Wreath of Lilies, Cauldron of Poison

Interlude 1

Sidonai the Troubadour

Sidonai watched as the plain rickety wagon vanished into the distance while the commotion behind her grew.

She did not join in with the rest of the group in celebrating the conquering of a dungeon. Have they forgotten that with the dungeon conquered, that soon the dungeon would not be as profitable as before? Wonder if they would still praise his name as excitedly then.

That thought did not stay in her mind for more than a second as it did not matter to her. Her duty was finished and it was time to exit right. She intended to use the crowd to stealthily make her way out.

“Sid!” Akira called out from among the people, parting them with his presence. From the gap she could spot Hannah being loaded onto a carriage.

She let out a sigh and turned around, her gaze facing to a bit to the right of his face.

“Don’t call me Sid, Sakagami Akira.”

“I-I’m sorry. With all that we have been through I thought we have grown a bit closer,” he said, red faced from embarrassment.

“The name Sid is only allowed to those I consider a friend. You are not my friend. You are a stranger whose party I joined out of curiosity,” her words were sharp and merciless. Yet she said them with a smile. “So, what does the Hero of Calendia need from a wandering minstrel?”

He scratched his hair, showing an embarrassed smile. Her earlier words were enough to give him an understanding of their position in her view. Nevertheless, he had to at least try. “Well, I was thinking that perhaps…you might consider joining our party? I know that we haven’t shown you the best of our abilities in the dungeon. But we are going to get stronger from here on out. And with your help we can do a lot more!”

“I appreciate the offer but I have to decline,” she said flatly. “My path is that of a wanderer. Staying in one place for too long is…not within my interest. Good day.”

With a tip of the hat, she ended the conversation right there and then. Her back turned and she walked away, leaving Akira stunned by her rejection.

A few steps after, she halted and spoke without looking at Akira.

“Ah, I almost forgot. You would do well not to misunderstand your current position, the Sword of the First King is not yours. You are just lent it.”

Leaving that warning to the hapless Hero, she continued walking away.

Sidonai walked further into the forest, her mood slowly returned jovial as she was no longer bothered by the mundane talks of a party of strangers.

It was nearing Fall and the colors of the leaves have begun to ripen.

She could hear the birds singing, the rustling of leaves blown by the wind. The sunlight peeking through the thin forest canopy allowed her the occasional warmth from the otherwise crisp afternoon.

She took a deep breath, allowing the sweet air deep into her lung, exhaling slowly. “Indeed, this is much better than that old cavern.”

Soon, she arrived at the end of the forest. Where she walked until she arrived at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking a vast expanse of land. Below her was a field of green pasture that went on as far as they eyes could see, dotted by small houses and cattle grazing on the grass.

The Kingdom of Calendia, as a worshipper of Junnaveil, was blessed with water. There was never a shortage of it, thus it enjoyed an unshakeable position as the sole country with both the strongest armada and resources.

Sidonai gazed at the city visible at the end of the pasture. Her gaze was attracted to a tall tower standing in the midst of the city, visibly even from afar. The Towers of Three Rivers, where Eleanora learned the ways of magic.

In the middle of the Capital city, surrounded by three rivers leading into the sea was the magnificent Stillwater Palace where the Royal Family lived. Three massive bridges connected it to the Noble’s, Military, and Business District. The city was much bigger than Cairula, with thrice the number of people residing within.

Say what you want about Calendia, but the First King indeed had a great vision for the future. A shame that his descendants were not of his caliber.

Sidonai enjoyed the view, a smile of satisfaction appearing on her beautiful visage, however the smile soon turned into a frown. Her lyre was retrieved from her clothes and she began singing a hymn.

At that moment, a number of men in brown clothes fell from the trees.

“You think you can hide from my eyes, you boorish men?” she calmly said with her eyes opening only very slightly.

Even though they fell, they did not curse, merely grunted through their brown masks. They stood up in an instant, their weapons at ready. There were 7 of them. 3 with swords and 4 with short bows. Their skins were dark in color. But the most important thing was that their ears were pointed.

They did not speak, but the murderous intent within their eyes could not be hidden.

“That decrepit old thing is indeed capable. To hire pawns of your level,” Sidonai said, not even bothering to turn around. She returned her instrument back inside her clothes with a sigh.

“Eh toi. Arrête de sourire.”

The men did not understand a lick of what she said. Then again, they were not taught to think freely. Three of the men in front lunged at her while the last four nocked their bow, ready to shoot if she managed to escape the three.

A length of thin cloth shot from among the trees and wrapped around their necks, pulling them back forcefully.

BAM!

They were thrown back, slamming into trees and bouncing on the grass.

Suddenly a figure appeared in the middle of the attackers, seemingly out of thin air.

Her long furry ears and bushy tail indicated that she was a Beastfolk. She wore her ginger hair short, with one of her furry ears being ginger in color while the other pure white. Her clothing, although tight and left nothing to the imagination actually had three layers. As could be seen from her many layered collars.

Her supple, muscular limbs were bound with white cloths with dark red stains on them. This bizarre appearance of hers would turn heads anywhere, especially here in the middle of a botched assassination.

She was a beauty, though marred by the large scar on her lips.

“Ma belle Troubadour, bonjour. It’s been a long time, how are you doing on this fine day?”

“Ce n'est pas ton affaire, Le Fou. L'organisation m'a laissé un congé - et je l'occupe comme je l'entends. »

“Ooh, we are friends, aren’t we, Sid?” the beastfolk female said with a sing-song voice. “Why don’t you call me just like back then.”

“Hhh…” She turned back, showing a helpless smile. Though this young woman before her was often unbearable, she was someone she considered a friend. “…Henri.”

“Mmm! I just love it when you say my name like that!” Henri placed her left leg on top of her right thigh. One could see that she had no footwear on, only dirty cloths protecting her foot.

The assassin were not amused at being ignored and had taken a formation to surround the new arrival. The one that seemed to be the leader raised his arm and signaled to attack.

“I am having a conversation with an old friend. Outsiders should keep out!” She swayed back and forth, dodging the arrows easily and landed a kick at an assassin’s neck with the tip of her toe. The sharp nail on her toe pierced deep into his neck and she ripped his neck with that same leg.

The assassins dis not expect this turn of events and grew more aggressive.

It was at that moment that Henri spoke a single command.

“Bind!”

The cloths on her body unfurled and shot out to the surrounding. They wrapped around the limbs of the assassins. Some wrapped around their necks and weapons.

“Danse avec moi! La Danse Macabre!!!”

As she declared with a loud voice, she cartwheeled and did a handstand and began spinning, dancing with all her body, dragging the assassins around like a whirlwind. Her superior strength and the tightly wound cloths broke their bones and slammed them to the ground and to the trees.The sheer force caused wind to swirl around her dragging leaves and loose branches with it.

The assassins screamed wordlessly. Necks bent, spines and bones broken, they were soon dead. They died in agony and helplessness while the killer danced joyfully.

Truly, a dance of death.

When she was finished, the cloths retracted back to their former position.

Henri beamed as she raised her arm theatrically, waiting for her friend’s reaction.

Sidonai let out a tired sigh. “Is there a need for this barbarity? You could have killed them without that skill.”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? After all, we are nothing more than buffoons and jesters dancing our mad dance in this mad world. Nous observons et nous rions. C’est tout. Tu sais?”

She grinned, showing her fangs. Unlike most beastfolks, all her teeth were fangs.

Apparently, she was quite pleased with her wordplay. Her playful voice switched back and forth between accents, flawlessly and easily.

“Why are you here? I thought you were assigned to another country.”

“I was, but I left a newbie to take my spot. He is very eager for a promotion. Promised him that I’ll give him anything he wants if he did it,” she said, accentuating her lithe and beautiful body with her hands.

“The downfall of man is caused by the rise of his dick,” the girl recited a crude prose with a thin smile. “I suppose we should prepare a casket?”

“I doubt there would be anything left of him. After all, my assignment was to find the hero, Hasenaddin.”

“And? Did you find him?”

Her happy expression suddenly turned into one of dread. “I’d…rather not talk about it. He…no, that thing is a walking natural disaster. Nothing but death lies in his wake.”

After a brief moment of silence, Henri’s ears perked up and she pulled out an envelope hidden in the third layer of her shirt. It was sealed with a seal of wax mixed with powdered gold.

Sidonai was used to these swings of emotions of Henri’s and simply received the envelope.

“Il y a une commande pour toi, mon amie. It is time you report to Le Pape.”

Le Pape, the mysterious leader of L’Asile Des Fous. The secret organization Henri and Sidonai were part of. Legend told that one of its founders were a disillusioned hero named Jean Luc Gauguin. They used the language of his home world as their method of communication to convey secrets.

“What did it say?” Henri asked curiously.

After reading the content, she put it back into the envelope and stored it in her shirt. “Nothing of importance.”

Sidonai said so nonchalantly as she stepped over the body of an assassin. She pried open the mouth of one that had been hidden under a brown mask and found what she was looking for.

“Ah. The information is correct then,” Sidonai smirked. “This, and with the Hero of Calendia having obtained the sword, soon the kingdom will go through a change. The decrepit old skeleton will also move.”

She thought of the girl who indifferently gave Grunford to the unworthy hero and let a small laugh escaped her beautiful lips. “Did she detect that something momentous is about to happen? Hahaha! whatever will be the result, a storm is coming. Will she survive it?”

Henri commented awkwardly listening to her friend’s monologue. “…You are laughing, Sid. I don’t like it when you laugh. Usually it means something bad is going to happen.”

“Oh, hush. Let a woman have her musings,” she said while standing up. “L’Asile des Fous needs me back. Are you coming with?”

“Of course!”

With that shout of agreement, Henri latched on onto Sidonai’s arm and the two friends left the cliff, leaving the corpses to the elements. To be food to the crows and the beasts of the forest.