Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 112: Greeting The Counsel

Chapter 112: Greeting The Counsel

Thankfully, we are left alone for a good long while after the whole brouhaha. More than enough for Moon Unit to stop looking a little unhinged, though she still steals little side glances when she thinks I’m not looking. Bother bother bother bother. I think my behavioral baseline is slipping a bit. At least, around people I trust. Which is kinda annoying when it dips beyond their tolerance margins. Still… Some useful data had been collected.

“Out of curiosity, would it be surprising to you to learn that our last victim was not affiliated with the rest?” – I offer after a bit of silence – “That guy whose head I bit off was concerned a lot with not being seen by the others. If his memories are of any indication, right until we wrecked the first crew, he was more afraid of them than of us. Of course, once we did lay down the hurt, that got quickly amended. Still, he was kinda certain they’d kill him on the spot if they’d see him.”

Moon Unit sighs. “I’m reasonably sure the guy you bit the head off was Romeo of Montecchi. One of the few survivors of the clan that tried to kidnap me to begin with.” – she offers after a few seconds of silence – “I have no doubt he was there to see if he could grab me or stab me before clan Capulet got their mitts on me. Speaking of, the one who ran off is Tybalt.”

I…blink. Then blink again. Shakespeare now? Good grief, do the references ever end?… And if not, then I am morbidly curious what the references to russian literature are going to be, given that russian is orkish in this world. Still… I just have to ask.

“Now I’m morbidly curious. Why are those guys at each other’s throats so much?” – I quip – “Let me guess, cherchez la femme?”

Moon Unit snorts. “Got it on one, dear.” – she snarks back – “About two hundred years ago, Tybalt and Romeo both were making advances towards spinner Juliette. Imagine, two milksops barely thirty vying for the attentions of matron crossing off her fifth century. Of course she told them to go and grow up a little before coming back with proposals. Each of them assumed ‘grow up a little’ means ‘kill your rival’, and went at it. Both are kids of their respective clan heads, you can imagine what happened next. The idiots had been feuding ever since over just about anything under the sun.”

“So…” – I drawl, trying to wrap my mind about it – “They’re at the stage of ‘doesn’t matter what started it, the feud is what is important’?”

“Maybe.” – my dear waifu grumbles – “But I wouldn’t put it past the idiots to STILL be hung up on who gets to propose to Juliette. Snagging a conclave seat does sound like good proof of being grown up to some people.”

“Wait, what?” – I stumble – “Didn’t you say it was two hundred years ago? Is that Juliette still around?”

“Oh, sure. Spinners tend to live very long lives, as a rule. Only the most desperate or stupid ones would care to attack the historian, after all.” – Moon Unit chuckles – “So yes, Juliette is still around and still incredulous those two just don’t seem to… Waaait. Wait a moment. If you just bit the head off Romeo, then… So… Oh gods damn it. Tybalt is going to lose his marbles over it. Someone else casually ending his precious rival? Good grief. Dear, I’m sorry, but, well… I am quite sure that our stay in the Evergreens is going to begin with the thorough extermination of Montecchi and Capulet clans. What left of them, at least. Shouldn’t be much in Montecchi’s case, there’s a reason why Romeo was here by his lonesome, but Capulets still have a number of retainers. The good news is, if you eat Tybalt, the rest should become your retainers by the rights of conquest, well the ones who survive, that is. Same with Montecchi’s retainers, if they still had any. We shall have to ask, but either you have already taken Montecchi by conquest, or there is Benvolio remaining. He was the man who escaped the attempt to kidnap me, by the way, and he did not escape unharmed.”

While we are talking, the trees recede as we finally reach the settlement. The glade is quite sizable, with a round pond in the middle, likely fed by underground springs, if the slight currents are of any indication. The domiciles circle the pond languidly, partially built on the ground, and partially sprawled up and through the trees around the glade, the pathways connecting the platforms built into and around the tree crowns. We are finally seeing some friendly faces, too, I have to mention. Dweezil shows up at the door of one of the bigger houses, waving to us. He is accompanied by several other elves, both elderly and young. I nudge Moon Unit. “Go on. They’re your relatives first and foremost, you get first dibs before everyone starts oohing and aahing about me.” – I tell her quietly, and she skips ahead with a smile, crossing the distance to the house in a few graceful leaps, ending the last one in a tackle-like hug of her brother. I take my time following her, as the rapid burst of elven from up ahead rather amply implies there is no reason to hurry and all the reasons to tarry and give Moon Unit time for some family greetings.

By the time I’m within greeting distance, the torrent of elven subsides a little, and I am treated to a number of welcoming smiles. Some are ‘I never met you before, but you seem important, so I’m going to be polite’ kind of smiles. Some are ‘oh my, you are oh so very curious’. One is ‘holy shit, you’re going to wreck things up, don’t you?’. Dweezil, you’re such a card. All of those smiles stiffen up and curdle, however, as I suddenly find myself with an arrow in the throat. A moment of silence from everyone. Then I lift my hand, pull the arrow out and drop it.

“Well now, that wasn’t very nice.” – I proffer mildly. That gets me two arrows to the chest, one right in the middle of the sternum, while the other is lower and to the left. Nice marksmanship, actually, first would have hit right in the tracheal split and the second is straight to the heart. I pull them out with the same lack of reaction, offering – “Whoever is doing it, I will shoot back if you keep annoying me.”

My answer comes in a form of three arrows. The first one bounces off my forehead, and I catch the other two, as they were aimed at my eyes, and this would just look gross. Fine, be like that. Having been shot six times gives me more than enough time to pinpoint the location of the shooter. On that tree off to the side, from the platform about halfway up. The distance is… pretty good, actually. I pull out one of my pistols, aim and shoot in one languid movement, the blast echoing through the glade, underscored half a second later with a scream that cuts off. At this distance, headshot would be a gamble, so I just aimed for the center of mass. The bullet hit somewhere around the solar plexus and made the idiot tumble off the platform and on the ground below. I guess he didn’t land well. I blow off the smoke from the barrel and stick the pistol back on my belt.

“Alright then.” – I proffer – “My name is Alyssa Gillespie, and according to my dear Moon Unit, I might be the Tool of Gods. Nice to meet you all.”

“…Are you fucking kidding me.” – one of the guys next to Dweezil offers numbly.

Dweezil winces. “I’m afraid she does not, Ahmet.” – he offers apologetically – “I’m afraid she does not.”

___

“Allow me to officially welcome you to Evergreens, lady Gillespie.” – offers the elder a few minutes later, once we are all within the building and seated – “My name is Tamaya, and I have the honor of heading the Counsel these days.” There is a good number of elves present, including two of Moon Unit’s brothers, aforementioned Dweezil and Ahmet, as well as a selection of other Counsel members and several elderly spinners.

“Regarding young Moon Unit’s theory regarding your, well… being…” – she continues – “Considering the revelations already given and testimonies of our brethren, we do believe there is merit in investigating further. To be entirely frank, we do not have any established procedure to verify such an outstanding claim, but our venerable spinners are very excited about the potential possibilities and have had devised a number of things to attempt that would allow us to make a judgment whether the theory is true or false. To begin with, Dweezil and Sparrow Jack had regaled us with a tale of World Tree name revelation, and they spoke of a deeply profound language you have spoken then. But there is just no comparison between being told about it and hearing it with one’s own ears…”

She trails off meaningfully. Oh? Well then. “I don’t mind, but be warned that just hearing this is liable to defile anyone who isn’t defiled already.” – I warn – “I will take no responsibility for anyone driven insane by that.”

Elves exchange wary looks, but no one seems to be interested in leaving. After a few tense moments, Tamaya gives me a sharp nod. “Your warning has been heard and understood, lady Gillespie.” – she confirms crisply – “Everyone in the room understands the risks and bears responsibility for staying.”

Well, they asked. “Y͠O̸U-TH̷IS̡-͢N͞OW-GA̕T̸H͞ĘRIN͠G͏, ̀TH̵E͢ NAME/R͡EFER҉E̴NCE/̛M̛ONIK͞E͡R/PƠI͝NT҉ER T͏O̢ T̛REE̷/̀D́A̸TABUS/ST̶R͡UC̵T͘U̶RE/͏C͠ON͢NECT̸ION OF҉ ̧TH̵IS-ḨE͡ŖÈ-͞NOW̢-SPE̕C̶I̕F̸IC̴-W͏O̶R̡LD̸ŚL͠I̷CE͝ I͘S̡ Y͜GG͠DRA͏S̷IL̢.̛ ” – I tell them in conceptual.

A number of elves fall off their chairs immediately. Several fainted, while the rest are slowly clambering to their feet. About half of them are swaying like they’re drunk. Out of those who remained seated, many faces had grown pale, pinched or clenched. Really? Notably, Moon Unit is entirely unaffected, and Dweezil is weathering it easily. I guess exposure is the key here. Then Moon Unit throws a big wobbly their way.

“YOU-THIS-SPECIFIC-ENTIRETY, WHAT DO YOU-THIS-SPECIFIC REFER/CALL/CONSIDER/SEE THIS-PARTICULAR-ME-SINGULAR?” – she requests in a simplish, yet decent conceptual. Moon Unit, come on…

“T̡HIS-͠H́E҉RE͞-̶Y͢ƠU-SP̨E͜CIFI҉C IS/͞CO̷NS̡I̛D̢E̡R̛E̶D͘/A̛CCEPT͟ED͟/DE͟SIR͏ED͠ W͢IF̢E/BE͘L̷OV̕E̡D/͝S͞PO̸US͠E҉/FÁMÍLY͢/LOV͜E̕R.” – I reply wryly, sending more elves toppling. I’m guessing no one is going to dispute our relationship after this.

It takes a while for the pandemonium to settle down. I am implored by Tamaya not to speak anymore conceptual, and about two-thirds of attendees are carted outside and settled in the chairs next to the pond. The rest seem to be made of sterner stuff, but still most sport the tell-tale signs of ‘I just witnessed something deeply shaking’, except Dweezil, who is instead sporting a half-exasperated, half-bemused look. I guess the second time around is not quite hard-hitting. Or maybe he simply knew exactly what to expect and was able to prepare mentally when no one else could.

I wonder what next. Do we wait for counsel to recover, or… Nevermind, here comes the distraction. There is a commotion at the doors, and then we see the jackass who run away barging in, along with several other elves carrying something oblong. “Brethren! A foul murder had been committed!” – he shouts with played-up gravitas, glaring at me in the same time. No guesses as to whom he holds as the main suspect.