Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 134: That Escalated Quickly…

Chapter 134: That Escalated Quickly…

Maybe I’m spoiled by the memories of a more advanced civilization. But the market in Nornburg just does not feel particularly interesting. Useful, sure, I do pick up a bunch of local delicacies, including the supposedly famous garlic. But interesting? Nope. Maybe I should have been quieter yesterday because people hush up whenever I show up. And not in the “ooh that’s important aristocrat over there” and not even in the “wow, look at her” way, but in downright “oh shit please don’t notice me” for the most part. Makes talking to merchants more than a little frustrating, because several people outright tried to give me their wares for free just so I’d take them and go away. Annoying.

Anyway, I’m just… not feeling it. I should have tagged along with one of my wives. Then again, the plan was to split up so each of us could do our own thing. I am well cognizant of the fact that even best friends and most tender lovers can get sick of each other if cooped up together for too long. While there is sufficient space on my airship to afford each of us some solitude, if needed, taking some time to do what you want without regard for others is no less important. And so we went. Each of us takes some money and goes wherever we feel like. No real chores for anyone, I wrote out a list of things we actually need to load and handed it over to the footmen before going out. Burgmeister really came through with those guys, I have to say. Not just burly, but with some brains. The guy in charge of them is even literate. In Kraut, unfortunately, but while my conversation skills aren’t exactly hot, I am eminently capable of writing out a grocery list.

Meh, I’m going back to the airship. May as well do something constructive, and I do have a couple of things I want to look into. Mostly utility spells I didn’t bother with before due to their highly situational utility. I suppose the spell to purify water without boiling it might be important for people with less robust digestion… Still, the reason why I would be looking into them is mostly to determine if they do something unusual enough that I’d want to repurpose it for some industrial process. I had high hopes for purity being a concept that can be easily applied targeted, but… yeah, well, no dice. The concept of purity seems to be driven by collective noocoactus, and most people do not consider lava-like substances to be “pure”.

That being said, maybe I am approaching this from the wrong direction. Roxolane’s portals can be pretty efficient filters, so long as… hrm. Actually, a simple logical conditional here would do the trick… Gotta test this. If I’m right, and mathemagic says I ought to be, then it is possible to simply dump a mix of stuff through the stack of portals and have each one portal away a specific substance and ignore the rest to fall through. That… would upend the whole smelting business HARD, because if this works as I intended, then simply crushing the ore into fine sand and putting it through the portals would provide nearly-pure iron sand. Nearly, because I can’t see portals being able to disassociate the molecular bonds, so the majority of our output would still be assorted oxides and salts, but simply the ability to filter out stuff like silicon or phosphorus is worth a lot. Having the salts split by acid types even moreso.

I should… I… should, hrm. I should quiet down and start investigating because I can smell someone unfamiliar on board. The cluster of stale sweats and moderate body odors over here is doubtlessly the footmen. I have noted their… pungency in the morning and managed to extract a promise to go bathe this evening from everyone. Not much to it, simply paying them to go take a bath worked wonders. Apparently, there are public baths that are by their consideration a little bit pricy, but juuuuust right as an evening relaxation, if you can pay admission. Something cribbed straight up from roman terms, I gather. Rome did not exist in this world, but an analog of Turkey did, and they love hammams. No real religious reasons to attach here, but still a place to get clean, relax and socialize. So… basically I ended up telling footmen that they are to have fun in the evenings and gave them enough to cover the bill. Accidentally good bossing, get!

Anyway, the smell. Someone is further inside the cabins. Not in one of the living spaces as I designated them, though they poked around. But in the dry larder next to the kitchen, which is essentially a walk-in closet. Which should be stuffed to the brim with dry goods and foods by footmen. Huh. Let’s see who’s my stowaway.

As I carefully open the doors… I see a girl sleeping on top of the bags. Bags that contain, hrm… Legumes, apparently. And grains. Huh. The girl… hrm. Well, a young woman, maybe? A maiden. I tentatively peg her at fifteen, give or take a year. About the same age as Lily-Anne. And… of the comparable social class. Very tender skin, perfume… huh, good going, mom, if Kraut frauleins wear your perfumes, you’re clearly doing something right. Quality clothes. Curiouser and curiouser. Now, what the fuck is a highborn noble girl doing in my airship? This is not just a case of idle curiosity, she would have sent people with an invitation, much like baron earlier did. So long as she did show me good hospitality (much like baron didn’t), I’d be obliged to give her a tour of my airship as a return courtesy, at the very least. So. She is hiding? From whom? Why? Does she have reasons to believe I would be sympathetic to her enough to hide her? Or is she banking on me taking off before she’s found?

Let’s wake her up. Poke. Poke-poke. Block. Oh, wow. She’s an ornery one. Poke-poke-poke-POKE! “Wakey-wakey, rise and BAKEY!” – I’m a little bit miffed, yes. And feeling mischievous. And maybe just fucked up real good. Conceptual does wake you up, that’s true. Now let’s hope it didn’t leave cleat marks all over her front lobes.

“EEEEEEEEEEI!” – yep, lungs are alright at least.

“Eeee right back at you. Now, would you be so kind to introduce yourself and explain your presence here?” – I deadpan at her. This is gonna be… a headache. Because the emblem on the front of her dress? Royal emblem of Hohenzollerns. Meaning she’s Hiram’s little sister, Katherine. No one else who could possibly have this emblem on their clothes without getting in BIG trouble in Kraut fits the age and gender brackets.

___

“So… to sum it up, you were touring the cities in southern Kraut, got bored of Zirich and decided to go up north to the Nornburg for a change of pace.” – I repeat, letting Katherine nod at the appropriate moments – “You took a carriage and rode out here with just your attendant and a few guards, called upon graf Norn for lodgings, which you were provided with somewhat reluctantly, spent a couple of days getting the local flavor and news, then overheard graf plotting with some underlings to kidnap my daughter under the flimsy excuse and rushed out here to warn me? Found no one in the ship and decided to go take a nap in the larder?”

I wait for her to finish nodding, and interject – “This is utter bullshit, you know that much, right? You’d commandeer one of the cabins for your nap, if so. And you’d come over with your attendant and guards, if so.”

She wilts. “…My attendant is… not trustworthy.” – she then squeezes out – “I am entirely certain she already sent a letter by pigeon to my father and may demand of me to seclude myself and prepare for departure to Berlinger at any moment.”

“Even if so, writing a letter to me and sending it off with a footman would work just fine. Now what is that you really want?” – I press – “Because to my consideration, you look like you are trying to run away, and a runaway princess is a big problem, especially so if a foreign noble is accused of aiding in that.”

“But the part about your daughter is all true.” – she throws back with surprising fire – “And if you want to put it this way, I have a strong suspicion my governess would insist I withhold this information from you entirely if she were aware of what I am planning to do. She strongly disapproves of, and I quote, “maidens shirking the natural order as the gods ordained it and messing with men’s concerns”. It goes without saying you, lady Gillespie, are held as the most prominent example of what I should not be lately.”

“…Aaand? Are you here for a fit of teenage rebellion, then? Sticking it to the governess?” – I muse.

“On the surface of it.” – Katherine smirks viciously, and I abruptly recall that she is Princess with a capital P. Whenever she made appearances in-game, well. Even the schemer Marceu speaks softly and steps cautiously around her business. “Under the surface, however…” – she makes a vague gesture – “Cooperate with me, lady Gillespie. If my plans do not pan out, all that concerns you is that a silly princess wanted to see your famous airship oh so very much. And if they DO pan out, then you just might get enough leverage to make my father really step on Klaus on your behalf.”

“…And you would set your own dad up like this?” – I blink.

“Yes, well… What he does not know, he can not yell at me for. If this DOES pan out, then he would be obligated to heap praises on me instead. Judge ye not the winner. And if it does NOT pan out, the worst that can be pinned on me is being a headstrong and willful child, qualities that are not exactly undesired in the royal offspring. You, on other hand, get a warning before anything bad happens and can catch the local herrs before they pull their pants up, so to speak.” – she rushes to explain – “I am unsure what exactly is the reason they intend to cite as a cause for detaining your daughter, but I do know they plan on doing it right now.”

Cy didn’t poke me… aaand probably finds this whole thing hilarious. If it were one of the wives, I’d know immediately, but I didn’t bother putting any of me on Cy, because, well… in some very tangible ways, Cy is me and we are never entirely out of contact. So I concentrate invardly and poke myself.

“ACKNOLEDGEMENT-AGREEMENT-RECEPTION MOTHER/PROGENITOR/ORIGINATOR/BIGGER.” – and Cy is there.

“RESTRICTION/DETAINMENT/ARREST ATTEMPT-THIS-YOU-NOW-MADE AT/TOWARDS/NOW/CURRENTLY?” – I query.

“UNBOUND/UNRESTRAINED/WILD/SADISTIC HILARITY/SHADENFREUDE/AMUSEMENT/ANTICIPATION.” – is the response I get. Well, Cy believes the people who grabbed her are richly deserving to experience my reaction. Wonder why.

“Out of curiosity, would you say graf Norn is an honorable man?” – I muse.

Katherine scoffs – “Say, sure. I would also say you are a fine lumberjack. With an awe-inspiring bushy beard, too. Does that answer your question?”

“Blistering sarcasm aside…” – I drawl.

“Motherfucker, and I do mean that literally, is not to be trusted with a piece of pocket lint, much less anyone dear to you.” – she growls – “Honestly, the only reason why I called upon his hospitality is the fact no one else may host me in the city without him sweeping in and carting me away immediately, all the while tutting at how important it is that kronprinzessin is not “sullied by those of lesser grace”. Nevermind Hiram is the one getting the crown, no, he’ll call me kronprinzessin to my face and look like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.” Oh. Wow. It is not being overly obsequious, it’s outright stating he supports the idea of Katherine taking the throne. With, obviously, a husband to his liking. And then there’s this motherfucker comment…

“So no love lost between you two, I take it.” – I grumble.

“Please kill him if the reasonable opportunity presents itself. I will postdate you a blood feud permission if it happens, my word on it.” – Katherine says seriously – “The things I have seen in those last few days… Let’s just say if you do not kill him, Klaus will be arranging some sort of unfortunate accident a little later. Graf had crossed the line, danced a fine jig on top of it and urinated on the remaining traces.”

I am about to question her more, but the talky time is done, given there is an officious-looking fellow about to knock on the door. “Right.” – I murmur – “Stay in this cabin then, the spyglass is on the night table. We’ll figure out what to do with you once I have sorted out the local flavor of idiots.”

Opening the door just as the fellow raises his fist to knock, smacking him in the face hard enough to knock him over? Petty but satisfying. I grab the sheet of paper out of the air as he drops it on the way down the ramp. Ow-ow-ow-ouch, that oughta leave a mark. Let’s see… Hrm. Written in Kraut, by the authority of graf Norn, I am hereby ordered to remand myself to his custody and await the judgment of my daughter on charges of… aiding and abetting the kidnapping of the princess? Bwahahaha, oh idiots. Just for fun, I toss the letter into the airship, where Katherine would doubtlessly find it, lock the door and descend the ramp myself, right past the fellow being just picked up by his cronies slash guards.

“Hrrrh.. Ahrh… Pwnr my, unfau Ieshpfe?” – he lisps out. Oh my, I think I knocked a bunch of teeth out of him. Fun.

“Would you kindly go kill yourself?” – I ask as I pass him by – “I’m going to put your lord to the sword, then I’m going to doublecheck for any collaborators to exterminate. It would be ever so helpful if you ended yourself before I have to come back for you.”

Judging by eyes making a valiant effort to pop out of his skull, he did not expect such a request. No time. I kick off into a run, at the same time firing off the bevy of spells that bring me on a full war footing. 2-4-8-16-32-64… enough… Ooh, huh, I guess they’ll have something to talk about… Maybe. And gripe about. Passing by people at 64x time compression causes a slipstream to form in my wake, tossing people, crates, bundles and street stalls around ever so slo-mo. Well, slo-mo to me, to them it looks like they got hit by a hurricane.

The castle is… surprisingly gothic. Reminds me of Quake for some reason… Ooh, that’s an idea. Now, let’s see. Some brass to make the tube, now slap conjuration on top of it like this, so it forms a canister full of ethylene oxide with a central spire of ANFO and a bit of shaped copper around a drop of mercury fulminate in the tip as the detonator. The launching mechanism is simply a bit of conjured propane being ignited. Potato cannon, yes. With air-fuel bombs as ammo. Oughta make breaching doors easy… And the gates too, or… Hrm. Well, it’s all for a show, really, I just leap over the gate, but the fact that I have Quake on my mind makes me fire off the first charge under my feet as I part from the pavement. Rocket Jump! Funny if someone takes it as a cue to action… Yeeeep, landing here… Oh, wow, dude. Such mustache. Very wow. Much impress. So impressive in fact that I’m gonna yeet you out of the castle and all the way into the river feeding the moat to make sure you survive the upcoming brawl.

The castle yard is surprisingly deserted. Aside from the old man at arms I just yeeted out, all that we have here is a pair of servants in the corner, both looking like they’re just starting to realize shit is hitting the fan. Cy is… that-a-way, in the tower. Which I promptly blast the doors out of.

___

“Dos meydl git mir krips.¹ [That girl gives me the creeps.] ” – one of the guards grumbled – “Vas meynt zi afilu, shtey nisht far di hinge?² [What does she even mean, don`t stand in front of the hinge?] “

He got his answer a moment later as the door disappeared in a cloud of fire, the top hinge ripping off the sill and striking sparks against the stone right next to his head, coming to a trembling stop like some sort of grotesque arrow. He and his friend exchanged glances, shuddered and started screaming in near-unison, crouching down and covering their heads. Fuck them, I don’t care if they live or die so long as they don’t try to be an obstacle. I rip the inner door out of the wall entirely and toss it aside, leaning in to give Cy a hug.

“Hey mom.” – she quips cheerfully as she slips out of the hug – “Can I get a piggyback ride?”

I see no real reason to object, and before long, I am coming out of a half-ravaged tower with Cy on my back, my rocket launcher facsimile in my hands. Huh, there is a bunch of guards here now. About twenty of them, enough to form up a shield wall and pikes. Oh, even four crossbowmen. Nice. And a fat fellow that I presume is the count. Who’s that… oh. Hello there, baron Hanslich. So you have chosen death.

“Halt thy destruction, will you?” – the fatass proceeds in a surprisingly high voice. I’d suspect he was castrated, if not for his title as motherfucker. I almost miss him continuing to talk in my ruminations.

“T’is unfortunate that you would attack us so brazenly. And our princess, even. How cruel of you to give our much-suffering king such a horrifying backstab, and after he had shown you such grace, too.” – oh. Wow. Grating.

“Now surrender, for it…” – and at this moment I shoot. The mass of people in front of me is smacked away, for the lack of better term, by a localized explosion that blasts down the shieldbearers and sends them flying at their fellows forming the second line. The next shot lands at the feet of lardball who had the most hilarious expression the moment before a conjured explosive smeared most of his fat across the castle wall. Baron fares a LITTLE better, in the sense that the explosion merely rips off his arm and leg on the right side and sends him ass over teakettle. I walk up to him, idly switching up the launcher for the Bec de Corbin as I come near. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, huh?” – I ask him – “And now you’re going to die for no good reason.” I idly smack one of the crossbowmen in the head with a hammerhead, because he shook off the concussion enough to try and lift the crossbow my way. The rest wisely drop their arms and raise their hands above their head, though not before wiping their fellow’s brains off their faces. I… don’t get any answer from the baron, and as I peer closer, I realize that he is deeply concussed and likely will bleed out before being able to say anything coherent. And therefore, I sigh and smear his head with another hammer blow, continuing onwards to the gates which are now slightly ajar. I guess at least some of the fellows came from outside. OOh, and here is the Impressive Moustache guy. Dripping wet and disoriented, but still wise enough apparently to halt his helpers when they make hostile movements in my direction.

“It was the feud, was it not?” – he then proffers in a deep voice. I can vividly imagine such a voice on a decorated war officer.

“It was.” – I agree mildly – “You might want to notify next of kin, if you know who is supposed to inherit.”

“And you will kill anyone obstructing your way effortlessly and with great brutality?” – he makes an observation. Astute.

“Indeed.” – I confirm, giving him a smile of the “zero warmth, all the teeth” variety. He shudders, then bows and gestures – “None shall, jungfrau. This is a matter between you and his highness the king, now.”

Huh. Explains how come the count did not end up dead by now. His castellan is all about business. Should make a note about the dude, he seems to be pretty clever on his feet in addition to awesome moustache.

As I trudge away from the castle (which is starting to smoke by now, some shit was set on fire with all the blasting), someone rather casually slips out of the side street and walks alongside me. Well, isn’t that Falstaff? Now what the hell is he doing here?