she blurted, plowing forward without giving herself time to consider the consequences. At least maybe this way, if she died today someone might be able to find her body. "He requested my help with tracking down some demons! And, uh, it's not like I could say no…"

Anima didn't say anything for a long moment. Then— "I don't believe you."

That was not the reaction she was expecting. "What!? But it's true!"

"Look, newbie," Anima gave her a dry look. "I know you're trying to sound tough, but Sinbad the Paladin is not the kind of person to just pick up random kids off the street and hire them to help with something as dangerous as a demon. I get it, okay, you want to look cool in front of your senior. But you gotta make it sound believable, you know?"

Palmira spluttered, having expected many reactions but not having expected to not be believed.

Unfortunately, before she could try to defend herself, someone else intervened.

'Indignation. Our Lady does not lie—The Paladin does indeed require her services. Do not throw such allegations at Our Lady's feet again, lest We become agitated.'

Anima slowly turned to stare down at her mace. The mace stared back.

"…You know, I'm less surprised than I thought I'd be," Anima mused, finally getting off Palmira's head. "I guess it's less shocking the second time around."

"It's not what it looks like!"

Anima gave her a flat look, and Morte snickered. "Really now, lying right after your dear new partner defended you so vigorously? For shame~"

The older woman just shook her head. "Well, suddenly I believe your story about meeting The Paladin—if only because I now see how bad a liar you really are."

"What? Really!?"

"Well, no," she shrugged, but her eyes never left the mace. "I believe that you believe you met Sinbad. But that doesn't mean he's the real Sinbad—there's a lot a criminal could gain—and lose, I suppose—from posing as someone that famous. Especially someone needing help from a powerful yet naïve young mage."

Palmira shook her head. "No, it was the real Sinbad, I swear! I met him before, on our way back from Riposa! He had the eyepatch and everything!"

"Mhm," Anima nodded, obviously not believing her. "Sure it was. And you said you were meeting with this 'Sinbad' today?"

Palmira had a bad feeling about this line of questioning, but was in too deep to think of a way out. "Uh, yes?"

"Well then," Anima smiled brightly, "I'm certain he wouldn't mind me tagging along, now would he?"

"That—"

--

​

"—is a horrible idea!" Palmira hissed to her newly appointed chaperone for what felt like the hundredth time. Anima, for her part, merely rolled here eyes, sashaying through the crowded streets like a woman on a mission. "I think he might actually kill me if he finds out I brought someone else along!"

"All the more reason for me to join," Anima shot back, dragging her along. She'd badgered the location out of the young fire mage before they'd even left the guild, and now there was nothing Palmira could do to stop her from inviting herself along. "There's no way I'm leaving my favorite newbie to die to some freak in a backalley!"

"And I appreciate that," she did, really. It caused her chest to warm (she patted out some smoke wafting out from her shirt) at the thought of someone caring enough about her wellbeing to do something like this. "But I've been living on the streets for years—trust me when I say I know what those shady bastards are like. But this is the real Sinbad, and I don't want you getting either of us hurt by following me!"

"If he's the real Sinbad," Anima's lack of belief in her words was really starting to grate on her. "Then he wouldn't resort to threats of violence to get what he wants. He's a Paladin. The Paladin. He's the goodiest goody-two-shoes around."

Palmira vehemently disagreed, but found there was nothing she could do to stop Anima's mission to protect her from imaginary threats.

Well, okay, it was a very real threat. But it wasn't the kind either of them could do anything about, so it was something she'd prefer to deal with herself. Like she always did.

Eventually they made it to the piazza, where Sinbad was sitting impatiently beneath the vandalized statue of himself.

(Which she noticed had not been fixed, despite the man obviously having seen what's wrong with it. In fact, it was even more damaged now, as someone had broken off the head and flipped it upside down. They'd also splattered it with bright pink paint, giving her a good idea of who did it.)

"You're late," Sinbad scowled, glaring at her. She noticed, with a sort of detached amusement, that Tintinnia had managed to force herself along and was waving happily at her from beside him. "And who's this you've brought with you?"

"Someone who's interested in the continued wellbeing of her guildmates," Anima shot back, crossing her arms with a glare. A glare that turned into a grimace as she took in the man in front of them and realized he might actually be Sinbad. Still, credit where it's due, she didn't back down in the slightest. "And who wants to keep them from doing stupid shit just because someone powerful coerced them into it. So, who are you, and what do you want with our Palmira?"

Sinbad, closed his eyes, sighing aggressively through his nose. "I," he gestured to himself and the holy church armor he wore. "Am Sinbad. You might have heard of me. And I require your… guildmate in order to investigate allegations of demon worship in the Ambrosi Famiglia. As it is rather time sensitive, we need to leave now, so if you would let us be on our way…"

"Ambrosi?" Anima frowned, not budging, before her eyes widened. "Wait, is that what all of those rumors I've heard are about? Did they really…?"

"Yes," Sinbad bit out. "And as this girl has worked for the Famiglia, she is complicit in the act. Therefore, in order for her to atone, she needs to—"

"Atone!?" Anima cut him off, stepping forward and slamming a finger into the shocked paladin's chest. "What the hell do you mean, atone. She's like, five. What the hell could she have possibly done that's so bad you're forcing her to fight demons to make up for it!?"

"I'm fifteen!" Palmira shouted angrily, stomping her foot like a five-year-old.

"You're five!?" Tintinnia yelped, waving her arms wildly. "But you look so old!"

The two adults ignored the teens beside them, instead settling into a determined stare down, neither side willing to budge.

"What guild are you from, woman?"

"For a paladin, you're a lot ruder than I'd expected," Anima glared down her nose at him. "I'm from the Cadorna Famiglia, if you must know. You've probably heard of us. Or heard us, at least."

Sinbad's eyes widened, and with an annoyed scowl he glanced away. Seeming to debate with himself, he finally turned back to her, scowl deepening. "Fine. I will admit her sins are not so large, but that does not mean they are small either. Knowingly or not, she committed the sin of demon worship, and that is not something I can overlook as both a paladin and a member of the faith. Surely you understand that."

"Not at all," Anima scoffed. She gestured to herself. "In case you couldn't tell, my Alloli are different from yours. And they don't force children into wars just because they unknowingly messed up a little—on someone else's orders, no less. If there's someone you should be angry at, it's our guildmaster, not her."

"You're a pagan?" Sinbad wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You know nothing of our faith, and yet you think you can lecture me about righteousness?"

"I damn well can, because it seems unlike you I've read your holy book! Trinity 13:17, in case you can't recall, states that unknowingly committing a sin is redeemable via church service of all stripes! If you'd really wanted her to 'atone' you'd have sent her to clean the cathedral organ for a year like a normal clergymember!"

The Paladin scowled, and then scowled further as he remembered the passage and realized she was right. "…So it does," he conceded begrudgingly. "However, I still require her services. And… and yours," he spat the words like they physically pained him. "If you would join us."

Palmira's eyes widened—she'd been watching the argument in shocked awe, but seeing Sinbad actually back down wasn't something she'd expected at all!

"Really?" Anima raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "After trying to coerce a young girl into fighting your battles you only now think to ask? I admire your balls, if nothing else."

Sinbad flushed, but straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I… realize now that my methods were rather… forceful. However, this is something I cannot bend on—this matter is not only necessary to save countless human lives, it is also something deeply personal to me. Even if it is wrong, I will need the girl's assistance in this matter."

Anima still didn't look impressed. Glaring down at him, Palmira could almost imagine her as a warrior queen, staring down her defeated enemy as he begged for his life. "Tell us what it is, then. Because right now you seem to be saying a lot of nothing. Why should we help you, after what you tried to pull with Palmira?"

Sinbad closed his eye, seemingly debating something with himself. Finally, after a long moment, he opened it again, and it looked like he'd aged a decade in an instant. "…What do you know of the Triumvirate?"

"Are you bragging?" Anima scoffed. "It's what people took to calling the three heroes who defeated the Lich-King. You, obviously, the priestess Rosalina, and the Drowned-Man David."

"Indeed," Sinbad sighed, slumping. "The triumvirate. The three heroes. Hah, what a farce—only I fight for humanity anymore. The other two have been… corrupted."

"What!?" Anima's eyes widened, as did Palmira's. What did he mean by corrupted? "Why is this the first I've heard of it!?"

"Because the Lady Pontiff demanded we keep it a secret," Sinbad sighed. "I disagreed at first, but she believed that if the common man learned that two of their greatest heroes had fallen to the darkness… well… I imagine it might make the aftermath of the Great Betrayal look like a minor riot in comparison."

Palmira knew nothing about what he meant by the aftermath, but even she knew of the Great Betrayal. How could she not? It was the moment in which the Black Knight Laurence turned his back on the Hero, becoming a Demon Lord in his own right.

Even decades later it wasn't an event easily forgotten, and while the other Demon Lords might have been more dangerous or deadly, none were as hated as Laurence the Traitor.

"I have been chasing them across the peninsula for some time now, cutting down demon sympathizers and searching for clues on their whereabouts. Recently I learned that David had been spotted entering the city, and I knew that this was my chance. It… it might be my only chance, if…"

He trailed off, and Palmira shared a worried look with Anima. If what?

"That is part of why I need her help," Sinbad shook himself, before motioning to her. "Not only is she an in with the Ambrosi, she owns a relic of the Lich-King. I had hoped I could recruit her help without tipping her off to the truth, but you are… erg… correct in that I was too forceful. And I… apologize for that."

"Real heartfelt apology there," Anima scoffed, having recollected herself after hearing his story. But her stance had loosened, ever so slightly. Then something else he said registered. "Wait, Palmira has a what!?"

She turned to look at Palmira, who was herself staring at Morte in shock.

"Hah! Well, cat's out of the bag now!"

"Morte!" Palmira hissed, shaking him violently. Luckily, she'd discovered that Malocchio's tail was long enough to wrap around her waist as a belt, freeing up both her hands for maximum shakage. "Why the hell didn't you tell me that!?"

"Because there's a world of a difference between being a cursed staff and a Demon Lord's cursed staff! And frankly, it doesn't matter! I've no loyalty to him, and he knew it, which is why he dumped me in a chest after making me and threw away the key! Well, it was either that or he was annoyed by my endless puns, but what evil megalomaniac doesn't love a good pun?"

Somehow, his blaise attitude reassured her. Morte was still Morte, even during startling revelations about his true nature.

Also, it made a lot of sense once someone pointed it out. There was no way Morte had been a normal necromancer's staff.

She huffed and flipped him upside down. He'd remain like that for the rest of the conversation, as punishment for lying—well, for not telling her the truth earlier.

Anima gave her a look, but apparently decided Sinbad was more important right now. She slowly turned back to the paladin, shaking off her shock.

"I see," she nodded slowly at him. "I understand that what you're doing is important—however, Palmira will not be helping with it. I can send for some backup from the guild, but she's far to new and young to join on something this dangerous."

"We don't have time for you to call for backup!" Sinbad shook his head adamantly. "We've already tipped our hand and failed at the first stage—who knows how long he will remain in the city! We've already wasted enough time arguing!"

"Be that as it may—"

"Um!"

The two arguing adventurers paused, turning to look at the person who'd spoken up.

Palmira, who was even more shocked than them, found herself freezing up under their gaze. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out—not that she knew what she wanted to say in the first place.

"I…"

How did she say this? Not just that she wanted to help. But that she felt like she had to. Was it because she felt guilty for running and leaving other Ambrosi to die? Or perhaps her guilt stemmed from helping the apparent demon worshippers in the first place? Was it because she was still worried about her immortal soul, and wanted to remain on the good side of The Paladin?

Or was it something more primal. The simple knowledge that she could help making her want to help. To claim her own place in the tapestry of history.

She'd already chosen to learn forbidden magic from Morte. What was this compared to that?

(Ambition is the Sin of Man. A single drop is all it takes to get addicted.)

She did not know how to say any of this. So instead, she wet her lips, and—

"Uh, where's Tintinnia going?"

The two older adventurers blinked, before turning to look where the pink girl had been standing. The pink girl who was now blitzing her way down a side alley—a side alley that led directly to the Piazza del Drago, and the Ambrosi's villa.

Sinbad's eye widened, and he immediately ran after her. "She found him!" he shouted back at them. "If you want to help protect humanity, follow me! Otherwise, stay out of my way."

"What do you mean, 'stay out of my way!?'" Anima snapped back, following him without a second's hesitation. "Don't act so high and mighty you damn zealot! Like I could just stand by knowing something's going down in my home! I'm coming with you whether you want me to or not!"

Palmira watched their retreating backs, rooted in place in shock. Was it—now!?

"Well," Morte asked, neither judgmental nor reproachful, merely curious. "Are you going after them?"

His voice snapped her out of her shock. And…

She didn't know. She both wanted and didn't want to be a part of this.

And yet her feet chose for her.

Running after the two other adventurers, flames licking at her heels, Palmira decided that she'd decide on the way.