Forbidden Tomboy 8 – Coalescing Confusions

John had Nightingale deliver an insistently worded message that the Heavenly Jade Empress see him in the guestrooms as swiftly as she could spare an hour. For how much he wanted her to react immediately, he doubted this would be possible before the evening came.

Deep breaths calmed the sense of urgency. ‘Whatever it is, it has been there for a long time,’ the Gamer reminded himself. As much as his paranoia urged him to do something, there was simply nothing productive that he could do. Actions taken in a hurry were unwise, especially in a realm that was not part of his jurisdiction.

Despite having seen what he had seen, all he could do was return to his quarters and read more of the letters. He wasn’t paying much attention to them. All he wanted was to keep his mind busy to make the wait more bearable. All of the accompanying haremettes were with him. The thing had intimidated John enough that he wanted them to stay together until he had answers.

“I find your reaction overblown,” Nathalia spoke her mind openly. The redheaded goddess lounged on several large pillows, watching him with her orange eyes. “We stand in the capital of an ancient empire. Did you not expect to find bones in its foundation?”

“It’s the kind of bones that worry me,” the Gamer stated.

The embodiment of volcanoes’ expression did not change. “They will burn all the same.”

John could admire that degree of confidence, even if he did not agree with her lack of curiosity. Arguing with Nathalia over the necessity of staying informed was just going to go in circles. He spared them both the time and opened another letter. An invitation from a small gathering of silk farmers. The audacity to even ask whether he would take time for that had the Gamer consider it.

Ehtra took up another scroll. She had joined him in scanning the messages to distract herself. There was plenty for her and the others. More messages were delivered every hour.

Barely had Ehtra undone the cord that pages began to flutter out. “What inept creature…?” she growled, while picking up the papers now scattered around her. John eyed the scene, alert to any further shenanigans.

Scrolls used in the Mandate of Heaven typically consisted of three parts. The wooden core, roll of fabric, and the paper the message was on. The individual parts could be replaced, especially the paper. It would have been wasteful to make an entirely new scroll for every message. To avoid being loose, the papers used were long enough that they remained rolled up even when the whole written message was displayed.

The papers that Ehtra now stacked up were American standard print paper. The writing on them was English, John could make that out at a glance. He let the grey angel inspect them first, in case someone had decided to send him some noxious compound. “Malevolent creature,” the grey angel corrected herself in a grim tone. “A second message from the mysterious Latebloomer.”

John had assumed as much at third glance. The five pages were placed in front of him one after another. He looked at a confused mixture of various writing styles. Parts were written in cursive, others in regular letters. John had learned much about spy craft by necessity. He did not need that knowledge to identify that at least ten hands had been involved in writing this. The text started and stopped abruptly in random places. It read like a confused mixture of a diary and author’s notes. Still, John managed to sort the pages properly.

__________________________________________________________

“When will all of this snow end? I made a tunnel through the several feet of snow that covered the door this morning. No particular reason, honestly, I was just bored. Looking back, might have been the smart choice anyway. Fresh oxygen and all of that.

Looking at the house from the outside was pretty funny. It’s a white hill with a chimney, essentially. I took a photo to show everyone later. Would have preferred it if the party had happened, but I’ll at least be able to claim that

My father owned the cabin. It was his summer home. He and mom only got along for half the year. I never got why. Maybe she cheated on him while he was out on deployment? I hear that was pretty common. There was something he resented her for, but they still loved each other. It was complicated.

I had asked for the cabin to celebrate my birthday with my friends somewhere private. Dad had agreed reluctantly, saying that we might get snowed in. Weather in the winter there got harsh, he told me. Mom was immediately against the idea. Maybe that was why he agreed? He was confident in the stability of the house and told me where the rations were.

I got there a day early to make sure everything was set up. You only turn 18 once and all of that. Dad dropped me off with as much liquor as he wanted us to drink. The snow started falling as soon as his car had disappeared between the trees.

I had a pretty cool memory. I would make up for it when I turned 21 or maybe we could still do it? Probably not, there’s work to do and there won’t be enough food if we get snowed in twice. Dad was right though, the house is really well built. No signs of struggle from the roof. Power is out, but I still got firewood and books.

A fucking brown bear, fucking really? Yes, future me, fucking really. Can I get any more unlucky in my birthday week? I had to throw it a bunch of the rations so it decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. What’s a brown bear even doing out and about at this time of year?

There is something in the attic. There is something in the attic. There is something in the attic.

Looks like I might be going slightly mad. I don’t remember writing that… then again, I didn’t sleep well yesterday. I kept thinking about the brown bear and then I felt like it was still around… like it was watching me.

The truth is that I was watching it.

May or may not have laid into the booze. The friendly operator told me I phoned them last day. Absolutely stupid decision. Now the battery for the signal is half empty. Should be enough though. I just need to contact them every now and again to make sure they know I’m still alright. The rescuers have better things to do than get out here for me when the worst thing is my boredom.

The brown bear might change my opinion though.

I met the brown bear again today. I thought I might meet it and then it trotted out and looked at me. I told it to leave and it did. Am I going insane?

The crow is cold. The crow is cold.

I can hear things. I can hear things constantly. Things are starting to thaw and it’s like… I can hear things. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not like my hearing is suddenly any better. Do I have some weird form of tinnitus? God, I feel so hungry all the time. I keep eating rations, I only stopped because I vomited and realized what I was doing.

It wasn’t me that was hungry.

It’s thawing and I can’t wait to talk to people again.

May I know what the fuck is happening? God, I’m just so hungry. I can’t sleep anymore. Whenever I nod off, I see the house. My body itches, like I am sick. The crow is cold. The crow is cold, why do I know that?

I headed out again today. There was no snow. I… I no longer felt the crow. God, it’s so loud. It’s getting louder the less snow there is. Am I sick? I get why people say solitary confinement is **** now.

I found the crow. It’s dead. There’s a dead crow. Why did I know that? I… brought it inside. It just felt right. I still feel so hungry. I feel buzzing too.

I ate the crow. It was crawling with parasites. I ate the crow. I’m so hungry.

Got word that one of my friends is getting me tomorrow. They live closer to the house than my dad, so that makes sense. I must look horrible though… The water line is still frozen. I have some drinking water that I could boil to freshen up… I’ll never tell anyone about the crow though. Might burn these pages tomorrow morning.

It hurt. It pounded. I put my hand to the heaven and the pain was gone.

I am your Remus.

___________________________________________________________________

John read the letter a few times. There was a reasonable enough throughline, despite the schizophrenic writing. “Reads as if he awoke to a Latebloomer-grade telepathic ability,” he analysed. “He was fine at first because everything was quiet with the snow around, then gradually got driven crazy by exposure to the emotions of animals?”

“Why are they sending these letters?” Undine asked. “A cry for help?”

“Possibly,” John agreed. There was a vaguely malevolent undertone to these messages, but that could have been his paranoia talking. Tone was difficult in text and whoever was writing these messages was clearly in a bad state of mind.

John put the letters in his inventory, then withdrew them with his second body on the other side of the globe. The number of people in John’s generation that had mysteriously disappeared during snowstorms was finite and these specific circumstances, given enough scanning of available data, should yield something. That was only true provided the recollection presented was true in its details. He had enough capable Scarletts to do at least a basic investigation in these matters.

“Can today get any more convoluted?” the Gamer groaned.

“Depends,” Ehtra drawled and checked the time. “Do you think a gathering of nobles will make your day less confusing?”

____________________________________________________________________

It was customary that a guest arrived with a companion and a servant. John was far from the first case where the border between those two blurred. While all of his servants were also his companions, not all companions were servants, narrowing the selection. After some back and forth between Nightingale and Nathalia, it was decided that the harpy would get the honour. Ehtra was assigned the position of servant.

John would have favoured Claire for it, but the vampire was still shaken. Enough time had passed that she had realized that she was shaken as well and she had personally opted out. Raw as her nerves were, she might break someone over her knee for looking at her Master the wrong way. That and the sun was still out.

The event was organized around a simple square of stone tiles. Curtains had been put up to hide the servants working behind them. It also served as a convenient way to display the heraldry of the important houses that were attending. Each hanging banner joined in the wall of cloth, symbolizing the unity of the Middle Empire.

Beyond them was a green area with a small pond and various plants. They were shaped too aesthetically to be natural, like they were part of a stylized painting. Ignoring them, the gathering was remarkably scarce of decorations. There was soft music and snacks, but nothing much beyond that.

A gesture by John saw Ehtra step away and join the other servants behind the curtain. She would be facing harsh scrutiny there. In the Mandate’s court politics, the nobles exchanged friendly words while the servants duelled with harsh barbs. Claire with her incredible Charisma would have been optimal for this. Losing the subtle qualities of the vampire in favour of the First of Hatred’s incredible bite was workable.

For speaking softly, few women would have been more suitable than Nightingale.

John wore a light brown, almost golden suit with a black shirt underneath. Although inferior to his usual clothes in every conceivable way, he had opted for a change of wardrobe in an effort to show off his own wealth. Nightingale achieved that goal much better. The divine harpy wore a dress of gorgeous purple, just a shade lighter than her feathers. Bronze and silver threads were woven through it into the depiction of her namesake sitting in the branches of a mighty oak. Magic within the dress animated leaves and feathers as if swaying in a gentle breeze.

There was no herald announcing John or anything of similar splendour. The crowd was no larger than thirty. A privileged circle of the empire’s strongest or most favoured nobles. John spotted his target for the evening quite quickly. It was hard to miss them.

That was least of all because of Han Xu (using the western order of things) himself. His serpentine blood manifested subtly in slit pupils in his blue eyes. Beyond that, he was of average height, build, and style. The layered clothes he wore were ornate, but so were those of the other nobles around. The two lamias with him were an entirely different matter.

John had never considered how good Chinese dresses would look on lamias. Granted, he thought Chinese dresses looked universally hot, but they harmonized especially well with the bodies of these monster girls. On the top half, there was no difference and the short skirt ended just as the human hips transitioned into the snake tails.

The Gamer had to admit to an odd fascination with lamias. On paper, he should not like them. They had no visible butts, that was the first point against them, and no thighs either. Generally, for all of his love for monster girls, when legs were replaced, his interest waned. Lamias were the exception to that rule for reasons he could not place. The brain could be quite an odd machine.

Putting aside his general thoughts on the species, he inspected the two examples before him. Scale colour made clear who belonged to which clan. The white snake, Bai Bai, was an albino with white hair and red eyes. Her breasts were of average Asian size, which made her small by John’s standards. Lamias were Greek in John’s mind, but Bai was absolutely a woman of Chinese heritage. She wore a dress of red and gold and a paper parasol. Her straight hair was interwoven with ornate trinkets.

Flanking Han to his left was the head of the Xiaoqing clan. Qingmei Xiaoqing was more purple than blue, John had to say – something made a little more confusing based on the description of her ancestors as the blue-green snake. Perhaps colours had been mistranslated or changed through the generations.

Whatever the case, Qingmei’s snake tail was of a rich purple colour. Her skin was a much lighter shade, but still firmly on the lilac side. Her dress was much simpler, but stretched over a more curvaceous figure. Her tits were enormous, rivalling those of Salamander and Nathalia, and her hips were wide. At first John thought she wore gloves. After some inspection, he realized the layer of shine connected directly with her claws. Short sleeves revealed body markings resembling tree branches.

Like her albino kin, Qingmei had long, straight hair. Hers was black, primarily, but the inner strands were universally blue, creating an interesting effect. Her bangs were asymmetrically parted and swept behind the pointy ears. She looked older than Bai, around her early thirties, and had a mild, matronly aura to her. Full, purple lips were spread in a gentle smile. She nodded, docile, when addressed, otherwise just stood next to the leader of the main clan and listened.

John sensed that something was off.

The Gamer knew he had types and ‘motherly’ was not among them. He theorized a part of his pride refused to enjoy being pampered. Yet, Qingmei drew his gaze. It did not take him long to identify why. While he was receiving the greetings of other nobles, his eyes met with hers. There was a spark. John beat away his weak heart’s desire and concentrated on what it meant when he was instinctively drawn to a woman.

Qingmei was dangerous.