Denied a Finish

Zaida got an earful from Dvorah as she was taken around the renovation zone. Anyone to hear only a snippet of the lecture might get the impression that the knight was in for something harrowing. She knew better. People who were genuinely upset did not spend so much time focusing on how lucky the offender was that they were in a good mood. The stiff wind was not the only hot air blowing. Dvorah was not chastising her, she was lording her 'mercy' over Zaida. You should be thanking me this, and anyone else would be fining you into indentured servitude that. Zaida saw straight through the forewoman. Even so, she did not mind playing along.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Basch... Truly, I am blessed by your benevolence... I swear I'll find a way to repay you." She found it to be an excellent opportunity to practice her flattery. Tivra and Edie wanted her to charm the ladies, and Dvorah was serving herself on a silver platter.

Coming to the end of what Zaida decided could only be the long way around, Dvorah faced her and pulled the knight down to eye level by the collar.

"This is where we part ways, but don't you go thinking this is over just yet. I'll be expecting thanks from you when next we meet. Now move along, and remember who's in charge." The lady released Zaida and gave a directing nod. She watched the larger woman go. Whether it was to ensure she obeyed, or to ogle her backside, Zaida did not know for certain, but she did not think the possibilities mutually exclusive.

At long last she had arrived. It was an intersection dominated by a lumber shop labelled as Stoley's. Opposite of it was the building Zaida had meant to reach for the past hours. It was unmarked and largely indistinct. She only knew it as her destination for its possession of the especially tall chimney she had been told of. It was somewhat funny; she still had no idea what the nature of the place was, but the constant interruptions on her way now had her **** to reach it.

She made for the door with an aggressive pace lest anyone else in Merridian get the chance to manufacture another detour for her. She reached for the door handle but someone on the inside pulled it open first.

"Oh, hello Zaida!" Marisol greeted her from the other side of the threshold. "Good to see you."

Bastards of blackguards and brigands!

Zaida showed a polite grin. "Hello, Madam Palacio. Likewise. What brings you here?"

"I was just making a delivery." She jerked a thumb back into the building. "And please, it's Marisol to you, dear."

"Delivery? I thought you were the head of the postal service."

"I am. You think that exempts me from doing the real work, same as those I lead?"

"I suppose not." Zaida tried to look past Marisol inside the establishment to at least get an idea of what laid within. She could not make much out, as the orientation of the door revealed little to those standing outside.

"How else would I keep these in shape?" Marisol struck a casual pose that showed off her legs. She was not wearing the same outfit Zaida had seen her in before. She was now wearing clothes standard of a courier, featuring lightweight material and bottom wear with pant legs that would be scandalously short in any other line of work.

Zaida looked per the other woman's hint and her gaze lingered as she noticed that the curvaceous limbs were not so much mature plumpness as they were robust musculature. Looking closer, every part of her on display told a story of time's penalties coexisting with toned vigor in one voluptuous form.

"Alright you've gotten your eyeful," Marisol ribbed as she relaxed her stance. "If you want to see more, you'll have to take me out first," she winked. "It's been lovely seeing - and being seen by - you, but I have some..." she trailed off. She had made like she was about to depart but caught herself as if realizing something. "Hold on, I have something at the office for you; or for your order anyway. I was going to deliver it later today, but since I'm bumping into you... Ah, but we're not near the office and you've only just arrived here. Never mind."

Zaida was quickly torn with indecision. On one hand, she was on the cusp of discovering and potentially enjoying the venue she had been trying to reach all afternoon, and if she went ahead with it, it would be no skin off anyone's back. On the other hand, Marisol was clearly trying to be polite and following her to retrieve the delivery for the the knights would surely be a favour for her; irrespective of any assignment to win her over. Not to mention following her would afford Zaida more time around those marvellous legs...

"No, it's nothing," Zaida assured her. "I was just looking to kill time anyway. I'd be happy to take any weight off your shoulders."

Marisol gave the younger woman a flirty look. "Well aren't you the very model of a modern chivalrous knight? Either the Order taught you something right or your parents did."

"Thank you," Zaida said, unsure how else one might respond to that. "Please lead the way."

Marisol pulled the door shut behind herself and Zaida took one last look at the building, feeling tantalised by the potential wonders it contained.

---

Yorresie turned to the section on the next variety of demon and knit her brow. The pages were scribbled over in ink to the point that most of the script was totally illegible. The name of the monster, however, was in a big enough font to survive the textual carnage. Gnoll it read.

Perhaps more perplexing than the devastation of the pages was the perfect purity of the image. Opposite the opening lines of the section was an illustration unmarred by whatever chaotic element had ruined the words. Presumably, it portrayed the creature itself.

Whoever the artist was, it was clear theirs was a wicked mind. The creature set on that page was drawn with a downright unnecessary degree of unnerving realism. Many of the other images within the volume were simplified or stylised to a permissible degree. The illustration before Yorresie was something else entirely. The detail lent it a lifelike quality in the most unwelcome of ways. The beast's cruel, hyenoid features were set in an ominous snarl, and its two wrathful eyes were fixed on the point of perspective, triggering an inborn sense of danger in Yorresie, and any other viewer for that matter. Its anthropomorphic form stood poised to strike with its posture low, legs tensed, and clawed hands open with fingers hooked to snag and snatch at its victim. As disturbing as it was, it was difficult to look away from; as though some primal corner of the mind feared what might happen if it lost track of the threat for even a moment.

The nun did know what to make of this. None of the other books had suffered anything more than the wear and tear one would expect to come with their age. This was either a very precise act of vandalism, or a very brief rampage by a young one who had gotten their puckish hands on some ink. Either way, no comfort was won by the absence of text to distract from the stomach-churning picture.

Yorresie sought out the librarian to report the issue. "Pardon. This book appears to have been damaged."

The librarian looked at the offended pages and his eyes immediately caught on the ghoulish but untouched picture. "Sheesh. Whoever's behind this missed a spot."

"As you can see, I can't exactly learn much from this chapter in its current state. Do you have any other copies of this book or other materials on gnolls?"

"Hmm," the librarian rubbed his chin. "Straight from the top of my head, I can tell you that we do not have any duplicates of this book, but I'll have to check for other items. I can put in a request to the library at the sorcerers' college or the knight academy, but that could take a while. You may be better off visiting and asking for yourself; if you have the time. The only trouble is that they can be choosey about which tomes they share with whom."

To cast the widest net, Yorresie accepted both proposals. She had the librarian initiate the requisitions, and made for the sorcerers' college - after returning her borrowed materials, of course.

---

"Tell me about yourself, Zaida," Marisol said as she walked the road to the postal office with the knight at her side. "Apart from knowing that you haven't been in Merridian long, and that you're as noble a knight as any, I know ruefully little about you."

"Oh, there's not much to tell," Zaida rubbed her neck.

"Try me," Marisol insisted. "We'll start easy: where are you from?"

"Oldcamp."

"Oldcamp? I've never heard of it," Marisol said casually.

"It's far," Zaida elaborated. "Far and small."

"Which way from Merridian?"

"Uh, east."

"Which side of the sea?"

"The far side." Each additional question chipped away at Zaida's composure. She scrambled internally for a way to change the subject without appearing too eager.

"My-my, you've come a long way then, haven't you?" Marisol sounded impressed.

"I sure have. Are you from Merridian, or did you call somewhere else home first?" Zaida did her best to turn the table and get the postwoman talking about herself.

"Born and raised here. What were you before joining the Order?" Marisol succinctly and inadvertently shot down the knight's attempt.

"What was I?" Zaida's blood chilled.

"Yes, what occupation did you hold?"

The knight gave a mental groan at what she felt to be a near-miss. "I was a sellsw- erm, a mercenary before coming here."

"Oh? How exciting. You must have seen your share of action then. Tell me about it," she said, preempting Zaida's next minimalist response.

"I'd... rather not discuss it."

Marisol was pushing for any and all details she could get on the fetching knight, but something about Zaida's tone gave her pause. She could tell the guardian was not just being tight-lipped about this as she had been with the prior questions. No, this was a deeper, more personal protest. Marisol could hear in her voice that this was a line she did not want crossed.

"Oh, may I at least ask whom you fought for?"

"I'm not certain that's something I take pride in anymore, either."

---

"Would you be willing to open your library to me?" Yorresie asked the aging librarian on the grounds of the sorcerers' college.

"Mm, that depends: what is it you're after?" they responded.

"Anything on the constituents of the Demon Lord's army."

A curious look glimmered in the librarian's expression, as though the thought of a nun investigating such things piqued their interest. "You may have a look, I suppose," they nodded. "But I'll have to supervise. I hope you understand: many of the tomes we possess are one-of-a-kind, or capable of invoking considerable power, or both; so we don't let just anyone stumble through our collection."

"Naturally," Yorresie said understandingly.

With the mage librarian as her guide, the nun passed through the multiple doorways barring the outside world from the college's treasured library. It was an impressive repository of knowledge, nearly as big as the public library she had visited earlier. She had little time to appreciate it though, as no sooner had they arrived than a strained voice shattered the tranquility of the place.

"Stop that! What are you doing? Get it away from him!"

The disturbance emanated from one of the reading tables. A pair of what looked to be sorcerers was attempting to wrestle a book away from a man without damaging it.

"Wrong, wrong!" the man objected. "It says nothing! It's all wrong!"

The struggle proceeded for a few more tense seconds before one of the magicians cast some minor spell on the man to release his grip from the text. The second magician stumbled back with the book still in one piece.

"Bah! Look what you've done!" she exclaimed, showing the book to her partner and the man alike. "You loon, you've ruined it!"

"What's the matter here?" the mage librarian interrupted with Yorresie at their side.

"We apologise, Keeper Nayan," one of the sorcerers said as the pair bowed. "Our patient lost control and we could not stop the damage fast enough."

Nayan held out their hand and the sorceress turned over the damaged book sheepishly, as if she herself had marred it. As the librarian examined the harm, Yorresie peered over their shoulder to see for herself. Her eyes slowly widened. The pages were scrawled over with ink exactly as the public library's book had been.

"Pardon me a moment," the nun said hastily as she swiped the tome from the librarian rather brusquely. The ruined pages were not as far gone here as they had been in the other book. She could still make out enough words to understand that beneath the fresh ink was content on gnolls. Her head snapped up to look at the man. He was still nearby, seemingly paying no attention to any of them, as though he was lost in thought.

Yorresie shoved the book back into the librarian's hands and crossed to the man with swift strides. "Excuse me?" she summoned his attention.

His eyes settled on her but his expression remained distant. He was gaunt, to be sure. He looked as if he had not been getting the food nor sleep he needed for some time. His build was somewhat loose, as if he had once been far more muscular than he was now.

"Why did you write over these books? What are you trying to do? Why gnolls?"

"They're wrong," he explained in little more than a mumble. "They don't even talk about them. They're wrong..."

Yorresie did not follow his meaning. She looked to the sorcerers to see if they had any better an idea, but they appeared equally puzzled. "What's the matter with him?"

"Wasil here is recovering," one of them filled her in. "His mind is not well."

"What happened to him?"

"He was a knight of Merridian, but a few months back he went missing during a scuffle with the Demon Lord's army. When he reappeared he was battered to hell and speaking nonsense. We haven't been able to piece together what happened to him, but we're focused on rehabilitating him with exercises and spells. We brought him here because we understood enough out of him that he wanted to read about gnolls. We saw no reason not to oblige, but it looks like we underestimated his destructive capabilities..." the mage said, pursing her lips.

"Do you think his absence had something to do with gnolls?" Yorresie posited, putting two and two together.

The sorceress shrugged. "That's the apparent answer, but its all conjecture until he's speaking properly again."

The nun gazed at the book in Keeper Nayan's hands. "Can you lot tell me anything about gnolls? I'm not familiar with the creatures, and information on them has been hard to come by because of our friend here," she gestured at Wasil who appeared entirely oblivious.

"I won't claim to know as much as any text on them," the sorceress admitted, "but I'll share what I've heard. Most anyone who's studied demonkind knows they're a frightful bunch; more so than your typical imp or bone fiend."

"Yeah, you don't hear a lot of fresh stories about them," the sorcerer added. "Lots of folk take that to mean they don't leave many survivors. Those few tales that are told paint them as a vicious bunch; not the sort to dally about. Other demons like to toy with people and make them suffer. Not gnolls. They'll kill you just as quick as they see you... so I've heard."

"Anything else?" Yorriesie encouraged. "What do they look like? Are they fast? Are they big? Do they spit fire?"

"They look like a hyena got frisky with the biggest bloke you know," the sorceress explained. "All fangs and fury. As for your other questions: I can't say," she shrugged. "But I reckon you can't be slow and have a record for leaving no survivors."

The sorcerer simply nodded in agreement with his companion's sentiment.

Yorresie fidgeted with the sleeves of her habit in thought. This business with learning about demons had turned into such a rabbit hole that she was not even thinking about how this would prepare her to educate her students. In that moment, her own curiosity motivated her investigation. Demons were not a familiar topic to begin with, but these hyenoid hellspawn seemed particularly obscure.

---

"What sort of food do you enjoy?" Marisol asked.

"Venison," Zaida answered.

"Prepared in what way?" the postwoman prompted. Getting answers from this knight was more work than she would have imagined.

"Smoked for hours on end," Zaida said after a moment of thought. The thought spurred a brief daydream about the last time she had gotten the chance to sink her teeth into a well-prepared cut. Was dinner coming soon? She was getting an appetite.

"And what are you into?"

"Come again?"

"What do you do for fun?" Marisol rephrased. "When you're not performing your duties, what do you fill your life with?"

"I suppose the same things anyone fills their life with: humour, music, bedding-" Zaida cut herself off. She had allowed her focus to slip and spoken more confidentially than was appropriate for such company.

Having noticed Zaida's lapse, Marisol chuckled. "You see? Now you are opening up as I had hoped," she jested. "What sort of humour? What sort of music?"

"The animated sort of humour, I think. It's better when it's acted out. And any sort of music." Zaida had needed a moment to contemplate the questions. She had never introspected on such facets of herself before.

"And what sort of bedding?" Marisol threw in, hoping to play off her momentum with the knight.

"Are you serious?" Zaida had never been asked about her intimate preferences before, and even as limited as this town's taboos seemed, she still understood this to be something people did not ask one another unless they were close.

"I am if you're comfortable with it." It was a question packaged as a statement.

Edie's words echoed in Zaida's mind. Go flirt with these milfs until they like you enough to be loyal to the knights over the church. Did this sort of thing count as flirting? Also, she still was not certain what a 'milf' was.

"Well then, um... the passionate sort of bedding..." Zaida could feel the sweat on her brow despite the moderate gale.

"And with what kind of partners?"

"The... attractive kind...?"

Marisol scoffed. "I meant what do you define as attractive?"

"Those with a similar endurance to them."

"I think I know what you mean..." Marisol muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Any other tastes? Say for age, gender, build, and so on?"

Some voice in the back of Zaida's mind screamed that this was a chance for her and she took it. "I do enjoy milfs."

"Oh! Oh my..."

The knight thought she saw the postwoman blush at that. Perhaps the word was more provocative than she had presumed... She resolved to be less acquiescent to voices in the back of her mind. She clambered to veer the conversation away from this awkward track. "But, um... what do you enjoy? Pastime-wise, I mean."

A wave of relief hit her before Marisol even responded as the postwoman directed the two of them through the door to postal office, indicating that their discussion would be over imminently, one way or another.

"I enjoy celebration and dancing," Marisol said, two steps ahead of the knight and not slowing her pace. She snatched a handbill off a tabletop in the office without breaking her stride and relayed it to the other woman. "And music."

Zaida studied the flyer while keeping up with the postwoman's brisk indoor steps. It was an advertisement for a quickly approaching festival. Between the grandiosity of the illustration and the long list of attractions slated for the event, it was clear that this was to be something big. Personally, Zaida thought it a tad redundant as most nights in Merridian had come off as some form of celebration to her, though perhaps this one would have a less sensual focus to it.

Something clicked in her head. "Wait, do you mean this as an invitation to attend together?"

Marisol flashed a smile over her shoulder. "What is your answer?"

It was such an attractive proposition that Zaida mentally stumbled herself trying to come up with any adverse considerations. "Certainly then. When-"

She was cut off when Marisol handed her a sizeable box. She accepted it and noted how much less dense it felt relative to the crates of coin from earlier that day.

"This is the package for your order. Take it to your captain, or whoever is in charge of receiving," Marisol instructed. She had a glow to her, as if Zaida's acceptance had energized her. "As for the festival, your answer is all I need for now. We'll sort out the details between now and then. Oh! And before you take off, I have one more thing for you personally..." She stepped toward the knight who looked her over for her mail. Instead, Marisol delivered a small kiss to her cheek. "There. I'll be seeing you, Zaida."