Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 44

“My thanks for the delivery,” The stationmaster, an elderly lalafell with the most exquisite facial hair, said with a chuckle, “Though I could have done without the ice water. They’ll not stop pestering me for an on-site thaumaturge for the next week or so I’d imagine. Papashan, stationmaster of this humbled Dispatch Yard at your service.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s someone who can be sent here for a token fee to spread the good word, given some of the ‘luminaries’ the Guild’s been getting.” Muur chuckled, shaking the lalafel’s hand without a second thought. If nothing else, being a midget herself made it easy to interact with the locals.

Taking her hand without a second thought, the man nodded, “Ah, so the young Guildmasters’ plan is bearing fruit is it? Mayhaps I will call on one of those few favors your teacher owes me then, Miss Zagaas.”

“...Y’know, there is a wasp extermination job scheduled for tomorrow, for that hive some ways thataway. Think I could wheedle some stories out of you once that’s done and dusted?” Muur, who had yet to introduce herself, said with a considering hum. Wily old man.

“I’m quite aware of it, believe me,” The elderly sighed, taking his glasses so he could clean them, “More than a few of my men wandered over that way during their breaks. I can scarcely count my blessings that none were as unlucky as Cocobezi, they’d not have fared nearly as well as the lad. Now, far be it from me to be so… candid, but have the sultansworns that directed you towards the yard said a word? Anything at all?”

“Noooo?” Drawled with a frown, “Not that I can think of. They only told us that we should deliver the rest of their order here– because quote ‘We accidentally asked for far too many pretzels’ unquote. Which is more than a little suspicious, who messes up an order to the point of getting over a hundred and twenty pretzels?”

“Not the most discrete method I’ll grant you– No, no time for that,” Clicking his tongue, he quickly adjusted back his glasses and looked at the pair with eyes quite unlike that of the kindly old man he’d been scant moments ago, “Truth is, my men were supposed to man the Sworn’s positions– a mean to keep the nest under watch. But that changed the moment that someone very important decided to wander out of the city without proper supervision. If they’d found that person, they wouldn’t have sent you with no words for me– I was once their steward you see.”

“I get the picture. I’ll just mentally tag them as ‘important noble’ and not think of their identity more than that.” Muur replied with a bob of her head, “If you give me a rough visual description I can keep an eye out on my way back to the Ossuary, at least.”

“No Muur,” Kofle said morosely without missing a beat and placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “It’s one of those days.”

“...Smile and brace for impact?” Muur asked after a deep, pained breath.

“Smile and brace for impact.” The old man and Kofle said as one, “While I am not certain what exactly you mean by ‘one of those days’,” Papashan continued, “I’m afraid that I will have to ask you to go afield and find the Sult–ana’s playmate. You’ll be paid quite handsomely and, if it means anything to you, be able to tell your Guildmasters that I, Papashan Nonoshan owes you a favour. In your case, Miss Zagaas, I suspect they’ll be tickled pink by the knowledge. Of course, you are free to refuse–”

“We’ll do it,” Kofle declared with no room for arguing one way or another, “Muur, you’re in charge of hashing out the details later,” She told the wizard with a nod, “What are we looking for and where?”

“To the point then. First, the where. Do you have a map?” Wordlessly, the Miqo’te pulled hers out and Papashan wasted no time pointing things out on it, “My thanks. I will have my guards join the Sultansworns to cover the rest of the northern area between here and Black Brush Station. Sparing you the details, she was last seen leaving through the gate of Nald, and she, bless her kind heart, weeps for those in the slums. I suspect that this is where she is located.”

Moving his hand to the east of Ul’dah he tapped a specific point on the map, “I would have you go here, the Sultantree,” Looking at the scrawled picture on the scroll, the tree was a fair ways from the Gate of Thal, but it was nearly a straight line between the two, “Being her highness’ playmate it holds a certain place in their hearts. I do not believe her to be foolhardy enough to leave through the Gate of Nald, only to sneak off to the tree. Nevertheless, I’ve no desire to risk the possibility.”

“...That’s in the nest’s borders.” Kofle whispered apropos of nothing.

“Pardon?” Papashan asked faintly.

“Here,” pulling a bit of charcoal, the cat drew a sloppy circle over the map. Centered over the area the wasp’s nest was located, it was disturbingly large and overlapped with much of Papashan and the Sultansworn’s search area, “This sort of wasp can, and will, range far and wide when expanding its hive,” Seeing the old Lalafall turn paler and paler with every word leaving her girlfriend’s mouth would have probably amused Muur in any other situation, here? Not so much, “If she’s in this area and is trying to stay hidden–”

Not another word later, Papashan was all but roaring orders to his men at the top of his lungs. To their credits, the startled guards caught themselves and moved with the smoothness of well oiled clockwork. Hell, a few of the workers even picked up hidden weapons and sprung into action as well.

“I shall handle things here,” Papashan quickly said before tossing them a cardboard tube of some kind, “Aetheric signal flare. Invisible to the naked eyes, but not those with the right means,” pushing his glasses for emphasis, he turned back to the assembled guards and workers, “If you find her, and by the Twelves I hope you do, twist and pull to activate it.”

With that, he was off. Leaving the two adventurers on the train platform their talk had taken place, “...Make that one of those nights.”

“When it rains, it pours.” Muur grunted, tiny garlands of lightning skittering from her horns down her spine all the way to the tip of her tail as she roused up her aether. “Let’s go.”

___________________________________________________________

It'd been roughly midafternoon when Muur and Kofle had reached the yard, and with half an hour spent there, it was beginning to get rather late when they set off.

Unfortunately, the day did not get any younger as they followed Ul'dah's ramparts from a distance, trying to find a trace of the runaway noble, “I can’t see them, or a trail, anywhere,” Kofle said with a frown, “Shit.”

By now, the sun was dangerously close to the horizon. Not yet painting the skies in the red-gold hues of a sunset, but low enough that the moon could be clearly seen in the blue sky.

Muur’s tongue flickered out of her mouth, tasting the aether in the air, but… “I got nothing, either. Aside from that moon wigging me out.”

“Damn, you’re better at sensing it than I’ve ever been,” The swordswoman grumbled as she looked to the sky, “Huh. Things got overcast quick, weird clouds too… Iiiis it me or are they circling the moon?”

“...Right, we got no leads and if I was back in the steppes everyone would be yelling to haul ass in the direction of something like that, so.” Muur shrugged helplessly. She was skeptical that the Dusk Mother would bother to do something like this, but a faint ‘maybe’ was better than a fat load of nothing.

Kofle didn't question Muur’s logic or instincts and simply moved. With nothing more than a nod, she rushed straight forward, the hanging moon serving as her compass.

Following their celestial guide, the pair devoured the distance between them and whatever laid below the moon’s gaze. Their course took past rocks, brushes and withering savanna trees. All either sidestepped, or ignored, and before long they saw it.

Their destination? What could only be the Sultantree. It was a venerable Baobab tree standing on a steep hill, its size truly mind-boggling even from a distance. But what caught Muur’s eyes wasn’t it. Rather, it was how their approach had framed it.

Extending into the skies from atop the hill, it towered over the pair. Its highest branch taller than even the yawning gates that allowed access to the city of Ul’dah. Yet, something stood higher still.

Far in the distance, behind even the craggy plateau that stood at the Sultantree’s back was a crystal of sorts. It was ginormous, its shape twisted and gnarled as if someone had captured a malformed, tempestuous flame in time. And further above it, framed by the jagged edges of the crystalised blaze, stood the moon. Its brilliance slowly intensifying as the sun’s own slowly retreated from the skies.

“Another leftover from the big bad dragon’s stunt?” Muur asked more to fill the oppressive silence than anything else, pointing with her staff at the crystal as they kept on beating feet towards the tree.

“Probably, it wasn’t there five years ago, and I never asked any–”

“–Tree…,” A quiet, barely audible whisper danced on the edges of the adventurer’s hearing, quieting Kofle and urging her to move onwards, “...failings have cost us dear.”

Under the bough of the massive tree was a young Lalafell. The clothes she wore were shockingly familiar to Muur as they were the sorts of robes a beginner alchemist was strongly encouraged to use. Made from sturdy cotton and leather they were treated with some sort of hydrophobic agent to avoid accidents caused by untrained hands… but not those born of foolishness.

Kneeling between the roots, with her head bent and her hands joined in prayer, the woman looked every part the commoner – perhaps even a down on the luck alchemist – offering a prayer to the gods for good fortune. That is, except for the turban on her head. Dyed a rich pink, that single piece of cloth marked her as far richer than the rest of her cloth would have indicated.

“I think we’ve found her.” Kofle whispered.

“Wha–” Evidently not quietly enough, as Lady Lilira stopped her prayer and spun towards them, “Who’s here? Show yourself!”

“Papashan sent us! Wasp situation is getting worse with lots of hunting parties from the hive, and you crossed by their range coming here!” Muur replied, funneling some Fire aether into her focus so the crystal would act as an overly bright torch casting them in warm orange and yellow shades.

“Wasps? What are you– nevermind that,” Shaking her head, the lalafell huffed, “I assure you, I do not know any individual named Papashan. And even if I did, I do not recall asking for any sort of escort.”

“Huh-huh,” Kofle huffed back with a noncommittal shrug, “Sure you don’t…”

Muur wasn’t given the chance to pay attention to the two exchanging words. Her little light-show had banished the lengthening shadows, yes. But it had failed to do the same for something else. A strange sensation that she hadn’t even noticed until now, for the life of her, she couldn’t place it. But it was right there, on the very tip of her tongue…

Finally, the smoky umami flavor clicked in her brain. There was no time for hesitation, only a hushed, urgent whisper, “Kofle. Kofle, we have Voidsent incoming.”

Her words cut through the ongoing discussion short. Lilira frowned upon hearing the term ‘voidsent’, while Kofle raised an eyebrow, “Muur what are yo–” “KYAAAAAEHEHEAHEHAHA!” “Okay, nevermind!”

She didn’t remain sceptical for long, not when a vile, raspy laugh echoed through the air and dark, twisted shapes descended towards them.